I’m moving over to a new blog! My new blog is now being hosted by Blogger, which I’m liking much better. So go check it out!
It’s a new-and-improved version of me!
I’m moving over to a new blog! My new blog is now being hosted by Blogger, which I’m liking much better. So go check it out!
It’s a new-and-improved version of me!
For every kid, Christmas always always tops Easter. There is so much build-up starting even before Thanksgiving and you have the entire month of December to eagerly anticipate Christmas. You buy a tree, decorate the house, have a big Christmas party at school, watch your parents bring home beautifully-wrapped gifts, etc.
But once Christmas is over, you’re bummed. I remember feeling sick in the pit of my stomach whenever I saw one present left under the tree – and it was not for me. Greedy? Perhaps. But Christmas night is always so sad for me. It’s a whole 365 days until I’ll experience the magic of Christmas morning again.
But gradually, as things get back to normal, you find other things to look forward to like the Superbowl.
And then Easter just sneaks up on you! Suddenly, there is pastel-colored Easter candy, stuffed bunnies, and egg coloring kits filling the aisles. And you get excited again because, while it’s not on the same level as Christmas, Easter is a pretty cool holiday.
This year, though, Easter definitely topped Christmas. The main reason why: my grandma.
About a year about (in early May), my grandma was diagnosed with Stage IV colon cancer. STAGE FOUR! Now, my grandma is definitely, behind my mom, my favorite person in the world. Even when she was struggling through chemo, she still found time for her children and grandchildren. I want to be just like her when I grow up.
Anyway, my grand is 66 years old and went through 12 intense rounds of chemotherapy. In October, just 5 months after starting chemo, we found out that her cancer was gone. Well, DUH! This is my grandma and there is no way God would take my grandma away yet. He knows how much she’s needed here.
When I found out she had cancer, I was hopeful. I just knew deep within my heart that my grandma was going to be OK. She was strong and she had God fighting this battle for her. Of course she was going to make it! And she did.
She finished her last round of chemo (the most intense yet) on Christmas Eve so Christmas was definitely a blur for her. She says she barely remembers it. She never got dressed (she didn’t have the energy for it) and I filled her plate up with food (but it was such a small amount, it was insane). She sat in her rocker and ate her food.
Fast forward to 4 1/2 months later and it’s Easter. Grandma is cooking Easter dinner and looks like a completely different woman. Well, she looks like the grandma I know. She is full of energy and life. The best part of the whole dinner was everybody telling her, “Grandma, sit down and eat!” Just like old times, she was making sure everyone else had food and was happy until she got her plate and ate.
The other priceless news we received on Thursday before Easter was her PET scan returned back normal with no cancer. She’ll have another PET scan in 3 months and if that turns back normal she can wait 6 months before having another PET scan.
So, yeah, Easter definitely topped Christmas by a large distance. I have my grandma back.
I asked him what my name was this afternoon and he said, “My Stetany.”
I am so, so excited right now.
Why, you ask?
Because I am currently writing this post on my own computer! Yes, my friends, she’s back and she’s all better. Computer needed a new $117 power cord and is working just like normal.
I am so happy since I have a huge, ginormous, 50% of my grade research paper due on Monday. And I still need to kinda finish the…research. Yikes!
Mmm…OK. Maybe I wouldn’t go that far.
For the past 2 weeks, I’ve been spending my afternoons in the two-year-old classroom, as one of the teachers has been on vacation. My director told me this the Friday before I would start and my heart literally dropped.
I have been in two-year-old classrooms and they aren’t fun. Especially when the teacher has no control and the kids run around like monkeys and climb on furniture and throw food. So, needless to say, I wasn’t looking forward to these 2 weeks.
But I was excited to work with the teacher. She has a great attitude and I always see her smiling and laughing. So I prepared for the worst – and got the best. Seriously, I had a great time with the two’s. They were funny and cute and some of them had such attitude! It was hilarious. And the teacher was great. She doesn’t have an easy-peasy job but she has fun and enjoys it. And I think the kids can tell.
We liked it so much that we even talked to our directors about me staying in here when the other teacher comes back. Alas, it can’t happen but we’re hoping the other teacher meets an Italian lover (she went to Italy) and stays there.
I’m really going to miss them. After being with just babies and toddlers who don’t really communicate all that well, it was fun talking with and playing with these kids.
I did miss my little toddlers, though. So I am excited to see them again next week.
This morning, I took a trip to my local Publix to get some things for lunch. Actually, my mom wanted me to get her a few things including some Advil.
So I found the Advil, picked up the littlest bottle since it’s the cheapest and went on my merry way. Lo and behold, by the beer section (no, I wasn’t buy any. Geesh, it was 8:45 in the morning!) was a bin full of 100-pack Advil advertised for 7.49! The small, 20-pack Advil I held in my hands was 4.79. No brainer – buy the big pack.
