me
My dear Cali friend nominated me for this "Honest Scrap" award. According to De Ann (or now, may I call you Tootie since you've finally proclaimed it to the world?) I must list 10 random facts about myself. Then another dear blog reader, Maureen, gave me the Fabulous Sugar Doll Blogger Award which coincidentally means I must list 10 random facts about myself. I'm very random, but I'm not very good about making lists like this, so I will let myself cheat and fulfill both obligations with one list. :)
1. My wardrobe has grown increasingly brown and black. It was a recent discovery, and yes, it's random. I still have a complete rainbow in my closet just because of my insane amassment of clothing in there, but I keep going for the brown or the black every time I go shopping, every day when I get dressed. And this is not a new randomosity - I'd say the past year, maybe? And plus, it makes just-the-right earrings and no-one-but-Amanda-would-wear-that necklaces way more fabulous.
2. I'm glued to my pink Coach datebook. I live by that thing. It may or may not be in my iPhone, but it will always be in the datebook. If someone were to take it, I'd feel lost and probably go into a panic attack. Knowing my recent luck, that said panic attack would probably end me in the psych ward. Not even kidding.
3. My dog is my human daughter and if I had more time, I'd have a few more. My goal is eventually to graduate to human procreation, but at the moment, nannying is enough kids for my life.
4. If I find a cute top or pair of jeans that fit just right or adorable, must-have shoes, I will buy it in all the colors I can fit into my wardwrobe. It's pathetic, really. I feel like Doug -remember that Nickelodeon cartoon where the kid wore the same outfit every. single. day. Ha! Case in point: Old Navy fold-over yoga pants (2 pairs black, 1 pair black capri), cute heel boots (black and brown), favorite Coach bag (black and brown), my favorite t-shirts (I'd say about 5 different tops with 2 to 4 colors of each)
5. I love my Pandora bracelet. I didn't even know what they were until a few months ago, and then it was what I wanted most for Christmas. Well, I got one, and have two spacers and the following beads: a heart from Jonathan, a dangle cross from my sister, a pink stone from Grandma, and my Nana's birthstone (and mine - we're both born in August) that I bought with the money Poppop gave me for Christmas (in her memory of course) There's so many more charms I'd love to add, but what's so special if there is no story behind each charm? Going to Jared and stocking my bracelet would be fun, but it would make the bracelet meaningless. Plus, I love how the beads slide all around now. It wouldn't do it if it was full! :)
6. I am, after 5 1/2 years, single again. It's surprising how fast I've reverted back to my ways of not shaving my legs, doing whatever I want to do whenever I want to do it, and drooling over any man-candy I may encounter. I'm unabashedly single and hoping I'll soon love it as much as I used to.... before things got so complicated and I fell head-over-heels in love. I'm a single adult for the first time in my life, and I find it liberating sometimes. There's a few things I want to do before I settle down again, and I think that's awesome.
7. I love giving stuff away or even selling stuff. I find some hidden joy in finding someone on Freecycle or Craigslist or eBay who really want my used whatevers. I give all my old accessories to my friends and cousin, too. I'm doing some massive cleaning out lately, and I have been doing all of the above plus filling a huge box for our church yard sale which is like 6 months away. Purging feels so good. I don't know how people can hoard stuff unless of course, they're simply too busy to clean it out. That would be a problem.
8. I had to hit rock bottom and lose all but my very life before I realized how much God loved me and keeps His hand on my life... despite myself. Despite ourselves, He is watching over us.
9. I love to buy cards and gifts for people. I love wrapping presents and curling the ribbon. I love tying on pretty tags and finding just the right card. :)
10. I always bite off more than I can chew. Any project I seem interested in, I dive right in, give 200%, and usually find out I'm too busy for it after all or just get bored with it. I take "live life with passion" a little too literally. I also think I can do anything until I realize I can't. Now, I can do many things, and I believe anyone can do anything they set their mind to, but that's completely not the point on this one. Case in point? If you'll hem my pants, why do I need to waste all that frustration of trying to do it myself? For less than an hour's work pay, I can get my car washed at the gas station with the extra nice soap and special clean whatever? I will not wash my own car, waste 2 precious hours, get soaking wet, and earn myself an evening on the heating pad with a muscle relaxer. How about food? If my mom is home, she can make whatever I want better and faster, and everyone has curb-side take out now, so learning to cook? Nah, no point. And along the same lines, I really do think I have more hobbies, or attempted hobbies, than any sane person should have... and probably less time for hobbies than most people have.
