Why do we do it?

Why do we do it?

Why do we try to have babies? There are so many risks, so much possible pain, so much possible devastation.

But we still try...

Some of us succeed on the first try (or with out even trying), others spend years and thousands of dollars trying, others never succeed and either choose to adopt or make peace with not having children.

But we still try...

We try even though it may end in miscarriage, we try even though it may end in still birth, we try even if it means that our child will need to be cared for by us forever, we try even if it may take our own lives.

But we still try...

We try even if the finances aren't right, we try even if the house isn't big enough, we try even if we don't have help from our families, we try even if it means losing friendships.

But we still try...

It can be sad, it can be scary, it can be uncomfortable, it can totally change our bodies (hair, skin, shape, etc), it can throw our hormones completely our of whack, it can make us sick for 9 months straight.

But we still try...

Why?

Because it's worth it.

It's worth it for a chance at holding a miracle. It's worth it for a chance at feeling their movements before anyone else knows what's going on. It's worth it for a chance to hear their first tiny little cries. It's worth it for a chance to count their little fingers and toes. It's worth it for a chance to watch them hit every milestone and to see the world brand new through their eyes. It's worth it for a chance to feel unconditional love and to be loved unconditionally. It's worth it for a chance to fulfill one of God's purposes for us as women. It's worth it for a chance to hear them say "I love you" for the first time. It's worth it for a chance to feel the best hugs ever.

Why do we do it, when there seems like there are so many reasons not to? We do it for a chance at something amazing.

to the moon and back,

Through the eyes of a 3 year old

"It was a great Easter day." That's what Moose said before he went to bed tonight.

Actually, what he said was, "Tell daddy that I had a very good Easter day playing with my cousins and my friends and my family. Tell him I love them all very much and that I love him very much. It was a great day!"

And it was a great day a darn near perfect day in the eyes of a 3 year old. He woke up, and came in and laid down with mommy. We got up and he played while I got ready for work. Then Grandma showed up and that meant play time!

They played board games, rode bikes, played on the swing set, had lunch then it was nap time.

While he napped, grandma and I got ready for the guests. There were cupcakes to bake, cool and ice. There were veggies to chop. There were little plastic eggs to fill.

Moose woke up and soon after the guests started arriving. The adults ate, while the kids played. They ran, climbed, went swinging, played tag and slid down the slide. They asked for cupcakes before dinner and some prevailed, it is a celebration after all so dessert comes first, right?

It was time for the men folk to wrangle the little ones to the front yard so the eggs could be hidden, or just thrown about the back yard. There really isn't much to the hiding when there are 1,000 eggs to hide (that may be an exaggeration, but you get the idea).

Then it was time to unleash the hounds! They were off, scooping up eggs as they ran. Eggs were everywhere and their baskets were overflowing. As they ran around they left a trail of spilled eggs, which only brought joy as they realized there were more eggs to find!

With all of the eggs gathered up, it was time for them to examine the spoils of their hard work. Moose opened an egg and out popped a small plastic slinky... "Oh, just what I always wanted! A slinky!" he exclaimed with sincerity. "Easter is so much fun with my friends mom!"

A (I'll switch his friends names with letters) opened an egg and found a bubble ring. His mom opened it up and showed him that it was bubbles and his whole face lit up!

E slowly and carefully hand picked his eggs. He opened his eggs, but wasn't overly impressed. He was more interested in checking out what everyone else was doing. He wanted to keep playing.

L got a small yellow squishy ball from one of his eggs and held it up and said "My yellow!". He was so proud of his airplane erasers and the rest of his haul.

J immediately broke open the fruit snacks and the candy that was allergy safe for him. He tore through every egg, carefully examining each one for treats that he could devour!

Once eggs were done and the yard looked like there had been a plastic egg massacre, it was time to play again. Soon, though, everyone packed up and the night had to come to an end.

A very tired little boy got ready for bed. When we got to his room, I picked him up (my almost 4 foot, 3 year old) and rocked him like I do every night and we sang "You are my Sunshine". I laid him down and we prayed and thanked God for Jesus and the sacrifice He made for us.

So, you see, that was pretty much a perfect day for a 3 year old and quite frankly, it was darn near perfect for this mama, too. My heart is full tonight.

to the moon and back,

Glorious, fully caffeinated coffee deliciousness...

