Tag: honesty

Something I’ve Been Thinking About. . .

Yesterday,  as I was uploading 173 of my 434 vacation photos on FaceBook, I was wondering how it is we got here.  By here, I mean, this continual streaming of news and information to friends, family and networks.  Bear with me for a second because what I’m about to type is purely off the top of my head (redundancy may abound).

Do we plan our activities because we truly want to do things? Do we make plans to fulfill a desire to socialize, to interact, to build our knowledge on a social and intellectual level? Or do we do things simply to check them off of a giant list of basic human  “things we should do” because :

1. That’s what I think I should do.
2. That’s what I’m entitled to do.
3. That’s what someone told me to do.
4. That’s what other people in my demographic are doing.
5. If I don’t do it, how will I know I’ve “made it”, I’ve lived my best life, I’ve earned it?

Do we do things just to be able to update our status to reflect it? Do we do things just to twat Tweet about it? Do we do things so we can see ourselves on YouTube (some of those videos are mad funny).

I found myself really thinking about this as we drove around MV, going to various beaches and activities.  Armed with my camera, I took more photos of the girls than I have in a long time.Vacation is a chance to slow down and be on your own schedule, which for those of you who know me, I’m always on a schedule.  To be able to snap away,  to capture memories was great.  In my head, I was concocting all of these projects that I would create with the images.  I would make separate albums for the girls based on the activities we did. Or maybe I would build a collection of albums of only our family vacations to the island. No! I’d make a photo collage of our trips to the beach and then put it in a shadow box with the sand and shells that made it home with us in the bottom of our beach cooler. Ooooh! Oooh! I’ll make a progressive book of the girls in their bathing suits every summer, so that when you flip it real fast, you can watch them grow right before your eyes!

And of course, somewhere in the back of my mind, didn’t I consider which ones I would upload to Shutterfly? Which one I wanted to use as my Facebook profile picture? Which one I would send to DH so he could put it on his wall or tweet about how much fun we were having?

That last thought was the one that made me pump the brakes.  Instead of tweeting about how much fun we’re having, why don’t we have some fun?  Even by blogging about it, am I perpetuating the cycle? Where is the line between simple sharing and constant new feeding? How can we really enjoy what we are doing if we spend our time rushing through it just to tell others about it?

DH gently reminded me that before all this Twittering, FaceBooking, MySpacing and the like, people showed home movies and sent pictures to family and friends about their vacations.  Nothing has changed.  The need to share and include others is still pervasive and prevalent.   The fact is, we are just able to share that much quickly thanks to technology.

 I like leafing through photo albums and hearing stories that will be laughed about for a good long while.  I guess I’m old fashioned that way.  But I’m forward thinking enough to know the best and easiest way to share what’s been going on, how we’ve been getting on and all parts in between is to put it out there.  Isn’t that the whole point of these social networking sites?

I think I’ve just spent the last hour chasing my own tail about this.  Hang on while I upload the picture.

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IN: ON: July 4, 2010 TAGS: , , BY: Hilary
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If You Give a Mom a Moment. . .

If you give a mom a moment, she’ll probably take a deep breath before picking up her “to-do” list.

Taking that deep breath will make her wrinkle her nose at the stink wafting out of the diaper pail.

Once she’s taken out the bag of dirty diapers, she’ll probably collect all of the trashes from the rest of the bathrooms.

In the master bathroom, she’ll notice this morning’s towels laying in a pile on the floor.  She’ll replace the old towels with clean ones and decided to run the dirties through the laundry.

Not wanting to run half a load, she’ll strip the beds and empty the hampers.

Once in the laundry room, she’ll see that she is low on detergent, so she’ll head to the kitchen to grab the magnetic pad off of the fridge to make a grocery list.

She’ll write down detergent, open the fridge an check to see what else she need to pick up.

With her head in the fridge, she’ll spy the chicken breasts she took out the night before to defrost for dinner.

