Little League Season, Bully Problems, Finishing Law School, and Trailer Life...in that order.

If the title of this post is any indication, life this month is in full swing. Two little league teams going on...and guess who the team mom is for both? That's right, people. This girl, who was just mentioning how awesome it was that I was able to sit back and relax and the teams didn't look like they needed help! Haha. Then they both asked me (on different days) to be the team mom. I'm totally cool with that though, because sitting for too long makes my butt hurt. This way, I get to know the boys a bit, help them keep the dugout clean, make the snack list, AND know the schedule first!  It's a good job. I like it.

We are basically going to put about 10,000 miles on my car in in the next two months. Luckily, next year it looks like both boys can play on the same team, so this will be the difficult year. I could give or take kid sports, but I have one child who needs it. He totally, completely, NEEDS something outside of his family that will help give him a bit of confidence. This child is super sensitive, and very passive. This makes him an easy target for put-downs, and the last two weeks the put-downs at school have also come with kicks, hits, shoves, and pushes to the ground. Oh, it's hard to watch. I already made the big mom mistake by telling the kid who has called him names and won't leave him alone for the last year that I was going to call his mom. And...I did. Total mom interference.

It is so interesting how my three kids respond to this the same types of behavior. One is totally above the fray...she is so looked up to and mellow that she isn't even a part of the "kids can be mean" scene. Like, other kids ask for her help and guidance when they are having issues. She is 11 going on 40. Another child is so goofy (and tall for his age) that things roll right off his back. He's like, "Wha?!? Whatever." And then he goes and he does. He was a little upset that a few of his friends wouldn't let him play their zombie game at recess because he beat boxes too much and it annoys them. His solution: I'll go play over there, no biggie. My solution? Maybe you shouldn't beatbox all the time...it annoys your family sometimes, too! The other child would just literally kick the snot out of anyone who said anything mean to her or her family. I won't be surprised if I get called from the principal's office for that one one day.

But my timid kid, oh, it hurts. I hope he believes me when I say that he will be the boss someday, and not in jail. Lol. I hope he believes me that he can be a bit assertive, using a loud voice to tell the person to stop. I hope today he takes my advice and searches out the bully to locate him, and then stays as far away as possible at all times, so this kid and his friends don't have the opportunity to push him to the ground. In a really small school, that is sometimes hard to do. We are practicing at home, using an assertive voice and saying things like, "Stop!" and "Leave me alone, _________!" Loud enough to get other people's attention and make the kid think twice. Problem is, my kid gets all tongue tied and would rather look at the ground. This is something to work on, for sure...because he has dreams for his future, and part of those dreams requires he be not afraid of people. Still hard to watch. Going to school everyday to be called an "F-ing _______" (fill in the blank) and other words that he won't even repeat or spell for me because they are so bad. I just hope he comes out on top. I think baseball will be good for that. The other kids who play are nice kids. They just are. It is a safe place to make mistakes (like strike out or have a grounder go through your legs...oops!). The coaches and other male volunteers are helping the boys and talking to them respectfully, and setting a good example for them. Also, there are boys from the other schools on the team, and these kids will all be in high school together. It will be nice if my boys know the other nice kids because it gives them options. When you go to a school with one class per grade, and you are with the same 23 kids year after year, things can get a little weird that way. I love my small school, but the one teacher per grade is a drawback. Those kids don't ever get a break from each other.

I have a lot to learn. Still. I thought by this age I would be kind of more perfect, you know? I'm totally not and it is super frustrating. I have this vision of my perfect self (behavior wise, not body wise) and I'm just not there.

I am doing a super good job of halfheartedly studying for law school finals. Wish me luck and anti-procrastination thoughts. I received my bar review materials on Monday, and the box weighed 47 pounds. Yes...like a Kindergartner. Heaven help me.

Lastly, my book "Trailer Life" is a weird creature. I am a weird creature. I don't know what I expected, really. Fame and fortune? No. But hey...a 1000 copies sold in the first month would have been nice. Instead it is more like...well, let's just say I think my dad is my biggest fan. He bought four copies because he said, "You never know." He's right. You never know if you might need paper to start a fire with. But hey, I got the BEST review from a complete stranger! It was awesome. Cousin Aimee from Texas passed it along to me. And hey...my average star rating on Goodreads in a 4.5 out of 5. Ha ha...based on 2 ratings, but one of those ratings was from a stranger and she gave it 5 stars! I should share that my first review was 2 stars on Amazon and the person hated my book. When you do something out of your comfort zone and then someone tells you it stinks, it is not very heartwarming. In fact, it gave me a feeling like, "I should pull all copies now. Before anyone else happens to read it and I embarrass myself further." It's that same feeling I'll wake up with on those occasions I have dreamed I was naked and people could see me. It is mortifying and terribly uncomfortable. Extremely difficult. Like, possible the most uncomfortable thing I've ever done.