I fear it has been far too long since I have blogged about one of the very things I base my blog around... Caffeine! I have to admit, caffeine and I parted ways for a little while there. It was very sad and the coffee growers association called me and asked what they could do to get me back. Yes, there is such a thing as a coffee growers association, but no they did not actually call me that would be absurd, they emailed me... (See what I did there? You thought I was going to be honest but I furthered the fib with even more exaggeration.)

Anyway, it was a very ugly break up. There were tears (mainly from my hubby dealing with a newly decaf me), headaches, depression, and then moving on to a way less attractive source of energy vitamins and veggies and fruit, ack... Vitamins make me puke (literally, most of them do for some reason, sorry TMI) and I have to choke down fruit (I'm weird, deal with it), now I love my veggies, but they don't compare to my caffeine vehicle of choice, coffee (mocha's, latte's & straight up coffee). Oh, the creamy goodness...

But, for a very noble reason, I gave up caffeine prior to getting pregnant (I avoid caffeine while pregnant, if you don't, that's fine, I don't judge). Since finding out that there was no baby, I have been indulging in things that comfort me (probably more than I should) and caffeine comforts me. I know it's probably not the best for me, but I'm ok with that.

I will soon take another hiatus from caffeine when we start trying again, but for now, I am enjoying every minute of every rocket-powered sip of my full caf, skinny salted caramel mocha from Starbucks...

On a side note, my mom and I were having a conversation earlier about my blog and she asked "How do you come up with things to write about?" In the very best sarcastic tone I could come up with, I replied "I am very entertaining, mama, I have tons of stuff I can ramble on about." As you can see by this post, the "very entertaining" part may have been another exaggeration. I am pretty good at exaggerating, maybe I should add that to my resume...

On another side note, during the same conversation, my dad asked "Who reads this thing?" Apparently, he does not see the social impact my blog has on the world. I replied, "I don't know, friends, people randomly searching the web, pretty much every one. My fan base is huge." See what I mean about exaggerating? I'm actually pretty stoked when I check the analytics and and it shows more than 10 visitors!

I leave you with this uber impressive collage of coffee art...

to the moon and back,

Parenting Woes...

I'm a bad parent. "No, Jen, not you..." Yes me... Why you ask, oh because I choose to limit my child's sugar intake, because I choose to discipline him when he misbehaves, because I want him to eat more fruits and veggies than processed foods/fast foods, because I give him Motrin when he has a fever, because I had him circumcised, because I had him vaccinated, and so on and so on.... {insert sarcasm font}

Motherhood is the most amazing thing I have ever experienced, however, one thing that I have noticed is how catty and passive aggressive other moms can get. I belong to an online parenting board that is comprised of other women who became moms the same time I did. When I joined it, I thought "Great! I can share stories and get tips and such!" Umm, not so much. At first they were all like "Oh, yay, we're pregnant!" then it soon became "What? You're not going to co-sleep? Your child is going to feel unloved and insecure." "What? You aren't going to chew up your baby's food first and feed it like a little bird? Your child is going to choke!" Seriously?? I don't care how you raise your child (as long as you aren't beating him/her), why would you judge me and my choices? "Oh my gosh, you're going back to work? Your son's going to have abandonment issues." Um, no he's going to have food on the table, clothes on his back and a roof over his head.

Why is it that everyone else knows the best way to raise your kid? The one thing that I have learned since having a child is that every decision (no matter how big or small) that I make for Moose is wrong in someones mind. There are such varying opinions on every subject and everyone feels so strongly about their own, why can't we just let parents choose for themselves?

My hubby and chose the, get this, "cry it out method". "Oh, no she didn't *snap*! Don't she know that's abuse?" (yes, I realize the grammar choices I made in that quote, and just so you know, I wrote it in the best ghetto accent I have as well). Ummm, no it wasn't abuse, at least not in our case. Moose only had to do it once or twice and he has never had a problem since. Anyone who knows Moose, knows that he is a very well adjusted 3 & 1/2 year old. We also gave him a pacie and he wasn't exclusively breastfed. Oh no, call DCFS before something terrible happens!

My point it, opinions are great, but not when the only reason they are voiced is to make someone else feel like less of a person. I may not agree with all of your parenting choices, but guess what? It doesn't matter, because YOU are the parent and you have the right to those choices.

So, in conclusion, circumcise or don't, co-sleep or don't, wear your baby or don't, breastfeed or don't, vaccinate or don't, spank or don't, feed your baby like a bird or don't, I won't judge you so please don't judge me.

At least you aren't this guy... I mean really, look at that mullet, that little boy has no chance... ;)

Disclaimer: I don't know who these people are, I found the pic on google.

to the moon and back,

A tad too comfortable...

