tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14960954041465760942024-02-19T16:55:32.559-08:00i usually think i'm greata nonsense blogcnheniginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03143371093445753914noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496095404146576094.post-77608138990449299332018-09-28T10:05:00.002-07:002018-09-28T10:08:13.643-07:00How to Have a C-Section<div style="color: #4b4949; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.8px; margin-bottom: 0.75em;">
It's a pretty arrogant article title, don't you think? "How to Have a C-Section" - I mean, come on. Natural childbirth is harder, right? Probably, but I wouldn't know. My body just wouldn't have a kid naturally. In the, "No way, not having it, are you crazy, lady?" sort of way.</div>
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With my first kid, I was in labor for 20 hours, she still hadn't dropped (so high that the doctor couldn't even turn her) and she was sunny-side up. So, in we went and I vomited through the ENTIRE procedure. Fun times. She came out looking like an alien with the pointiest head I have ever seen. Thankfully, that corrected itself or she would have grown up looking like Patrick from Spongebob Squarepants.</div>
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My second C-section was much easier. In fact, it was the easiest of the three. I went into labor, a friend drove me to the hospital and stayed with me until my husband arrived, they put me in a bed and gave me drugs until the doctor could get to me. I'm funny when I am on drugs. A friend of mine, who is a twin, was one of my nurses during the C-section. After they doped me up, I told her I saw two of her, but if her twin was with her, I would be seeing four. Funny, right? I also talked <em><strong>a lot</strong></em> about Challa French Toast from a local diner. Then...oh, look...a baby!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiskCUuUXmQbEe9pueT-V9B4O0vkrd4f4FmGr1cppMHhmNlgOMylGl1n4LQldRXPS_BxQIOSFamy0acyhkr0m_B59LnHKU_WzHnb6yEL_gl1nJKKYtEPhYiGhwdZa3RbPfr3lgdE2DIi1lX/s1600/2017-05-10_17-57-36_214.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiskCUuUXmQbEe9pueT-V9B4O0vkrd4f4FmGr1cppMHhmNlgOMylGl1n4LQldRXPS_BxQIOSFamy0acyhkr0m_B59LnHKU_WzHnb6yEL_gl1nJKKYtEPhYiGhwdZa3RbPfr3lgdE2DIi1lX/s320/2017-05-10_17-57-36_214.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was pre-vomit..obviously.</td></tr>
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My third C-section was also fairly easy. I mean easy as far as having a major operation at the same time you have a newborn can be. I went into labor, they took me back, gave me meds and I vomited. Of course, I vomited. The doctor wanted to know what I had eaten. Um, 1/2 of a hamburger and some ice cream, of course. Next question: WHY? Well, I didn't know I was going to go into labor. Duh. Then, another baby!</div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.8px;">So, I still haven't answered the question, have I? How do you have a C-Section? Drugs, my friend. Drugs.</span></div>
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cnheniginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03143371093445753914noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496095404146576094.post-49691969825893081522018-09-28T10:02:00.001-07:002018-09-28T10:02:07.596-07:00How to Practice Embarrassing Your Kids<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.75em;">
<span style="color: #4b4949; font-size: 13.8px;"> </span><span style="color: #073763;">For as long as I can remember, I have loved to make people laugh. I'm not a professional comedian, by any stretch. In fact, while growing up, my family always said that I was my biggest fan. It's true...I crack myself up. I do think that my wit was much quicker, brighter and funnier before kids. That, of course, is primarily due to the fact that I still had brain cells that weren't taken up with poopie diapers, milk spills and a toddler deciding to wash her own hair - after getting the poopie diaper in it. Now, it's a slower - much slower - kind of funny.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #073763;">It is just this side of me that I think will be perfect for embarrassing my children later. I mean, I can still totally embarrass my mom by breaking out into a dance in the middle of a store. Have I mentioned that I will be 40 next year? I do feel she should be much more accustomed to this (and by this, I mean "me") by now. So, of course, the potential for embarrassing 3 girls in their teen years is <em><strong>astronomical</strong></em>.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh833e1rE2_OOaL8akEgZl788atOMBH64VUYffTArGbOOBa4MCWZS92aZbocvORU5ucdIIrKlv7wtb5vhKH3iysfYExgnVU3NK61l7_4eznD60KtJq8ga45Ty8l8owj9EjKMngakGx8oa3G/s1600/2017-09-16_16-12-49_268.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh833e1rE2_OOaL8akEgZl788atOMBH64VUYffTArGbOOBa4MCWZS92aZbocvORU5ucdIIrKlv7wtb5vhKH3iysfYExgnVU3NK61l7_4eznD60KtJq8ga45Ty8l8owj9EjKMngakGx8oa3G/s320/2017-09-16_16-12-49_268.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They have years ahead of them in which to be embarrassed by me...<br />lucky little ones!</td></tr>
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Right now, my kids are 1, 4 and 7. Great ages, but we aren't quite to the "you are embarrassing me, Mom" stage. Their dad and I are still their superheroes. The INCREDIBLES of their lives, if you will (see what I did there?). When does that change? I don't even know, but I think it will either creep up slowly or hit like a sledgehammer. It will creep up with the 7-year old. The 4-year old is <em>already </em>a sledgehammer (her nickname is Tiny Viking), and it's too early to tell with the 1-year old, but one can hope she just tiptoes into it.</div>
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In order to stay somewhat sharp for embarrassing them when they are older, I still dance in the middle of stores, skip through the parking lot of the grocery store and sing off-key (that part isn't actually on purpose) in public. The great thing is that they do it with me right now and those moments are <em><strong>beautiful.</strong></em></div>
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By the way, in a TMI moment, I'd like to reveal that this almost 40-year old has a hard time not biting her nails, sometimes wears pigtails, talks way too much, laughs at her own jokes and goes a little crazy when she hears people chewing. All of this has led me to the conclusion that I don't have to practice now for embarrassing my kids in the future. <em><strong>MY WHOLE LIFE HAS BEEN</strong> <strong>PRACTICE.</strong></em><strong> </strong>I mean, I have aced the test years before actually having to take it!</div>
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So, please, don't worry, parents of young ones. You will be perfectly capable of embarrassing your children for years to come. Just be you. Apparently, that is all it takes.</div>
cnheniginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03143371093445753914noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496095404146576094.post-22816734683543682462014-05-27T12:10:00.000-07:002014-05-27T12:10:11.086-07:00we got it<span style="color: #351c75;">we henigins, we're an interesting lot...from the biggest to the smallest. we are nerds. we might deny it. we might try to hide it from the outside world. well, until i decide to proudly claim it on a blog. let me give some examples.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;">1). we wear socks with our keens. in my defense, i do only do that when camping. doug, however, might be caught at anytime and anywhere, in them.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW_rJSC5WK8A6HTa-3PdcKMjxcHKz51Nna4GemSXq0bgTBUZzUwdEcVpQ5SCYOwUCog9EPVj8ZHNHJcfdGpPvFV16gEhjp_tdA0XgMgZr77Xdz7aKZR2oIl-ZHHUMW57XFbK90B0BFCPh7/s1600/2014-05-17+09.17.05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW_rJSC5WK8A6HTa-3PdcKMjxcHKz51Nna4GemSXq0bgTBUZzUwdEcVpQ5SCYOwUCog9EPVj8ZHNHJcfdGpPvFV16gEhjp_tdA0XgMgZr77Xdz7aKZR2oIl-ZHHUMW57XFbK90B0BFCPh7/s1600/2014-05-17+09.17.05.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">2). we wear sunglasses when its pouring rain outside cuz that's just the way we roll.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDb9srwovlaPw2Yrz-4M36xDUP3cC4sX7pC2VEf9sMsKnlzDHMWe0zTf0P-QT2eH5HWGOLznWAyp0yE6TQ3TlcOkbkcEY7jrHMaultwy6E7ucQ_iDwYVEJKDCCZ0C5kGoMq_4BrWqbaCWS/s1600/2014-04-07+08.06.38-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDb9srwovlaPw2Yrz-4M36xDUP3cC4sX7pC2VEf9sMsKnlzDHMWe0zTf0P-QT2eH5HWGOLznWAyp0yE6TQ3TlcOkbkcEY7jrHMaultwy6E7ucQ_iDwYVEJKDCCZ0C5kGoMq_4BrWqbaCWS/s1600/2014-04-07+08.06.38-2.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">3). we wear headbands.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTrukXxdqBtiiNqzlC7OusLA4YJBbtWv9fDU2KRGGpL5Cy2T27sTONm1I3QP66WcyT2wFEfuB22IP0b220CTCBFddG_6pdNqdofitrC612iog-euDjPtIC_kcOXgFR97haVu9WfYb_w9BA/s1600/2014-04-23+17.32.37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTrukXxdqBtiiNqzlC7OusLA4YJBbtWv9fDU2KRGGpL5Cy2T27sTONm1I3QP66WcyT2wFEfuB22IP0b220CTCBFddG_6pdNqdofitrC612iog-euDjPtIC_kcOXgFR97haVu9WfYb_w9BA/s1600/2014-04-23+17.32.37.jpg" height="320" width="266" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">4). we set up redneck water parks in our driveway</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjikVBVwS-Egcr4yzPnJCQRBiPutK3-ig0LvU9jQKeFc_nMWkBwO7YtvtGMi70ZYCYQpDkcbfmQqhd25eft9MXaZj6B7zp0x9nQJ9V9WrOy-Fjz4KHAAC46SiC4755OVTvmUMNeP0UKEBXR/s1600/2014-05-08+12.17.54.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjikVBVwS-Egcr4yzPnJCQRBiPutK3-ig0LvU9jQKeFc_nMWkBwO7YtvtGMi70ZYCYQpDkcbfmQqhd25eft9MXaZj6B7zp0x9nQJ9V9WrOy-Fjz4KHAAC46SiC4755OVTvmUMNeP0UKEBXR/s1600/2014-05-08+12.17.54.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv_LVAqxbZc3qw9mOcZF3vP_HU09jb8UeLv0hUSZ-1V7XzYlGzcxB8giOGJQOBpzZaG7aH1OiDV_lW8Sj-r9JDjWynaNwq47NBZUNDRuCq3Uy_zMyw81ZWzwrFLyosZFfKhqm0aPHgQLAL/s1600/2014-05-08+12.18.01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv_LVAqxbZc3qw9mOcZF3vP_HU09jb8UeLv0hUSZ-1V7XzYlGzcxB8giOGJQOBpzZaG7aH1OiDV_lW8Sj-r9JDjWynaNwq47NBZUNDRuCq3Uy_zMyw81ZWzwrFLyosZFfKhqm0aPHgQLAL/s1600/2014-05-08+12.18.01.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></div>
