I've waited for a couple of weeks before posting this, thinking that perhaps my first response to things I've read/heard was a bit quick and perhaps I needed to fully think through it and then I might agree more with the perspective of those other people, but I don't. Here is the story...
A couple of weeks ago I was minding my own business, taking a few minutes to read updates on facebook before bed (my "me" time), when several posts in a row caught my eye about the overindulgence of Christmas. I was curious about what these overindulgence's were, so I clicked forward to read more...bad idea. The more I read, the more irritated I got. It started with the basic, we do more than we need to and it's not appreciated so where do we draw the line, to, everyone does too much, everyone needs to cut back and everyone has more than they need. From how much is too much, to, only purchase a maximum of 4 gifts per family member and they should be: one thing needed, one thing wanted, one toy, and one thing to wear.
Before you jump to conclusions, here is where my irritation comes from. I grew up in a family where needs were met by hard working parents and the grace of God. There weren't a lot of "extra" things, but we never went hungry and we were happy. Until high school age, the Christmas I remember as being the "best" was the year all the kids got sleeping bags. Receiving boxes from Grandparents at Christmas was exciting because we might get some small toy or baseball/basketball cards for the guys, but even that wasn't "expected". As best as I can remember, Christmas was the time my parents "indulged" to get us things we needed and there were only about 4 until I was in high school that we actually got something we didn't need. Not that they didn't WANT to do more, but when you worked multiple jobs all year long just to pay the bills and feed your kids, it didn't leave a whole lot extra for toys or even extra clothes. We probably met the before mentioned "four gift maximum" with underwear, socks, a robe, pajamas... etc. etc. but they were all necessities. So here I am, a married adult with one child. I have two married siblings with 5 kids between them, I DO have more than my parents did at this stage in my life and I want my daughter and nieces and nephew to have some of those things I didn't. I DO have a Christmas "budget" that I don't overspend and I DO spend more on the kids than anyone else in the family. I may buy one large gift or split the cost with another family member or buy multiple small gifts, regardless, I DID agree with the posted opinion that you shouldn't go into debt over Christmas and usually look all year long for "deals" that allow me the freedom of giving more to my loved ones without spending a fortune! My irritation comes from being the child that saw the toys my friends had after Christmas that I didn't and wanting my nieces and nephew to have that toy that makes their eyes light up but doesn't necessarily have to be the most popular toy that year. From being that child that wore hand-me-downs at Christmas and didn't have the new dresses or coats or shoes etc., that other kids did, and wanting my nieces to feel the specialness of opening up that outfit that was picked especially for them, that made them feel like a "princess" and extra special. From wearing the same shoes until they were literally falling off my feet and wanting to give my oldest niece that pair of shoes that she is SO excited to wear but doesn't "need".
So here's my thoughts:
We celebrate Christmas because God gave the ultimate gift in Jesus to us. That one act was filled with love for every one of us and the desire for our happiness and what would give us a better life. Anything else pales in comparison...so at Christmas time we try to duplicate that thought from the human standpoint. What I do for my family may be more than one person can do, but less than another but it's not about what other people do! Nobody else needs to dictate to me how many gifts to give, what kind, or order. If my child doesn't appreciate the gift(s) she receives then I've failed as a parent not as the gift giver. Not because of the gift(s) or "overindulgence" of Christmas, but because I haven't taught her to appreciate what she has all year long! Our family waits till this one special day to give tangible gifts that show our love to each other, your family might do something different. Our family tries to give to other people in need all year long, you might do the same, or do something for someone in need at Christmas. Here is the point: We are all different. We all have different backgrounds. You might not know everything about me, I might not know everything about you. So don't make a blanket statement that we all overindulge at Christmas, that gifts aren't appreciated, that everyone already has more than they need, and don't try to make me feel guilty if I purchase more than the four gifts you think is the correct amount. I might have spent less than you did...