Thinking of dinner makes her hungry and she’ll realize that the breakfast table hasn’t been cleared.

She’ll clear the table, crumb the table, and wipe down the table.

All of that cleaning has given her an appetite and she realizes that she hasn’t had breakfast.

She’ll brew a pot of coffee and reach for her favorite mug, but the mug isn’t there.

She’ll open the dishwasher to find it wedged between a milky sippy cup and peanut-butter smeared Hello Kitty plate.

Once she has the dishwasher off and running, she’ll de-crumb the kitchen counters and sweep the kitchen floor.

Sweeping the kitchen floor will remind her of Cinderella, which will make her think of the Princess themed birthday party the kids will be attending this week-end.

Thinking of the birthday party, she’ll head to the hall closet where she keeps emergency party gifts.

On her way to the closet, she’ll wind her way through two coats, four pairs of mis-matched shoes, a doll-carriage, a doll missing its head, several books overdue at the library, and a Netflix DVD.

She’ll reseal the DVD in the envelope, slide the library books onto the mail table by the door, strap the headless baby into the carriage, place the shoes at the foot of the stairs to be taken up on her next pass, and hangs the coats in the closet.

Once in the closet, she feels around for the party gift and gives herself a pat on the back for her proper prior planning.

A pat on the back makes her think how nice a massage would be, so she decides to add that to her “to-do” list.

And chances are, before she reaches for that “to-do” list, she’s going to take a deep breath, if only for just a moment.

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IN: ON: May 30, 2010 TAGS: , , BY: Hilary
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Loserville: Population of One

I love to read. Absolutely love, love, love it. I can inhale books in a matter of hours if its good enough. And it’s doubly good enough, I’ll read it again and again (hello, Time Traveler’s Wife!).

But. . . I’m out of books at the moment. I had a really rough patch where I wasn’t reading anything that wasn’t related to human anatomy and medical terminology. While fascinating and educational, I’m looking for something that’s going to make me shirk my wifely duties, motherly responsibilities, and personal hygiene. I want a book so good that I am using cocktail toothpicks to prop open my eyes as I read far into the night. And when I turn the last page, I want to feel swollen with satisfaction and the sharp smack of my hand as it hits my head when I realize, “I totally could have written this!”

The last book I read was “Eat, Pray, Love” and I slogged through it — sorry you Liz Gilbert fans. She had me in Italy, but when she got to India, I got very bored. Indonesia was redemptive, but by that point, I really wanted to just put the whole thing to bed and done with her. Hence the burning need for something I can really just burrow myself into.

I was tempted to pick up “The Time Traveler’s Wife” yet again, but I did read it fairly recently and it seems a little too soon. I thumbed through the books on my shelf: nothing. My wish-list at paperbackswap.com and at shelfari.com are just that — wishes. At PBS, the books I’m waiting on have an ETA on average of 17 weeks. WTH?

I thought about the library, but it’s tough to peruse the shelves at a leisurely pace with Mo and Co in tow. They haven’t quite figured out that a library is a quiet place and their volume control only goes in one direction — guess which one.

My dad reads quite a bit and I thought he might have some titles that I could borrow, but I already plowed through his collection of Mad Magazine Anthologies (very though provoking), Elmore Leonard, Stephen Carter, and others. My mom doesn’t read books, mostly magazines, but she did have a few titles near her desk. I perused those, settling on one that I had read before, but knew that I enjoyed. As soon as I cracked it open, I got giddy.

Yes. . .I’ll admit it.

I’m reading “Twilight” again*.

*well, technically, it’s Eclipse, so it’s not like I’m starting all the way at the beginning. . .

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IN: ON: February 18, 2010 TAGS: , BY: Hilary
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Say, Aren’t You In School?

I have been spending quite a bit of time writing about the goings on that make up the bulk of how I spend my days. I haven’t talked much about nursing school, and that’s been for good reason. I’m not in nursing school any more.

