Green Lights

Driving to work today, I was headed into downtown and could see several street lights coming up ahead of me.  All of the lights were green.  All three or four of them.  That NEVER happens.  And I had the thought, "Wow, green lights as far as the eye can see!"  And it hit me that I wish life could be that way sometimes.  Is it wrong to wish everything was easy, all the time?  Would that make me incredibly selfish or spoiled?

I know people who appear to have lives that way.  They've never really had to face hardship, never really had to deal with adversity, just moved along through life as easy as can be, nothing but green lights.  It just doesn't seem normal.  I will say though that those people, when finally faced with tragedy or adversity, lose themselves entirely because they don't know how to handle it.  I've seen a perfectly sound adult turn into a four year old, temper tantrum included, because things got tough.  Yet, they have lead a life of virtual ease and blessings for 25-30 years.  


My life experiences have prepared me for the hard stuff I'd like to think.  I fall in the middle somewhere of being truly blessed and having a rough life.  The normal things happened, parents got divorced, over-possessive boyfriend who I let control my every thought for years and years....and then other stuff that isn't normal or right or fair.  But it happened.  And I'm stronger for it.  I can handle life's hardships better because of it.  


But I can't help but wonder what it must feel like to live so carefree, so easy and blessed and lucky with nothing but green lights as far as the eye can see....

Flaming Showerhead

I wrote this forever ago and came across it today....thought I'd share. :)

Monday, May 15, 2006

flaming shower head

I'm reliving a past experience this evening and I thought I'd share it with you. It really might have been one of my most shining moments in time...One of those moments that only I can truly appreciate the absurdity of...but I'm going to try to share it with you now.

I'm sitting here at my desk a while, playing on the computer, when a post-it note falls off the monitor and blows behind the desk (the fan's on high to air out this room due to my dog's stinky butt). Seeing as my house is already messy, I decide I'll retrieve the note and put it back where it goes, although now that I'm thinking of it, what is one tiny post-it note in this messy universe of mine?? Hmmph.

So, anyway, I reach over the desk (rather than walk to the side of it) and stick my hair into the burning flame of a candle on my desk. I immediately recognize that wretched smell for what it is, jerk back, beat myself about the pony tail, and all is well. No real harm done.

On a night roughly ten months ago, I had neither the presence of mind, mercy, nor grace that was bestowed upon me tonight. The story goes a little something like this....

The power was out. The dogs needed a bath. I had candles and matches. You see where this is going? The final ingredient in my recipe for disaster was boredom. It honestly never crossed my mind that I was about to scorch a sixth of my hair off. Not once.

I had the shower ledge lined with burning candles. They were all secure. None were going to fall off and burn the dog with hot wax, I had plenty of light to see what I was doing, what could possibly go wrong?? Like the saying goes, where there's a will, there's a way. In hindsight...well, you know.

Chance is such a good boy. He is so obedient, so trusting. He was so calm and well-behaved as I forced him into the tub and wet him down. I think the poor baby knew what his mommy was headed for and felt the utmost sympathy for my lack of intelligence. He is, after all, a border collie.

So, I'm lathering up the pooch. Talking to him all the while to reassure him things are just peachy. I run into trouble about five minutes into the bath. I can't reach his far left side from my position on the edge of the tub without extreme discomfort in the lower lumbar region, so I decide, what the heck, I'll just get in with him.

Well, I can't necessarily get into the tub with my jeans on, so I drop them, and step on in. I'm standing there behind him, washing his back, his left side and his tail and then it's time for his front left leg. I lean forward, and say, "Shake!". On command, he lifts his little foot for me to clean. I suddenly smell the oh-so-out-of-place smell of something burning and think, "FIRE!". I raise up and give my surroundings a quick, but thorough once over. All is well, nothing is on fire, the candles are all securely in place. "Odd," I think. Odd indeed.

So, back to work I go. It's time for the back left foot. "Stay," I say firmly and lift Chance's back foot to scrub. There it is again, that horrid smell of something burning, but what is it?? I raise up again, frustrated, only slightly concerned and my hair falls into my face. It's red. Not the red you would expect to see when you have red hair, but the red that's on the end of a cigarette. I scream. This is where and when pandamonium insues.