In case you haven't followed my blog from the beginning (like there are any of you out there, I mean I'm sure you have all gone back and read every single post...) I have written about me being an emotional eater.That means that if something goes well, I eat, something bad, I eat, something so-so, I eat... Terrible cycle, I know.

I have, in fact, been known to break the cycle and go for quite a while without emo-eating (that's what I'll call it, because, well... I can and because I'm much too lazy to type out emotional, every.single.time.).

Lately, however, my life has had some pretty crappy things going on, and I have grown waaaay too comfortable with comfort food.

Now, I'm not saying that I am proud of this, but I will say, that this is one time I'm ok with it. I feel like most of the time I am fighting a constant battle to eat healthy, work out, be a role model, detox, blah, blah, blah...

Give a girl a break! I'll get back to it on Monday, no seriously, this coming Monday, not that "Monday" that never seems to get here. I do miss working out, but Mr. Mac & Cheese and Captain Chips & Salsa have been good company. BTW (yea, I'm hip like that), staring at that picture is seriously making me hungry.

Quite frankly, I think breaks are good. They make you appreciate the hard work and dedication it takes to eat healthy and work out. Plus, when you get rid of the crap and get healthy again (once you get past those nasty sugar withdrawals, anyway), you feel great, or at least I do.

So here's to an end to two weeks of eating very, very, (dare I throw a third one in there?) very badly. Or an end as of Sunday. My goal is to start fresh on Monday, hey a girls gotta have goals, right?

So, there, that's a bit more sarcasm than I have thrown around lately. I hope it satisfies all of your needs for bit of light-heartedness.

to the moon and back,

I may not have it all...

...but I do believe that I am truly blessed.

I'm not rich by the worlds standards, but as cliche as it sounds, I am rich in every other aspect. Whether you believe me or not, I have the best friends and family a girl could ask for. I bragged on my hubby a little in my last blog, this time, I'll brag on the rest of my world...

Sis, Mama, Me

I have a mom that has the most caring, concerned heart. She is always looking out for my sister and I as well as our families, no matter how old we get. She knows our needs before we even have a chance to tell her. She is so giving of herself and her time. If God had given me the opportunity to hand pick a mom, I couldn't have chosen better. She loves her family, all of them, with everything she is and she has always treated her son-in-laws as if they were her own. Plus, she watches Moose (my son, in case you were wondering) practically everyday while I work.

Me, Dad

My dad is the silent type. He stays in the background so that everyone else can shine. He loves my mom, sister and I beyond belief and to see him with our kids, his grandchildren, is nothing short of beautiful. He doesn't show emotion too much, but if there is a chance that there is something wrong with one of us, you can just see the worry in him, genuine worry. He's always found a way to get us what we needed or wanted. He's loved me, even when there were times when I didn't deserve to be loved. He's the reason I love movies and all things food and he is a lover of all things chocolate.

My sista!!

My sister is 8 years older than me. She's my big sis, but more importantly, I'm her little sister, which means she has dealt with me at my most annoying times and she still loves me. I was the one who mom made her take with her on her dates or when she went out because little sisters like to tattle. What mom didn't know at the time was that little sisters also like to blackmail... I have always looked up to my sister. She is an amazing mother and friend. She has been there for me in some of my darkest moments and some of my greatest. She has always supported and stood by me and defended me. She also saw fit to torment me often as a child as every good big sis should.

Aren't we fancy? We were on a cruise. In the middle is Jan, Ron, Sherry & Matt

I married into a great God-fearing family. Jon's folks are very active in the church and in our lives. I wasn't really a "church" person until I started dating Jon.. His family was very involved with my Christian walk. They are wonderful with Moose and pitch in where they can. He loves spending time with them. Jon's brother and sister-law lead our church and are a huge resource for us. We turn to them when we need biblical advice. I am grateful that we can rely on them!

I do not have a pick that shows all of my wonderful friends, and if I did, it wouldn't fit here. :)

God has placed the most amazing people in my life. There has never been in a time in my life where I have been surrounded by so many supportive friends. I have always had one or two really great friends that I could count on, but right now, my world is over flowing with friends on all levels. Ones that I have known forever, ones I have known for years and ones who have just entered my life. I have friends, who when they heard I was out of work for a little while, showed up at my door with a Publix gift card and who have literally written checks from their own bank accounts to help us (and no I didn't ask them to!). I have friends, who when I came home from the hospital after having Moose, made sure I had hot, fresh cooked dinners for two weeks. I have friends, who when they heard that I had miscarried, shared their pain and heartache with me so that I didn't feel so alone.