My duty, again according to Tootie, in accepting this honest scrap award is that I must award it to seven other blogs. Maureen passed it onto three. So I have no idea. I'm going to now cheat a second time in one post and say this: If you want, just post it on your blog and link back. How's that? Twitter friends, blog reader friends, whoever you are... I think you all rock. And if you're extra busy like me, just go on with your life. But I have fulfilled my honors and obligations and will now go do my Nursing Research homework and think about who I can bribe to paint my bathroom brown. All before a 2 year old and 5 month old wake up from their naps.
Love to you all!
I can't believe I haven't posted in 2 weeks! Of course a lot of things have happened. I'll post on them later as I get pictures done, thoughts together, etc., but today was a big day for me. Today, I went back to school, spring semester, to get through one more semester of clinicals. So far, this has been not one bit easier than last semester was when I found the strength to return in the first place. It's actually harder because I spent a couple of my Christmas break weeks sick with different things, and right now I am just feeling run-down and exhausted.
But like a new friend of mine said, "Not trying to play was never an option."
So today, I went to school and tried. I almost fell asleep several times (and that was on the stimulants I have prescribed) and I wondered on about two dozen various occassions, "When did we ever cover that?" (Answer: "Duh, Amanda, when your brain was in a zillion pieces after your car accident.") I left feeling inadequate, unprepared, and too weak mentally to get going in our only 5-credit hour clinical (aka, this class counts, and for a lot!)
Tomorrow, I'll try again, and I will next Monday, too. And even when I have my first clinical - 12 1/2hours with a one hour drive each way - I will continue to try with all of my heart.
My plan is, if I try my hardest until our first exam and if I just cannot grasp all the information when I'm suffering with this much pain (the last 3 weeks have been unbelievable), then I will drop the course and wait to start Geriatrics/Rehab in March. It's a full clinical day and two days of lecture, but after a break of a few weeks, it shouldn't be anything to worry about.
But I'm a pusher, I'm a trier, nothing unlike me there. Just this time, this is a bigger try than I like to have. This is a try out of my comfort zone, but try I still will.
Tonight, I felt like coming home and ripping my biggest class out of my schedule but then I thought how carefully it was placed there probably by God himself. I was able to get a coveted seat in the program, I was able to get my 1-day (vs. 2) clinical, and although it's too far to drive to, I also nailed a rare spot at the Cleveland Clinic - a wonderful place to learn. This goes for 7-8 weeks and then I begin the next rotation, and I'm balancing 2 online courses on top of it. Online classes have the technology now to accomplish anything you can in a classroom, which means "online classes are such a joke!" no longer applies. In fact, I wish I was only taking clinicals and no other classes because it's a lot to balance. Or the comparatively easy road - just online classes and no lecture/clinical. Will I ever feel "up" to clinicals? I really want to hope so! And by all means, if I had that promise in front of me today, I'd stop what I was doing, move this clinical out of my way to take later, and do whatever else I could to fill the time between then and now. But I'm a realist. I can't sit and shovel the same classes around and around in circles for the end of time. I sort of did that with Human Physiology. A poorly timed class (literally and figuratively!) and a terrible professor left me with two "withdrawls" on my transcript, which anyone in acadamia will warn "Withdrawls are the curse!" but really, if you're holding a strong GPA, employers don't really care. At least in this field, my field, nursing.
I should have known when I had a nice week or so during break that it would be gone soon. I did know it, though, I really did. It was so amazing to feel capable of breathing air in a somewhat sustainable pattern, and I tried to hold onto those moments until spring semester would dance before my eyes.
So today was Day 1. What I really want to do is scream, "Okay, I DID it, I TRIED!!! Are you HAPPY now?!?!?!" as I fiercely throw my course materials to the wind and literally remove my name from the roster. BUT. The word try is inspiring me, as are the words of my friend Tom Golarz, so I will try. Like it or not. And I will try tomorrow. Over the weekend. Monday, and then Tuesday, first clinical. More lectures, clinicals, then Exam 1. Then we shall re-evaluate all the components, all the issues, all the pros and cons. Because if you left it to me, I'd follow my heart. I'd have taken this course a year ago and might be dead from what all these strenuous courses have stolen from me, but at least I'd have the one thing I know I worked harder than anyone else in the world to obtain.
And even if I don't have that, I do have the one I know God made just for me, and quite honestly, that's the only thing I need. God, and my soulmate.