For those of you who know me well, you probably already heard this story, but for those of you who don’t, let me tell you. This is an abbreviated version, but all the facts are true and recalled to the best of my recollection.

What is comes down to is that I didn’t want to be a nurse. It was never my dream. It was more like something I thought I could do and be good at. I have never doubted my abilities when it comes to trying new things. Want to learn a new language? Why not. Want to try a new instrument? Hand it over. Want to try grad school? Absolutely. See, some folks thought my leaving school was because I couldn’t handle the clinicals. Sure, no one wants to wipe senior citizen ass, but you do it because it’s part of the curriculum and it’s part of being a nurse. Did I want to wipe ass and give sponge baths? Nope, not really. Did I wipe ass and give sponge baths. Yes, I did and I was very good at it, too (toot, toot! beep, beep!).
It was never a question of can I or can’t I do it. I can do anything. It was whether I wanted to do it. When you have a passion for something, it doesn’t matter the peaks and valleys you cross to get there. Whatever your goal is, you are so passionate about it, you can’t see yourself separated from that goal. That goal is who you are, what you know. It’s what you eat, sleep, and breathe. It’s what makes you say, “I have always wanted to be XYZ. I have always known that I am supposed to do XYZ.”

So how did I get here? How did I learn the difference between capability and desire as motivating forces? Let’s start at the beginning. When I was pregnant with Co, I had some fantastic pre-natal nurses at my OB’s office. They were smart, efficient and personable women that had a great camaraderie in this practice. I thought, “That looks pretty cool. I could do this.” I talked to some several of the nurses throughout my pregnancy, culling information about how they had gotten into the field. One in particular woman, Lecia, said that she had been an investment banker before deciding that at age 35, that she wanted to be a nurse. At the time, she was married and had two small children. Still, she went back to school and became a nurse. I thought, “Oh, I could totally do that!”

So from there, I started the process of visiting schools, collecting transcripts, fulfilling pre-requisites, and submitting applications. Throughout my education, teachers always wrote on my report cards that I was a great student, but that I needed to slow down and stop rushing. That is advice that I have had a hard time following and my foray into nursing school was no exception. I see that I completely jumped into the whole thing without fully knowing what I was getting into.
In any event, I went through my pre-requisites, I agonized over A&P, as I’m sure you recall. I found that I still enjoyed being in school. I liked being a student, learning something, talking it over with my peers. I made it through first and second semester and submitted my nursing school application. I got in last spring and opted to take the summer off to have one last family filled summer before giving myself over to two years continuous years of school.
School started and I threw myself into it the way I always do. I completely removed myself from all forms of social interaction. School became all consuming. The grading system in nursing school is pretty brutal. Anything less than a 70% is a failing grade. A 94% is the low end of an A-. My grades, of course, were spot on. I have always been the type that bellyaches about how I totally didn’t study for a test, how I’m going to absolutely fail it, blah, blah, blah. Then I get 105 points on an exam. Yeah, this time was no exception either.

I was a little more way through the semester when three things happened:
1. I had just taken an exam that I went into feeling as though I would do alright. I came out of it thinking, “I completely jacked that test up– and not in a good way.” I left the lecture hall and just thought, “You know what? I don’t even care. I just don’t care.” I had called a friend who is about to graduate nursing school this winter and we commiserated on how stressful our lives had become. She said how she had wanted to quit school every single day the past two years, but “[I] have never wanted anything more badly than to be a nurse.” Hmmmm. I chewed on that the rest of the night, but knew full well that I just didn’t feel the same way.

2. That same week, my instructor, now keenly aware of my school related neuroses, pulls me aside and says, “I graded your exam. You got a 100 out of 105.” Okay. . . . . I mean, seriously, I said, “Okay,” as though he said, “Your shoe’s untied.”