Chance bolts, terrified due to the alien noises coming from my mouth, and bolts, shampoo and all to his favorite spot in the house: my bed, I'm beating the bejesus out of my head, Tess is barking her head off, enjoying the excitement that's going on, my boyfriend is freaking out over all the commotion, I'm dunking my head in the water trying to save my flaming scalp only to end up falling into the dirty dog bath water, shirt and all.

I survived. Barely. No dignity intact.

In the end, I had to wash the comforter, the sheets, the walls, the floors, myself, the dogs and my soaking wet clothes.

I couldn't look Chance in the eye for a week. I could feel Tessie laughing at me behind those green eyes of hers. To beat it all, I looked like Carrot Top after a rough night of performing. My hair on the left side of my head had the same texture as a brillo pad, and you know the smell....God bless whoever invented the french twist.

Living la vida loca, baby.

Emotional Baggage? I Carry Mine in Boxes!

Today is July 8th and I'm going to choose to be happy.  8 is my favorite number, i like the month of July and i had the evening off...therefore, I'm happy.  Sounds easy enough!  Right?  NO?  Hmmm....  Let's think about this....  


Is happiness really a choice?  I've heard so many times that you "gotta let things go", that you have to "stop dwelling on the past", "turn the other cheek", whatever cliche fits your situation, whatever you need to do to CHOOSE to be happy....I've actually (mostly) bought into it.  I've always thought to myself, "You gotta get past this ol' girl.  Don't let this get you down!" and I've been able to take whatever emotion it was that I was dealing with, put it in a little box, slap a lid on it and put it up on a shelf to be dealt with later or forgotten completely.  ((I believe this method is known as compartmentalizing???))  And it's always worked out just fine for me.  


Until recently.


If you've read this blog, you know at this point that we (darling hubby and I) have had a pretty rough six or seven months.  For the most part, I've held it all together.  A few crying episodes, two or three temper tantrums, several angry prayers (forgive me Big Guy, you know I didn't mean it!), and that's it.  I'm still happy (mostly), and chipper (usually) and I'd like to think an overall pleasure to be around.  There are just these random times now and then where something miserable will jump into my mind...it's like some scary, creep blobby monster jumps out of nowhere to remind me of lots of crummy things and I can't help but get the blobby gunk all over me before throwing the creature into his box (cage) and slapping the lid closed!  


Let me explain a bit more...  Unfortunately, when we found out we were pregnant in December, I immediately and foolishly went out to a few magazine sites, paid for 18 months of subscriptions, created an account on a baby site for tracking our pregnancy and went completely overboard all in the first week.  I assumed we would NOT be one of the thousands and thousands who miscarry.  So very naive of me, I know.   So, every month, not once but twice a month, we get a magazine in the mail telling us how to either calm our screaming infant or what to apply to my enormous belly - that is only getting enormous because of the sacrilegious amounts of food I'm shoveling in my face lately - to avoid stretch marks!  I don't think I need to tell you how rough that can be sometimes.  However, I will say that after the first month of receiving those (after having completely forgotten all about them), and the subsequent recovery period needed, I have handled it very well.  I've taken to looking at them as training materials, reference guides for our future, if you will.  The emails are a different story.  


Each week, I get a reminder of what my baby is up to now that I am 18 weeks pregnant, 24 weeks pregnant, etc.  Too bad none of it's true for our baby.  I've tried unsubscribing to this email, I've sent emails to the website, I've even gone out to the site and deleted my account....two weeks later, I got a new one reminding me to eat this or that since I was xyz weeks pregnant.  It's very infuriating but I will say that even THIS has been something I've handled with ladylike grace that even my Great Grandma would be proud of.  I don't read them, I just delete them immediately and go on with my day.


Now that I've rambled on and on, I'll get to my point.  I recently decided (for some unknown reason) to figure up how far along I'd be at this point (since I've spent, oh you know, the last seven months avoiding that topic at all costs)...it seemed the thing to do I suppose.  I basically realized that we'd be in our 8th month and if we were still "with child" at this point, we could have actually already had a baby.  Something about that shook me to my core.  


Our house seemed a little quieter that day.  Work was a little less interesting, conversation wasn't really luring me into it's embrace, the food I ate had no flavor....I was just depressed all day.  