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Saturday, November 20, 2010
"It was the best of times....." continued
When I start thinking back on certain parts of my childhood it never fails that a FLOOD of memories hit me. Wanting so badly to play baseball with my big brothers and finally given the chance if I would just do a "dare" and touch an electric fence that they SWORE was off, (it wasn't, and I never did get to play). Having a tea party and my brothers being so sweet and making "lemonade" that had a remarkably similar taste to Tabasco sauce. Playing "war" with sticks and chopping the "head" off all the dandelions. Having my thumb slammed into the door while my brother's carried out newspapers to be burned because I "had a very important job to help them with by holding said door" and our hyper cocker spaniel deciding then would be a good time to try and escape while his leash was connected to that door. I had some pretty cool stitches though! Sliding down the slide backwards at our school after church one evening, falling off at the top and breaking my nose and my brother carrying me into the church and leaving a trail of blood that stained it until new carpet was put in. Playing football in the house while my parents were grocery shopping, and being so proud of myself for making a touchdown...I think back now and recall how my brothers really didn't try to stop me so I'd keep playing. Playing "catch" with my brothers as I got a little older and able to actually "catch" the ball even though they had to throw it softer to me. Finally riding bareback with my neighbor's son on their monster show horse after waiting for "years" only to get bucked off and break my arm. Going to my brother's basketball games and "cheering". I'm sure it was highly embarrassing for them, but it sure was fun for me! Getting a pool for the first time and spending HOURS swimming with the family and laughing. Sitting around the kitchen table for meals and listening to my dad and brothers joke. Eating tatter tot casserole and trying to throw it away while nobody was watching, only to get caught and get a SECOND helping (I still dislike it)! Spinning each other on the swivel chairs while waiting for my mom to finish working at the school. Getting in a car wreck with my big brother and thinking I was big stuff whenever he took me with him anywhere, even after that. Going to camp and playing capture the flag for hours! So many more memories, good and not so good, but each one is a part of me and has shaped me into the person I am. Memories that have made my family who they are and people that I wouldn't trade for anything. Thinking back, I hope that Peyton can have some of those same memories, whether it be with cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, or her own immediate family. Memories that make her laugh and cry, but at the end of the day make you into a better person. Memories that make you grateful for the family you have.
Friday, November 19, 2010
"It was the best of times, It was the worst of times"
So lately I've been doing quite a bit of Holiday baking for different occasions and it's caused me to start thinking about some things that I look forward to doing with Peyton as she gets older... Don't get me wrong, I don't want her to get older TOO quickly, just thinking of things that will be so fun to teach a little girl. One of those things is teaching her how to cook and bake. Of course, thinking about teaching my own daughter these things, made me remember some moments with my own mom in the kitchen. One in particular never fails to make me laugh, and has been known to be brought up if a certain "dish" is mentioned in our house when our family is together.
I think I was about 7 years old and I had probably been begging my mom to let me "make" something for quite a while before she finally gave in. I mean, it was only right since I was the ONLY girl and my brother Shane had been baking cookies since he was about my age and would NEVER let me help. I'm sure I pestered (I mean patiently waited for) my mom to let me do something on my own until she finally gave in one Saturday. I remember it QUITE clearly. My dad and brothers had sequestered themselves into the laundry room/ sewing room to sit around an itty bitty black & white tv to watch some kind of sport (I believe it was football). My mom thought this would be a good time to start "teaching" me to cook. She had this really neat Children's Cookbook that I was SO excited to use and let me pick out my own recipe for a "snack" for the guys. Well, I remember picking out two or three, and mom narrowing down my choices to one by looking at the difficulty and how long it would take and deciding on bread pudding. Imagine my youthful excitement of "cooking" for the very first time. I followed the recipe to the letter, even triple checking! Okay, maybe that was my mom who did the triple checking, but I waited patiently with each measurement while she did it. :) Finally it was done and in the dish, time to place it in the fridge for a few hours and let it "set up". A few hours later FINALLY came (it seemed like forever in my little mind), after I "checked" it several times just to see if maybe the recipe was wrong and it didn't REALLY take that long, my mom declared it finished and called my dad into the kitchen. At that point he had no idea what he was getting himself into. I remember clearly my mom telling him this was my very first time cooking, that he and my brothers needed to eat a helping, even if they didn't want to, so it would make me feel good. So in come my brothers and my dad gives them each (including himself) a nice big helping. I was so proud of myself and went into the room to get "feedback" on my abilities as a master chef, only to hear one of my brothers, (I don't remember which one now), ask my dad if they really had to eat "this stuff" because it tasted horrible. Imagine the pain I instantly felt at such cruel remarks!! I did have a hero in my dad who responded, "Yes, just do it for your sister." I was still a little hurt by their less than excited reaction to my cooking so I went to take a taste of it myself. After taking one spoonful, I declared it utterly abhorrent and unfit for man OR beast! Okay, so maybe I just said "yuck"..and refused to eat any more of it. In the span of time between me watching my brothers reaction to my cooking, and testing it myself, my poor brothers had gulped down that nasty recipe in a hurry to try to get it over with. If only they had waited just a little longer, they would have gotten out of eating it, since the "chef" didn't even like it. Because of their sacrifice I'm still willing to try out "new" recipe's, but you probably won't EVER see bread pudding on any of our kitchen tables. If you invite one of us over for a meal, are serving bread pudding, and wonder why we aren't eating it, blame me. I am the reason that at the mention of "bread pudding" it might cause them to look a little sick.
