The day we ate undercooked beans

Photo Credit: NCBrian via Flickr
I woke up to The Fonz heading downstairs at 4am.  As soon as I opened my eyes I thought, “hmmm… I feel weird.” But I didn’t pay much attention and just hoped to fall back to sleep.  Then it dawned on me that The Fonz was taking a long time to come back up stairs so I tore myself out of bed and yelled…

Hey Fonz, you okay?  What are you doing?

“Ughhhhh… I feel SICK!”

“Oh.  Me too!”  And I went downstairs to see what was going on.

I found him in the bathroom, laying on the floor with severe nausea.

And then I felt a niggle in the back of my head.  “I wonder…”

You see the night before I had made a recipe in the crockpot that included beans.  I’ve made this recipe before and we loved it.  And I especially loved that it called for dried beans instead of canned.

But guess what happens when you decide to go for a walk instead of getting dinner in the crockpot and then you go to volunteer at the middle school before you check your to-do list.

And guess what happens when you go straight from volunteering to get your eyebrows done and then come home and check your email instead of checking your to-do list.

Guess what happens when you think to yourself “Oh, it’ll be fiiiine that I’m putting the meal in the crockpot at noon instead of 8am.”

What happens is the beans don’t get fully cooked.  Yeah, yeah, we didn’t care so we happily gobbled up our soup filling our tummies to deep satisfaction.

And guess what happens when you eat undercooked beans…

You get SICK.  Really sick.

Did you know this?

The Dentist Scares Me

toothless smile - Photo Credit: Jamieanne via Flickr Creative Commons

I was thinking I’d do a little “Stream of Consciousness Sunday” (SOC) writing today (even though it’s Monday) because last week I had so much fun doing it.

But today’s prompt (it was actually yesterday, but that’s just nit-picky) was:

How has the internet changed your life – professionally and/or personally?

And I had so many things to say about this but they all seemed so, I don’t know, clichéd.  Thoughts such as – I’m finally connected with friends from the past.  I stay connected to friends in the present more easily.  My business has grown and grown.

I’m more organized.

I appear smarter.

And I don’t feel like I need to get my pictures developed anymore.

But really, the internet has changed my life because it gives me the medium to tell you this story.

I was totally freaked out about a dentist appointment today.  I mean I was scared.  Really scared.  I had to have a procedure re-done and the first time it hurt like a M—er F—er.  So yeah, I made a pretty big deal about it.

I told Superman and then made him feel bad because he wasn’t going to be here for me.

I told my mother because it was Mother’s Day yesterday and well, what mother doesn’t want to feel needed on Mother’s Day?  So I told her my woes and she said, “Now, now Kirsten, it will be okay.  Do you want me to delay my trip home?”

“No”, I replied, “That’s okay.”  But secretly I was glad she asked.

I told my kids, “Now if I’m sleeping when you get home DON’T WAKE ME UP because I’m having “that procedure” and I might be on pain medicine.

I called my neighbors and arranged rides for the kids because I might be on pain meds and can’t drive.

I told my sister.  Twice.

I told my Dad and my Step-mom.  Twice.

And I told myself over and over again…

You can do this.
Be brave.
It’ll be over before you know it.
Just think, you can come home, take a Vicodin and just sleep the rest of the day.
And you can have What Not To Wear and A Baby Story on in the background while you rest.
So be brave and keep you eye on the finish line.

So I did.  I did it!  I went to the dentist.

And they told me I had the wrong day and they’ll see me in a month.

So what should I do with my day?  (And don’t say weeding!)

This was my 5 minute Stream of Consciousness Sunday post. It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump. Want to try it? Here are the rules…

Set a timer and write for 5 minutes.
Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post.
No proofreading or spell checking.
This is writing in the raw.
Stream of Consciouness Sunday

Jeans.

Photo Credit: Jose Manuelerre via Flickr

I should really go get another pair of jeans.  These ones are getting tight.  No, scratch that, the ‘getting’ has already happened.  These jeans ARE tight.  As in present-tense.

Damn.

It.

I’m coming to terms with my new body.  It’s a little bigger.  A little thicker.  A little rounder.