So, I did something I never do.  While on the phone with one of my girlfriends, I decided to extend a hand for a little support, to reach out instead of looking in and boxing things up for the upper shelf.  Very few people know about our situation, so I don't have a ton of people to go to in this situation.  Anyway, back to my story, I said, "Well, I realized today that I'd be 8 months along right now if we hadn't miscarried," and she replied after about half a second, "Yeah, you'd be all fat and miserable too.  Probably on bed rest after all the work you do on your feet!" I was surprised, but not completely shut down so I said, "Yes, probably....but I'd be happy at least" (yes, I was feel very sorry for myself!)...and she simply said, "Happiness is a choice girl!" I just sat there, holding the phone, tears in my eyes.  I didn't know what to say, so I just got off the phone and lowered the metaphorical outstretched arm for support.  I waved my white flag on the day and crawled into bed for the rest of the evening.  


It wasn't her fault.  I wasn't upset at her or her comment.  She has had little ones, no hiccups, no problems, easy as pie.  She doesn't understand what it's like to lose a child (thank God).  I know that....but it was one of those moments in my life that I'll always remember.  It really made me think about how I've always handled things in the past.  Boxing them up for later, until I had either gotten over it and no longer cared or forgotten to be upset about it altogether.  


Even now, with the job situation and how my previous employer did me, if it creeps into my mind at night when I'm almost asleep, I literally say to myself, "Oh no you don't!  We are NOT going to think about THAT!  We'll be up all night long, next topic!"  It's like it's easier for me to shut it down and move on instead of spending days and days thinking about it, getting depressed, etc.  I'm CHOOSING to be happy instead of upset or sad.  But in this situation, I don't agree with or recommend that method.  It's not working.  I don't FEEL like putting a lid on it, I don't feel like avoiding it anymore.  

I am upset.  

(There....I said it.)

I'm pissed off that for whatever reason, we couldn't keep our little baby boy/girl.  Regardless of why, how, etc....it's upsetting and I feel like I DESERVE to be upset if that's what I need to do!  I don't agree that in this situation "happiness is a choice".  It may be an outcome, or a destination I'm trying to get to, but I can't just close the lid on this one and move on.  


That was going to be our son or daughter.  Someone that we were going to chase around the yard.  Someone we were going to teach funny jokes to at an early age so they could make the old folks laugh.  Someone to share a zillion memories with!  We were going to adore this child and raise him or her with all the love we could possibly muster up.....and I know we weren't pregnant for long, but dangit it was long enough for me to know that I was going to be a mommy and long enough for me to see a different life stretched out before me, and it included a baby...THAT baby.   So yeah, I am upset.  I miss the little stinker that will never be.


BUT, I am going to be happy again, and I am happy most of the time, but I'm here to say that I will not, CAN NOT, choose to ignore the little life that we were going to share with our child just so that I can "choose to be happy".  I'm going to honor what was, hope for what will be, and pray that God will grant my sweetheart and me another shot at parenthood...and if in the meantime, there are times when I am not so chipper, not so talkative, and not so jovial, I'm going to sit down, have a good cry, talk to someone who will listen, yell if I need to, and work it out until I get to my happy place again.  


I will get there....


Thanks for reading and listening....it helps so much.


xoxo~
Shannon

TOO FUNNY NOT TO SHARE!!!

So, I was just reading a blog post by someone I stumbled across and when I went to leave my comment, I had to key in the little security word/number/digit thingy and guess what it was????? 

GROIN TIP

I kid you NOT.  How fantastic is that?!  Either someone has a really good sense of humor, or I'm extremely lucky today because that made my day!!!!! ha!  ((Yes, I have the mind of an 8th grade boy sometimes, but it keeps me laughing and that's all that matters!))

Toodles!

Shannon

Learning To Blog...

So, I feel like I'm a little slow on learning what I can about blogging.  I started this blog a long time ago (sorta) and started off with just your random, oddly timed post (sorta).  Then, I decided to post more frequently...  But I know very little about blogging.  I know nothing about finding blogs I like or getting followers or anything like that....and I'm amazed some of those that I follow have so many followers...  (could I say the word follow any more in a sentence?)

Anyway, I'm hoping some of the few that do follow me might have a few guiding words to help me on this little journey of mine.  What do you all think???  Help a sista out?  How do you do it all?  Any little tip will help!!!

Thanks my friends,
Shannon