I think I was about 7 years old and I had probably been begging my mom to let me "make" something for quite a while before she finally gave in. I mean, it was only right since I was the ONLY girl and my brother Shane had been baking cookies since he was about my age and would NEVER let me help. I'm sure I pestered (I mean patiently waited for) my mom to let me do something on my own until she finally gave in one Saturday. I remember it QUITE clearly. My dad and brothers had sequestered themselves into the laundry room/ sewing room to sit around an itty bitty black & white tv to watch some kind of sport (I believe it was football). My mom thought this would be a good time to start "teaching" me to cook. She had this really neat Children's Cookbook that I was SO excited to use and let me pick out my own recipe for a "snack" for the guys. Well, I remember picking out two or three, and mom narrowing down my choices to one by looking at the difficulty and how long it would take and deciding on bread pudding. Imagine my youthful excitement of "cooking" for the very first time. I followed the recipe to the letter, even triple checking! Okay, maybe that was my mom who did the triple checking, but I waited patiently with each measurement while she did it. :) Finally it was done and in the dish, time to place it in the fridge for a few hours and let it "set up". A few hours later FINALLY came (it seemed like forever in my little mind), after I "checked" it several times just to see if maybe the recipe was wrong and it didn't REALLY take that long, my mom declared it finished and called my dad into the kitchen. At that point he had no idea what he was getting himself into. I remember clearly my mom telling him this was my very first time cooking, that he and my brothers needed to eat a helping, even if they didn't want to, so it would make me feel good. So in come my brothers and my dad gives them each (including himself) a nice big helping. I was so proud of myself and went into the room to get "feedback" on my abilities as a master chef, only to hear one of my brothers, (I don't remember which one now), ask my dad if they really had to eat "this stuff" because it tasted horrible. Imagine the pain I instantly felt at such cruel remarks!! I did have a hero in my dad who responded, "Yes, just do it for your sister." I was still a little hurt by their less than excited reaction to my cooking so I went to take a taste of it myself. After taking one spoonful, I declared it utterly abhorrent and unfit for man OR beast! Okay, so maybe I just said "yuck"..and refused to eat any more of it. In the span of time between me watching my brothers reaction to my cooking, and testing it myself, my poor brothers had gulped down that nasty recipe in a hurry to try to get it over with. If only they had waited just a little longer, they would have gotten out of eating it, since the "chef" didn't even like it. Because of their sacrifice I'm still willing to try out "new" recipe's, but you probably won't EVER see bread pudding on any of our kitchen tables. If you invite one of us over for a meal, are serving bread pudding, and wonder why we aren't eating it, blame me. I am the reason that at the mention of "bread pudding" it might cause them to look a little sick.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Daddy's gift
Normally I write posts about things that happen to me, but lately it seems that Chad has been on the end of some rather funny moments. Here's one from the very first week of Peyton's life.