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5). we watch cartoons while wearing a watering can on our head.<br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP4SJ2G_lyaiEx5x8qWRkRLk_296WSw1DwmyiyGoyrtEZKV7gxk9VzabbVoTNURdLOanZf0eLP0LV00gpgZ0XN8Y5qX3-CMK2fQXaLJqWkCQBehcO8WU2XOnh3H6hZAlPJb-Xb6HH0KaxE/s1600/2014-04-25+17.34.26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP4SJ2G_lyaiEx5x8qWRkRLk_296WSw1DwmyiyGoyrtEZKV7gxk9VzabbVoTNURdLOanZf0eLP0LV00gpgZ0XN8Y5qX3-CMK2fQXaLJqWkCQBehcO8WU2XOnh3H6hZAlPJb-Xb6HH0KaxE/s1600/2014-04-25+17.34.26.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">6). we take selfies while pretending to be asleep...well, at least the one with the camera is pretending!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbz6S7P63e2RsbcLilv0GSQK3VuyP5K7RJM7xlA0eGmcVUsjABwUYqDEo6La8Aj519SHjxImx-x2gIkX7CbxRLveH_fRBh4x560MC5GUAIoSOiBU84Rz2uvAHEX5PoZNc1lUAIpsbFdcZo/s1600/2014-02-20+06.41.52.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbz6S7P63e2RsbcLilv0GSQK3VuyP5K7RJM7xlA0eGmcVUsjABwUYqDEo6La8Aj519SHjxImx-x2gIkX7CbxRLveH_fRBh4x560MC5GUAIoSOiBU84Rz2uvAHEX5PoZNc1lUAIpsbFdcZo/s1600/2014-02-20+06.41.52.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">7). when we do sleep, we sleep...interesting.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz_T3KKZ0U_GIBE4_JZpZffPVG54yj4s7baqtzMXL6-9RhVlXlBq_qk9Pq1Vm0npk80FMBde_T4_7cDo3cGjZSTNcqrOfrBxAGgnkHoNSm2VMtuCVgBYiDsEU6ga0HThriaRozT-EGQ7wO/s1600/2014-02-12+16.08.48.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz_T3KKZ0U_GIBE4_JZpZffPVG54yj4s7baqtzMXL6-9RhVlXlBq_qk9Pq1Vm0npk80FMBde_T4_7cDo3cGjZSTNcqrOfrBxAGgnkHoNSm2VMtuCVgBYiDsEU6ga0HThriaRozT-EGQ7wO/s1600/2014-02-12+16.08.48.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiElDmsJT_lqgjCSNKoZaizS7TrueoAUGweV5N_-pNW-La0E8tLqNZAr6eUCElBRDIoUaCSkwVbGobxcgxf-I_XA6OUoBSFSgzIEP1Mbn5AIakPeCCwG8mNcaqqzf6hmgdoN1RPdUSTIRSs/s1600/2014-05-24+07.38.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiElDmsJT_lqgjCSNKoZaizS7TrueoAUGweV5N_-pNW-La0E8tLqNZAr6eUCElBRDIoUaCSkwVbGobxcgxf-I_XA6OUoBSFSgzIEP1Mbn5AIakPeCCwG8mNcaqqzf6hmgdoN1RPdUSTIRSs/s1600/2014-05-24+07.38.10.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuIypOfW2iXfOezu0mY0pKinumbKD3aU76TbP3tqbc0tEj1aEU48rgyj-oJYPqSN_ULcvsC1B4mdFguRcbFcoiIy7aLpwqH0v98RPEqZ1XSSqNAn8stfyCIAn8F7ZFq8g7eoNYVnBlnTe2/s1600/2014-01-21+18.15.11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuIypOfW2iXfOezu0mY0pKinumbKD3aU76TbP3tqbc0tEj1aEU48rgyj-oJYPqSN_ULcvsC1B4mdFguRcbFcoiIy7aLpwqH0v98RPEqZ1XSSqNAn8stfyCIAn8F7ZFq8g7eoNYVnBlnTe2/s1600/2014-01-21+18.15.11.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgle_Kf1HAi9TRB8KS7GT48KoJKdhaiuVGX4zCEt63efIQtf9bgxMMP6x70BCe3nbOszHc7kBbKDAXBNIyjcN01vqhLizpbZDf8VLiULCZrQCzt88Gb52Lff2_Fcb_GxtRR0ZLXlLuuyZ_H/s1600/2014-02-17+16.45.13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgle_Kf1HAi9TRB8KS7GT48KoJKdhaiuVGX4zCEt63efIQtf9bgxMMP6x70BCe3nbOszHc7kBbKDAXBNIyjcN01vqhLizpbZDf8VLiULCZrQCzt88Gb52Lff2_Fcb_GxtRR0ZLXlLuuyZ_H/s1600/2014-02-17+16.45.13.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">8). we wear the dog's muzzle when we can.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMBFzZ8FrTeKE4q38k_QHDBnzSLGI6M-fvGfzerCMnGnALcCf_qHI2WWgfjaquIwHRI22CpdCALGtBVriAaM2ksWW7UgbAzEFECeCjsP1jdsUbhtC4eAKiIQcIlpPui8_zahS0Xpu2CZu-/s1600/2014-04-15+11.45.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMBFzZ8FrTeKE4q38k_QHDBnzSLGI6M-fvGfzerCMnGnALcCf_qHI2WWgfjaquIwHRI22CpdCALGtBVriAaM2ksWW7UgbAzEFECeCjsP1jdsUbhtC4eAKiIQcIlpPui8_zahS0Xpu2CZu-/s1600/2014-04-15+11.45.36.jpg" height="320" width="240" /><span style="background-color: black;"><span></span></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">9). and, most importantly, we are ready for the inevitable alien invasion.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;">you can't be taught this kind of cool, people. you've either got it or you don't. and the henigins? yeah, we got it.</span>cnheniginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03143371093445753914noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496095404146576094.post-30580564118432886082014-03-26T08:00:00.001-07:002014-03-26T16:33:30.608-07:00biographies, cynicism, fantasies and a surprise ending<span style="color: #351c75;">let's pretend i'm a consistent blogger and it is normal to find random blog posts about library books on this site. </span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;">i actually got to go to the library by myself today, which means i actually got to visit the adult section. a rarity when you have a toddler. </span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;">my sister (corrie) had given me several recommendations of non-fiction and biography books to try out. somehow, she always manages to find really interesting ones so i typically tap into that book source when i need suggestions. as luck would have it, my library didn't have any of them. first, i wandered down the non-fiction area. without a recommendation that's like looking for a needle in the haystack. plus, sometimes i just have to have a break from my obsession with the Holocaust, survivor stories and genocides (macabre, i know). so, i started wandering down the biography section.</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><b>biography section:</b> (1) full of books of many, many, many, many people</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"> (2) full of multiple books by multiple authors on the same people</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><b>cynical thought #1 while browsing:</b> it is amazing how many people that i could care less about have books written about them that i can't even feign an interest in (how'd you like that use of that book word, doug?)</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><b>cynical thought #2 while browsing: </b>well, i probably wouldn't read a book about my life, either</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;">so, after my pointless wandering and wondering in the biographies section, i went to the fiction section. i like fiction. typically i like historical fiction, but over the last few years I've gotten into fantasy, as well. it's fun to escape into a world that doesn't look anything like ours. i mean, who wouldn't ride a dragon if they had the opportunity? that's just a no-brainer. the problem is that sometimes i want to feel smart and as though i'm actually learning something. but, until corrie and my library can sit down and have a discussion about what books the library should stock, i guess i'm stuck riding dragons.</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;">and let's be honest about books in general... reading anything after A Tale of Two Cities is just a disappointment, anyway.</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><b>surprise ending:</b> it is probably one of the last times i'll be in the library alone or be able to read for awhile anyway. there will be a Henigin again on October 6th!</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"></span><br />cnheniginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03143371093445753914noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496095404146576094.post-84609771967564486622012-12-10T20:26:00.000-08:002012-12-10T20:26:19.536-08:00a little surgery here, a little surgery there<span style="color: #351c75;">WOW!! it has been a crazy last two and half months...and i used capital letters, so you know i'm serious.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;">doug and i made our trip to california. we were so blessed to have mia's grandparents and then her aunt come to keep her. california was, i believe, beautiful for that time of year. i wouldn't really know, not regularly being there that time of year and because my view of california primarily consisted of the hospital and a hotel room.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;">here i am, hoping for the best, right before being drugged and <strike>dragged</strike> wheeled away.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;">the good/great news is that it seems the surgery worked! i confess that there is this little knot of fear in me that, once the surgery pain is gone, i will find that i still have the nerve pain. i keep trying to make that fear go away, but it is rather tenacious! </span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;">if you are squeamish at all, i wouldn't recommend reading further...or looking at the pictures! </span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;">dr. chen cut into my left side and cut tissues towards my back in order to blow up a balloon the size of a small nerf football to have room to work. that back area was quite painful for long time. several times i was actually concerned that i had ripped out the stitches. that being said, look at what a wonderful job he did with the incisions!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;">now comes the really interesting part. dr. chen burrowed all the way down to where the mesh was put in three years ago (i had bi-lateral inguinal hernia repair, which is very rare for women, especially young women), and where i have had chronic pain and two other surgeries not counting the initial surgery and this latest surgery. back to the point...he burrowed down <u><i><b>behind</b></i></u> the mesh. by doing this, he was able to not only avoid all of the scar tissue from the previous surgeries, but he was able to sever the three nerves <i><b><u>above </u></b></i>where the nerve damage had occurred. he was also able to see and photograph the work done in the initial surgery. in the picture below, you can see a thin, very straight line (crease) above the silver instrument. that is the <u><i><b>top</b></i></u> of the mesh. now, do you see that thick cord going directly <u><i><b>under and into </b></i></u>that mesh? <u><i><b>THAT IS THE NERVE</b></i></u>. let me translate...the first surgeon anchored the mesh directly atop the nerve. again a translation...<u><i><b>nerve damage</b></i></u>.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;">a friend of mine asked me if it was validating to actually be able to have proof of why i have had chronic pain and surgeries for the last three years. the answer is yes. i want to take the above picture to the original surgeon and say, "see, i'm not crazy." well, okay, i am not crazy about this, anyway.</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;">so, where am i now? i am healing, but very slowly. i thought it would be a quick healing, but it has proven rather difficult. dr. chen did tell me that healing would take my body longer simply because it has been through so much. but, we think it worked! i can't run right now, of course (which i desperately long to do), and i can't deep clean my house (aw, shucks), and i can't grocery shop (a pain, actually), but...</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;">i can now care for mia by myself, i can run errands cautiously, i can get through my days without hydrocodone (well, most of them), and i can tell that the pain is from surgery healing and not continuing nerve pain!</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;">i am so very thankful for dr. chen, my incredibly patient husband, helpful friends and family and the prayers from all over the world that were said on my behalf.</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;">so, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.</span><br />