So I did and the cashier rang my purchases up and the Advil rang up for 11.49. Um, what?!
Here’s what I am: non-confrontational. I walked out of Publix, pondered the fact that I paid 3 dollars more than I thought I would and pondered the fact that even my mom would have confronted Publix about this.
So, with a determined step, I waltzed back into Publix and went straight to customer service where a price check ensued.
Result? I was right. (Well, duh)
Result of that? I got a 100-pack bottle of Advil (normally 12 dollars) for FREE! And that’s why I love Publix so, so much. Not simply for their delicious sub sandwiches or the fact that they employ the cutest stockers around. Customer service, my friend. It’s a fantastic thing. If you pay more for a product than is advertised, they give you the product for free.
And as I walked outside, into the bright sunshine, I could just feel God winking down on me. He’s got my back.
I knew it would happen. I had absolutely no doubt in my mind it would happen. But I let the thought escape my mind.
I was having fun. We were at the wedding reception, celebrating the union of Anisah and Andrew. We had just eaten a delicious dinner and all of the bridesmaids were barefoot and happy. We watched a performance of Hawaiian dancers and a fun little game about the who’s gonna be who in their marriage (Who is the better cook? Who wears the pants in the family?).
And then Anisah and Andrew had their first dance as husband and wife. They danced to “At Last” by Etta James and all of us single girls sighed and looked on with jealousy.
And then it was time for the Father-Daughter dance. And I had no doubt in my mind I wouldn’t be able to stick around for it. So, choking back a sob, I excused myself from the table and rushed to the bathroom and unfortunately heard the beginning of the song Anisah and her father would be dancing to, “Cinderella” by Steven Curtis Chapman.
As I stood in the stall, crying softly, it just hit me that I’ll never have a Father-Daughter dance. I haven’t spoken to my dad in 16 months and it seems as if he has forgotten I even exist. And even if we do somehow reconnect and reconcile, it’s not the same.
He was never a father to me. I’ve never had a father. When I was young and cute, sure. He liked me. He played with me. I thought he was handsome and strong and everything a little girl could ask for. But as I grew older, I realized how wrong that thinking was.
He never made me feel beautiful, just because I was his daughter. He never protected me. He never showed me how precious I was to him. I never felt pretty enough, smart enough, athletic enough for him. I remember playing tennis with him and my brother and just standing there as he hit ball after ball to my brother, leaving me to just watch. I remember telling him of my “new dream” of being a homicide detective (I was 14 at the time) and him telling me I’d never be good at that. I remember being disappointed by him time and time again (not showing up for weekends, telling us of a trip to Ohio that we never took, etc.).
So that moment of a father giving his daughter away to another man…that’s never going to happen to me. He’s already given me away. He isn’t holding on closely to my heart until the right man comes along and he willingly gives it to him. He’s already tarnished and trashed my heart.
I’ve already decided long ago that my brother is going to give me away. He’s been the father figure that my father never was and has done his best to try to piece back my heart that my father broke. Now I just need to find a really good brother-sister song.
On a much lighter note, I forgot to mention that I caught the bouquet at the wedding! I told Anisah to throw it to me (since I’m totally her favorite bridesmaid EVER!) and she threw it up, it got caught in the rafters, and I used my keen ability to catch it, screaming like a wild woman when I did. It was fantastic. And my groomsman, who is also Anisah’s brother (who requested me because I’m “pretty” and “nice”), caught the garter. Quite fitting, wouldn’t you say?
Well, yesterday was Anisah’s wedding. And it was everything a little girl could ever dream of. I have only attended 2 other weddings in my lifetime and I was very young for both.
This wedding was perfect. Anisah and Andrew got married in their church and she made the most beautiful bride I have ever seen. Her dress was fantastic. We bridesmaids did indulge in a little jealousy (well, at least Sarah and I did).
The wedding ceremony was beautiful and yes, I did shed some tears when I saw Anisah walking down the aisle and the look on Andrew’s face and also when Anisah said her vows, as she was crying during them.
All throughout this week, God’s been working on my heart, it seems. I’ve known Anisah since 9th grade, even though I didn’t know her very well. She was quiet and there was something completely different about her. She had a different way of dressing, of walking, of talking. And when I got to know her even better in 11th grade, I found out why. She had an active, living relationship with God.
I went to church. I read my Bible from time to time. I even attended youth group (even though I hated it). I didn’t think anyone my age actually lived the Christian faith. We just attended church because our parents made us. Anisah lived it and she helped me see what life could be like if God was the center of it.