Peyton was apparently blessed with great bowels and loved to give them a workout from the very first day of birth. Going off the charts of what was "expected" of newborns diapers. That being said, I didn't realize she had a "special power" till we got home. I was sitting on the couch talking to my mom after feeding Peyton when she had quite the need for a diaper change. Chad had just walked in and, trying to be sweet, offered to change her. He takes Peyton into her room to the changing table and about two minutes later we hear (in a high-pitched worried voice) "A little help here"!! Of course, I can't hurry anywhere at this point, so my mom rushes into the room and I hear a burst of laughter, so I decide this is worth getting up for and join them. When I get in there I see my mom trying to clean up my daughter and my husband trying to clean up the dresser (which doubles as the changing table), the armoire, and the wall! Apparently in his rush to change her he had forgotten to get a diaper out before taking her dirty one off, and Peyton had decided to initiate her Daddy. She had blown poop over everything within a three foot radius, thankfully not on the floor though. So now Daddy has learned a lesson, always have a clean diaper ready to go before taking the dirty one off. :D If you come visit don't worry though, it has all been disinfected!
Peyton was apparently blessed with great bowels and loved to give them a workout from the very first day of birth. Going off the charts of what was "expected" of newborns diapers. That being said, I didn't realize she had a "special power" till we got home. I was sitting on the couch talking to my mom after feeding Peyton when she had quite the need for a diaper change. Chad had just walked in and, trying to be sweet, offered to change her. He takes Peyton into her room to the changing table and about two minutes later we hear (in a high-pitched worried voice) "A little help here"!! Of course, I can't hurry anywhere at this point, so my mom rushes into the room and I hear a burst of laughter, so I decide this is worth getting up for and join them. When I get in there I see my mom trying to clean up my daughter and my husband trying to clean up the dresser (which doubles as the changing table), the armoire, and the wall! Apparently in his rush to change her he had forgotten to get a diaper out before taking her dirty one off, and Peyton had decided to initiate her Daddy. She had blown poop over everything within a three foot radius, thankfully not on the floor though. So now Daddy has learned a lesson, always have a clean diaper ready to go before taking the dirty one off. :D If you come visit don't worry though, it has all been disinfected!
My Gift, "Before I knew you I loved you"
So it's been a while since my last post and a lot has happened! For one, I managed to make it through the last "waddle"stage of pregnancy without too many more "blond" moments and relatively few mishaps. These are a few things I've learned in the last month or so.
1. Waking up fifty billion times ever night to use the bathroom DOES prepare you for your child's entrance into this world and nightly needs.
2. Said bathroom trips are usually quicker than said child's nighttime needs.
3. Clothes I wore before pregnancy somehow stretched and shrunk in all the wrong places...some are too big and some are too small.
4. Whoever said it was easy to find *cough undergarments for a nursing mommy, was WRONG. And whoever it was, it was a bad joke! Seriously.. do you KNOW how unhandy it is when you don't have the right clothing?! I'm sure someone SOMEWHERE out there has to be the same size as myself..but as of right now, no mommy in Europe or America is buying or making them besides myself. Who would have though I could start a new market?! ha ha
5. Because of said garment challenge, I have found that going ANYWHERE for longer than a 4 hr period, is pretty much out of the question and makes for VERY quick shopping trips. Too bad half of those trips are spent driving!
6. Being a mom makes me have the best AND the worst days.
7. Who knew that a baby could mess up a whole set of clothing with one bowel movement.
8. Said clothing should be treated immediately, but may never be the same again. No matter how quickly it's treated. And somehow I have a mental block about putting that clothing back on her, even if the stains come out completely!
9. One smile from your baby makes the worst of days better.
10. Crying from that same baby with no known reason is usually the CAUSE of those worst days.
And last but not least, watching my husband learn how to care for his daughter and interact with her are the moments I'll cherish forever.
Thought number 6 leads me to the real thoughts behind this post, being a mom. I posted about our struggle to get pregnant, about the miracle of our pregnancy and the gift God gave us. I hadn't taken the time till no to post about the birth, and our "gift's" entrance into this world, so here it is.