<br />cnheniginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03143371093445753914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496095404146576094.post-33492477607515349942012-10-20T11:23:00.001-07:002012-10-20T11:29:04.115-07:00poor earl<span style="color: #3d85c6;">last week i had a conversation with my mailman (whose name is earl)...</span><br />
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<span style="color: #3d85c6;">while trying to hide behind the door...</span><br />
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<span style="color: #3d85c6;">while trying to keep rooney from barking so that the baby would stay asleep...</span><br />
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<span style="color: #3d85c6;">with earl trying to hand me packages...</span><br />
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<span style="color: #3d85c6;">with me trying to block rooney inside the house...</span><br />
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<span style="color: #3d85c6;">WHILE WRAPPED IN NOTHING BUT A TOWEL.</span><br />
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<b><span style="color: #cc0000;">mia still woke up.</span></b><br />
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cnheniginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03143371093445753914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496095404146576094.post-16058195866464585782012-09-26T11:33:00.001-07:002012-09-26T11:33:36.312-07:00a shot and a missthis is what i get for trying to be a fun and funky mom.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>shoot.</b></span> </div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">miss.</span></b></div>
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i'm not a fun and funky mom, i'm just a mom with messed up hair now. sigh. <br />
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though i do keep going back and forth on whether or not i like it. i usually like it in the morning and hate it by evening. i can't get it fixed for several weeks, though, because my hair will fall out...or something like that.<br />
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so, until i go blonde again, i will be a redhead. this is what i get for wanting something different! haha~sometimes life is just funny.cnheniginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03143371093445753914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496095404146576094.post-72391430689443835862012-09-21T13:09:00.000-07:002012-09-21T13:09:07.586-07:00some thoughts on not knowing<div style="text-align: center;">
a friend and her baby met mia and me at cartwheels and coffee this morning. if you live in richmond with small children and have not yet found this little gem, i highly recommend you get there...as fast as you can run. if it is a friday morning, you will probably see the henigin gals. it is our special happy to celebrate the end of the week! visit this place, people - <a href="http://www.cartwheelsandcoffee.com/" target="_blank">www.cartwheelsandcoffee.com</a></div>
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this is what mia plays on almost the entire time we are there. she's a climber, so it is like a little heaven for her, except when she falls - then we go home early. and take a nap. because sometimes that's all you can do.</div>
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so, back to this friend, who does have a name and it is amanda. we are in that in-between stage of we know each other kinda, want to get to know each other better, but our schedules just never match up. she writes an awesome blog - <a href="http://www.thekriegers.org/" target="_blank">living on grace</a> - that is hilarious and very real, which i appreciate. amanda has a one-year old little boy named david, so we discuss this thing called parenting when we get together.<br />
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anyway, we got to talking about my upcoming surgery in california and she asked a question only a new mama would know to ask another new mama. how are you dealing with leaving mia for your surgery? the answer? NOT GOOD - the closer the leaving of my child gets, the more i try to press down the growing anxiety. i get teary if i think or talk about it. things can happen, after all. bad things. it doesn't matter that they aren't likely to happen. they can still happen. and they can be bad.<br />
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this question led into deeper questions and discussions about God. we started talking about how one goes about trusting God with that which is most loved. how do i do it? i don't, really. the thought scares me to death. <br />
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the truth of the matter is that trust does not equate to safety. just because i trust does not mean that something can't or won't happen, to me or to those i love. i don't know <i><b>how</b></i> to trust... <br />
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because of this...</div>
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...and this is precious. </div>
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i don't really know what trust looks like. and i don't really understand it. or how to do it.<br />
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you know what else? it's okay. being a Christ-follower/Christ-seeker (i usually don't know which i am at any given moment on this journey) doesn't mean i have it all together - in fact, it pretty much means i don't, because He says He came to seek the lost, the weak and the broken. <br />
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cnheniginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03143371093445753914noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496095404146576094.post-10768004684275163852012-08-23T15:11:00.001-07:002012-08-23T15:11:28.820-07:00Gardening and Growing<div style="color: #274e13;">
we planted a garden! and by planted, i mean transplanted starter plants. and by garden, i mean pots and window boxes. you see, we need this garden to be moveable, because...</div>
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that's right! our house sold - bittersweet b/c of all of the memories, but we are excited! so, back to the garden - we have wanted to plant a garden for awhile, but our backyard is not conducive to an in-ground garden b/c we can't get full sun. </div>
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this year, doug had this idea >>>>>>></div>
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since i am feeling a bit better with the nerve medication i am on, we decided to tackle the project.</div>
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we planted spinach, peas, cauliflower, 3
different types of lettuce, kale, parsley, oregano, cilantro, thyme,
rosemeary and basil, with green onions to come.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> <i><b>NOW FOR THE FUN PICTURES!</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">i had a little helper. and by helper i mean a little person who liked to throw the soil out of the pot as soon as i put it in. she also liked killing the spinach. it was mia's first real experience digging in the soil. she had her bucket and shovel and absolutely loved it! as a warning, i am one of those moms that thinks that if my one year old's knees and feet are dirty, that i must be doing something right! so, if you are opposed to dirt and cringe when a kid's outfit gets ruined- read no further! </span></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #741b47;">buckets, shovels and rakes, oh my!</span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47;"> <b> helping mommy</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47;"><b> she kept returning for water hose sprays! </b></span></div>
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<b>and, finally, i hear soil taste testers are in high demand these days!</b></div>
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<br />cnheniginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03143371093445753914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496095404146576094.post-85395515831180213332012-05-30T05:06:00.000-07:002012-05-30T05:07:30.450-07:00does this mean my streak as the perfect mom is over?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />cnheniginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03143371093445753914noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496095404146576094.post-52204330141553100752012-05-25T21:40:00.001-07:002012-10-07T17:50:59.798-07:00tied up with string: artist<div style="color: #990000;">
