Consider This Smoke Signals

Darling Creepers (read: Parents),

I am still alive. Don’t worry.

I know I haven’t called you. Or texted you. Or emailed you. Or written letters. Or used smoke signals. But I’m still breathing, and the trusty heart is still doing its thing!

I haven’t quite died of exhaustion, studying, and general life without you yet. This is probably only because Twin and Turtle cook for me, though. Otherwise I’d be a super-dead, gross, starved thing.

Also, because of the rule that I have to wear evil, nasty pants in all common areas, I think I’m becoming more acclimatized to wearing pants. Sure, after a full day of being out and about with people and classes and things, the only thing I can think about is going home and taking my pants off, but I’m actually wearing sweatpants in common areas now. I’m calling it an improvement. I know Twin and Turtle are thankful.

School is still bluh. It will always be bluh because I’ve passed the years of nap time, crayons, and glitter.

But let’s think about this for a minute – I think I would learn everything I’m learning a whole lot better if there were snacks and glue sticks involved. I’m not really sure how to fit stickers and coloring books in with learning about the intrapartum period of pregnancy (gross), but I’m sure a creative teacher could figure it out.

Also, I just wanted to let you know that, if you ever want grandchildren, they’re going to have to come from one of your other children. I have learned waaaaaaay too much in the past few weeks about what those tiny monsters do to your body to ever willingly let one steal half my blood supply and feng shui my vital organs.

Uh-uh. Ain’t happening.

And Twin won’t be having any kids either if I can ever get her to listen to my dire warnings. Those things are nasty. And they smell funny.

Princess Sweet Beans is your only hope. Not that he can ever have kids personally, but you know, he might get married one day. Maybe?

It might be best just to not count on grandkids?

At least I’m warning you now…

Anyway. That was a little off topic.

I just wanted to let you know that I’m still kicking, things are going great, I’m tired, I miss you, and I still like you a whole lot.

And, you know, it’s really a good thing that I haven’t been writing here.

I write to order my thoughts. I write when things don’t make sense. I write when I’m overwhelmed and I need to understand things. I write because my brain is all sorts of jumbled up, and if I can just get it all out somewhere in a cohesive manner, I can make sense of it. I write because my brain is not always my friend, and it doesn’t always make a lot of sense.

If I can write something, I can understand it. If I can jump inside it and accurately map out my thoughts, I can successfully navigate myself through them. That’s part of why my thoughts don’t always seem finished – they’re not. I’m still trying to find my way through them.

So why am I writing tonight? Because tonight I’m a little homesick, and I didn’t want to call you at 10:30 at night. You’d probably panic and assume that I was either dead or in jail for trespassing (I haven’t done that any this semester so far. No worries.) when I just wanted to chat about normal things.

So I’ll probably have another cup of coffee and study some more, then go to bed. I had a test this morning that was really awful, and I’ve got my first OB test next Wednesday. Not looking forward to that.

So I need to study. And I should probably go to bed sometime tonight. But I definitely need to water my plants. Poor creatures.

But don’t worry. The semester’s getting all kinds of busy, so I’ll be writing a lot more here soon.

All this to say, I love you, I miss you, and I’ll probably call you soon!

Love,

Your favorite daughter (It’s okay to admit it. We all know it’s true.)

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Home Again

I am so tired. My eyes keep drooping as I type. I’m probably going to be a little incoherent.

I should probably go to bed, but I have a bad habit of usually not doing what I’m supposed to be doing, so I’m going to ignore my better judgement.

And I’m waiting for someone to do something for one of my classes that I’m now woefully behind in.

After a very long day of traveling and a couple moments where I thought I was going to die, I’m finally home.

I meant to blog more to keep you, my Darling Creepers, appraised of my whereabouts and goingson, but I was always super tired when the evening rolled around, and because I journal a freakish amount, I really didn’t feel like writing things twice.

Even though there’s no way the things that go in my journal would go on here.

(Twin and Kaitlyn, you can still read it.)

So, the basics of my journey:

I spent the very first day traveling.

I spent the first two days actually there doing assessments on about 90 kids and immunizations on some of those 90 and getting barfed on.

I spent the next two days scraping paint off metal cribs and re-painting them and getting barfed on again.

I spent the last two days exploring, haggling, eating, napping, playing, cuddling, and getting peed on.

And I spent today playing, cuddling, sleeping, getting barfed on, flying, and coming home.

I told Twin when she asked that this was probably the best trip I’ve ever been on. It was, without a doubt, the most life-changing.

It answered a lot of questions, challenged me, confronted me with some stuff, and forced me to look at things in a new way.

I didn’t expect to fall in love when I went.

In fact, I actively fortified myself against it.