We went to the hospital on Sunday afternoon, August 15th, a few days after her "due date" to be induced. This was great timing since Papa made it into town about 2pm that same afternoon, so we were glad he would be able to be there for the birth if it happened that same day. To make a rather long story short, they broke my water but the inducement didn't work, and after several hours of labor into the next day, and the baby and I both being on monitors, I hadn't progressed anywhere near where I needed to be. At some point there were signs that something was going wrong and my midwife and the doctor came in to check on my progression. After they did their checking I was hit with, "you are not going to have this baby anyway but by c-section and you really don't have very long to make your decision. In fact, I had literally five minutes to decide something that really wasn't a "decision". So we were rushed into surgery and 45 minutes from the time the doctor and midwife gave me my "options", Peyton Lynnae entered this world. Now, that sounds all nice and easy, but let me tell you, it wasn't all fun and games. Apparently, Peyton was nice and comfy inside her home of nine months, and had decided to wedge herself in and stay for a while. When the doctor decided to cut her out, she "dug her heels in", that is to say, she was stuck. With two nurses (according to my husband) pushing on me from the top side and the doctor pulling they finally managed to get her out, but during this process, my body decided to go on strike. The veins that they had put IV's in for meds decided they were done and infiltrated, leaving no options for medication in a hurry. With several people trying to find veins (oh, did I mention they have a hard time finding my veins anyways, and when they do they generally can't poke them?) the doctor was getting a little on edge. With all the shoving and pushing I was losing quite a bit of blood and they weren't able to get the meds in the way they prefer to. Needless to say, they did end up going to option two and three which was giving me a shot directly to my uterus to help slow down the bleeding, but the bleeding had become a real issue at that point. They finally found a vein and got meds pumping but at this point my levels were very low which was something they monitored closely in the hospital and am still dealing with. So there is my "birth" story..... We are thankful that God's hand was on both Peyton and myself, and the moment I heard her little voice crying out, it didn't matter what I had gone through, I was just glad she was here.
Now, I say it didn't matter what I had gone through, but don't get me wrong, I'm not in a hurry to do it again anytime soon!!!
So now my gift is here. The long awaited baby that I have prayed about for over two years and had become a reality for the last nine months. The gift that had changed our lives just by finding out she was on her way, and now would affect the rest of our lives (we hope in a positive way..ha). This little baby that I had packed so many hopes and dreams into, was absolutely perfect in this mommy's eyes. Maybe it was the drug induced state, but I like to think she was absolutely beautiful from her very first moments outside the womb. I do of course realize that each and every mom thinks her child is perfect, that's our right and nobody better try to tell us otherwise! :)
After those first few moments I suddenly realize that I can't even get out of bed by myself, how in the world am I going to take care of this baby?! I was planning on a natural birth, not surgery! Thankfully I have a VERY gracious family and everything worked out for my mom to stay longer to help out and I was able to take some time to heal without worrying about Peyton 24/7. Now, I'm almost to the point (health wise) of being allowed to exercise more than walking on a track and I'm looking forward to getting RID of the gift Peyton left me with. :) Some gifts are better than others!
1. Waking up fifty billion times ever night to use the bathroom DOES prepare you for your child's entrance into this world and nightly needs.
2. Said bathroom trips are usually quicker than said child's nighttime needs.
3. Clothes I wore before pregnancy somehow stretched and shrunk in all the wrong places...some are too big and some are too small.
4. Whoever said it was easy to find *cough undergarments for a nursing mommy, was WRONG. And whoever it was, it was a bad joke! Seriously.. do you KNOW how unhandy it is when you don't have the right clothing?! I'm sure someone SOMEWHERE out there has to be the same size as myself..but as of right now, no mommy in Europe or America is buying or making them besides myself. Who would have though I could start a new market?! ha ha
5. Because of said garment challenge, I have found that going ANYWHERE for longer than a 4 hr period, is pretty much out of the question and makes for VERY quick shopping trips. Too bad half of those trips are spent driving!
6. Being a mom makes me have the best AND the worst days.
7. Who knew that a baby could mess up a whole set of clothing with one bowel movement.
8. Said clothing should be treated immediately, but may never be the same again. No matter how quickly it's treated. And somehow I have a mental block about putting that clothing back on her, even if the stains come out completely!
9. One smile from your baby makes the worst of days better.
10. Crying from that same baby with no known reason is usually the CAUSE of those worst days.
And last but not least, watching my husband learn how to care for his daughter and interact with her are the moments I'll cherish forever.
Thought number 6 leads me to the real thoughts behind this post, being a mom. I posted about our struggle to get pregnant, about the miracle of our pregnancy and the gift God gave us. I hadn't taken the time till no to post about the birth, and our "gift's" entrance into this world, so here it is.