Does that make all the previous irrelevant? No! Would I be lost without what I believe is my true calling? Yes! The degree to be a nurse is a huge need as well, something our society interlaces with achievement, success, and in my case, safe patient care. Nurses are vital to healthcare reform, for spontaneous nursing care, to perform in-depth techniques, to mediate, to guard, to give hope to the hopeless. One day I'll get there, but for the point I'm trying to make here, I can't say my life honestly depends on whether or not I take a few more courses to get me a license to get me a job.
We all can make someone smile every day.
We all can do something big every day.
Isn't that what matters most?
We'll all be okay.
2009 wasn't the worst year ever, but it wasn't the best either. I'm all about reflecting and want to give the year a proper goodbye, an adequate tribue to the time of my lifetime I spent in its grasp.
In 2009...
I hit the wall hard.
I left babysitting to take up nannying.
I went to Disney World with my parents and sister!
I lost my precious Nana.
I almost got another puppy.
I did make one cent of government-taxed income.
I tried.
I upgraded to a flat screen TV and Blu-Ray player!
I bought a new desk that I absolutely love.
I did not scrapbook.
I did two separate runs of physical therapy.
I was hospitalized twice, went to urgent care once.
I went to 93 medical appointments.
I inserted my first IV.
I experienced pediatric and obstetric nursing.
I failed a paper.
I had two car accidents in one day.
I found a name for the pain.
I went to Florida with my mom.
I had a total of seven different carseats in my car.
I bought three Coach bags and received one for an Easter gift.
I cried harder than I'd ever cried before.
I had too many panic attacks to count and three or four nervous breakdowns.
I made out.
I attended one kindergarten graduation, one college graduation, one awards ceremony, zero weddings, one funeral, and several birthday, movie, and game parties.
I had my birthday party/dinner at Bravo! Cucina.
I tipped one waitress less than 20%.
I missed someone thousands of miles away.
I sold a ton of things on Craigslist and gave lots of things away on Freecycle. (And bought/picked up lots, too!)
I discovered oncology nursing.
I promised I would not watch American Idol.
I watched every episode of American Idol.
I had a little penpal.
I fell even deeper in love.
I saw Santa twice. Three times if you count my uncle donning a Santa suit.
I completed more pre-transplant tests than I ever had before... then my insurance denied progression. Good thing: my liver is not that bad yet. Bad thing: waiting some more.
I watched someone shatter my heart and still try every single day to put the pieces back together.
I was "ill" sick (not directly related to my chronic conditions) six times. (One time in January, one time in the May, and four times during Fall semester)
I went to four new doctors.
I smiled.
I adopted a precious little girl in Nicaragua.
I savored.
I fell asleep with a newborn in my arms.
I pleaded.
I cleaned up puke, poop, pee (all both dog and human!), blood, wine, and even the entire inside contents of a ripped-open Beanie Baby.
I purchased nothing on the shopping channel but a huge amount of things online.
I overdrew my checking account three or four times, all accidentally of course. One of the times, I used crying, relentless begging, and a few references to get the fees removed. Oh, and I promised to start keeping a ledger. I have kept every other promise I've ever made in my life. ;-)
I was fired, and I quit.
I endured.
I made many big decisions.
I went to five concerts (two FFH, Brandi Carlile, Taylor Swift, Colbie Caillat), one Disney on Ice, two or three Cavs games, one Broadway play (Wicked), and one Akron Aeros game.
I lived.
I loved.
Seemingly not too bad of a year, but the heavy stuff overshadowed any glimmer of hope. Illness. Death. Pursuing something outside of my strength. Anxiety. Changes. Second guesses. So in 2010, I hope things start getting better. They could get worse, yes, but I think this is the year I need to build the bridge I need to get to the other side. I'm feeling really optimistic. I'm also feeling scared beecause I know 2009 about killed me, and 2010 will be even more intense, but that's the way it has to be if I ever want to get out of this rut. So I'm feeling optimistic, but scared out of my mind. Not so much scared of the unknown as scared how I'm going to get through. But I always do - I have God, a fiance, an amazing family, fabulous friends... if nothing else, I have so much support behind me. (I am also feeling grateful.)
In 2010...
I will bust my butt completing 2 semesters of school/clinicals and whatever I decide to do during the summer to "advance my education" (aka, graduate)
I will make a definite wedding date that we really can commit to. (Health insurance, money, a place to live... it will all come together.)
I will study healthcare in Ireland or complete a summer RN externship.
I will make more time for myself.
I will learn to budget better.
