Caregiving

I am interrupting my VBS whine to bring you this post.
You thought I had turned over a new leaf by blogging every day of the week, didn't you? I'm sure I shocked you all. Heck, I shocked me. And I thought I had turned over a new leaf. And then last week, life interrupted me. Funny, that. Life is always doing that to me.
Last Wednesday as I was just finishing some applications off before lunch, I hear the front door open. Everyone was meant to be at work (except for me, of course), so I was a little confused as to who might be letting themselves in. It was my mom, looking a little worse for wear, weakly asking if I could go pick up her car from work. If her car was at work, how did she get home?
"I fell at work, went to the ER (mild concussion) and then my boss brought me home," she said.

I think that was the fastest I've ever gotten ready in my life.

I spent the afternoon taking care of my mom in a way I've never done before. (And I'm sure in a way she would never like to see again. She called me a "mean nurse" when I kept insisting she just stay still and rest. Weird.) Proof of my good-heartedness? I made her sugar cookies. From scratch. On a VERY hot day. True love, baby.
There was no VBS post that night because I stayed home to take care of my mom. And yes, it felt a little weird. But really? It was a nice time. Not nice that she got hurt, but nice because it meant we spent time together where we weren't arguing about jobs, life or anything else. It was time together--just plain and simple time together. And while she was resting, I put in Gilmore Girls for her to watch. We haven't watched that together in ages. I felt...like a daughter again.

And oddly enough, like a parent. Which was weird.

At the end of the night, I was exhausted. But an energetic exhausted. And ya know, it wasn't all that bad.

**Update: Mom is doing very well, one week out. She is still in a bunch of pain from her back, which was an issue even before she fell. Her head is doing fine & she got cleared by the ER doctor last week. Prayers are still appreciated!

VBS: Carryin' the Banner

I was somewhere around 10th grade maybe when I first fell in love with Newsies. It's a story about orphans and run-aways who would sell newspapers on the streets of New York in 1899. It's got music, it's got dancing, it's got Christian Bale -- what more could you ask for? I've seen so many movies that take place in New York, but when I think "New York," I always think, "Newsies!"
I was listening to the soundtrack yesterday and thought, "I wonder if I could change any of the lame-o VBS songs into super cool Newsies songs? Now that would be a VBS I would gladly attend!" We would sing songs like "Carryin' the Banner...of God's love" or "The World Will Know...that Jesus loves them."
The obvious "salvation song" (the one that always has the ABC's of salvation in it. And while I'm thinking about it, I really want to know if it takes more time to come up with a song for the ABC's and what they stand for than any other song. If you know, don't keep it to yourself!) would be "Seize the Day." "King of New York" would end up become something like "Tip your hat, He's the King of the Kingdom."

Of course, getting rid of the the smoking references, betting on race-horses, and the "lovey-dovey baby song" will prove to be most difficult...

VBS: Voluntold

This week is VBS at our church. I think we might be having ours a little later than every one else does, because I just read Jon Acuff's hilarious blog post about saying goodbye to VBS. Of the ten things that ALWAYS happen at VBS, no matter where you are in the world, one of them kinda smacked me around.

5. Grumpy volunteer.
I don’t know how you get tricked into volunteering this year, probably got voluntold if I had to guess, but fight the good fight next year, friend. If you hate kids, crafts and sweet baby Jesus, sprain your ankle next year to get out of volunteering.