We went to the hospital on Sunday afternoon, August 15th, a few days after her "due date" to be induced. This was great timing since Papa made it into town about 2pm that same afternoon, so we were glad he would be able to be there for the birth if it happened that same day. To make a rather long story short, they broke my water but the inducement didn't work, and after several hours of labor into the next day, and the baby and I both being on monitors, I hadn't progressed anywhere near where I needed to be. At some point there were signs that something was going wrong and my midwife and the doctor came in to check on my progression. After they did their checking I was hit with, "you are not going to have this baby anyway but by c-section and you really don't have very long to make your decision. In fact, I had literally five minutes to decide something that really wasn't a "decision". So we were rushed into surgery and 45 minutes from the time the doctor and midwife gave me my "options", Peyton Lynnae entered this world. Now, that sounds all nice and easy, but let me tell you, it wasn't all fun and games. Apparently, Peyton was nice and comfy inside her home of nine months, and had decided to wedge herself in and stay for a while. When the doctor decided to cut her out, she "dug her heels in", that is to say, she was stuck. With two nurses (according to my husband) pushing on me from the top side and the doctor pulling they finally managed to get her out, but during this process, my body decided to go on strike. The veins that they had put IV's in for meds decided they were done and infiltrated, leaving no options for medication in a hurry. With several people trying to find veins (oh, did I mention they have a hard time finding my veins anyways, and when they do they generally can't poke them?) the doctor was getting a little on edge. With all the shoving and pushing I was losing quite a bit of blood and they weren't able to get the meds in the way they prefer to. Needless to say, they did end up going to option two and three which was giving me a shot directly to my uterus to help slow down the bleeding, but the bleeding had become a real issue at that point. They finally found a vein and got meds pumping but at this point my levels were very low which was something they monitored closely in the hospital and am still dealing with. So there is my "birth" story..... We are thankful that God's hand was on both Peyton and myself, and the moment I heard her little voice crying out, it didn't matter what I had gone through, I was just glad she was here.
Now, I say it didn't matter what I had gone through, but don't get me wrong, I'm not in a hurry to do it again anytime soon!!!
So now my gift is here. The long awaited baby that I have prayed about for over two years and had become a reality for the last nine months. The gift that had changed our lives just by finding out she was on her way, and now would affect the rest of our lives (we hope in a positive way..ha). This little baby that I had packed so many hopes and dreams into, was absolutely perfect in this mommy's eyes. Maybe it was the drug induced state, but I like to think she was absolutely beautiful from her very first moments outside the womb. I do of course realize that each and every mom thinks her child is perfect, that's our right and nobody better try to tell us otherwise! :)
After those first few moments I suddenly realize that I can't even get out of bed by myself, how in the world am I going to take care of this baby?! I was planning on a natural birth, not surgery! Thankfully I have a VERY gracious family and everything worked out for my mom to stay longer to help out and I was able to take some time to heal without worrying about Peyton 24/7. Now, I'm almost to the point (health wise) of being allowed to exercise more than walking on a track and I'm looking forward to getting RID of the gift Peyton left me with. :) Some gifts are better than others!
Monday, May 31, 2010
Pregnancy Story
So usually I try to keep most of my embarrassing/blonde moments to myself, they are so common that it feels overwhelming to actually ADMIT to them. I couldn't resist sharing this moment though, so here it is.