I will regain the memory I haven't had since the car accident.
I will continue to love life despite its challenges.
I will live, laugh, cry, smile, travel, read, help, yearn, see, want, make, go, need, give, build, share, and hope.
I will transcend.
And this is that crazy miracle called life.
One. day. at. a. time.
Heaven is the face of a little girl
With dark brown eyes
That disappear when she smiles.
Heaven is the place
Where she calls my name
Says, “Daddy please come play with me for awhile.”
God, I know, it’s all of this and so much more,
But God, You know, that this is what I’m aching for.
God, you know, I just can’t see beyond the door.
So right now...
Heaven is the sound of her breathing deep,
Lying on my chest, falling fast asleep while I sing.
And Heaven is the weight of her in my arms,
Being there to keep her safe from harm while she dreams
And God, I know, it’s all of this and so much more,
But God, You know, that this is what I’m longing for
God, you know, I just can’t see beyond the door.
But in my mind’s eye I can see a place
Where Your glory fills every empty space.
All the cancer is gone,
Every mouth is fed,
And there’s no one left in the orphans’ bed.
Every lonely heart finds their one true love,
And there’s no more goodbye,
And no more not enough,
And there’s no more enemy.
Heaven is a sweet, maple syrup kiss
And a thousand other little things I miss with her gone.
Heaven is the place where she takes my hand
And leads me to You,
And we both run into Your arms.
Oh God, I know, it’s so much more than I can dream.
It’s far beyond anything I can conceive.
So God, You know, I’m trusting You until I see
Heaven in the face of my little girl,
Heaven in the face of my little girl.
Written by Steven Curitis Chapman after an accident killed his 5 year old daughter last year.
This song (and story) is especially striking to me because his beautiful little girl could have been me... in fact, it was me... only I lived to tell my story. Lived to come up with questions, lived to cry myself to sleep, lived to realize life is not fair. But I guess when the children don't make it, it's the parents who take on the story, questions, tears, and realizations. The agony of it all.
Here's the end of my story...
Heaven is the face of a little girl
With dark brown eyes
That illuimate the world
Heaven is the place
Where she is now free
Where it's always enough, she'll have no tears
Only life
Heaven is the sound of her sighing in peace
Lying on my chest, rocking her to sleep as I sing
And Heaven is the air she can finally breathe
She's found the answers and all her hopes fulfilled
Heaven is a sweet, sunshiney day
And a thousand other little things I miss with her gone
Heaven is the place where she waits
She'll take me to you
One day,
right into Your arms
This week was my 2nd week returning to nursing school after my 1-year "health hiatus." Another 4 hour lecture and of course on Tuesday, and another day at the hospital on Friday. Last week was full of orientation, procedures, class projects, etc., so it was nice to actually have patients today. Apparently assignments were switched and we're on the "Adolescent" unit for the first part, followed by what we call "the Little Kids" unit.
To be completely honest, I was not excited to be on the adolescent unit. I've never had a patient in his or her teens or tweens, and while trying hard not to judge something I've never experienced, I just don't have an interest in it. So I was picturing a braces-clad, iPod-tethered, whining "adolescent" when I heard about our unit switch.
But the heavens saw me in my little white student nurse uniform when my instructor gave me a 2 year old.
This was going to be a good day.
Apparently, the little kids' unit must have been in overflow because of our 8 patients on the unit, almost half being toddlers or preschool-aged. Unfortunately, the unit is in the middle of some kind of changes or moving, so the 10 of us joined the RNs and 2 new nurse orients in taking care of 8 kiddos. We were "paired" with a peer, and there was nothing to do at a few points during the day, but it worked.
Today's assignment: R, in for a nephrectomy. Lower percentile height/weight. Diagnosed with congenital atrophic kidney with grade 3 reflux. Preexisting hypospadias, congenital chordee. In simpler terms, [and if you are scared of penis mentioning, you might want to skim for a little.....] R has one kidney that is too small. Too small, in fact, that the urine backs up into the kidney. It's kind of complicated, but the human bladder has more pressure than the kidney, so the back flow in case like R's causes much more pressure than the kidney is made to handle, ultimately damaging the kidney. As for the hypospadias... At birth, normal male genitalia has the urinary meatus (opening) at the tip of the penis, but with hypospadias, the opening is abnormally placed and is generally repaired when the baby is a little older. R's congenital chordee is a result of his hypospadias, and that just means that his penis curves downward.