I must admit, this is me this year. I got voluntold to VBS this year. But it wasn't by my mother or other ministry leader. I was knowingly voluntold that I would be helping this year by a good friend of mine. What with the not having a job, I've been living a pretty lame life the last few weeks. Like drinking coffee until lunch time, looking for jobs, not getting out of my house kinda of lame. And it's been getting to me. I would make a few off-hand comments to friends about how crazy I was feeling and somehow that made me feel better, like letting some steam off. One day my friend sat me down and said, "Next week you are helping with VBS. You are going to apply for three jobs a day, and you are going to get involved in ministry at church. Any questions?"
A plan? Did you just give me a plan??
Oh yes you did.
Gr.
So I hauled my voluntold butt to VBS last night. It was not the best thing ever. I WAS the grumpy volunteer with a foam Lady Liberty hat ( Big Apple Adventure!), my Lady Liberty rose-tinted glasses (who knew such a thing even existed? And yes, that will probably be a blog post at the end of the week...) AND (horrors of horrors) a name tag. Yuck.
But you know? It wasn't the worst thing I could have done with my evening. I did think about hiding out in the coat closet to read my book. Or taking a few recreation volunteers (like they do anything anyway...!) with me to grab a slushy. I didn't do either of those things. And I had an okay time. But what I realized most from Jon's blog is this: I don't WANT to be the grumpy volunteer. Just like you can tell which kids were forced to be at VBS, the kids can tell who was voluntold.
Might as well make the best of it, right?
(I mean, as long as it doesn't include learning the VBS songs...right? Because if I does, I'm changing "Bi-Bi-Bi Bi-Bi-Bi Big Apple Adventures!" to something like "Ca-Ca-Ca Carryin' the Banner!" from Newsies. )

Childhood dreams

Growing up, I wanted to be either a nurse or a truck driver. (Ok sure, strange dream. But hey, at least they were real jobs.)

My parents were my heros and if they could do it, so could I. For the longest time, that was my dream. I couldn't decide which I wanted to be! As a truck driver, my dad was always going to the places that we would only get to visit on vacation. And he got to go EVERY WEEK! I suppose I get my travel bug from him, though I think my bug bit a little bit deeper because I like BIG travel. Out of the country travel. I would sit with my dad as he did his paperwork at home. It was the coolest thing.
I forget when that dream died. I think it might have been around the time I learned about truck driver stereotypes. I hated them so much. I still do. I hated the way people looked at me as I tried to explain with pride the work my father did. How unfair is that?
My dream to be a nurse died in the ninth grade. Pre-chemistry class. I asked one of the facilitators in my science class during a particularly difficult lesson, "Would I need to know how to do this math if I want to become a nurse?" She said yes, and my heart sank. Well there goes that, I thought.
Four years of college and a Bachelors in English (something I love), guess what kind of jobs I see in all the job searches I do?

Yup.

Nurses and truck drivers.

Maybe I gave up on those dreams too early...

Looking for a job like it's my job...just without the paycheck

It's been a crazy few weeks (or has it been almost a month?? Oops. Sorry about that.)!

To sum things up: I moved back home.

The End.

(No seriously. The end.)
The move went really well. There were four of us, one Uhaul thing on the back of my parent's car, my Jetta, and my friend's van. And yes, all of my possessions fit. I either have a sad pathetic life ... or I need to get rid of stuff so I can prep for living out of my car. Because, let's face it. If I don't get a job soon, that might be where I end up.
Trust me when I say that you, my readers, benefited from me NOT blogging during the past few weeks. It would have sounded like this, "Blah blah blah, Woe is me. I don't have a job. Waaaa waaaa. Blah blah blah." (Plus or minus a few rain clouds, tears and a few not safe for work outbursts. Trust me on this one. You are welcome.)
Last night was an uncommon low point for me, so I had it out with God.
Which is big talk for the chicken that I am.

Because what I actually did was beg.

I pleaded with Him to show me what to do. I asked questions. And then, I begged some more.
Most times, I feel like I missed His plan. Like He showed me this great big dream and I just forgot about it or ignored it. But even if I did (because sometimes I am dense...), isn't he the God of second chances? Would he really say, "Yeah....you are about five years off "The Plan" I had for you. You really buggered that one up. Good luck trying to find a way to make things work." I am clinging to the hope that he doesn't do that.
I've been seeing so many Tweets over the past few days that, even to my depressed mind, have been encouraging. Things that said reminded me that there are different seasons in life, that rain and drought have their time, that God loves even when we are unlovable. I read them all saying in my head, "Yes, I hear that. But how? Why? It can't be true for me."
But then I realized something. I have to look past the doubt and believe it anyway. It is hard, oh so hard for me to do that. But it is the only thing that makes sense right now.

