Kemi: The (Hopeful) Return November 1, 2009

     When I was a little girl, my journal read something like this:

 

October 19, 1983

Grandma Smith bought me this new journal for my eighth birthday!  I am going to write in it every day.

 

January 1, 1984

I haven’t been very good about writing in my journal, but I’m going to start now.  I’m going to write in it every day.

 

August, 1984

Wow, I wasn’t very good at writing in my journal.  I need to be better.  So much has happened, but it’s late tonight and I need to sleep, so I’ll write tomorrow.  PROMISE.

 

September, 1987

Wow, look how long it’s been since I’ve written in my journal!  I’m in eighth grade now, can you believe it?

 

August, 1992

So, I was packing for college and I found the old blue journal that Grandma gave me when I got baptized.  Since only two or three pages were written in, I decided to bring it along, just in case I wanted to write in a journal.

 

 

     And you know what?  I did write.  EVERY SINGLE DAY for two years.  Going back and looking through that big, blue journal makes me smile.  Things that happened to me, boys I had a crush on, the friends I made and the experiences I had (both good and bad) are all there for me to browse through.  I LOVE that I was so diligent at keeping a journal.  It’s funny– the primary reason I did it was because I wanted to tell my mom every single thing that happened when I was away, and it was too expensive for me to call long distance every night.  (Feel free to laugh at my dependency.  Some of my roommates did, often.)  I filled that journal, plus two more, over the next 2 1/2 years.  Ironically, I stopped writing nightly around the time I met my husband, and just between us, those are the times I SHOULD have been writing regularly.  (He remembers our history just a *teency* bit differently than I do, and it would be so helpful to pull out my journal and show him just how wrong he is.)

 

     Anyway…

 

     Some of you probably noticed that I have been absent from my blog lately.  (Some of you may not have, and I’d rather not have you tell me you didn’t notice.)  Without going into too much detail, let me just say that life seems to have hit me squarely between the eyes when I wasn’t looking, and I have been feeling slightly (read:  SLIGHTLY!!!) overwhelmed by it all.  Some of it is funny (in hindsight, of course);  some of it is sad.  Some of it is touching and sweet, and a good share of it is frustrating and cringe-worthy. 

 

     All of it is mine.

 

     It stands to reason, then, that it deserves to be written about, rather than avoided and/or forgotten.  At some point in the future, maybe one of my children will have a child who acts like another of my children (although having TWO of them in this world will signal the apocalypse, I’m certain), and it would be nice for them to read that while their mom’s head did, in fact, explode with frustration on a regular basis, it managed to grow back every single day.  Perhaps they’ll find themselves lacking faith, or unsure about the future, and they’ll take comfort in the fact that someone else has been there and made it through.  (Please, God, let me make it through.)

 

     If nothing else, I hope to be able to look back on this time in my life and be reminded of who I was and how far I’ve come.  It might also be nice to keep count of how many times a mother’s head can explode before it fails to regenerate.

 

     I’m up to 174.

All (good?) things must come to an end, eventually. August 16, 2009

     I was released from my calling in the Relief Society Presidency this morning.

 

     After nearly four years of (barely-attended) Enrichment activities, welfare meetings, Sunday lessons, planning sessions and a whole (WHOLE!) lot of murmuring– Bad Kemi, I know–, I am done.

 

     Yesterday, before I knew it was coming, I thought I’d be elated.  It turns out I loved it more than I realized, because today I can’t seem to stop crying.  I choked up when I got off the phone with the Executive Secretary this morning.  I sniffled through our RS lesson on (how fitting!) the organization and history of the Relief Society.  I cried when we gathered up the tablecloths and decorations for the last time.  I sobbed when my name was read over the pulpit, and the tears just kept coming during Sacrament Meeting, at least until Anthony wet his pants on the padded bench and I had to take him out to the van for a complete change of clothes.  (It wouldn’t be Sunday without my family providing comic relief for the ward.  Also, do you know how hard it is to quietly blot urine out of upholstery when you’re sitting on the FRONT ROW and your kids keep asking, Did Anthony have an accident?  Eeeew!  No one sit there!  Anthony peed his pants!)  The new presidency is going to be wonderful, but a little (big) part of me wishes I could start the whole calling over again.  (I KNOW!  I am clearly MENTAL.)

 

     In the five years and three months we’ve lived in this ward, I’ve gone a total of two weeks without a calling.  I feel like running a side bet to see 1) Which new calling I’ll get, and 2) How long it will be before it’s issued.  (Feel free to leave your guesses in the comment section, but please understand that if you guess Gospel Doctrine teacher, we will no longer be friends.)  

You can’t take me anywhere. July 6, 2009

 

      (Say hello to my leetle friend!)

 

 

 

     I went to the library today to pick up some books I’d put on hold.

 

     When I opened my wallet to retrieve my library card, a giant (and I mean GIANT) earwig crawled out of it.

 

     It wasn’t a cockroach, so at least there was that, but still…  what sort of person (unknowingly) transports icky bugs to public places, only to have them crawl across the checkout counter while dozens of  (two)  library employees stare at it in horror?   (*shudder*)

 

     I was MORTIFIED.

 

     So, I did what I thought would be least embarrassing (although in hindsight, stripping naked and doing the hula might have been the safer choice):  I smiled, brushed it off the counter with my bare hand and stomped on it three times so it was good and mashed into the carpet.

 

     I KNOW, RIGHT?!?!?!

 

     I make my family proud.