So, while I may not have a TV in every room (*gasp* is that even legal?), huge house, fancy car, fine china, special silverware, infinity pool, hot tub, summer home, a basement full of wine (or a basement for that matter) I have more than I ever dreamed of having. Granted I would LOVE to not live paycheck to paycheck at times, I wouldn't trade what we have now for any amount of money (don't believe me? I'm willing to be tested... $10 million maybe tempting...ahhh.... Just kidding!)

Thanks for reading, I promise the next one will not be quite so long and will involve much more wit and sarcasm. I just wanted to make sure that those around me have an idea of how I feel about them.

to the moon and back,

Pardon me while I brag...

I have an amazing husband and no, I promise he didn't hack my blog.

As you know from my recent post, this has been a really rough time for my family. Jon has been my rock. He has been so amazing while I have been recovering.

Last Thursday after my procedure, he waited on me hand and foot all day. He made sure that I had plenty to drink and eat. He took care of our son and kept him busy so mommy could rest. When I would get up, he would ask what I was doing and tell me to sit back down.

When I told him that I thought we needed to go away for the weekend to focus on family time, he said "Absolutely, I don't care what it costs." I'm too responsible to go crazy, so I looked into some inexpensive hotels.

On Friday, I booked a room for that night in St. Augustine. A few hours later, I found out that I wouldn't be working this coming week (after not working at all last week), so that would be two weeks without a paycheck. I immediately start freaking out. It's less than 24 hours so we can't can't cancel. Jon grabs me, hugs me and says, "Don't worry, we are going. We need this, everything will be fine, we will figure it out next week."

After a VERY rocky start to our trip (car trouble, 2 visits from bright house, etc..) we finally made it to our hotel at about midnight.

The hotel was ok, yes, just ok. It had paper thin walls (and apparently bikers stay as far north as St. Augustine during bike week), and a door that just barely latched (thank heavens for the safety latch and a husband who carries).

Saturday was amazing. We laid around the hotel until about 10:30am then decided to get up and get brunch. We ate a super cute little place called Cafe 11. They had a buffet and Moose ate and ate. He had more than me, two servings of grits, a quesadilla triangle, scrambled eggs, toast, honeydew, cantaloupe and pineapple. (He ate like a horse all day)

Jon wouldn't let me walk around. He was so worried about me not healing and injuring myself more. So we decided the best way to get around was to do one of the train tours. That way we could get around, but not have to walk. Moose was thrilled!

Jon was so great at making sure I rested enough and had everything I needed. I'm not used to being the one who needs to be taken care of, but it sure was nice having someone look out for me. I don't know what I did to make him love me so much, but I'm glad because I know I don't always deserve it.

I am so thankful for my hubby. He's such an amazing man and father. Thank you, baby!

to the moon and back,

Smile...

Because I need to, so I thought I'd share some things that do it for me...

Oh, how the best planned outfits can go bad...

I'm not tall, but I totally have this problem when I wear heels. Those who have seen my heels understand.

That's when you break out the spoon, right?

Actually, this one is very serious... Is it a firm 10 or just a suggestion?

I can only imagine the conversation.

No caption needed...

Gets me every time

Ahahahahahah!!

I always wondered about that...

And finally, this one cracks me up...

to the moon and back,

My miscarriage...

If you follow my blog because of my wit and satire... this post is not for you, as if you couldn't tell by the title. I just wanted to give fair warning that this will be sad, at least if you have a heart it will.

Before I get too far into it, I would at least like to give a few reasons for broadcasting this to the the 5's of people who read this blog. Well, first off, I have said before that I use this blog as a form of therapy for myself. Secondly, I found out the hard way that that keeping stuff locked up is no way to get over it. Finally, this is a subject that not a lot of people want to talk about, so if I can help someone else who can't talk about it feel a little less alone, then it's worth it.

It is a long one...

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

On January 25th, before I was even late, I took a pregnancy test. We had been trying so I knew I was within a day or so. Drumroll... A plus sign... What? Pregnant? I have to say I was shocked. We really had only been trying for a month. Man, that was quick, I thought I'd have a few months at least. A flood of emotions overwhelmed me and I walked out to show Jon, he got the biggest smile on his face and I broke down and started crying... Not because I was sad, just emotionally overwhelmed.