About two weeks ago I traveled with Chad to a printing shop about an hour from our house to try out a new printer he was looking at. It was a last-minute trip and I didn't have time to grab a book or anything to keep me occupied while Chad was working. After sitting on the couch in the office playing a game on my phone for over an hour (and my phone almost dead) I decided I needed something else to do, so I told Chad I was going to go look for a book or magazine. Thankfully there was a Kroger's grocery store right down the walk-way so I didn't have to go far to look. I walked in and ended up searching every aisle before I finally found the right one, but I did find it! Not only did they have a VERY small selection of books, but they didn't have anything worth reading, so I moved on to the magazines. Now, I'm not a really big "magazine" person. I do enjoy an occasional craft/decorating magazine but usually I gravitate towards those that have recipes in them. Seeing that there were several magazines fitting that category, I was really excited and did not take into consideration the location of said magazines. They just happened to be on the bottom shelf of this rack so, not thinking, I hunkered down to begin my browsing to find the perfect magazine to take back with me. After spending quite a bit of time down there, it occurred to me that most of the cooking magazines were filled with articles instead of recipes and it would be a waste of money to purchase such a magazine. A little irritated at not finding anything to fill my time with, I decided it was time to return to the shop. Easier said than done I might add. Apparently after squatting down for over 20 minutes browsing this magazine selection, my legs forgot the job they were intended for, either that, or they were going on strike with the added girth of my baby girl weighing down my front side and affecting my balance. My first attempt at rising from my position on the floor was quite sad, and I'm sure the lady standing beside me enjoyed the look I know had to be on my face when I realized getting up was going to be more difficult than normal. I simply wasn't able to make those legs do all the work they were supposed to do! I mean really, who would have thought a pregnant woman squatting for 20 minutes could play such havoc with the ability of your legs?! After sitting there for another five minutes thinking how embarrassing it was going to be to have to ask someone for help and pretending to browse the fine selection of cooking magazines I had already browsed, I decided I could not bring myself to do it, and started thinking of other options. There was a shelf right above my head holding another selection of magazines so I decided that would work fine to leverage myself up. Praying the entire time that the shelf wouldn't break, I grabbed hold and managed to pull myself up enough to allow my legs enough room to do their job. I promptly walked back to the shop where Chad was working and informed him that I now needed one of those emergency call buttons that inform people when you've fallen and need help getting back up. I'm not sure if it was the extended period of time I was squatting down there or what, but I've decided to never go shopping alone after that, or at least until this baby arrives.
About two weeks ago I traveled with Chad to a printing shop about an hour from our house to try out a new printer he was looking at. It was a last-minute trip and I didn't have time to grab a book or anything to keep me occupied while Chad was working. After sitting on the couch in the office playing a game on my phone for over an hour (and my phone almost dead) I decided I needed something else to do, so I told Chad I was going to go look for a book or magazine. Thankfully there was a Kroger's grocery store right down the walk-way so I didn't have to go far to look. I walked in and ended up searching every aisle before I finally found the right one, but I did find it! Not only did they have a VERY small selection of books, but they didn't have anything worth reading, so I moved on to the magazines. Now, I'm not a really big "magazine" person. I do enjoy an occasional craft/decorating magazine but usually I gravitate towards those that have recipes in them. Seeing that there were several magazines fitting that category, I was really excited and did not take into consideration the location of said magazines. They just happened to be on the bottom shelf of this rack so, not thinking, I hunkered down to begin my browsing to find the perfect magazine to take back with me. After spending quite a bit of time down there, it occurred to me that most of the cooking magazines were filled with articles instead of recipes and it would be a waste of money to purchase such a magazine. A little irritated at not finding anything to fill my time with, I decided it was time to return to the shop. Easier said than done I might add. Apparently after squatting down for over 20 minutes browsing this magazine selection, my legs forgot the job they were intended for, either that, or they were going on strike with the added girth of my baby girl weighing down my front side and affecting my balance. My first attempt at rising from my position on the floor was quite sad, and I'm sure the lady standing beside me enjoyed the look I know had to be on my face when I realized getting up was going to be more difficult than normal. I simply wasn't able to make those legs do all the work they were supposed to do! I mean really, who would have thought a pregnant woman squatting for 20 minutes could play such havoc with the ability of your legs?! After sitting there for another five minutes thinking how embarrassing it was going to be to have to ask someone for help and pretending to browse the fine selection of cooking magazines I had already browsed, I decided I could not bring myself to do it, and started thinking of other options. There was a shelf right above my head holding another selection of magazines so I decided that would work fine to leverage myself up. Praying the entire time that the shelf wouldn't break, I grabbed hold and managed to pull myself up enough to allow my legs enough room to do their job. I promptly walked back to the shop where Chad was working and informed him that I now needed one of those emergency call buttons that inform people when you've fallen and need help getting back up. I'm not sure if it was the extended period of time I was squatting down there or what, but I've decided to never go shopping alone after that, or at least until this baby arrives.
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