3. That week-end, I went to bed around 10pm and woke up at 1:00am. My mind was cycling at top speed and my stomach was doing a slow, roiling burn. I sat down on the couch in a sleep deprived daze. I started to put some pieces together about school, my attitude, my emotions, my place in the world, and how I saw myself.

And here’s where the Aha! moment kicked in — I didn’t want to be a nurse. There it was. It was like this stone I had been carrying in my stomach and I finally coughed it up. I’m not going to say the clouds parted, the Hallelujah chorus kicked in and angels appeared from on high, because that totally didn’t happen. What happened was, in that moment, I grew up.

When they say growing up is hard to do, they ain’t never lied! What followed from that moment was a number of discussions with God, with myself, with DH about what to do next. Was I really going to walk away? Was I going to stick out the rest of the semester? Was I just needing a break from the stress? What am I going to do next? See, school has always been the one thing I could call myself good at. I’m a marginal dancer, I can kinda-sorta play some sports. I know enough French to get through an afternoon if I ever find myself in Paris (one can hope, right?). But school was where I was the master. To walk away from it? Could I really do that? Yes, I could. So, I did.
I wish it was as easy as I’m making it sound, but this is an abridged version of events and I’ve got to rouse the troops. There’s not much more to tell, anyway. And to answer the question, “What did DH say?” — DH is/was/has been/will continue to be supportive of me, though I think it’s because he subscribes to the “Happy Wife, Happy Life,” theory of relationships (kidding, kidding).

And as for what I’m going to do now? Well firstly, I’m going to slow. . .down. . .and then, I’m going to do a whole lot of nothing. Or as close to nothing as one can do when you’re a wife and mother. There’ll probably a bottle of wine and straw involved. . .
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IN: ON: November 25, 2009 TAGS: , , BY: Hilary
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photography projects & DIY

That’s a Wrap. . .I think

All good things must come to an end, a phrase that dates back to 1374, and one that I am pretty sure applies to us and our quest to find the Mermaids on Parade. I have to admit, it’s been a good run. We’ve found 29 mermaids, not including the three that were missing, and the nine that we couldn’t reach due to their perch on the side of buildings. Altogether that makes 41 mermaids.

And then, I spotted one more today. I was conflicted for a brief second about whether or not to point it out to the girls because we were on a tight schedule today already. The mermaid was on the opposite side of the street from us and traffic was already slowing down, and clogging up due to some road work. Still, I said, “There’s a mermaid! Look out Co’s window!” and the girls squealed and giggled. Yet, neither one of them asked to stop. I guess the promise of the cool embrace of Target was far greater than any chipped, sun-faded mermaid in the blistering heat. Of course, I may in fact swing by them by there at another time because knowing me and my anal retentive personality, that mermaid will be my own personal great white whale. I can just see it now. . .me, handing the girls their own copies of our mermaid adventure book and having that niggling itch in the back of my mind about the one I just didn’t get.

Mirror Mosaic I on Boush Street

Mirror Mosiac II also on Boush Street
The store that houses this one was closed

Jealous Mistress in the Monticello Arcade
Go Diva (look at her tail) in the MacArthur Center

Bon Secours at DePaul Medical Center


DH came home early this day and the family went on some errands. I have been looking for this particular mermaid on two other occasions as she used to be housed on the median of Granby Street across from the medical center. Anyway, we’re driving down Granby, headed downtown and something tells me to just scan the sidewalks as we approach. Nothing, nothing, nothing and then right as we pull up to the intersection, BAM! I see it. And I yell, “There it is! Pull over! Pull over!” and DH is like, “Huh? What?” We almost clip a Norfolk City Bus, and we definitely tangled up the lanes behind us, but hey! I promised my girls mermaids, as many as we can find. Guess that means we’ll be going back to VA Beach Boulevard after all. . .