yep, my friends, it is time for my first ever favorite things post! i included the exclamation point because i am excited to write it and i am trying to instill excitement in you to read it. so make me feel as if my time has not been put to waste and GET EXCITED! this "tied up with string" post will just focus on one favorite thing - but such an incredible thing!</div>
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<b>ARTIST: ABERNATHY BLAND</b></div>
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i know this ultra-cool artist here in richmond. <b>abernathy bland</b> recently had an art show at which doug and i purchased several prints. we purchased them for a <one day=""> <one day=""> playroom, but her prints are adult and child friendly! i LOVE her whimsical style, as well as the nuggets of wisdom her art portrays. i think, though, that i most love how abby's art encourages me to be me and to celebrate the quirkiness of me! oh, yes, and adventure - she definitely encourages adventure! as if all of this wasn't awesome enough, she writes a blog, as well (seriously, the chick can do it all!). just the title of her blog makes you want to read it! so, people, visit her blog at <a href="http://abernathyart.blogspot.com/" style="color: #38761d;" target="_blank">Riding Bareback Beside a Train</a>. If you want to see all of her work, go <a href="http://web.me.com/abernathybland" style="color: #38761d;" target="_blank">here</a> - - and buy something! :) Below are some of my favorites!</one></one></div>
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<one day=""><span style="color: #990000;">this is one of the ones i purchased for a playroom or for mia's room. also, shhhhhh, i am going to get one in card format to send to my twin sister. corrie, act surprised when you get it! :) </span></one><br />
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this is one that i plan on purchasing in the future when i have a little corner all to myself for photography, crafts, etc. i think it is hilarious!</div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">i sooooooo want to get this print one day. this is called "dream big. dream embarrassing big." </span><br />
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<span style="color: #990000;">how funny is this piece?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #990000;">i am having a very difficult time making myself stop posting pictures of her work, because i love it so much and it is so hard to pick just one thing, but i hope that i have convinced you to visit her blog and website. amazing could be hanging in your house very soon! to wrap up this post, i have to tell you about a recent project abby completed. we are mutual friends with a couple who just had a baby. before their little bundle arrived, they hired abby to paint a mural in his nursery. so, two pictures below of the elephant in the room and then two pictures of mia at the art show!</span><br />
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mia loving one of her new pieces of art and posing with "aunt becca" and abby.</div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">after you visit </span><a href="http://web.me.com/abernathybland/iWeb/Site/Store%20%26%20Home.html" style="color: #38761d;" target="_blank">abby's online store</a><span style="color: #990000;">, come back here and leave a comment telling me which of her creations is your favorite! </span>cnheniginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03143371093445753914noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496095404146576094.post-64292697921382433622012-05-14T07:54:00.000-07:002012-05-14T07:54:32.185-07:00things i may...or may not...have done as a mom<div style="color: #351c75;">
being a mommy is tricky business. you start out thinking of all the things you will or will not do as a mommy. then, you become a mommy. any honest mom will admit that it is a humbling business. so, there you have it - tricky and humbling.</div>
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i started out with high hopes. pre-child, these high hopes were MOST DEFINITELIES (this is a carmen-ism. not actually a real word. do not use in any official capacity), or MOST DEFINITELY NOTS. </div>
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<b>most DEFINITELY NOT #1 - mia shall not watch tv.</b> actually, we did really well with this one until recently. recently, she has started waking up at night occasionally and being so upset she can't settle back down. so, a few times, she simply gets to watch what mommy and daddy are watching. in the past few weeks, this has been The Voice. mia LOVES the voice. when the judges are talking or it is a contestant interview, she gets quite antsy and the beginning of the fuss starts to show itself again. as soon as the singing starts, however, she is glued to the tv. she loves singing. and The Voice. and tv - apparently.</div>
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<b>MOST DEFINITELY #1</b> - <b>all of mia's food shall be home-made.</b> in my defense, i do make most of her food and it is healthy food. every now and then, though, i mess up. in colorado, i fed her a grilled cheese sandwich that we got at a restaurant (really, carmen? greasy - duh). i fed it to her on the train on the way up to pike's peak. at the top of pike's peak, you have to eat the world-famous donuts. she did. that night was not a good night. between the grilled cheese and the donut, her tummy was not happy.</div>
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also, we discovered crackers and cheerios. you may be better than me and make your own crackers and cheerios...i don't.</div>
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<b>MOST DEFINITELY NOT #2</b> <b>- mia shall not eat sugar.</b> her first birthday - nuf said.</div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">she got to eat two at her party. and one the night before on her actual birthday. and ice cream. both days.</span><br />
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<b>MOST DEFINITELY #2 - mia shall never have the opportunity to get to rooney's food.</b> yeah, right.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6-iZ2is6zlYSg1-UwG_noMbEgLeAmoicIUsLj3cI7QeXcJHXmIaHGnijqGcfH0uZDVJgqDkC0bE2TZ6amJKt1F6kBa0nIsRORb8aiGjpk6zUOSBTvMujfEEiCCwCRugFrs1hmrkuBXd_D/s1600/rooney+food.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6-iZ2is6zlYSg1-UwG_noMbEgLeAmoicIUsLj3cI7QeXcJHXmIaHGnijqGcfH0uZDVJgqDkC0bE2TZ6amJKt1F6kBa0nIsRORb8aiGjpk6zUOSBTvMujfEEiCCwCRugFrs1hmrkuBXd_D/s320/rooney+food.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div style="color: #a64d79;">
her taste preferences also run towards rocks, sticks, leaves, and my personal favorite - caterpillars.</div>
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<div style="color: #38761d;">
these are only a couple of the MOST DEFINITELIES and MOST DEFINITELY NOTS, there are many more; but every mom needs a few secrets, right?</div>
<div style="color: #38761d;">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: #38761d;">also, i may...or may not...have used used tweezers to get some especially stuck and stubborn boogers from my child's nose.</span>cnheniginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03143371093445753914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496095404146576094.post-48611886005233905092012-02-28T14:45:00.001-08:002012-02-28T14:50:18.087-08:00sharks are people, too!<div style="color: #351c75;"><b>last weekend we went up to d.c. to see my sister-in-law who was in town for a conference. it was great fun getting to see her. we had not seen her since mia was 6-weeks old! it was mutual like on both sides, though you can't tell with mia in this picture! actually, naomi could get mia to giggling pretty quickly. it was awesome!</b></div><div style="color: #351c75;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #351c75; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXP-Ramo0ywI7UE0GZ5TSi3CYxGBmWt6v2Bx7AcZNrNppl9rxabb5A7Jw0rUcg88PZQMW6sXQZm5T0b7Ie-AQ6PYfWJoiillWaCrD7bNi0z98JjdovD9mSic5ieb2GxZ6-Mdqc5H29CwtC/s1600/_DSC0305.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXP-Ramo0ywI7UE0GZ5TSi3CYxGBmWt6v2Bx7AcZNrNppl9rxabb5A7Jw0rUcg88PZQMW6sXQZm5T0b7Ie-AQ6PYfWJoiillWaCrD7bNi0z98JjdovD9mSic5ieb2GxZ6-Mdqc5H29CwtC/s320/_DSC0305.JPG" width="320" /></a></b></div><div style="color: #351c75;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #351c75;"><b>we all went to the baltimore aquarium. i knew mia would love it because she LOVES the fish tank at the pediatricians! she really loved the bubble tanks you see when you first arrive.</b></div><div style="color: #351c75;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #351c75; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXUokGEcTFHxVovhaVFRE9IrC416uTvFT56NNMR45bA9YfE5vSZkq0E8UnRS2QKdw9L7b1nO_rVQp_RxwXU5nxb6gDFz01qzrFrzBEIH8MkPO1FlbGYgW0AXRcvG5cCMd5waSbUo1ug4Wp/s1600/_DSC0310.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXUokGEcTFHxVovhaVFRE9IrC416uTvFT56NNMR45bA9YfE5vSZkq0E8UnRS2QKdw9L7b1nO_rVQp_RxwXU5nxb6gDFz01qzrFrzBEIH8MkPO1FlbGYgW0AXRcvG5cCMd5waSbUo1ug4Wp/s320/_DSC0310.JPG" width="320" /></a></b></div><div style="color: #351c75;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="color: #351c75;"><b>you could hear that child three floors up because she was so excited! there was so much squealing, talking and yelling that not only were we laughing, but so were the other patrons! she would yell when we would move from one display to the next, afraid that she wasn't going to get to see any other fish!</b></div><div style="color: #351c75;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #351c75; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid-Htxgyz2tag4nJEXAMZMsydGowMZNa7LQyXvwNMv0kyjdOe7GH_CcU7fS3KZOKmOqsWmXFhnL1KaquPcnFdJ99FEkBTPcv1HpkkdatAZn5Q8eggD-8SouRwqciJjvVwfMsSlPZnbmyUa/s1600/_DSC0339.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid-Htxgyz2tag4nJEXAMZMsydGowMZNa7LQyXvwNMv0kyjdOe7GH_CcU7fS3KZOKmOqsWmXFhnL1KaquPcnFdJ99FEkBTPcv1HpkkdatAZn5Q8eggD-8SouRwqciJjvVwfMsSlPZnbmyUa/s320/_DSC0339.JPG" width="320" /></a></b></div><div style="color: #351c75;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #351c75;"><b>my little daughter waved at everything she saw that moved,</b></div><div style="color: #351c75;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #351c75; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo0JUoU1vX_XDbWtLznlXgmc1JnIoYnL2HR5hcve_360Jnrj9uSTgBvsN79gTQ6VBZH7Faz9gcECM6ft2CBr_vB44OPFQ6hCqBqEBUkIzDDQjhQ7YEf0ofdyAY1eBTpHKhaOR8LcoOi6nE/s1600/_DSC0314.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo0JUoU1vX_XDbWtLznlXgmc1JnIoYnL2HR5hcve_360Jnrj9uSTgBvsN79gTQ6VBZH7Faz9gcECM6ft2CBr_vB44OPFQ6hCqBqEBUkIzDDQjhQ7YEf0ofdyAY1eBTpHKhaOR8LcoOi6nE/s320/_DSC0314.JPG" width="320" /></a></b></div><div style="color: #351c75;"><b><br />