In discussing with his family, it turned out that little R was born with the hypospadias and chordee. The doctor advised surgical repair around 18 months. When they were re-evaluating him at that age, the doctor was surprised to also discover the condition of his kidney. Of course, removing the kidney took priority over penile reconstructive surgery, so it was removed yesterday, laparoscopically. (Remember, the majority of people have two kidneys, so although the remaining kidney will work harder, it will hopefully continue to be healthy.) R did well in the surgery and the doctors will fix his other abnormalities once he recovers and is doing well. His specialist explained how common it is to have some kind of kidney/urinary problem paired with hypospadias, so that's the association.
The goals of the day were to remove R's Foley catheter, handle his pain via Tylenol with Codeine, remove his IV, and wait for him to urinate. (A patient cannot have a Foley removed and go home without first urinating. It's protocol.) Well, little R decided he wasn't going to urinate. He decided he wasn't going to drink either. Nice.
Our shift is 0700-1730. Between 0800 and 0900, I removed R's Foley and IV. Both involved kicking, screaming and flailing, but we made it through.
You know, it's funny... I remember the first time I ever gave a shot to a patient - it was so weird because as I stood there, syringe in hand, clinical instructor at my side, a thought came to me. As a nurse, I'm going to have to hurt people. I pondered it, distressed, until I realized we only hurt people if they'll be much better off for it. These kiddos have to have IVs and Foleys and surgeries, and they have to drink certain things and go scary places, and it's mean and terrible, and sometimes it feels so wrong. Anytime I have to bother a child for anything, I can't help but picture myself in that bed by the window, watching Sesame Street, clinging to my "lovey" for dear life, hoping a nurse wasn't going to come back in. But they did. And we do. Because at the end of the day, it's all to help these precious babies.
Anyhow, back to R. We pushed about a zillion popsicles, and another round of pain meds induced a nap. Kids always pee in their diapers during naptime, right? Well not R. It seems like all we did all day was keep checking to see if he voided yet. There was nothing else to do, and I was bored out of my mind. We did the playroom, parent teaching, Child Life consulting for support on his major activity restrictions as he recovers... we covered all of our bases. Still no pee. Not even a little.
I couldn't help but observe R and family. The look on Mom's face said it all. Her child was going to have a simple surgery until they found out he was in kidney failure. She had likely been awake for days straight, and she was agitated with everything. Every defense in the world was up because this was her child, and he was hurting. He was broken and there was nothing in the world she could do to fix him. R would scream and kick and cry as I pushed his Tylenol with Codeine into his mouth with a syringe, and Mom looked like she was never going to get used to that different cry, that cry of desperation and fear that her son had probably never expressed before. As for R, there were times when I mentally imagined myself as him simply because I couldn't not. Hooked up to tubes and wires, eating new foods, listening to weird sounds, seeing more people than he's ever seen in his entire tiny life... It's a nightmare. Then I remembered how the two things I trusted the most - Mommy softly singing to me, rocking back and forth, and of course Dad's big strong arms - were, for the first time in my life - not enough. What happens when everything you've ever known seems so, so small to this new, terrifying world you're being shoved into? Exactly. By midday I had connected with patient and family. They were so grateful and couldn't believe how R was opening up to me. Yes, I do well with kids, but this is different. The bottom line here is that I have walked their paths, and that was the security this family, felt from me. I was one of them, one like their little boy.
Although I liked them, I was also secretly hoping R would pee by noon or something so I could get a new admit - hopefully something more interesting, too! But no.
R did not pee until about 1500.
Yay for R! We had him discharged in no time, but it was almost time for post-conference, a new patient wasn't up yet.... so we were just bored. Again.
But little bit of humor here... R's room "neighbor" was in for - get this - swallowing a pirate coin. Almost 4, he loves pirates and somehow swallowed a "pirate coin." Poor little thing had to have it removed because it wouldn't pass. He's also excited about his "pirate birthday party" this weekend and kept asking for his coin back. Will we see him next Friday? Oh, it's possible...
Kids.
