Can you spare a square?

Me and few girls from my team at work were rockin' the same pee schedule today.  So, when I went to the bathroom the third, fourth or sixty-seventh time today (I drink a LOT of water - don't judge me!), I was in the bathroom with two of my co-workers.

Whilst the chatting was going on, and the taking care of business, I reached down to grab some toilet paper.  It was a new roll, stuck in it's metal prison, and would not start for me.  I tried to grab the edge, I got enough to stop one shaving accident.  I tried again for more of the corner and got less.

I switched tactics and pushed the roll up so that I could rip that sucker up and get it started.  No dice.  Only more bits.  I was beginning to panic.  What was I to do?  People I know are in here!  They can hear as I attack the toilet paper that is rattling in it's metal prison!  Shut up, TP!!! You SUCK, TP!

I try again - getting more bits - and figure, enough bits, and soon I can make a ball big enough to wipe right?  But, the other girls are strangely quiet as the metal ringing of the toilet paper against it's torturous metal captor sings through the stalls.  More people are coming in.  It's after lunch.  Everyone must pee!

I figure the best thing to do - honesty.  I blurt out, "I'm having toilet paper issues."  One of my co-workers offers to help, "Do you need some more? Are you out?"

"No, I have a full roll, but can't get it started."  Now starts the giggling.  But I soldier on and throw out at the same time my other co-worker does, "Can you spare a square?"  Now, there is giggling coming from all the occupied stalls as we start remembering that episode of Seinfeld where Elaine stole all the toilet paper because Jerry's girlfriend couldn't spare a square.

Short story long, I finally got that crappy roll started and no longer need toilet paper assistance.

8 years ago today: not a birth story...

8 years ago today, I was busy becoming a mommy.  I won't go into the gory details, but the basic points are: 24 hours of labor, emergency c-section, ruptured uterus, one big beautiful daughter.

Olivia Candace was born just after May 28 rolled into May 29th, Memorial Day Weekend in 2004.  This meant that for the rest of my life, the beginning of summer will be celebrated with Miss Liv's birthday.

I learned that some things that you expect when you have kids, happen.  And many things that you don't, happen.

Tony took a turn in the throne.

Having a blast

Oh that cake is looking awesome!

Ice Cream cake

Daddy love

Opening presents

I remember that she looked exactly as I had pictured her.  She had my eyes, my nose, Tony's mouth and smile and his overly long butt crack.  I remember being in awe of how long that crack was.

She was already tall at 22 inches long, and 8 lbs, 7 oz. I hadn't bought any bottles because I was going to nurse my baby. I mean, it was easy and natural right?  Nothing to it.  Except, my milk never came in (well, not until 4 years later when her sister was born).  I remember being in the hospital room with a screaming starving newborn, and not knowing what to do.  The last night in the hospital, I had enough and we decided it was time to use formula.  Overnight she went from 8lbs to 8 lbs, 5 oz.  Decision confirmed.

Olivia was an easy baby after that.  She slept all night at 8 weeks - just after she started getting cereal.  Really.  She was already powering through a full 8 oz bottle per feeding and was hungry rather quickly.  Did I mention that she hit the 95th percentile and has not left it yet?  She was growing and growing fast.

She wasn't much of a snuggler, but liked to observer everyone from the floor.  She would go to sleep once you laid her down in her crib (read:easy baby).

Olivia has grown into a beautiful young lady at the ripe old age of 8.  She loves to read, write and is still my little artist.  She plays sudoku on my phone.  She picks out some of the craziest outfits to wear, and rocks them out.  She is very girly and loves to wear dresses.  She likes dance, but is not fond of ballet.  We will be going back to hip hop soon.  She sings along with lots of songs and it amazes me how quickly she memorizes the words.  She is defiant, stubborn and emotional.

I love this kid more than you can imagine.  She has taught me so much about being a mom.  It's not about what I want her to do - ever.  It's about making sure she knows that she needs to do something and motivating her to do that.  I can't command her, but need her to want to do her task at hand.

Olivia is my oldest and the kid that I will learn a lot of lessons with.  She is half way to driving and only 5 years from a true teenager.  I want so much for her, and hope that the next 8 years treat her well, and teach her much.

Happy Birthday to my sweet and loving 8 year old!

Square Pegs....

This was a busy weekend for me.  It started on Friday morning - early.  I got my little out of bed, tossed her in the back of the car, through some clothes in there too and embarked on an 11 hour drive to Mississippi.

Mia and I did well, even though my mom had called to warn me the night before of some murders in Mississippi that they thought was a police impersonator that was pulling people over and then killing them.  So, she was like, don't pull over and don't get murdered.  Hmmm...I'll try not to?

Why was I going to Mississippi you ask?  Well, as interested as I am in in the Cotton Gin, it was not to harvest my own cotton.  My little sister was graduating high school!

Cari is the third from the left

Graduating with honors

Congratulations!

Mia and I were very excited that we got to be there.

My little sister is 15 years younger than me.  She was born while I was in high school.  She has lived in Mississippi since she was 9.  She is everything I always wanted to be, in high school, and have strived to become since.

She is confident, yet easy.  Calm and fun.  She knows how to laugh and how to love.  She knows how take care of herself and has learned how to make choices that can be hard for a high schooler.  She is that girl that people like and always make a point to say hi to.  She is athletic, and pretty.  She was also able to grow up with the same people, and graduate with those same people she went to fourth grade with.  I changed schools between freshman and sophomore years.  I was able to be a wall flower, to sit back and try to weather my life without the added drama of friends.  I took the same friends from prior to sophomore year, and these are the friends I still have to this day - at least a few of them.

She makes me think back to my awkward overly emotional high school life.   I was a mess. My emotions were overwhelming to say the least.  I had no confidence, other than in how awesomely awkward I was.  The worst part is that this continues to this day.  I generally feel as if I'm a square peg trying to fit into a round hole.  I am not confident in myself or what I say or how I act.  I lack this confidence in my family interactions, with my mom or with my dad or with aunts, uncles, cousins.  I lack this confidence in my work and in my abilities.  I over-think and over-analyze every thing I say or do, every wrong sentiment out of my mouth, every interaction I have.  This awkwardness makes me nervous, which just makes me more anxious about my interactions and communications and abilities.

I have found that I am confident and at ease with my husband, my siblings (somewhat), and certain friends.  Not in groups, not with new people (although I'm learning), not with people I've known my whole life.  Is it weird that I am teaching myself to be myself?  Is it strange that I am teaching myself to give up the analyzation?  Is it odd that I find it's almost like an addiction?  I literally have to tell myself to give it up, to get over it, that in the grand scheme of things, my over-thinking is not going to change things, either people like and understand me or they don't.  Either way, that's their choice.

Here's the kicker.  Olivia is so much like me.  My heart breaks for the thought that she would be so awkward in her school and social life.  That she would be so embarrassed by things she did in middle school, or would be so freaked out by boys that she couldn't see that they are just people to.  And are actually a really good calming influence (the right ones, at least).  I want her to be like my sister and am terrified that she will grow up to be like me.

Linking up with Shell @ Things I Can't Say for PYHO.