Almost Wordless Wednesday: Memories

Abby sent me this picture a little while ago scanned from the family photo album, and it brought back a lot of memories.

This is my brother, Robby, and me in the back of the car. Pretty classic picture of us. Robby chill and smiley. Me in pigtails, reaching for Robby while still sucking my fingers.

I think that I'm probably about 2 1/2 and Robby maybe a little less than 1?

Bless You!

Today while I was feeding Eliza a post-nap snack, I happened to sneeze. Much to my surprise, Eliza quickly responded with a "Blesth you!"

I began to swell with pride at my daughter's clearly advanced intelligence, but before I could finish congratulating her on her new phrase, she got her graham cracker with peanut butter stuck in her nose.

Bless you too, my child.

In between the silver lining

The other evening, I was talking to our program manager at work about how her experience had been transitioning from doing outpatient therapy to being in the managerial position at our program (while still doing therapy in the program and on the side).

Her response was pretty funny and surprising. She told me,

"Ya know, I never thought that my position would come down to basically being the Underwear Police! That's not somewhere I ever saw my career path going really."

She talked about how a lot more time than she would like is spent dealing with petty things like making sure our staff was appropriately dressed and didn't have their underwear bursting out here and there or weren't sharing cigarettes with clients or doing other things that just seem like common sense to most of us, but not to everyone, apparently.

I also have experienced times at my job where I do a sort of double-take and wonder why my job involves doing the dishes or helping people get dressed into their pajamas or washing bed sheets. What? I got my college degree and endured through the bachelor's experience of academia in order to get a job ... taking out the trash?

And at my work a lot of these unexpected duties come in the form of Housekeeping stuff. Ironic because I barely manage to get that done at my own house!

I have had jobs before that required me to do this kind of thing. When I was an intern or a tech, I felt like I was the one expected to do the jobs no one else wanted to do. It's one step up from slave labor-- getting paid next to nothing because you're young and inexperienced. However, they were the jobs that helped motivate me to get through and finish college. So I would never have to do that stuff again!! (Outside of my home, of course.)

My job in a lot of ways is more than I ever hoped to be able to do with my Bachelors in Social Work. I get so much client interaction time that has given me such incredible experiences. I get to facilitate and conduct group and individual counseling sessions and have had some of the most profound conversations in my life and heard some of the most incredible and sad life stories. I really really love my work, especially when it feels like I've helped someone in need.

It's just sometimes when we're short staffed, or when a patient hasn't pooped for 4 days so she was told to show staff if she was able to have a bowel movement and I'm the only one not in group (gag), so I get to go in her bathroom and check out the stuff in the toilet. awesome.

So have any of you had the experience where you end up being responsible for something that you never thought you'd have to be? Whether it was a job you're over-qualified for or some other adult responsibility you didn't expect, etc?

A lot of being a mom feels like this to me. I think that's one reason it's still a slow, hard transition. The job description screams things like "Must be qualified to hop like a bunny, roar like an elephant, make raspberries with your tongue, and wipe poop up before kids step in it!"

But I guess the message is that we do it because we're motivated out of love. I love my job. As a social worker and a mother. And love doesn't have clean-cut boundaries or tightly maintain job requirements. That's why it's unconditional. Which is the kind of life experience I want Eliza to have and the kind of service I want my clients to be able to rely on. And most of all, it's the kind of sacrifice and performance I want to offer my Heavenly Father.

"Fear not to do good, my sons, for whatsoever ye sow, that shall ye also reap; therefore, if ye sow good ye shall also reap good for your reward." D&C 6:33

"... For all this there is a reward in heaven." D&C 127:4

And I write all of these words hypocritically because my husband is downstairs doing the laundry and cleaning up the kitchen. Hehe.

Eliza style

It's no secret that I've enjoyed dressing my baby GIRL (now toddler)!

I am relatively interested in fashion. Not in any serious way, more just as a fun form of creative expression and an I-like-watching-Project-Runway kind of way.

My favorite recent discovery has been one that includes spending $0 while still allowing me to feel that Eliza's outfit is "trendy."

Eliza has grown SO MUCH over the summer. Her feet have grown 3 sizes, and so she now wears a size 6!? Future soccer player, anyone?

So she's started to outgrow a lot of the warm weather clothes that we got her, especially the dresses that seem to be made too short to begin with. However, I think it would be a waste at this point to buy more summer clothing, so instead I've paired her short dresses with her maybe a little too tight pants and the results are the cute tunic and legging combo:


I bought this reversible dress at Sam's Club for like $6 and the leggings from Wal-Mart for like $3, Bow and socks $0 from Boutique a la My Mom!, and her size 6 shoes for $25 at Stride Rite sponsored by Boutique a la My Mom! I had been stuffing her little/big feet in size 4's previously. Poor Eliza toes-ies.

And the best part is Eliza does not care AT ALL what I put her in! Anything that keeps the mosquitoes away, keeps her feet covered from broiling pavement, and protects her constantly skinned knees is great to her!

But she has been known on several occasions to streak out the back door Red Neck style across the ramp, down the driveway and into the front yard and street before we can catch her naked self and tackle her back into the house!

She's my feisty girl!

Lost sheep amid the 99

As I mentioned previously, Eliza is running EVERYWHERE!!!

Unfortunately, this often can lead to trouble, as was the case this last Sunday.

She was especially elated to be freed from the chapel after sacrament meeting was over. So she took off running down the busy halls which were full of people scurrying to their respective classes.

I thought I was right behind her, but all a sudden, she was gone.

I thought that maybe she had snuck into one of the open nursery doors because she likes to follow kids that are about her age and there are toys in there, but she wasn't in either classroom.

I started asking people, have you seen my kid? I lost my kid!

My friend, Sarah, started helping me look, and I looped around the primary room and got Steve from our classroom and quickly confessed that I had lost our only daughter and had no clue where she had gone. I looped back around towards where I lost her.

I faintly heard a child crying from one of the bathrooms, and I said, "Thankfully, I don't think that's Eliza's cry, err... "

It was Eliza's cry.

She was in the handicap bathroom. She had coupled her two dangerous obsessions of running and playing with doors into a cataclysmic combination. She had run into the private bathroom and closed the door on herself...

...and then been stuck in a completely dark room with no way out.

I carefully opened the door and said, "'Liza?"

She had tears streaking down her face and she grabbed me as I picked her up and clung to my neck and whimpered and hiccuped trying to recover from her traumatic bathroom "incident."

Poor girl. It's hard to be a toddler! Who knew the church was such a danger zone, right?

Stay tuned for when I finally feel ready to tell the story of Eliza getting repeatedly punched in the face by a 2 yr old boy during church play group (the real reason I'm taking a boxing class). It's still too traumatic for me to discuss!