So today, I'm looking for a job. Not just looking, but promising myself to actually APPLY for something. Big or small. And I'm choosing to believe that God's plan for me is still in place. Choosing to believe that I am here, in this moment, for a reason. Even if I haven't the foggiest idea what that reason is.
I'm choosing joy.
I'm choosing hope.

the luckiest girl in the world

I might sound a little depressed the next few weeks. Or maybe I already have been sounding that way. There is something scary about leaving a job (or in my case, internship) and have nothing in place for "next" in your life. It also seems a little out of the ordinary, because the most popular question I get when I tell people about the end of the internship is, "What's next?"

What indeed.

This weekend was a beautiful time home, if not a little stressful. Moving back anywhere is difficult; moving back into an established home is even more so. There is something that is comforting about going to the kitchen and knowing exactly where everything is, knowing that it has been that way for the bast 20 some years of my life. Comfort in the little things.
And when I really need a break I can now drive 15 minutes down the road and hang out with the love of my life, Brooks. He is my friend's 8-month old and I love him to pieces. I was there visiting this weekend and, after picking him up from his nap, said to him, "Oh I could just take you home with me!" I was also telling him about the surprise birthday party we were having for my sister and told him he could be my date. He was just babbling happily, like babies do, and out of the blue his mom says, "Take him!"
I think my mouth hit the floor. "Don't tease me!" I said to her. I began feeling this consuming joy at the thought of spending the afternoon/evening with this little bundle of cuteness. After thoroughly convincing me she wasn't kidding and after getting the appropriate approval, his bag was packed, his car seat base placed securely in my car and we were off! I couldn't believe my good fortune! I sat with him in the back of my parent's car on the way to the party and couldn't stop staring at him. He was quite the hit of the party and everybody got a chance to play with him. After a relaxing tubby, he was bundled in his pajamas, said goodbye to everyone...and promptly fell asleep 2 seconds after he was strapped in his car seat.
I loved spending time with my Little Man! And if me being unemployed for the next few weeks (... I hope... ) means I get to spend more time with him? I guess I'm okay with that.

Welcom to the Bat Cave II: Night Battle

After the drama that was my Friday, I was overjoyed to head home for the weekend. I came home to a house full of kids (well, only the two) and got a HUGE hug from a newly 5 year old little girl. We also had the same earrings on, which tickled her to no end. I got to snuggled my Little Man and suddenly, all was right with the world. I had movie night with my friend; we FINALLY got around to seeing "Voyage of the Dawn Treader" together. I fell asleep through some of it, but I think I was forgiven.
Saturday was a busy day around-the-house day. Laundry, some TV time (MI-5 is my new favourite), shopping trip with mom and a birthday party for Miss 5 Year Old.
Sunday was more eventful than I would have wanted. Minor car repairs to Stella needed to happen. My dad is the superhero of the weekend for calming me down and helping me fix her. (He did a lot of the work, but if it needs to be fixed again, I can totally do it.) The night ended with a beautiful baptism at church. Y'all know how much I love days that end in baptism.
Monday was busy. Breakfast at my friend's house, a trip to see my grandparents, and dinner with the family--all of the family. Leaving to head back to town was hard, harder than I thought. The plan was to get on the road, make it home, get to bed early and head into work on my last day early & refreshed.

Monday night did not go according to plan.

I got back into town around 10pm with every intention of showering the day off and heading to bed before 10.30pm.

That did not happen.

