A Brighter (Storm-filled) Day

Okay, so as I knew while writing my last entry, though could not fathom in my conscious thought, being put on the waiting list is not the end of the world.  There are other plans, other options, other paths my life my take.  I will go on.  It still hurt, but it is not the end of me.

My 15-year-old cousin was in a terrible car wreck, head-on highway speed, a week and a half ago.  Miraculously, all three occupants of the car are alive, and more miraculously, Lori is home and walking and talking.  She's got a long road ahead of her, but she is a living miracle.  She is a fantastic runner, and earned a varsity letter and attended state last year, her first in track.  She was looking forward to this year's cross country team with excitement.  She's now been told that she can't run for six months.  A small worry when you've just survived something everyone thought should have killed you, but disappointing just the same.  Instead of being upset, this amazing girl is planning to volunteer with the team, and go with them to meets to cheer them on.  A true team player, a person whose Plan with a capital p was torn to shreds, yet still sees life as a journey to be enjoyed.

I'm searching job sites, combing hospital openings, seeking out possible apprenticeships.  I've applied for several jobs and looked into other avenues to become a nurse.  I might be down, but I'm not out.  I'm too good for that.  Life is a journey meant to be enjoyed.

Wanted: A New Plan

Warning:  this entry is rated R due to offensive language.  Please avert eyes if that sort of thing offends you.

I've been waiting for June 30 for a long time, ever since my phone interview with the nursing school a month and a half ago.  The 30th came a day early over here, and...not good.  

I ran to the mailbox like I do every day lately, just to check.  Today, and envelope!  From UW-Oshkosh!  Yay!  Then, fuck.  This envelope is skinny.  That's not good.  Tear open to flap, skim the skimpy little letter with a desperate hope that this was just the first of two or something.  No such luck.  "Thank you so much for applying...the program is highly competitive, blah blah blabbity blah.  Waiting list." 

So that's that.  The fucking waiting list.  Accepted applicants have until July 9 to secure their spot.  After that, they might offer entry to someone on the waiting list.  Only, how many are on this sucky-ass waiting list?  How many usually get accepted after being on the waiting list?  Does being on the waiting list give me any sort of benefit for future attempts, or is basically a 'it's not you, it's me thing, where everybody knows that "waiting list"  is code for NOT FUCKING ACCEPTED, stop wasting your time and your hope.'

What now?  

This has been my Plan with a capital P.  This was going to save me and my family from poverty, give my life meaning, propel me forward.  I had a Plan.

Now I'm floundering again.  I'm almost 30 for crissake, and I still am applying to and getting rejected from jobs where the only requirement is 'high school graduate.'  

I spent a lot of time this afternoon feeling sorry for myself, and am currently drowning my sorrows in a glass of red wine.  Tomorrow, I have to start anew.  Apply for jobs.  Update the resume.  Search.

What do I do now?  What the fuck do I do now?

March and May

I think March and May definitely got confused this month.  While in March, we donned shorts, waded in lakes and counted our blessings in degrees, so far this May, rain gear and snow boots have been the attire.  The very day lambing began, so did the onslaught of cold, rain and wind.  And snow.  Baby lambs do not like cold, rain, and wind.  Or snow.
We're up to our eyeballs in cold baby lambs, and in our haste to protect them from the oncoming storm, we moved a momma and new baby that were bonded well in the field up into the barn, only to find the baby electrocuted by the fencer.  Lesson learned and fencer switched off, but too late.  I seriously gave the compusling baby CPR, and then cried.  Its poor mother has sat, unmoved by its little stiff body, in the rain.
But, today is a new day, though just as blustery.  Another mom had more babies than she can feed, and the poor, lamb-less mama is the proud adoptive mother of one of the other babies.
Last evening, Sofia spent five hours with Grandpa and me out in the fields, trying to sort out babies and mamas and bring everyone to dry and safety.  She was such a good girl, patient and quiet, calm and observant.  We had to assist several moms give birth, and she asked, calmly, "Did that lambie die?" Thankfully, that time, I got to respond that no, that lamb made it.  She's up and nursing on her mama.
We're hoping the weather dries up a bit, and adds a few ticks on the thermometer.  Life would be easier on us all.
I had the second interview for nursing school, and I feel like it went really well.  Now, I just wait.  I can't apply for financial aid until I am formally accepted, and they don't have to make their final decisions until June 30.  Meanwhile, I cross my fingers, make plans for the fall, and finish the one prerequisite I have left to complete.
And feed baby lambs.

Nursing School application continues

Interview number one.  Check.

Must have done okay, because I have interview number two tomorrow.  Am scared.  Am nervous.  How to talk without stumbling over umms and ahhs?

Must go prepare answers and compulsively read everything about this program to show that I am, indeed, truly ready.

Yikes.

Eek!

I'm about to send in my application for nursing school.  I'm terrified.  I want so badly to be accepted, to begin the program, to become a nurse.  I know I'd be a great candidate, I just hope they know it, too.
Wish me luck!

That Backbone of Mine

Remember my quest to grow a backbone?  Well, I'm making progress, but not exactly in the fashion I imagined.

I quit.  With no notice, nothing.  Just quit.  I had had enough.  More than enough, actually.

I don't want to get into too many details, since this is public, after all, but here I am, unemployed again.  I don't feel so lost this time, though.  There are a few directions I can go in, and some actual jobs that I qualify for.  I want to do Physician's Assistant school.  I will find a way, somehow.  Julio is more than supportive, and I love him for it.  Missy sent me flowers and a congratulations.  Everybody is happy for me.  I will be, too.