Anyways... during my "boring times," I of course chatted with my fellow peers and the nurses. I love hearing people's stories, but heart skipped a beat when my friends said they had a teen in with pancreatitis but he also had cirrhosis as a result of congenital liver disease. "He's really a cool guy, you should go chat with him!" my friends urged me. (They probably felt bad for me standing around for half the day!) So in I went. I wasn't sure what to say as far as how to relate my connection with him, so I waited, determined not to be pushy. We just chatted and talked about life for awhile, and when it came up, I asked him who his specialist was. I was pretty sure this was my opening because my liver doctor is the absolute best pediatric liver specialist at the Clinic, probably at least in the region or maybe the country, and she is no longer all-GI but hepatic patients only. She's phenomenal, and I think she's the only totally, completely liver-only peds doctor in the entire CCF network. Anyways, he said her name, and I replied with, "Oh great, she's my doctor too." Suddenly that invisible "you have no idea what I'm going through" fell to pieces and we started conversing like we had been best friends for years. We each shared our histories, our prognosis, our treatments, our frustrations. We talked about procedures only we could understand and compared our list of similar medications.
We'll call my new friend B. Apparently B hasn't been able to go to school for the past couple of years and is lonely and bored. "I can't do anything," he told me, to which I asked him, "The fatigue, right?" He grinned. I had broken the practitioner-patient wall. Maybe too far, but I couldn't help it.
At the end of the day, I said goodbye to B and I secretly wished I would see him again. I told him I'd be thinking about him and you'd better believe I will. This is where I will be having trouble with attachments. I've never met anyone young with liver disease and I can't express how comforting it was to be with him. It's like waiting forever to feel like you belong and then finally feeling you fit in. He did, too. Again... Bottom line? I was one of them, one of him. (Oh and I was a little mad at my instructor for not giving him to me as my assignment. Ahem. But maybe that's a good thing?)
So back on track... finally, 1630. R went home, remember, and I told B goodbye. Post-conference is just an hour of talking about your patient, pathophysiology, meds, treatment, plan of care... blah blah blah. I usually like post-conference, and today I did, too. Until B's student nurses explained what was wrong with him.
I didn't know there were dots to be possibly connected that far away from the truth. Where in the world were they blaming x-symptom on x-condition, or x-condition as a result of x-medication that according to them, the doctor should not be prescribing. My jaw was on the floor, and I pretty much had to consciously tell myself not to butt-in. He was not my patient, and it would be a little tacky of me to steal their thunder anyways. But I was sick, seriously disturbed. How did I, talking to the patient for maybe an overall total of 20 minutes, know more about his life, social/emotional needs, fears, and future than TWO people who had been with him literally all day? They missed so much, completely wrongly described liver disease/portal hypertension-induced conditions that I myself have. Then they decided to tell us that he was on the liver list, but he probably wouldn't get one because, due to his specific disease, his liver might fail all over again. Umm? Sorry guys, that's not how they do transplant priorities. It's a number and a system, and who are you to say that your very end-stage patient is "probably really low on the list"? God forbid you told the patient your opinions on how organ procurement an transplantation must operate.
What I learned from that short experience is, how often do we entirely connect the wrong dots? I thought about it later, and I realized that if I didn't know about the disease, there is no way in this world I could see my personal list of procedures, meds, and diagnoses and connect them into the least form of common sense. It's a messy, messy disease, and I only know so much about it because I ask my doctor questions after questions and read journals, books and well, live the life every single day. So who am I to judge them? Perhaps their technique behind "how can we make this make sense?" seemed to work for them, but just not for me. And not for B. Meeting him today was one of my highlights of nursing school and my nurse technician job, too. He seemed to be thrilled, as well, to find someone to connect with, and was just grateful to find our common bottom line.
This nursing thing is the hardest thing I've ever done in my life, but sometimes, it just feels so right. It feels like I'm answering my heart and soul's calling, and well, isn't that the bottom line of life?
... I entered this world! To celebrate, numerous things have occurred...
First of all, Mom and Nikki surprised me with a huge batch of these lovely birthday cupcakes!! Then there was the cell phone. I was doing homework most of the day so I had the ringer off, but I got a zillion birthday text messages and voicemails from everyone who matters most! But it was the email inbox, I'll have to say, that was most annoying because almost every website I've ever been to in my life had some kind of message to send, whether it was a boring "Happy Birthday!" or an overly peppy "Happy Birthday! You're our #1 Customer! Use this coupon to save 20% off your next purchase!" The real mailbox had a plethora of similar coupons all week long, and hey get this one - Hallmark actually sent me a birthday card (with a coupon inside, of course). (And as a sidenote here - that's the least they can do since I reached platinum last year. Yes, I spend that much at Hallmark!) But anyways, my favorite part of the day, as it is every single year, was the cards. I'm a letter-handwriting, card-giving, day-making kind of person and for some reason I've always loved the cards more than the gifts. They mean more, and they last forever. :)
So.... don't mind if I do...
Happy Birthday to Me!! :)
