Learning to Live Again

Ah the joys of starting all over again.  I pretty much constantly have the Garth Brooks song Learning to Live Again playing either in the fore or background of my mind these days.  “Heaven knows how long it’s been, since I’ve felt so out of place, wondering if I’ll fit in… but I’m gonna smile my best smile, and I’m gonna laugh like it’s going out of style, look into her eyes and pray that she don’t see, that learning to live again is killing me.”  Such a grand description for this iteration, this process of going out, of putting myself out there, again and again, in so many respects.  I’ve got a job interview in just a couple of days for which I am painfully unprepared.  I haven’t the clothes, or shoes, or the just plain old experience to even know what to expect.  So I do what I do best, research.  I ask all of Facebook to chime in on the dress code question, and get more than one answer, which is to be expected, but just serves to further confuse my very simple brain.  In Jamie’s Utopian aspirations there are very few reasons to wear much more than jeans, with a button up shirt and perhaps a vest thrown in for more fancy occasions.  I’m certain there’s a way to be able to don clothing that falls into the “Business Professional” genre without feeling like a complete monkey….. I just haven’t a clue how, yet.  And this is but one tiny aspect of “this learning to live again”.  I’ve basically shed my previous life en masse.  There are small remnants, but none of the structural nature.  I’m learning day by day just how much I’ve never learned.  I don’t know how to date.  I don’t know how to not look to the future and plan from the very beginning.  I don’t know how to handle this barrage of feelings and emotions that seem to be crashing past every barrier that I’ve labored to build.  I don’t know how to hold back the geyser that resides within me that I never knew existed.  There are moments when I feel like it’s going to explode and incinerate me in the process.  But there are also moments when I have felt more at peace and more comfortable in my own skin than I ever have before.  Perhaps a boomerang would be a good visual explanation for my emotional and mental goings on.  It is flung with incredible force out into the expanses of who knows where, and flies unfettered until, maybe even against its will, it begins to turn, and then return to its origin.  And my god the ride is exhilarating!  And my god it’s exhausting, and terrifying!  And, when is the next ride…?

Ghosts of Goonies Past

I should probably preface this by relating that in the past week I've had one dead car battery and a flat tire (on a new tire, sigh).  So when I got a call from my sister-in-law this morning that our other SIL was sick, I headed out to pick up her kids.  Well, I TRIED to go get her kids that is.  Once again, the car battery was dead.  I'm starting to understand why my brothers call the Wal-Mart Everstart batteries "Neverstarts".  So, moving on, no biggie right?  I am a mechanic after all, and the Motor Sergeant of my Reserve unit to boot.  I could totally handle this.  I would just jump on my motorcycle and head up to get the kids (trading the bike for her van of course).  It was at that moment that I realized that the fifty times I had forgotten to go to her house to get my keys back found me stranded yet again.  That's twice in like, five minutes.  So, being the resilient and ever professional Staff Sergeant that I am I realized that I have like three bicycles at my disposal.  Win-Win right?  Get a little exercise AND still get the mission accomplished.  WRONG!  Every single tire was flat.  Now I was 0 for 3.  It was at this exact moment as I shook my head, fighting to hold back the onslaught of expletives that was bubbling to the surface, that I spotted a glimmer of pink and purple.  That's right, my 9 year old niece had left her bike at our house.  Providence?  Perhaps.  The setting-up of hilarity?  Definitely!

So I proudly mounted the Pink Pariah and headed out.  Now, you should keep in mind that this trip of mine was no more than a couple of blocks, but most of that is uphill, and I am horribly out of shape.  As I panted and pedaled, panted and pedaled, I slowly made my way up the hill.  My muscles were on FIRE, and I'd only ridden about twenty feet.  I really should have just stopped and walked at this point, but I'm much too stubborn (and not terribly intelligent) for that.  Cars started passing me at this point, and my brain was swimming with the comments that must be swirling around in them.  And who could blame them?  If I were passing a grown woman with bodacious bed hair, raggedy mismatched clothes grabbed off the floor at the last minute, riding a tiny pink and purple bike, gasping for air and sweating like a whore in church, there's no way I would let that go without a massive burst of laughter.  At this precise moment I had a flash of Brand (the older brother from The Goonies) riding the stolen little girls bike, chasing after his kid brother.  Cyndi Lauper suddenly started singing "Good Enough" in my head, and then everything was ok again.  Somehow being horribly embarrassed is completely nullified if it reminds you of someone else's similar moment, or at least that's how my defective brain works.  And I'm ok with that.  

For now I'm going to go run and see why my four year old just yelled "Oh my spine!"...

This is basically what I looked like this morning, except without the training wheels or sweats.  