The next week we went on a trip to TN to visit friends. We had a great time (other than I was recovering from the flu). However, I did have this nagging uneasy feeling. I told Jon and my friend, Sarah, about it. I really couldn't put a finger on it though. It sorta felt like that feeling when your boss says "We need to talk" or when you get called to the principal's office. I was just feeling off, but I sort of contributed that to the changing hormones.

Over the next few weeks, I still had the feeling but it kept lessening. However, now I was just nervous in general, even more so than with my first pregnancy. Again, I just blamed it on hormones well that and the fact that in my close circle of friends, 4 of them had issues following their 1st pregnancy or issues with their 2nd. Including blood clots, Gastroschisis, miscarriage, and Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia.

I had my first appointment with the midwife and everything seemed to be going well. I felt good, other than the normal pregnancy symptoms; being nauseous, dry mouth, sore boobs, minor headaches and mood swings. She checked me and everything seemed to be right where it needed to be. She scheduled me for my bloodwork and my first sonogram.

I kept up with my eating healthy (as much as the cravings and nausea would allow), I did pre-natal yoga, I took my pre-natal vitamins, I walked, I didn't have caffeine, I didn't drink, I stayed away from artificial sweetners... all of the stuff you are supposed to do.

The day of my sonogram came (which happened to be the day before I had to fly to NY for a company trip). Jon met me at the doctor's office and we waited to be called back. We made small talk with the woman doing our sonogram (she was the same one who did them for us when we had Moose). I laid on the table, adjusted my pants and she applied whatever that gooey stuff is to my stomach. She placed the wand on my stomach and as soon as she did, I knew that there was something wrong.

With Moose, we had a sonogram at 5wks 6dys and we saw him. Even though he was tiny, we saw him. I was 9wks 3dys, We should be seeing something. I kept thinking, "Maybe this is just a really wide view, maybe she has to zoom in." Suddenly, I kept thinking, "that has to be it, right? Didn't they have to do that in the beginning with Moose?"

She said, "I'm going to measure the sac now," *mouse click* *mouse click*. "but I'm sorry to tell you that there is no baby there and I honestly can't say that there ever has been. I'm so sorry. I'm just so sorry" And just like that, I wasn't pregnant anymore... Only I was, or at least my body still thought so.

Instant tears, Jon reached for my hand, stood up and held me. Endless tears...

9 & 1/2 weeks... We had known since weeks, we had already started planning, I bought diapers to start stocking up, we had talked about names... How is it that there is no baby? What had I done wrong?? Then instantly I thought, "Oh God, we have to tell everyone that there is no baby... Why didn't we wait to tell until after 12 weeks?" 

Even worse... how was I going to tell Moose that he was no longer going to have a baby brother or sister?

She said that she had to call the doctor to come talk to me about my options. They walked me into another room and the doctor came in. He said that it's called "blighted ovum" (never heard of it? me either read about it here and here) Bottom line is that there was no baby, no fetus and no fetal pole. Apparently, it's very common, I don't know about you, but that's not very comforting. Option one: I could let my body take care of it on it's own or option two: I could have a D&C. A miscarriage is less controlled, could result in hemmorhaging, infection and you never know when it's going to happen. A D&C is more controlled, quick, sterile and fewer chances of complications.

Hmmm... decisions, decisions... And the doctor is standing there looking at me. I'm crying and Jon's fighting back tears. The doctor says that we don't have to make a decision now, unless we want to, but to me the D&C seemed like the right choice (if you feel differently, that's fine, please do judge or question my decision, it was not one that was easily made). Within a matter of minutes the procedure was scheduled for the next Thursday (March14th) and I had to do blood work for a type & screen on Wednesday because I am RH negative.

In one short hour, I had gone from expectant mother, to a woman who was scheduled to remove the "products of conception".

When I picked up Moose from my moms, I told him about it, I had to, he kept asking why mommy was crying and was so sad. So I told him that the baby in mommy's belly went away. He looked up at me with tears in his eyes and said "But mommy, I want my baby brother or baby sister." Just the week before he was talking about all of the things he could teach him/her like how to play, and not potty in their diaper and how to sleep and not cry, and how he could make them laugh by making faces at them because that always makes babies laugh. He started crying and said "Mommy, I am so sorry that the baby in your belly went away."

Don't forget, I still had to go home and pack for my trip. The next 4 days I would be away from my family and would have no time to really process because I would be working a tradeshow for 9 hours and day and I was rooming with a co-worker so I wouldn't have time to myself.