Except that one time I was in this play and I had to semi-act and SING a song in front of the people at my church. They all love me enough that it should have been like singing in front of family, but hot dang, that was super hard. I have video of it and refuse to watch it. Anyways, this whole book thing is hard. I don't think I will do it again. Except that I had this thought that maybe I will after I am done with the bar. Call it "Cookie Life?" Because I love cookies, and for 7 years I couldn't make them. N oven. But that's all I do now in the house.  Do I stay in a niche style (personal narrative/humorous memoir) or do I branch out a little? What to do...what to do?

Oh, I know. Study for the bar so I can be a lawyer already. Sheesh! Off I go. I'm going to go walk some laps while I listen to some school stuff. It's a passive way to study, but it gets my off my duff.

I Don't Do Drugs, but I Think I Was High Once: That Belladonna Goes WHERE?

Dear Mom,

Do not be alarmed by this story. You know I do not partake of that which would alter my mind.

Love,
Karrie


But hey, this one time, I think I was high on drugs. Let me tell you about it.

You may realize that I am female. Therefore, I have female parts. These parts have given me considerable cause for concern and have required some procedures to set my organs straight. It was during one of these procedures that I think I was high.

I got to stay awake for the procedure, but had to take various medicines to help me relax and not feel as much pain. I was prescribed several things to take, and several things to bring with me to the procedure. One of the medicines was a little pill that I should have taken prior to everything else to prevent me from puking, but I didn't know that at the time. One of the other medicines was a special suppository.

Yes, a suppository. Like, the thing that grosses me out beyond belief in it's regular everyday application. To all nurses and caretakers world wide, I salute you!

My suppository was not for that typical problem, though. Mine was indeed "special." It had a combination of drugs in it, and the most prevalent one that I can recall was "belladonna." When I got into my little procedure room and was dressed in all manner of paper shirts and paper "skirting," the nurse had me turn on my side and she inserted the suppository. I was mortified the whole time, including when she told me I had a cute little butt. (Mortified, but hey...a cute little butt? No one ever in my life has said that, so I'll take it.) I didn't feel a thing so the damage was much more psychological than physical. And no, the suppository didn't do what normal suppositories do, because it was "special."

I realized how special the suppository was about 30 minutes later, when in the middle of the procedure, with my feet in stirrups, I got the giggles. Prior to this I was watching the little TV screen which showed what the doctor was doing inside my body. It was all very fascinating. And then it happened. I just started giggling uncontrollably. My doctor, who looks a lot like Dean Cain, asked me to hold still. I said "okay" and started giggling even harder. He said, "Karrie, I really need you to hold still."

I lost it. I just started laughing so hard. This doctor had known me since I was in my early 20's, had seen me through two miscarriages and four babies, and was now trying to help me with my internal organs, and all I could do was laugh. He turned to one of the nurses and said, "Why is she laughing? What's so funny?"

The nurse, who inserted the drug filled suppository, whispered, "I think it's the medication. The suppository had belladonna in it, remember?" If she was trying to say that on the sly, she failed because I totally heard her. At first I was laughing for no reason at all. None. It just started happening. There was no thought in my head as to why I was laughing. And then, as soon as I realized that, I laughed harder. I found that staring at the ceiling was hilarious. The fingernail on my index finger was straight up gut-busting. My laughing during a sensitive procedure was funny. And then, the exchange between my doctor and nurse was even more hilarious. Everyone was so entertaining and cute, and I just laughed and laughed. Belladonna. Bella. Donna. Bellllll-laaaa-donnnnn-uh. DonnaBella.  The drugs gave me the giggles, which at the time translated in my brain as "I'm on drugs! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Taking drugs for real isn't funny. Even as I write that I think it's funny I was high once, I have my mom/teacher face scowl between my eye brows that says, "No. No, drugs are not funny. Don't do drugs, kids."

My doctor asked me to settle down so he could finish. He was totally nice about it. I inhaled, exhaled, inhaled and exhaled. I tried to think of dead kittens as a nice morbid thought to stop the laughter. I had to concentrate so hard on not finding things funny.