New Starts in New Cities

Well, it's time for a new adventure again.  Through a series of events that even bore me to tears, we came to live in Enoch Utah, on one of the most beautiful plots of land that mother nature has to offer.  Towering trees whose branches and leaves hang down, creating canopies and secret hideouts stand guard around the perimeter, keeping at bay the trendiness of the suburbs that seems to be sweeping the nation.  When we got here the yards (front and back) were overrun with weeds so high the kids could easily get lost in them. Over a couple of days, and with the assistance of my awesome brother Greg's lawn mower and weed eater, I've finally managed to get down to some actual grass!  It's gorgeous!  Better yet, in the process I found an array of random odds and ends that still has my head spinning.  For instance, there were two unicycles, because having only one would just be silly.  There is something that could either be a giant shot-put, or a cannon ball.  Either way, it's a good conversation piece.  :)  I think my favorite is the rusty machete.  It's almost as if the prior residents were out, chopping down the brush with their machete (because who DOESN'T use a machete to cut grass and weeds) and was finally engulfed by the weeds, forced to drop the beloved machete and run for higher ground.
The house has been yet another adventure.  I've replaced door hinges and handles for doors that simply wouldn't close, killed countless mice that had taken over the kitchen, and had two different water leaks.  Luckily the repairs come off of the rent.  Talk about a win-win.  I get to tinker around and stay busy, they get an improved home when they (the owners, who are in Columbia at present) get home, and I get cheaper rent.
I am sure there will be countless more adventures to record, most of which will never make it to this blog since, let's face it, my memory is about as long as a Sponge Bob episode.  So for now...... um, I don't know, go do something productive.  I cut down a friggin JUNGLE today for goodness sake!

Julie's Last Day of Preschool

So Julie had her last day of preschool, I had my last day of classes before finals, Gideon amazed us with his loving nature and Justin had a week in Minnesota. Julie cried that her daddy missed her graduation. Gideon started saying "Oh. My. Gosh!". I cut my hand open, and my saint of a mother cleaned up the blood as my loving father drove me in to get stitches. I have come to understand just how important it is to have two hands as I attempt to write a ten page book review that serves as a final. What an interesting week.

Julie's First Day of School

I should probably preface this one with another story, so that you get the full effect. So last weekend we were fortunate enough to receive tickets to the ballet, performed at the UofA. Crossing my fingers Justin and I loaded BOTH kiddos up into the car and headed into town. Luckily they both loved it, and as we walked away Julie wowed the crowds with her elegant leaps through the air (imitating the dancers she had just watched).

So back now to Julie's first day of school. I was a little apprehensive when I was getting the kinds ready to take Julie to her first day of school and she was FLIPPING OUT about the fact that I did not have the number to the school, and was thus unable to call and find out how many of her "babies" could accompany her on this great adventure. This display continued the entire way to school, until we walked in the door. We waited for the mother in front of us to introduce her son and then Julie quite boldly introduced herself and her Prayer Bear to the teacher. Mrs. Mac was more than happy to let Julie keep her precious baby with her, and Julie jumped right in to playing with the other children. I had to find her to say goodbye.

The best part of this experience by far came when I picked my little pixie up from school. As I walked up to the door Julie poked her head out and, upon seeing me screamed "Momma! Pre-School is fantastic!!!!!", and right as she uttered the last word came flying out the door in a ballet inspired leap that would make Baryshnikov himself proud.

All I could say was..... that's my girl :)

A Cut above the rest

So today's adventure was definitely a first for me. The kiddos and I were hanging out at a friend's house. Friend and I were talking in the living room when Julie ran out to show us her beautiful new hair cut. Apparently they were playing salon, and her five-year-old friend was the stylist. There was a section that represented roughly a quarter of over all hair that had been shortened from mid-back to chin length. So... I schemed to have her hair "fixed" by a professional while in town. Murphy, always happy to foil even my best laid plans, played a vital role in todays events. As I went to grab my wallet from the truck I realized that I had forgotten it in the living room, of my own house. Now for normal people this is not such a big deal, but for those of us fortunate enough (really, we DO love it) to live in Red Rock, it is at the very least 22 miles to return home to get that all-important wallet, one way. So ever the adventurer I decided to save fifty miles in the truck and countless gallons of gas and attempt to cut it myself. First she cried, then she got mad, and finally she conceded to let me cut her hair. It was indeed a harrowing experience. Ever seen a four-year-old girl who could stay still for more than two seconds? Yeah, neither have I and Julie is certainly no exception. So we did the best we could, and Julie cried again, but I think it's finally to the point that she can be seen in public long enough to get her to a real stylist to fix things.

After the cut I took the kids upstairs to put Julie in the shower. To show her how beautiful her new short hair could be we blowed it dry and put all kinds of fancy clips in it. While we were laboring away at that Gideon slipped away and found Julie's play blow-dryer and came back to help dry Julie's hair. It was really sweet and incredibly funny. And now I'm off to serve dinner, get the kids in bed and do some MAJOR cramming for tomorrow's trig exam.

Fairy Tales and empty threats

So today I'll add to the fairy tale references. While eating breakfast this morning Justin (Daddy) stole some of Julie's food from her plate. Her response to this was to tell me "Momma, someone's eating my porridge". Just thought that fit in nicely with the Lorax reference she made the other day.

Now on to the threats. We were all playing on the floor this morning when I finally realized the time and announced that we needed to get ready to go to church. Julie did NOT like the idea of this and so she marched up to the clock on the wall and shouted... "it is not time to got to church CLOCK! Or I will kill you in the face!" All of this she shouted as she pointed her finger menacingly at the clock.

As all of this was going on Gideon was very calmly pulling the rubber stoppers off of the door stops and then gingerly replacing them. Then he would run up to me with an ear-to-ear smile for a high-five.

Never a dull moment in the house of Jansen.