Scissors and scalpels and cauterization*… February 18, 2009

(*hum to the tune of “My Favorite Things”)

 

     Last month, I went in for a physical.  And some major blood work.  And a tetanus shot.

 

     Good times.

 

     Sore arms.

 

     Yesterday, I was able to meet with the doctor to go over my blood test results.  Long story short:  generally healthy, but lacking Vitamin D, and cholesterol was out of whack.  Good was too low, and bad was too high, but easily fixable.  No big deal.  He suggested a few different medications, and then settled on Metformin, which (I am crossing my fingers) will be some sort of magic cure-all pill for the PCOS and the cholesterol.  Plus, it’s supposed to help with weight loss, so really, who wouldn’t be excited to take it?

 

     Then we moved to another room so he could perform a mole-ectomy.  (I just made that word up, but it could SO be a real word.)

 

     *cue dramatic music*

 

“It’s a Major Award!” February 12, 2009

 

     My wonderful, knowledgeable friend (I’ll call her Kween) from Kweenmama’s Kastle awarded me the “Fabulous Blog” award on Monday. 

 

     It really couldn’t have come on a better day. 

 

     This week is one of the

Hair today, gone tomorrow February 11, 2009

It is with great trepidation that I present you with my before and after (and after!) shots of yesterday’s haircut.

 

My sister thinks it’s awful.

My husband and kids like it (or so they say).

I am still undecided.  It’s better than what I had, but not quite what I pictured in my head.

 

I Want… A New Hairstyle (Help me!) February 9, 2009

     I broke down.  I can’t stand my mop of sorry, sorry hair for one more minute, so I scheduled a hair appointment for tomorrow afternoon.

 

     Now I need to figure out how I want it cut.

 

 

  

     It was a no-makeup day.  Please don’t hate. 

 

     So here’s my dilemma.  I think about the only thing I can do at this point, besides going super-short again, is some sort of modified wedge bob that starts at my earlobe and is stacked in back.  (I know that will mean it’s short-ish again, but I’m looking for something versatile enough to look decent as it grows out, and I think it will be okay.)

 

     Here are some of the styles I like, although my hair isn’t long enough (yet) for the chin-length bob.  Do you think it will look okay anyway, or will I still look ridiculous, only with shorter hair? 

 

  I swore I would NEVER do this style, but it’s grown on me.

  My kids don’t like this one, because they’re afraid I won’t be able to see.  

  I don’t think my layers have grown out long enough for this one, but I love how sleek it looks.

  This one has shorter layers on the side, which I definitely will have.  And bangs, which I also will have.

  I like this one, but it’s going in the wrong direction, length-wise.  Also, I don’t think I am cool enough to pull off this look. 

  Call me crazy, but I love this look.  Again, I am lacking the required coolness-factor.

 

 

    Or, do I throw in the towel and go back to this?

  Or this?

 

 

     Hurry and comment, okay?  I have 19 hours left to decide.  (Or, rather, YOU do.)   :D

Worse Than Invisible January 30, 2009

     There are some words we aren’t allowed to say at my house.  We don’t use swear words, offensive body-part lingo, crude bodily functions, nor are we rude (“shut up”) or hurtful (“ugly”).  There’s also another word we don’t say.  Not because it’s never been banned, but because my kids are sensitive and kind and wonderfully blind to size.

 

     That word is F-A-T.

 

     I am fat. 

 

     I am not delusional about my weight.  I don’t blame it on genetics.  I make no excuses for my body, and I accept responsibility for eating portions that are too large and for not exercising enough.  I have PCOS, and it’s been a problem, but it’s not the only problem.

 

     I get this.  I know.

 

And the GENIUS Award goes to… December 9, 2008

     … the woman who tried to enter not one, but TWO different Chevy Impalas in the Sam’s Club parking lot before realizing that NEITHER were the same car she drove over in.

 

     That same woman pushed the “unlock” button on the remote at least ten times, wondering why the doors wouldn’t open, then (in a fit of inspiration, or maybe just a fit) tried to lock them, to see if maybe the car had been unlocked the whole time.

 

     Imagine her horror when she realized that the locking sound was coming from her left, one stall over.  Sheepishly, she pushed her cart to another brown Impala, where she repeated the process. 

 

     The WHOLE process.

 

     Only, this time, the woman tried to open the trunk, hoping to put her purchases in there.  Imagine her surprise when a trunk three cars down popped open!  (And in a fitting tribute, on her walk of shame she passed two other Impalas, only they were white.)

 

     The poor, brilliant (*snort*) little woman even wondered for a moment if her remote was broken, because it was affecting other cars.  (She must have had one HECK of a morning, is all I’m saying.)

 

     Finally, she realized her mistake, and ran quickly to the third car, shoving her things inside.  As she drove away in shame and embarrassment, she vowed to never drive her husband’s car ANYWHERE, ever again.

 

     Unless he decorates it in vinyl stick figures, so she can better recognize it. 

 

Sick and Tired December 2, 2008

     It might be more appropriately titled merely “TIRED”, but as I am SO exhausted and dragging my head a good three feet behind the rest of my body, I wonder if there is a little “sick” looming on the horizon.

 

     For the past week or so, I have barely functioned.  I thought it might be birthday/Thanksgiving revelry, but we’ve reveled and I’m still tired.  I can’t stay awake for anything lately, and my poor husband is getting fed up with my inability to stay awake past the opening credits of anything.

 

     I’d like to put my finger on this mystery, but I’m going to take a nap first.

 

     *YAWN*