I’m not saying she’s perfect. She’ll be the first to tell you she’s not. But she believes and worships a perfect God and through Him, she is able to lead a life pleasing to Him. She started wearing a purity ring at the age of 13 and has kept her self pure for her future husband. She began writing letters to her future husband when she was 13 (something I’ve always meant to do but never got around to). On Saturday, she was able to give that journal as well as her purity ring to Andrew to show him how much she has been praying for him and preparing herself for him.
She entered her marriage completely pure. She entered her marriage night just as God intended and I’ve got to believe it was more special than what 90% of girls our age experience.
The entire time, God kept on my heart, letting me know that Anisah put Him first in her life. He was her one and only Lover until he brought Andrew into the picture. He ordained their marriage. He didn’t pick her up at a bar. They didn’t get married because she’s pregnant. They didn’t meet on some cheesy dating site. God introduced them a long time ago, knowing that He would witness their wedding day 8 years later. Isn’t that amazing?
I’m 21 years old and there are times I feel I’ll remain an old spinster. I’ll never experience the love of a husband. I’ll never get to be a “princess for a day.” But that’s just me letting Satan rule over my heart because it will happen.
There is someone out there that God made especially for me. My future husband is out there and it may be 6 months from now or 6 years from now that I meet him. But I have to be patient and willing to let God control my life.
So, yes, I’m a 21-year-old never-been-kissed virgin. I’ve been in 1 relationship my entire life that lasted less than a month. But I’m not into dating a bunch of wannabe husbands to find The One. God knows who “The One” is. And I’m content to let Him unveil that man to me when He thinks I’m ready.
Until now, I’m going to be content with the True Lover and begin to make Him the center of my whole world.
Yesterday, I had my second-to-last Appropriate Practices for Infants and Toddlers class which is a class I have to take for my job. Basically, it’s everything I already knew and a “If You Don’t Have Common Sense, Here’s What To Do,” type of course.
Anyway, my instructor who is a director for a Catholic church daycare, had her supervisor in class and she was observing her. And I could tell that my instructor was nervous and trying to do her best. I felt for her because I knew what that was like. She wasn’t herself and had trouble remembering words (English is actually her second language, although she speaks it very well with a slight accent).
Just 5 months ago, I was in the same position. I had spent the past 2 1/2 years thinking I was going to be an elementary school teacher. I would have graduated with my Bachelor’s in December except my last internship went terribly. You can read all about it here. I was interning in a fourth-grade classroom and had 2 teachers supervising me every single day. Once they left the classroom, I was so much more comfortable and things came easier for me.
But when my teachers were in the classroom, I was nervous and fidgeting and trying to remember my words, and English is my first language! Needless to say, my so-called supervising teachers (they didn’t do much supervising. . .) told my supervising professor (who never had much faith in me to begin with) that they couldn’t pass me which caused me to change my major, lose my financial aid, and force me to pay for my own schooling.
I still catch myself daydreaming about being a teacher, though. Just the other day, I was thinking about room arrangements and how classroom’s I’ve been in have arranged classrooms and how I would arrange my classroom someday. Until I realized that I will never have my own classroom. I get a little melancholy when I drive by elementary schools.
I really enjoyed the kids, especially the fourth-graders of my last class. They are full of energy and life and tell the best stories ever! I mean, I love my babies and toddlers and when I’m helping out in the older kids’ rooms, that’s fun, too. That’s what makes me a little sad about not doing elementary education anymore. The kids made all of it worthwhile.
I am happy with my new major and I think it’s the right fit for me. But I still miss those fun classes where we did art projects and pretended that we were seven years old again and I definitely miss those cheeky kids.
Today I woke up with an egg in my throat. Well, I think it’s an egg. Everytime I swallow, I feel like there’s an egg blocking my spit.
Yesterday, my throat was scratchy and I told one of my babies in a very sweet tone, “If I get a sore throat, you’re in big trouble.” And she then proceeded to wipe her snotty nose on my collar.
Ah, the joys of infants. You just gotta love ‘em.
So, since I started my job 4 weeks ago, I got my version of the flu (starts with a sore throat then merges into a stuffed-up nose, losing my voice, and a cough and lasts about a week) which I got after my 2nd week. Last Sunday, I managed to catch the 24-hour virus that’s floating around (my mom, in turn, got it the same day FOUR people at my work were out sick with the virus. Um, I’m sorry?). That was terrible. I wanted to die.
So now I’m sitting here with yet another sore throat. I just want to crawl back into bed and sleep for the rest of the day. But, no. I have work for 6 hours and then a 2-and-a-half hour training class afterward (and the only way to get out of it is death).
So I just have to suck it up and deal. And hopefully, if I pray hard enough, this sore throat will be gone tomorrow. God, I hope so.