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</b></div><div style="color: #351c75;"><b>including this big guy!</b></div><div style="color: #351c75;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #351c75; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg2DSnUxJZNRzYvgzbUOmi8TO012Gws1z1LpZ-tTnon_ggejCOJUoYzLH2pZkVeWU43jodriXy6QR1WMP1Gq7f9suuWExKPSzxNvy5LG7R6dumXw-K_Ke62UHelTrM-KFj9eyqJYXmadtq/s1600/_DSC0325.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg2DSnUxJZNRzYvgzbUOmi8TO012Gws1z1LpZ-tTnon_ggejCOJUoYzLH2pZkVeWU43jodriXy6QR1WMP1Gq7f9suuWExKPSzxNvy5LG7R6dumXw-K_Ke62UHelTrM-KFj9eyqJYXmadtq/s320/_DSC0325.JPG" width="320" /></a></b></div><div style="color: #351c75;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="color: #351c75;"><b>i love that mia loves to wave at everyone and everything. quite honestly, it is absolutely adorable. i do hope, however, that as she gets older she will practice a bit more discretion at whom and what she chooses to wave. until that time, why diss the sharks?</b></div><div style="color: #351c75;"><b><br />
</b></div>cnheniginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03143371093445753914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496095404146576094.post-43181912100177918682012-02-14T09:45:00.000-08:002012-02-14T09:45:04.482-08:00there's so much crazy in my head<div style="color: #cc0000;"><b>this is what i told doug on sunday night and, though we were having a serious conversation, he started laughing. i do love my husband for his laughter. sometimes, that is all that keeps me sane.</b></div><div style="color: #cc0000;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="color: #cc0000;"><b>i always try to make my blog posts fun, light-hearted and, above all, silly. i do love silly. and, let's face it, people, i am funny and witty. but, sometimes, you just don't feel funny and witty; you just feel, well, like there's so much crazy in your head. my crazy originates from the fact that i am at odds with God. there, i said it. Quite honestly, i know of no other way of saying it. i have been at odds with God for a good three years now, though it slowly started before then and has intensified in the last two years. it has been rough. </b></div><div style="color: #cc0000;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="color: #cc0000;"><b>there is a lot i question and don't understand: truth, untruth, love, judgement, grace, mercy, death, hell, fear, people, legalism, Jesus, mainstream christianity, radical christianity,...and on, and on, and on. there has been a lot of fear wrapped up in the crazy, and a lot of shame and guilt. the shame and guilt are slowly dissipating as i adopt for myself my favorite motto: it is what it is.</b></div><div style="color: #cc0000;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="color: #cc0000;"><b>i have been blessed with an amazing husband who lets me verbalize all of my crazy, question all of my questions, rant and rave all of my anger and frustration and cry all of my fears. i have been blessed with an amazing woman at church who listens and helps me understand some of what i am feeling and assures me that she does see a thread of sanity through my struggles. she tells me that it is okay if i can't pick up my bible right now, or if i am not yet brave enough to journal my feelings and thoughts on a particularly tough revelation. she and doug both tell me that it is okay to be where i am. that is pretty amazing - to have these people in my life. </b></div><div style="color: #cc0000;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="color: #cc0000;"><b>am i doing better than i was two years ago? yes, actually. i am not nearly as angry, though i'm not sure why. i can even pray sometimes, now. and, last week, i even got the courage to pick the bible up and read a bit. granted, i had to stop pretty quickly as questions began to overwhelm me; but, hey, i picked it up. last week, i couldn't have written this blog post, even though i know the people who are going to read it love and care about me. and, i have been given permission to seek...as a seeker...not as someone who knows the bible pretty well and grew up in a strong christian home.</b></div><div style="color: #cc0000;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="color: #cc0000;"><b>so, as a seeker, there are two questions i have been asking myself lately: who is Jesus? not, who do i think jesus is or who do you think jesus is, but WHO IS JESUS? who does he say he is? because, quite honestly, it doesn't matter who i think he is or who you think he is. our belief or disbelief about him does not change truth. he is who he is - hence, who is he? </b></div><div style="color: #cc0000;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="color: #cc0000;"><b>my second question is: what does it mean to follow Jesus? again, i don't really know and don't want all of the theological answers. i know those. i know them well. i need simple. so, right now, i know that Jesus fed and said to feed the hungry. i give food to our food pantry at church. that is all i can do right now in this journey. that is all i have in me to do right now. </b></div><div style="color: #cc0000;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="color: #cc0000;"><b>and, you know what, that is okay. it is what it is.</b></div><div style="color: #0c343d;"><br />
</div>cnheniginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03143371093445753914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496095404146576094.post-68452643512069150802012-02-03T13:12:00.000-08:002012-02-03T13:12:26.725-08:00things no one told me<div style="color: #274e13;"><b style="color: purple;">-poop can, indeed, land on the wall...6 inches from the ceiling</b><b><span style="background-color: white; color: purple;"></span></b></div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1mCkWC8oH519NvB4JXPpXz9i8bkQwBo2SEh_wHakAyrZGk4aK8oHybAFTKAk2qaTedS8Dj65A7ObJbXFwJlqQ4Cdq7t_6I9cKxtVLagDJaDUSWd8_WaBMrjDp30tcFj17DCFv5P95WwT5/s1600/poop.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1mCkWC8oH519NvB4JXPpXz9i8bkQwBo2SEh_wHakAyrZGk4aK8oHybAFTKAk2qaTedS8Dj65A7ObJbXFwJlqQ4Cdq7t_6I9cKxtVLagDJaDUSWd8_WaBMrjDp30tcFj17DCFv5P95WwT5/s320/poop.JPG" width="240" /><span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><b>-no matter how much sleep at a time you get, you will still be tired</b></div><div style="color: #274e13;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="color: #274e13;"><b>-your social life...your what?</b></div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><b>-you can never, ever again watch movies/tv shows in which a child is in danger </b></div><div style="color: #274e13;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="color: purple;"><b>-every day has moments of pure joy</b></div><div style="color: purple;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDFmnHTkOrP_ByZ3aq0xjY9S3KcGguCuBocUWEotGx2ZVJxIT07igqObs4R1ucPP9v6oaTSrv9U8P5QnLDg0HLEH3ZFWQHtGete8xrDb1UDhvyCxWUg-XfPf_phwCfo7mGBYfv_YFFJ8JZ/s1600/peekaboo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDFmnHTkOrP_ByZ3aq0xjY9S3KcGguCuBocUWEotGx2ZVJxIT07igqObs4R1ucPP9v6oaTSrv9U8P5QnLDg0HLEH3ZFWQHtGete8xrDb1UDhvyCxWUg-XfPf_phwCfo7mGBYfv_YFFJ8JZ/s320/peekaboo.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="color: #cc0000;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="color: purple;"><b>-your heart is always a puddle, because her smiles melt it</b></div><div style="color: #274e13;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSKIwOUFV4AbCnlKwuVeKhmo0zMQkmxnbAZkNrJ-x6cESYBRtvP4ty_uLL3fltlGEpa7lp1bquPeEq46oO7ty0RSHe0CR_BlU-VEJiYotlLVh5qdsp9zz0BfYGGClR-pxhRkxH39Qcrec8/s1600/valentine.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSKIwOUFV4AbCnlKwuVeKhmo0zMQkmxnbAZkNrJ-x6cESYBRtvP4ty_uLL3fltlGEpa7lp1bquPeEq46oO7ty0RSHe0CR_BlU-VEJiYotlLVh5qdsp9zz0BfYGGClR-pxhRkxH39Qcrec8/s320/valentine.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="color: purple;"><b>-you suddenly like pink</b></div><div style="color: purple;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj02PpvvuYAqeu2sNb74rh1jeO7c9NdfNglh2fpzXo-hiSGMXztECc5IBve_KLDLf7wXx50BGXcCNfUKNF-MlXwVZrJOYwu9n_Blq32KETNFAk5w0ihlHtc22uyjJMm5mCydC5SL08r4IPM/s1600/pink.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj02PpvvuYAqeu2sNb74rh1jeO7c9NdfNglh2fpzXo-hiSGMXztECc5IBve_KLDLf7wXx50BGXcCNfUKNF-MlXwVZrJOYwu9n_Blq32KETNFAk5w0ihlHtc22uyjJMm5mCydC5SL08r4IPM/s320/pink.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
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</div><div style="color: #274e13;"><b>-you never knew you could love such a little thing so very much</b></div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
</div><div style="color: purple;"><b> i love being mia's mommy! on days when *&^%$ happens, you just laugh...hysterically...and clean it off the walls!</b></div><div style="color: #274e13;"> <b><br />
</b></div><div style="color: #274e13;"> </div><div style="color: #274e13;"> </div><div style="color: #274e13;"> </div><div style="color: #274e13;"> </div><div style="color: #274e13;"> </div><div style="color: #274e13;"><br />