In the times I did get to think about it, my mind immediately started blaming it on something I had done:
   Did I not want it enough?
   Should I not have taken the Tami-flu?
   Did I work out too much?
   Did I not start taking my pre-natals early enough?
   Is the D&C the right choice?
   Could I have done something differently?
   Is it ridiculous that I am mourning a baby that was never there?
   Why do I feel embarrassed telling people that there never was a baby?

Sometimes I hate how a mind works... Sometimes no one is to blame. Sometimes things just happen. God knows that there was a reason for this, and whether I understand it or not, I except it and honestly, I'm with Jon in thinking that I am glad it happened sooner rather than later.

Wednesday came and I had my blood work. I hate needles and Moose knows that, he said "I'll hold your hand so you don't get nervous mommy. I don't want my mommy to be nervous." And when I started crying because there was a possible problem with insurance, while squeezing my neck, he said "Oh, it's ok mommy, I am here for you, I'll always be here for you. Don't cry, it's ok".

Thursday, day of surgery... Up at 5:20am to be there by 6:00am, surgery at 7:30am, no longer pregnant by 7:45am. They brought me back for pre-op and got me ready. Then Jon came back to sit with me. Lots of tears and pulling it together and tears and pulling it together. 

Then, the inconsiderate nurses (not mine, mine were really great) in the hall right next to my bay start talking about how on Tuesday a woman with no known allergies went into anaphylactic shock after getting the versed shot. She coded and then needed CPR and almost didn't make it. Really?? I've never had surgery in my life and this is the convo you have outside my room and the rooms of others having procedures today? Jon stepped out and politely asked them to be a little more sympathetic to the patients about to get the same shot.

After that, they gave me the versed, and hauled me off to the OR. I really don't remember anything after that except sliding myself to the other bed. The next thing I remember was waking up, trying to figure out if I was done or what was going on. They brought Jon back and the relief in his eyes was beautiful.

And that was it... we were done and discharged.

I know that I'm not the only woman who has had this problem nor am I the only one who has miscarried but that brings little consolation. Everyone mourns differently, everyone needs their own outlet, everyone needs support, but more importantly everyone needs to move on. I'm not saying that they need to forget, I'm saying that they need to find a way to look back with love and not with anger or hatred or emptiness.

It wasn't my fault... It wasn't your fault... God knew better that us that the timing wasn't right, no matter how hard that is to see right now.

I'm so thankful that I have an amazingly supportive husband, son, family and friends. Though this process is and will continue to be difficult, they have made it so much easier on me.

I love you all...

...to the moon and back,

www.hypersmash.com

The Paradigm Shift

When did I become the old one in the group?

I graduated high school at 17 (my mom got me into kindergarten early) so I was always the youngest in my class. That, in turn, made me the youngest when I started college. Then, I went to work for a small uniform store and, yep, you guessed it, the youngest there, too. My next job was for an attorney and I was the youngest there by far. At my next job, I worked for a local builders association and even though there were at most 4 employees, we had at one point over 650 members. Other than Greg (who even though is a few months younger, definitely passed as older than me because he was prematurely balding and had an unnatural obsession for politics) everyone I worked with was older than me.

I have always been the baby. I'm not saying that's a good thing. It made me work harder to prove myself, but it always made me feel like no one took me serious, because "what could she possible know, she's just a child" (by the way, I typed that in my best fake British accent because it sounds more condescending). I have carried that complex with me, even into my 30's.

But then something happened... I got involved in my church and a small group. I have been fortunate enough to meet some of the best friends I have ever had through that small group. However, one of the first times we hung out outside of our small group was on a New Years Eve, which just happens to be my birthday. I made a comment about it being hard for me to write the correct year when I'm writing out 12/31/whatever because I want to put 12/31/79. One of the girls there (who is now one of my very best friends) said "Oh, I didn't know you were that old." What? Sheepishly, I said "I'm not that old." Completely embarrassed, she said "Oh my, I didn't mean it that way, I meant, that you just don't look like you could be that old. Oh dear, that doesn't sound right either, I didn't mean it in a bad way!" Sure, you didn't, Sarah... I got ya... ;)

That solidified it... I am the old one in the group, in the words of Greg, I have dust in my shoes...

The bad part is that it has transferred to my job, too. I'm not the oldest, but I'm not the youngest either. I know I couldn't stay the youngest forever, but maybe I should start looking for a new job... like at a nursing home... or a diner or something.

Anyway, it's getting late please excuse me as I grab my cane and head to the kitchen for some Ovaltine and prunes to enjoy while I finish my Sunday crossword.

to the moon and back,