Knowing my heart the way I do, I told myself time and time again that I couldn’t afford to love someone I was never going to see again, I couldn’t take any babies home with me, and there was no way I was going to be able to love them all so it’d be best to not pick favorites.

But those kids won’t let you be a passive observer. They demand everything you have to give plus some. They are loud and playful and wiggly, and they will squirm their way right into your unsuspecting heart.

There was one kid in particular that owns a piece of my heart.

And he earned it by barfing on me. Often.

The first time we met, I was holding him to do an assessment on him, and he leaned over to mess with the pocket on my shirt and hurled straight into it.

I was digging chunks out of that for a while.

And my first thought was, “Tiny dude, we can be friends.”

The second time, he got smarter and pulled my shirt out with his tiny fist and threw up down the inside of it.

I was so close to following his example.

The third time we met, he threw up on my shoulder like a normal kid.

Mostly he was upset cause I was making him go to sleep

The fourth time, he decided to change things up and urinate on me.

And the fifth time, because he knew that we were super tight by then, he threw up right in my face.

And then he fell asleep on me, so I forgave him very quickly.

This trip was definitely something. I’m going to post some pictures and video later.

For now, I need sleep. Desperately.

Jello Disaster

I tried to make jello a while ago.

It was while I was still in school, and it was so traumatic, I’m just now able to write about it.

Also, it’s kind of sad to learn that there’s one more thing in this world that I’m just not capable of doing like a normal human being.

I was super sick and the only thing I had kept down for the past three days was water and gatorade.

Looking back, I was severely dehydrated and a little malnourished, and I probably should have gone to the hospital or a  clinic for IV fluids. Unfortunately, I don’t think things through very well when I’m sick.

So, I was shaky and gross, and I don’t know why I thought jello would be a good idea, but it just sounded so delicious to my addled brain.

Twin had left me for the day to go to class (I was most definitely not going to class because I have a strong aversion to throwing up on peoples’ heads), and I guess I was hungry. I don’t usually question my motives when I’m sick.

This is also why, when I’m sick, I tend to say and do really weird things on accident. There’s just no reasoning with myself. It can be a real problem.

But I knew I wanted jello, and I decided not to ask questions.

I pulled myself out from under the couch (I have no clue what I was doing under there), and kind of crawled to the kitchen.

I think Twin had gone shopping for me and gotten me some jello. That’s the only thing I can think of that would explain the sudden appearance of strawberry jello in our kitchen. Usually, we don’t keep those little boxes of the stuff on hand.

I pulled the little box off the counter and sat back down in the floor, trying to read the instructions.

Note to future self – they print the instructions on the back. There is no need to take a knife to the box. Yet.

When I saw, “bring x-amount of water to a boil,” I knew I was going to have problems.

When I was having trouble opening the packet containing the jello powder, I figured this would be the hardest thing was going to do that day.

When I realized I really shouldn’t have opened the packet of powder yet, I almost gave up.

But my hungry stomach urged me on.

I got the water boiling, dumped the powder in a plastic bowl, and sat back down on the floor to wait.

And then I fell asleep.

Don’t fall asleep when you’re boiling water. It’ll just keep boiling for forever until all the water is gone, and then you’ll burn the pot and it’ll be a giant mess to clean. Or the pot will explode and your house will burn down and you won’t have to worry about it.

I woke up to the funny smell of burning metal pot, and frantically jumped up to grab the pot and put more water in it.

Burning pots get really hot.

And, when you burn your fingers, they tend to let go of whatever you’re holding.

And then the burning pot will smash down on your toes.

And your toes will get smashed and burned.

And then you’ll get really dizzy because you just woke up and you’re sick and you probably shouldn’t be boiling water.

But my stomach growled loudly and reminded me that I was hungry.

So, I picked the pot up, filled it with water again, and set it back down to boil.

This time, I stared at it for 37 hours until it actually boiled, and I didn’t fall asleep.

After it boiled, I carefully picked it up and dumped the water into the jello powder.

And burned my hand on the steam.

And dropped the pot.

Again.

This time, I just left it sitting on the ground (because that’s obviously where it wanted to be) and stirred in my jello powder.

When it was all stirred up, I went to take a nap.

And I woke up an hour later and remembered that the jello was supposed to go in the fridge.

I pulled myself out from under the coffee table (I don’t know how I got under there. I promise I started on the couch.) and stumbled over to the kitchen to put it in the fridge.

Then I went to sleep again.

I woke up when Twin came walking in from her classes and shook me awake.

“What are you doing sleeping on the kitchen floor and why are you holding that pot?”

“I made jello,” I mumbled.

“Oh my.”

She knows me well. I showed her my hands and toes, and she got me some ice.

And the jello was edible. I guess. I don’t think it’s supposed to be lumpy.