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</div>cnheniginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03143371093445753914noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496095404146576094.post-40284314793801421542011-09-19T19:04:00.000-07:002011-09-19T19:04:52.178-07:00CONFESSIONS OF A SEMI-CRAZY GARAGE-SALER<div style="color: #cc0000;">i grew up going to garage sales with my mom. it was great time to spend with her and a great way to learn the fine art of saving money. i then hit college and, seriously, i was NOT getting up that early on a saturday! now, i am a breastfeeding mom who needs baby clothes, toys and clothing for me. so, i have now returned to the world of garage sales. why not? i have to be up at 7am, anyway!</div><div style="color: #cc0000;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #cc0000;">i began to notice the craziness this last saturday. by the way, didn't get such a great haul last saturday, though the saturday before - boy howdy - i took home the bacon! not really...but, i did take home some polo sport rain boots, brand new sweaters, a bumbo seat and an educational toy for pennies! </div><div style="color: #cc0000;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #cc0000;">back to the craziness...i noticed it in myself at the very first sale that was a few streets away from me. i had seen the sign two days before and had just been waiting for saturday to arrive. the woman had a huge box of clothes. each item was $.25 or 5 for a dollar. another woman came over to look and we were both going through the box at the same time. i was chatting kindly enough, but the whole time by adrenaline is pumping and i'm thinking, "i have to get to things before she does. darn it, she got that cute sweater. i have to hurry." i finally had to keep telling myself to quit getting stressed out about finding clothes that were only a quarter apiece!</div><div style="color: #cc0000;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #cc0000;">my next bit of craziness happened soon afterward. you know that something might be seriously wrong with you when, on a saturday, you see bright orange and get all excited. a garage sale sign! you drive closer and have an overwhelming sense of disappointment because it is only an elderly walker. you then find yourself thinking resentfully that he should not be wearing that on a saturday morning. first of all, it is 8am so there is no traffic. furthermore, there are no crazy drivers out (excluding myself, of course) because they all drank too much the night before and are in bed. yes, i actually have feelings of resentment towards this elderly gentleman and his penchant for safety. i feel only slightly less resentful when i see a young jogger wearing a bright green vest and again assume that it is another sign pointing me to the sale of all sales. GET IT TOGETHER, WALKERS/RUNNERS/EXERCISERS OF ALL AGES: DO NOT WEAR BRIGHT VESTS OUTDOORS UNTIL 2PM! otherwise i may accidentally run you over trying to find the sale that your vest so deceptively advertised.</div><div style="color: #cc0000;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #cc0000;">my craziness does not stop with crazy, my friends. it actually becomes PARANOIA. i pull up to sales, get out of the car and start walking up to the house, when i suddenly realize that i forgot to lock the car. i initially don't worry about it (for about 2 seconds), but then the paranoia kicks in. it goes something like this: </div><div style="color: #cc0000;"> "well, anyone could just open the door and take something out."</div><div style="color: #cc0000;">"not a big deal, actually, because my wallet is with me."</div><div style="color: #cc0000;"> "but what if someone wants the lincoln logs that i just got for $3?"</div><div style="color: #cc0000;">"or, someone leaving this garage sale could look in and see the brand new pair of leather work gloves that i got Doug for a $1 and decide to just subtly try the door and take them? then i'm out my $1 and the gloves."</div><div style="color: #cc0000;">BEEP, BEEP.</div><div style="color: #cc0000;">yes, my friends, that was me remotely locking my car...at a garage sale...with my car right where i could see it.</div><div style="color: #cc0000;">and, yes, i do have conversations like this in my head all day long!</div><div style="color: #cc0000;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #cc0000;">and, finally, it is really bad when you go out and garage sale from 7:45am to 10:30am, then come home to feed the baby, and then GO BACK OUT, because by then most people are tired and ready to cut deals!</div><div style="color: #cc0000;"> </div><div style="color: #cc0000;">we're all crazy. i accepted this fact about everyone else a long time ago! i am finally at a point in my life where i am accepting and embracing that about myself, as well. i am crazy, paranoid and trying to better learn to be thrifty (it is noon and you really think i'm gonna pay $5 for that coat? seriously, $2 for that baby sleeper? i got one last week for a quarter, not a chance i'm paying more).</div><div style="color: #cc0000;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #cc0000;">my point, other than a few laughs? EMBRACE THE CRAZY, RESENT SAFETY-MINDED EXERCISING PEOPLE AND DON'T PAY MORE THAN A QUARTER FOR BABY SLEEPER.</div><div style="color: #cc0000;"><br />
</div>cnheniginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03143371093445753914noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496095404146576094.post-9004762306034675442011-04-06T07:20:00.000-07:002011-04-06T07:20:20.207-07:00all aboard<div style="color: purple;">so, we recently had some excitement in the henigin household. on sunday, i was having braxton-hicks contractions and just felt "off." monday, i had some pain and felt even more "off" (which takes practice at distinguishing since my whole life is usually lived a bit "off"!). so, i called my dr. and made an appointment to go in to just check things out.</div><div style="color: purple;"><br />
</div><div style="color: purple;">they put me on a monitor and, sure enough, my contractions started getting worse - and, yes, i do mean to use the word "worse." everything you have heard about childbirth is apparently true, and here i was just at the beginning getting a practice run! the dr. sent me over to the hospital where they continued monitoring me - with pain meds - hurray for pain meds! :)</div><div style="color: purple;"><br />
</div><div style="color: purple;">after a few hours, they determined that i was, indeed, in latent labor (which seems to be pre-early labor). talk about a shock! granted, after several more hours, the labor did stop, but that is not what this blog is about. this blog is about the emotions that we were going through during this time.</div><div style="color: purple;"><br />
</div><div style="color: purple;">for the previous three months, we have been terrified that the little ninja bug would come waaaaaaayyyyyyy too early. it has been very scary. then, as things settled down and began to look great, we settled down, as well. i then hit the time of pregnancy called, "wish this were over and the baby would just get here." not fun, let me tell you. your big, your heavy, your bulky and you waddle. yes, i definitely waddle. </div><div style="color: purple;"><br />
</div><div style="color: purple;">suddenly, however, monday happened. that introduced an entirely new emotion - OH MY STINKING GOSH, THIS MIGHT REALLY HAPPEN AND WE COULD HAVE A BABY TODAY. after being afraid that she would come too early, then settling in, then wanting her to get here so that i could quit being pregnant, i was now terrified that she might actually show up. </div><div style="color: purple;"><br />
</div><div style="color: purple;">here's the thing, though...if she comes, she comes. as my neighbor pointed out yesterday, "y'all have come too far now!" so, even though i'm scared out of my mind, guess what, people?</div><div style="color: purple;"><br />
</div><span style="color: purple;">THIS TRAIN HAS LEFT THE STATION!</span>cnheniginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03143371093445753914noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496095404146576094.post-58855035100201249802011-03-23T07:09:00.000-07:002011-03-23T08:19:13.546-07:00an irreverent reflection on pregnancy...'cause that's how i roll<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">i am not one of those women who loves pregnancy. in fact, i thoroughly dislike it. don't get me wrong, i am a huge fan of this little person that will soon be here, but the pregnancy part of getting her here is not fun. granted, i've had a rough pregnancy from the beginning that has included vomiting, scar tissue stretching, 4 hospital visits and bed rest. in fact, my little sister said to me the other day, "carmen, you know how they say that women glow when they are pregnant? you never really glowed. you just looked sick and tired all the time." i couldn't help but laugh, but then i informed her that people don't tell you that that "glow" is produced by the effort of trying to not vomit all the time!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">another thing that makes me laugh is when people ask me if i intend to have a natural birth. you know how, in the Bible, Eve/women are told that there will be pain and suffering in childbearing? well, i figure i have fulfilled my portion of that curse for womankind. which is why i intend, upon reaching the hospital (for the 5th and hopefully final time!), i intend to say, or scream as circumstance demands, "EPIDURAL, please." also, that "please" will probably be dependent upon circumstances, as well.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">one other thing, don't even ask if i have a birth plan. of course i do! it can be summed up like this -"get this baby out!"</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">now that we have covered the important points, let's change course and let me tell you about certain things that people don't tell you about pregnancy, but should. for instance, your hair. you always here that the vitamins and hormones help your hair look better and grow faster. well, for me, this is kinda true, i suppose. the times i actually have the energy to do my hair, it does look a bit better than normal. you NEVER hear, however, that those same vitamins and hormones make your leg hairs grow faster, too. seriously, i should be shaving every day. this is a problem. do you know how hard it now is to even reach my legs, much less drag a sharp, dangerous instrument up them? this is not to mention the fact that you can't even see, hu-hem, more delicate areas to shave. yes, i admit, i have used a mirror a couple of times. what's a girl to do, after all?