Making a List

So…coming up with these past few posts have been something of a struggle. Apparently my brain has been reduced to producing small little sound bites. Facebook post-sized.

That being said, I am doing my best to draw this out and provide my adoring fans with an actual post.

It may not be good but it will be longer than a Facebook post…so that’s good, right?

Case in point…because I was terribly proud (and yes, I know pride is wrong…don’t judge) of this parenting moment, I shall share it here with you lovely people, just in case you missed it on FB…you’ll want to be sure to read this because it may be the best part of this entire blog post:

So earlier this week, my 13 asked me to buy something for him, promising "I'll pay you when we get home!"

Unfortunately, he forgot that he didn't have any cash. Except coins...so he paid me $5, mostly consisting of dimes.

Last night, on the way home from soccer practice, I stopped at the store to buy a tub o' ice cream (don't judge...that's not the point of the story). And I made him stand there while I paid $5 for it...mostly consisting of dimes.

So there’s that…

I have been ruminating lately on Bucket Lists. I admire people who have such lists, although I myself do not have one.

We have an “Always Random Family” Bucket List, though I am not entirely certain we will accomplish anything on it.

It’s not for lack of wanting…it’s for lack of moolah.

I am not complaining…I am just saying. It is truly ok and we are all fine with it…mostly we took an opportunity to write down things we’d like to do and it didn’t go beyond that.

No plan to make it happen. No plan at all. And I know that a Bucket List necessitates a plan.

I can live with my short-comings.

As for my own personal list? It doesn’t exist except kind of in my head.

Nor do I have a Non-Bucket List…a list of things I never care to do. I mean, sure, there are loads of things I could put on that list, but I find that once I put those things on my list, the good Lord, in his infinite wisdom, makes sure it is something I end up doing.

Shall I make a list of some of those things for you? (I apologize if I have done such a list in the past…I can’t recall. And if I can’t recall, I am going to venture a guess that you cannot recall either.)

So here is the list…either for the first time or not.

Deal with it.

• I will not live in Indiana, once I graduate from college.
• I will not live in Greenwood.
• I will not have boys.
• I will not name my children with the same first letter of the alphabet.
• I won’t be a teacher.
• I won’t be a homeschooler.
• I will never be a foster parent.

So yeah…it’s kind of like that.

All that to say, I have officially (ok, probably not really but a girl can dare to dream, right?) stopped telling God what I will NOT do.

And that rambling being shared, here’s what I’ve got for you today: I DO (apparently…this is a recent discovery) have a list of “Things I Never Cared to Know How to Do but Do, In Fact, Know How to Do…and Not Only That, I Appear to be Fairly Rockin’ Awesome at Doing”

Yes, the title is a bit lengthy…it’s a work in progress. Kind of like me.

But the title is not the point of my list. My point is to tell what is topping my list.

I must (and this should surprise you not at all) digress for a moment and share a little secret about myself…I beg you to allow it.

I have a bit of a weak stomach. As in: I get uber-queasy when people share medical-related stories.

Even baby birth stories sometimes gross me out.

Now, I can tell anyone who’d care to know about it about my boys’ births, or about my 9+ hour surgery for “my back” (just to clarify, it was not really “back surgery”, but my 11yo is STILL convinced it was; it may have something to do with the fact that I explained my surgery was happening “because I have so many back problems”…take from this what you will, astute readers).

However, I grow pale, get clammy, turn “green in the gills” when other people choose to share their medical “talk”.

OK…do you have a clear picture of this now? Great…I can continue.

In the same vein of telling God what I don’t want to do, he gave me a foster kiddo on a feeding tube.

Lest you be confused, I had previously told God that wasn’t going to happen.

Now, in case you have not seen him live and in person, I shall explain: the feed tube it doesn’t go directly into The Little Man’s belly; it goes in through his nose.

Because I like the rock under which I live, I had no idea until 3.5 weeks ago that that was even a possibility.

Oh, the miracles of modern medicine, right?

So anyway…I’m sure the build-up is killing you (actually, I bet you have all already figured it out…I never claimed to be a suspense writer), I shall let you off the hook.

What is the thing currently topping my list of “Things I Never Cared to Know How to Do but Do, In Fact, Know How to Do…and Not Only That, I Appear to be Fairly Rockin’ Awesome at Doing”?

Threading a feed tube in an infant’s nose and snaking it down to his stomach.

Unfortunately my “partner-in-crime” in this ordeal (because yes, it is an ordeal and yes you most-assuredly need a minimum of two people to accomplish this task; hard to believe but the infant does NOT care for this and there’s a fair amount of, oh, how do you say? Thrashing. Thrashing is the word.)

But I digress…

One thing of note: this would be much easier of my partner (also known as the illustrious Mr. Always Random, who supposedly-has a cast-iron stomach) would stop gagging during the process.

This is all the "fun" equipment we get to use now...the tube is the orange, "snake-like" thing. Oh yeah...

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