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IN: photography projects & DIY ON: July 26, 2009 TAGS: , , , , , , BY: Hilary
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photography projects & DIY

Back on the Hunt

Would you believe that we’ve found about 25 mermaids since starting this project just a few weeks ago. They seem to be multiplying as we go along. Either that or I just never knew how many were truly sprinkled around the city. Just when I think we’ve found as many as we have been able to, one more pops up. There are three more that I can snap photos of with the girls.

In addition to the ones I’ve posted, there are at least a dozen more that we’ve seen that we have been unable to photograph due to their precarious positions affixed to the sides of and roofs of buildings. When we were driving today, we passed by one mermaid that is situated on top of the rolling marquee of the Scope. Both Mo and Co shouted, “Mommy! There’s a mermaid!” and I was tempted to fish my camera out of my bag and snap a shot while we idled at the red light, but safety and better judgement won out. When Mo asked why we couldn’t see that one, I told her that there are some mermaids that are just out of reach and there wouldn’t be any place for her or Co to stand in order to see it. Not five minutes later, as we drove through town, Co called our attention to a mermaid sitting atop a consignment shop on 21st Street. “Mermaid, Mommy!” she called. Mo promptly replied, “We can’t see it Co, there’s no place for us to stand!” It’s like having my own little voice recorder. Hey, at least she’s paying attention.

Palace Princess Beatrice at the Palace Shops

Miss Nato at the Willard Model School

Rowena at Rowena’s on 22nd Street

Siren at Ward’s Corner

Unknown Mermaid at Mary D. Pretlow Library

Unknown Mermaid at Mary D. Pretlow Library

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IN: photography projects & DIY ON: July 21, 2009 TAGS: , , , , , , BY: Hilary
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photography projects & DIY

Mermaid Overload

Well, the girls are enjoying some quality time with the grands in Maryland this week, but before I packed them up and shipped them out, we had a banner day on our search for mermaids. We found seven of those sculptures!! Seven! I know, right?

I knew that there were at least four within a six block radius from our old apartment downtown. Now, I’m extremely competitive and I really wanted to see how many mermaids we could find and photograph before we were in the express lane for MeltDown City. Plus, we were planning to eat lunch — for the second time — at Costco with my mom, while we stocked up on Duggar Family sized bags of chicken nuggets, snacks and assorted sundries.

So, we’ve got about an hour to seek out these mermaids during what was arguably the hottest day of the week at the hottest time of day. My stomach is touching my back I’m so hungry and yet, I’m hot-footing it through downtown Norfolk pushing two stroller bound toddler that are cramming Goldfish into their mouths. Sadly, no one got a picture of that. But, here’s what we did see. . .

Mei Madeline at the Pagoda

Plated Mermaid
Norfolk Campus of Tidewater Community College

Flying Spirit at A Latte Cafe

Definitely Downtown at Granby St. and City Hall Ave

Maid In Voyage on Granby St.

(another sculpture, Jestacular, most be on vacation
because there was an empty platform just to the left of Maid In Voyage)

Ships Ahoy on Main Street
Flower Garden on Tazewell Street
(notice her broken hand)

Whew! It’s fitting that the last one we saw was the Flower Garden because it’s located in front of the apartment building we lived in when we first moved to Norfolk. And, the girls had just about had it when we reached this one, hence the somber faces. I really thought they were going to crash out in the car, but they stayed with me as we cruised on over to Costco. Once inside, they proceeded to inhale, imbibe, and ingest every free sample those little white-hair netted ladies pushed in their direction. And then, on the way out, they had the nerve to ask me for some snacks! Mo and Co, not the white haired ladies.

Anyway, while this is a record number for us, there are at least half a dozen more I know we can go paparazzi on. Plus, there are that are affixed to buildings that we can at least point out as we drive by. So, until our next foray, this should tide us over (see what I did there? mermaids, ocean, tide).

Yeah, I’ll sign off now.

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IN: photography projects & DIY ON: July 5, 2009 TAGS: , , , , , , BY: Hilary
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