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">another thing people don't tell you (but i probably should have guessed) is the unique relationship you develop with the floor. i audibly groan every time i drop something...which is constantly. i feel as if i am about 105 years old b/c i look at the object for a bit as i mentally try to determine if it is worth the effort of bending or squatting down to get it. if i come to the conclusion that it is, i then mentally contemplate a bit longer to figure out if there is anything else i can get while i'm down there. of course, there usually isn't anything else in that particular place,. well, that is until i stand back up and drop the same &^*%#$@ object again, in the exact same place and have to go through the whole process a second (or third) time. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">my sister especially enjoys the audible groans that i manage without realizing i'm doing it. these groans help me get through my day since they, basically, constitute my sympathizing with myself. they accompany any number of activities...bending/squatting down, sitting down, standing up, reaching for something at any and all heights, climbing in the car, climbing out of the car, sleeping, not sleeping, using the bathroom, not using the bathroom, moving, not moving, eating, not eating...well, i think you get the picture. my entire day is typically made up of my offering sympathy to myself. someone has to do it, after all. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">sleeping, or not sleeping, as the case may be, is a whole new adventure - and not the fun kind. doug always said that if he could change something about me, it would be my internal temperature. i am always cold and he would get tired of having my ice-cold feet on him trying to warm up. well, he managed to change my internal body temperature by knocking me up, but is there any appreciation? no. now he says i radiate heat, he has a ton of blankets to sleep under and i have a sheet and maybe one other thin blanket. we have come to a compromise, however...if i need the house cooler, we make it cooler. :)</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">as is fairly obvious, pregnant women must also sleep on their sides. the back is uncomfortable and not great for you or the baby. stomach-sleeping....well...you know. so, you get to sleep on your sides and both get very sore, especially the hip bones. because of this, you find yourself switching sides often throughout the night. no one tells you that switching sides to lay on in bed becomes, at the very least, a 3-point maneuver! trust me, at this point, doug and i are both wishing we had a king-size bed! the other night he fell asleep on the couch and i didn't wake him up b/c i was reading and couldn't sleep - but, the real reason is that i wanted the bed to myself. how horrible is that? heehee!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">all of this being said, doug and i are really excited about this little ninja bug coming to join our family! like most in our position, we are scared, excited, nervous, terrified, elated, etc. hopefully we can agree on a name, otherwise she will be called "ninja bug" all her life!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">and, don't worry, i will try to have another post titled "an irreverent reflection on the newborn stage"! that post will probably begin with the amount of bodily fluids one must learn to deal with. that one should be good.</span>cnheniginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03143371093445753914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496095404146576094.post-5648355016223307312010-07-13T06:30:00.001-07:002010-07-13T07:21:14.875-07:00the consistent groove<span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;">spinning class. for most of you following this infrequent blog, that will be "enough said." my dear friend kerri (or at least "dear" until last night) talked me into going to spinning class with her. she knows i want to get back in shape after surgeries and knows i NEED to get back into shape while i continue eating everything in sight (goldfish are a particular favorite). </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;">where was i? ah! the gym...spin class...disaster. i believe it has already been fairly well established that i am not a graceful person, even in my best of moments. let me preface this by saying that i was already so nervous that in the line to enter the room, i was talking my head off. when we got in, another friend set my bike for me since i had no idea what i was doing. the left pedal, however, somehow got left out of the setting equation.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;">we begin. oh, this isn't so bad. they even have cool music and turn the lights out. sweeeeeeeeet! spinning really isn't bad when you keep the gears at the lowest setting possible. i think i have this figured out. what? you want me to up the gear? not a problem! again? now, i'm starting to sweat. remember that left pedal? yep, my foot slipped right out. stop and fix it. keep going. get a drink of water. up a gear. left foot out again. stop and fix it. WHAT? you want me to stand up on this thing? are you serious? everyone else is standing up so i guess she is serious. darn it. sit back down. take a sip of water. left foot out again. stop and fix it. stand up again. down again. i wish she would make up her mind. left foot out again. stop and fix it. take a sip of water.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;">oops, dropped the water bottle. leave it there. a bright pink beacon of my spinning inadequacy. up a gear...again. wipe the sweat off with a towel. dropped the towel. wanted the bright pink water bottle to have company. keep going. up another stinkin' gear. now we are really going and i am really sweating, without the luxury of being able to wipe the sweat off b/c my towel is visiting my water bottle. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;">at this point, she says we must up the intensity. up the intensity? what have i been doing this whole time? i'm upped, i'm upped. leave me alone. i look to my left. kerri is grinning/laughing at me. it's a good thing she brought me the on-the-floor water bottle and towel or i might slap her. i might slap her anyway. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;">climbing a hill, now. the hardest hill of all she says...i am actually doing pretty well with this hill if you don't count the burning thirst and the river of sweat. climbing...climbing...climbing...falling, falling...falling........yes, my friends, i fell off of a stationary bike.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;">the instructor and about four other people yell "are you okay?" kerri is laughing harder. a guy from the back comes to help me with the left pedal that has come off four different times now, (and that isn't even counting the fall) while everyone else keeps spinning. kerri, in the meantime, keeps laughing. the guy on my right tells me that he has always been afraid he would do that. i inform him that he doesn't need to be afraid anymore because i just did it for both of us. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;">i climb back on the instrument of torture and try to get my groove back. which is a bit humorous considering that my groove consisted of dropping things and slipping out of pedals. thankfully, the class ended soon after and everyone told me that it was okay that i had fallen off something that never moved.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;"> i felt as if i should have been thoroughly humiliated, but i couldn't help but laugh. how can you not? moments like that are very funny. if not for you, then for everyone else! it is hard when you go into something wanting to be perfect at it the first time, and we all do that, admit it! so, i was not perfect, but i was consistent with "Carmen-ness." there is, after all, something comforting about consistency, isn't there? will i return to spin class?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;">probably. but not to that bike. it hates me.</span><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span></span>cnheniginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03143371093445753914noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496095404146576094.post-41794687833249685542010-05-03T14:16:00.000-07:002010-05-03T14:53:11.935-07:00it has been almost a year...wowi can't believe (that's a lie, i can) that i haven't written a blog in almost a year. by almost a year, i mean a year. i think i'm a week short. wow! my friend jay knows me too well. he started laughing when i said i was going to write a blog. sigh.