I kinda like it.  I’m gentler with it.  I respect it more.  I appreciate it more.

Except for the middle part.  I don’t like the way it looks when I sit down.  But when I stand up it’s fine, except when I turn sideways in the mirror.  But that’s a pretty easy position to avoid.

No, this body feels right, settled.  I feel a sense of surrender and peace in this new body of mine.

This is not the way I was raised.  It’s not the way society expects me to feel.  It’s not the way I expected to feel.

I expected to feel panicked, depressed, uncomfortable.  This is how I’ve been conditioned to respond.

But I don’t.  I’m actually fine with it.

This surprises me.

And the verdict is…. (yeah me!)

The million dollar question finally gets answered

Do you remember The Million Dollar Question?  The question of my hearing and whether or not my kids mumble or whether I truly cannot hear.

Guess what?

I win!  I win! I win! I win! I win! I win!  I win!  I win!  I win!  I win!I win! I win! I win! I win!

The long and short of it is “yes” I do have slight hearing loss.  And yes, that exact hearing loss means I really DO have a difficult time hearing when there is background noise (like the mall, the car, restaurants, schools, when the TV or radio is on, pretty much anywhere I am and everything I do…)

And then my doctor said one thing that made my heart sing and one that made it sink.

#1: “There is NO reason you can’t hear your kids.”

#2: “Hearing aids won’t help.”

I hate to admit it but for some crazy reason I actually kinda sorta wanted hearing aids.   But then again this could be wishful thinking because I also wanted braces and glasses as a kid.  (Can you believe Wiki-how actually has directions for this?)  And I’m not alone – I’ve seen Lil’ Sport do this too. 

So yes, I win the argument (“Is it me, or is it you?”) but I don’t win overall because I still find myself saying, “What?  I can’t hear you.”

*sigh, double sigh*

The Million Dollar Question

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Next week the million dollar question will finally get answered.  The question we have all been asking ourselves over and over.  The question we are convinced we know the answer to.  The question that starts many arguments, heated debates, and stirs the pot day after day, week after week.

Maybe you know this question.   Maybe you’ve asked yourself this very same question too.  It’s the question we have ALL asked ourselves at some point.  The question in question?

Is it me or is it them?

It started about a year ago.  I found myself asking the people around me to speak up, to please e.n.u.n.c.i.a.t.e, to speak clearly.  About a year ago the phrase, “I can’t hear you”, became a permanent part of my repertoire.

The problem is I have kids.  Teenagers to be exact.

And so, when it’s the kids my mind starts whirring, attaching stories and meanings to “their” inability to speak up, speak clearly, and communicate.

(What, you didn’t know poor communication is a hot button for me?  It is.  Just to be clear.)

It goes something like this…

Kid:  “Blah blah blah blah blah

Me:  “What?”
(Inside my head: “God! speak UP!)

Kid:  “Blah blah blah blah blah

Me:  “Say it louder, I can’t hear you!
(Inside my head: “Jeez this kid is never going to be able to speak to an adult and be taken seriously!  What’s going to happen when they have a problem at school?  Who is going to listen?  They’ll probably FAIL just because they can’t speak up and speak clearly!)

Kid: (a little louder, a little slower) “Blah   blah   blah   blah   blah!

Me:  “You need to look at me when you talk please.”
(Inside my head:  “Oh my god!  I’ve FAILED as a MOTHER!  What kind of parents are we?  HOW did we allow our children to get to this point?  They’ll never graduate!  They’ll never get into college!  What about work?  Will they every get hired?  Are they going to be living at home forever???  What have I done?!?  What can I do???)

Kid: (a little louder, a littler slower, looking directly at me) “Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah”

Me:  “Oh!  Okay!  See, wasn’t that easy?”

So the question is:

Is it me or is it them?

Next week I go in for a hearing test.  I’m super excited!  As I see it I am in a win-win situation.  If I do indeed have hearing loss, I can get help.  If I don’t, I’m right it IS the kids.

What about you?  Do you have a million dollar question in your house?

Photo credit: Jeroen van Oostrom