I barely managed. I like to think that it was my awesome powers of mind over matter, but I think maybe the drugs were chemically changing in my body and the effects were shifting from funny to NOT FUNNY. Doc finished the first part of the procedure and began the second part, which was, no joke, kind of painful. It was then that all humor left me and I had to concentrate on not passing out. My poor doctor. He went from trying to coax me down from a high to asking me to concentrate on his voice so I wouldn't faint. Eight minutes later the procedure was finished. They unhooked me from all the machines, I got dressed, called my mom to come and get me, and then more fun began.

You see, after the highs of the giggling episode, I hit rock bottom. As I was leaving the building, an overwhelming urge to vomit took over my body and the thought of me throwing up in front of everyone in the waiting room terrified me.

I had my tonsils and adenoids out when I was in second grade and while being wheeled from my room down the hall so I could go home, I pulled an exorcist like move and puked blood all over myself and the floor in front of this family who was at the nurse's station. I remember a little boy staring at me in horror. That memory still haunts me. I was determined not to pull another move like that in front of all these pregnant ladies in the OB/GYN waiting room. A nurse brought me one of those stupid little trays to puke in. I've always thought those trays, with their perfect little curve, were made for banana sundaes and not for puking in.

We made it out of the building and to my mom's house where the kids were. For the next 6 hours, I was in bed, shaking, sweating, and vomiting. At 10pm, just like magic, it all went away, and I was completely back to normal. No more shaking and no more vomiting. No spontaneous fits of laughter.

It appears as though I am highly sensitive to medications. I had always suspected this, but it was confirmed when a few years later I went to the eye doctor and got my eyes dilated. His assistant put the drops in, and when I walked into his exam room he said, "Woah! Your pupils are blown! Do you find yourself particularly sensitive to medications?"

Why yes, yes I do.

Bellllll-llaaaaaa-donnnnn-uh!

Tired!

Here, I'll spill it: I am tired of being tired. I've had "the crud" for a full two weeks, and I am so over it! I just want to wake up and ***POOF*** be skinny. I mean, healthy again. I want to be skinny, too, and that would be easier to do if I had any energy at all, didn't get an immediate headache in any position except upright (no PiYo, downward dog, or running), and when I'm sick, I crave junk food.

Also, I just want to be finished with school. Remember high school? And what it was like to be a senior? I'm that senior, except it started (much like it did in high school) two years early. I am so ready to put my education behind me. While I say that, it isn't entirely true, because I firmly believe a person who reads and tries things out is always learning. I'm just tired of learning the stuff I don't really need to know. I am tired of costing money. Here's to my last month of tuition payments! Yee-haw!!!

This week has seemed really, really long...and it's not because my children are home with me for Easter Vacation. They have been great. I told them today that they had two choices: go outside or stay inside and clean. They went out.

When Ryan works, he stays out of town, so it is just me and the kids for his days on duty. Most of the time this is "okay" but this week it seems to be worse than normal. Perhaps it is because cell phone reception in his area is super lousy, or because we have this little window of time in which to have this really short and static filled attempted conversation. I suppose I miss my husband. I won't complain, because we are blessed to have his job and it's not like he's gone off to war or something. Some have it worse than I do.

Today we watched General Conference. It was good: it made me feel hopeful. No one expects us to be perfect, except sometimes ourselves.

I have to end with something that is funny. I don't want to look back and think "doom and gloom" post. Yes, I am tired and feel a bit discouraged with the way things are right now. But this? This incident still makes me laugh!

We were in the Mazda, driving to Ed's first baseball practice. I tell everyone to grab a jacket and a water bottle, and while we are in the car, I hear the crinkling of the thin plastic bottle, times four. I am about to lose it with the water bottle noises, and we stop at the gas station so I can get some gum. I send Kacy in to get gum (she was totally nervous, as she had never bought anything like that by herself before), and Ryan calls me. We have a short, static filled conversation on the phone and I turn around to tell Ed to STOP WITH THE WATER BOTTLE ALREADY. As I  turn around I see that he is sucking water out of the bottom of the bottle, where he had bitten a hole in the side.

"What are you doing? How are you supposed to drink out of that bottle now during practice? Seriously!"

He starts uncapping the bottle, while it is still turned upside down and it spills onto his pants. Not the legs of his pants...but the crotch area. It looks like he has just peed his pants. He is mortified, because we are all laughing so hard at him. Good thing it was windy and our drive is so long to get to practice. I couldn't even tell he had wet pants by the time we got to practice. But still. What must go on in his brain!

I was worried about him. How is this boy going to function?

He functioned just fine. He came off the field after practice and said, "That was so much fun!"

I'm glad.