<br /><br />it has been a crazy year. i finished student teaching in december. during that, i had hernia surgery, an emergency room visit, and multiple doctor visits. right after finishing (as in the day of), i was in the emergency room b/c i couldn't walk 6 weeks after the surgery b/c of nerve issues, so i had a second surgery to relieve pressure on the nerve. the next day, doug and i flew to texas for christmas with my family. hmmmmmmm....can we say, just a little painful? it was worth it, though, and, since hell has not yet frozen over, there was no way i wasn't going to go. well, after a long recovery time (which is still going on as i deal with pain on a daily basis), normal life has, more-or-less, resumed. i am teaching kindergarten as a long-term substitute and loving it. doug and i are remodeling the kitchen. in fact, i spent the weekend climbing up a ladder and in and out of a window to get into my house. that part - not fun. we are also going to aruba in june just to celebrate the fact that i am 98% recovered. :)<br /><br />so, that is the catch-up for you. now for the actual blog...which is of nothing important and completely random mind wanderings. let's start with church. i was totally not focused this sunday. it is hard to focus when allergies/sinuses are about to make your head explode. then you begin to wonder what that might actually look like. not pretty, let me tell you. then, i think of something that must just absolutely be said to my husband or my sister (who was visiting and will be spending summer with me b/c she found a job!), or the friend behind me. so, of course, i tell them. then, the pastor says something that i think doug should be paying particular attention to, so i jab him in the ribs. yes, i jab him in the ribs. any other good wife would do the same. don't judge me. :p then, well, i need a pen, b/c i'm starting to feel bad about whispering. i can't find one. doug tries to help. he can't find one. caylen finally gets me one. so i write notes to both of them that have nothing to do with the sermon (though i'm sure i could have come up with something convicting and meaningful had a i really tried). and, yes, caylen (sister) plans on going with my boys and i on pony pasture trips this summer, just so you know. all of this being said, i didn't hear much of the sermon. this is where i trust that the Lord just allowed what needed to stick to stick, b/c i wasn't helping Him out at all. i'm glad He's in charge and i'm not. i'd hate to think that He was envisioning what allergy-exploded heads would look like.cnheniginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03143371093445753914noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496095404146576094.post-38257240545656949522009-05-07T17:30:00.000-07:002009-05-07T19:11:55.847-07:00a nondignified soliloquy<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >there are some health-related issues that really just flush any dignity you thought you had right down the toilet. yes, that was a pointed play on words, in case you were wondering. i have, all of my life, wished i were a dignified person. those who know me well should be laughing hysterically about now. actually, that could be said for those who don't know me very well, also. it takes a total of about 30 seconds within meeting me to realize that i never even make a guest appearance on any dignity list. i used to try. i really did. that was a confusing time in my life. i was probably about 24 when i even gave up the trying. i wasn't fooling anyone anyway.</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:85%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >so, back to the indignity of some illnesses. i have been sick a lot in my life. when doug and i were dating, we got into a "puking-story-war." he was finished after 3 stories. i could have kept going all night with my stories spanning several continents. i don't know that he let me get through even half of the really good ones before he asked me to stop sharing. </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >i've filled enough plastic baggies in my life to have a landfill named after me. </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:85%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >clearly, a part of me still longs for a measure of dignity - some sort, any sort. when i think dignity i think of my mother. she is very dignified and the picture of southern gentility. i, on the other hand, put one more in mind of the crazy people featured on daytime talk shows. it's discouraging, really, and one could be tempted to wallow in that discouragement. i, however, have found a way to deal with my failure in the area of dignity. i simply refuse to believe that i'm a failure. i just have my own personal brand of dignity.<br /><br />1). i have become quite dignified at extricating myself from embarrassing conversational mishaps that i myself have caused by putting my foot in my very big mouth<br /><br />2). i am very dignified at recovering from a careless trip - over my own feet-in front of people-all the time<br /><br />3). i am the picture of dignity when i meet someone i don't remember and should - i can play that one off like a champ<br /><br />4). and what about when i....um...um... nope...that's all i've got.<br /><br />so, i was wrong. i'm not that dignified. so why should one more undignified illness really matter one way or the other? i find that i still like myself okay most of the time. well, at least until that foot in my mouth starts tasting really bad.<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:85%;" ><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51); font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" ><br /></span>cnheniginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03143371093445753914noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496095404146576094.post-43761253990501186912009-03-26T13:34:00.000-07:002009-03-26T17:48:36.369-07:00shrunken dreams<span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-size:100%;" ><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">one of my kids at the school has decided that i'm a miniature pony. though she says "miniature horse." i'm always carrying a nalgene water bottle, so she has decided that i drink gallons of water just like a horse. that was great, because i started out as a full-sized horse. there is something dignified about horses. i love them. they are beautiful, fast and graceful. have you ever seen a horse at full gallop? i have to tell you, the television makes it looks pretty unbelievable. alas, almost immediately my lovely little student decided that i was far too short to be a horse. i could only be a miniature horse.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">and just like that i was relegated to being a dumpy little thing who just stands around and looks cute. okay, i'm not knocking the cute thing - i don't so much mind that. but, have you ever seen a miniature pony run? i have, and not just on television. they aren't graceful. they try to be, but, i mean, seriously...the girth usually far outspans the leg length. and those legs are pumping for all they are worth and just not getting very far very fast. i wouldn't call it a pretty sight. it's rather like a 30 lb. housecat trying to catch up to a sleek lion, or one of Snow White's dwarves (we'll call him Dumpy) trying to outrun the prince. well, now i digress, but you get my point.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">it's a bit sad. my dreams of graceful grandeur being knocked to the level of dumpy, awkward exertion. it is even more disconcerting when you consider that i am supposed to run a 10k this weekend. arms and legs pumping (possibly flailing), i can only hope my miniature horse self can make it over the finish line. kudos to all of us "dumpys" out there.</span></span>cnheniginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03143371093445753914noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496095404146576094.post-72486866930348140212009-03-04T12:05:00.001-08:002009-03-04T12:16:16.625-08:00yellow snow<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:100%;" >we actually had snow in richmond. not just a little, believe it or not. 9" at our house. woohoo! we took rooney to the dog park to play. the mutt is crazy about snow. we get there and someone had built a huge snowman. the entire bottom of the snowman was yellow. as doug pointed this out, rooney proceeded to pee on one side of the snowman, take a break, walk to another side and pee again. it was the greatest snowman i've ever seen. i've never laughed so hard at a snowman before, and don't expect i ever will again.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:100%;" >i love dogs. they don't care whose watching or what you're thinking. if they need to do their business, by golly, they're going to do it. furthermore, i bet that was a very satisfying experience in my pup's life. i mean, how often will he get to pee on a snowman? in fact, sometimes in life we need to just let loose and not care who is watching or what they think.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:100%;" >so, go ahead...pee on a snowman today.</span>cnheniginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03143371093445753914noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1496095404146576094.post-1805206174479795062009-03-04T11:46:00.001-08:002009-03-04T13:25:27.760-08:00explanation<span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" >so, i am going to attempt, again, to write a blog. my sisters are great writers. my older sister used to write a blog that was terrific. my twin sister now writes a blog that is also great. so, if you're looking for terrific writing. go there. if you want spiritual truths and to follow a girl's relationship with God, find corrie's blog. it is very inspiring and deep and i am encouraged every time i read it. don't hold your breath for that kinda thing on this blog. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Truths:</span><br /><ul style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><li><span style="font-size:100%;">i am too lazy to spend a lot of time on a blog</span></li></ul><ul style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><li><span style="font-size:100%;">i am procrastinating now, actually</span></li></ul><ul style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><li><span style="font-size:100%;">i really do usually think i'm great</span></li></ul><ul style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><li><span style="font-size:100%;">the previous bullet typically gets in the way of my living life</span><br /></li></ul><ul style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><li><span style="font-size:100%;">i really do have dreams of being a hero. i'm usually rescuing corrie - who is the stronger and braver of the two of us.</span></li></ul><ul style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><li><span style="font-size:100%;">this blog might make you uncomfortable b/c i tend to be too honest. strangely, i feel very secure in your uncomfortableness.</span></li></ul><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">so, i'll give this a shot and your welcome to read or not!</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" >oh, look...i am a poet, and you, sir, did not even know it.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" >that last was a shout-out to corrie!</span>cnheniginhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03143371093445753914noreply@blogger.com2