I was still kind of paranoid about the bat that was in my apartment on Friday. Mostly because we (me and the Game Commission guy, Kevin) couldn't find it. I was cool if the thing turned up dead when I got home from the weekend, but still wasn't really looking forward to dealing with a dead bat first thing when I walked in the door. As I'm bringing my bags back into the apartment, I slowly open the bathroom door (where we had trapped it) and took a look around. I didn't see it so I left the door to the bathroom open. I sat at the table to take care of some paper work and while I'm there, minding my own business, I feel this presence fly into the room and out of it again. "Stop it!" I told myself. "You are just freaking out. Maybe it's just a stink bug." Why I always think it's a stink bug, I have no idea. I waited, not daring to look up, and then went about my business. When it happened again, I started freaking out a little. A grabbed my phone and saw in the reflection on the screen that, yes indeed, that dang bat was still flying around my apartment.

I called Game Commission, but they were closed and no officers were on duty. Thanks guys.

I called my mom. She told me to call the family that I babysit and ask to crash on their couch. As much as I felt strange asking to do that, I did not want to have to deal with the bat that night. So I called and the dad, David, answered the phone. I explained the situation to him and asked for some sympathy. His wife has started feeling achy, (yikes!) so he was hesitant about letting me come over, but he did offer to help. He gave some suggestions (open doors and windows) and told me to call when I had it taken care of.

After opening some windows, I went into my bathroom armed with a broom and fry pan. I did take a moment to snap a picture of this bugger. He must have gotten bigger over the weekend because I did NOT remember him being that big. Anyway, the closer I got to it (perched on the sash on the bathroom window), the more I thought, "Oh my word--this broom is NOT long enough! If I get anywhere close to brushing it down or if I actually do, it might land right on my head!" Now it might not have been that bad, but when a bat has been in your bathrobe, any contact or thought of more contact with the creatures makes ya a little crazy about NOT having them anywhere near your skin. So the chicken in me just bumps the blinds with the broom, causing the bat to fly out into the dinning room and perch on the sash of one of the bay windows...right next to the OPEN window. Why he didn't fly out is still a mystery to me. Miss Chicken nudged the blinds with the broom again to help him "find" the open window. She also took a swing at him with the broom when he got a little to close to her. (She might have nicked him. He might have sorta run into the fridge...)

In all of this confusion, the bat ends up on my table, spread eagle. Not moving. Did I get it? I didn't think I hit it that hard. I watch it a few moments and it doesn't move. Just to be safe, I put the fry pan over it and weigh it down with a few dozen mugs. I was thinking about just leaving it there until morning when David called. He laughed when I told him I had it trapped under the fry pan. He laughed when I told him I was just going to leave it until the morning. He asked if i wanted him to come over and help me get it out of the apartment. I said yes, if you don't mind too much and thank you.

He was over in a few minutes and we started making a plan. We both had that nervous laugh of trying to make light of the situation but at the same time being freaked about dealing with a bat in close quarters. David slipped some cardboard under the pan and we took it outside. (We? Who am I kidding? David. I stood there with a broom "just in case" the bugger got out from under the pan. I also opened and closed doors on the way out. David actually held the cardboard and the pan with the bat.) David kind of tossed the whole mess onto a patch of grass and we both waited to see what the bat would do. When nothing happened, David nudged the bat with the broom and after a few failed attempts, the bat hopped around and flew off into the night.

David and I were then able to relax and proceeded to exchanged bat stories. The frying pan ended up in the trash (sorry, Sonya) and after thanking David profusely, went in to bed.

I'm still super jumpy. Birds now freak me out. The fan in my room last night rustled my sheets in such a way that made me jump up and turn a light on, just to make sure it wasn't a bat. I've had enough of this "nature" stuff. I won't even tell you about the spider who was a cousin to Shelob that was in my tub yesterday morning. ::Shudder::

Here's hoping it's the last bat I will see. Ever.

Or, at least for the next few weeks...

See? Big bat. I can hardly even look at this picture...It freaks me out!