Now, I must wrest myself from the computer and go DO.  I have jobs to apply for, schools to research, and a house to clean.  My vacuum needs exercising.  I guess I do, too.

Just Keep Swimming

Life just keeps blowing past at tornado speed, and I'm just not sure how we got here.

Sofia is still plugging away at the true test of big-girl-ness, and doing very well.  She hasn't yet won her big present, but is managing to stay dry most of the time, and has, on occasion, remembered to put number two where it belongs.  Still working on that, but we are so proud of her!  She's pretty proud of herself, too.  Walk into our bathroom and see the jar of M&M's; you'll know we have a toddler in the house.

Speaking of the toddler, she really isn't much of a toddler anymore.  She's all big girl.  She talks in full sentences with correct grammar, with only some mistakes.  She still calls it "sesareet", macamoni and cheese, and doesn't quite understand the difference between he and she.  However, she can recognize most letters and numbers, and surprised me the other day by saying, "p, p, p, p, Polar starts with P!"  She counts in both languages (though fourteen is still her nemesis), and is really improving at putting together puzzles. She used to get so frustrated when she couldn't get it right the first time, but she really concentrates to figure it out now.  She has an imagination that doesn't quit.  I love her stories and silly games and watching her play with her stuffed animals and dolls in all sorts of ways.  She sleeps with a menagerie, complete with bear, puppy, pink blanket, deer, and 'sesareet' which includes each of Big Bird, Elmo, Abby, Cookie Monster, Grover, and Kermit.  She loves the toddler doll she got for Christmas, which she has dubbed Tigger.  She plays catch, and sometimes actually catches the ball!  She loves to run run run everywhere.  She's quite the kid.

Sarah, Sofia and I went to DC this past week during a snowstorm (seriously, they have more snow than we do-by a lot!) to meet baby Anika and spend time with Johanna.  My niece is so precious; we all adore her.  Sofia especially.  She held her and caressed her and talked to her and loved on her.  Truly heart-melting.

Life at the paper is...well...I'm looking into school.  I'm tired of the drama, tired of the poor management, tired of constantly being blamed.  She really thinks I should be able to do all the reporting in just a few hours, and should be able to finish the paper all by myself.  Mondays have been long lately (though not 2 or 3 am, which is wonderful), but she leaves almost two hours before I get to.  Then, if there is a mistake (which there invariably is because I've been there for 16 hours), I get blamed for it.  Completely frustrating.

School, however, remains an abstract.  There are waiting lists on waiting lists, and I am ineligible for financial aid for an ADN (associates degree in nursing) since I already have a bachelor's degree.  I'm considering Physician's Assistant school, but there doesn't appear to be a program within an hour and a half from home.

I'm just ready for spring.  Everything feels better when there is sunshine and green grass outside.  

The Simple Life

I like the simple life.  Being able to do dishes with my husband is the kind of luxury you miss when working a million hours a week, coupled with said husband working pm shifts. 
We got to do dishes together last night.  After eating together, watching football together, taking our Christmas tree down together, playing with our daughter together.  Normal, every day kind of stuff.  The kind of stuff that really gets missed when you don't take the time to do it.
It was a great evening.
I like the simple life.  I like to be able to do laundry and vacuum and cook and read a magazine in the morning and perhaps a book at night.  I like just sitting on the floor playing toys with my daughter.  I really like being home.
I've learned that about myself relatively recently.  Don't get me wrong, I love adventure and traveling and going out and doing something.  But I love to be home, doing simple, normal things. 
Part of this change is to allow me to have that time, to be the mom I want to be; a mom with time for the normal stuff.  I want my daughter to get sick of me, not to constantly miss me. 
I've got the number to call to start LPN classes.  I'm going to do it, today. 
We celebrated Kings' Day yesterday, the Parra tradition.  It didn't get to be all day, like it should be, since I worked until 3 pm.  The kings were lazy, apparently, because they didn't make it under our tree until after dinner time, but Sofia was thrilled nonetheless.  Los Reyes brought her stacks of books, which she actually seemed to like.  I was extremely proud, too, that when she saw a few presents under the tree, she passed them out to her daddy and me, and then asked if there was one for her.  Sharing.  What a gem.
We got the tree taken down, we ate our lasagna and lemon meringue pie, drank our hot chocolate with candy canes, and even uncorked a bottle of wine. 
We don't get as much family time, all of us together as we should.  It was much needed.

Another New Start

One year ago, we left the home we were building, jobless and hopeless, trying to find the optimism of the journey to come.  I was finally going to find my dream, to listen for my calling and fulfill my vocation.  And then life stepped in.  I began, got my CNA, and then a full-time job.  The prospect of having an actual paycheck was powerful, and I dropped the school ball.  Then, I started working at the newspaper, and truly enjoyed it, especially at first.  I wasn't making much money, but perhaps community news would be my calling.  I stopped thinking of school.
After a while, though, I figured out I was being used.  There really is no future here, not one that looks like my calling. I was getting angry, and losing time with my family.
The New Year came, and I found my nerve.  Told my boss and my friend how I was feeling. And I took a leap.
I start part-time as soon as our new employee can begin.  I'm losing a large portion of income, and am scared at how we are going to survive. The fear is outweighed by the prospect of continuing the dream I let slide by.
Maybe not.  I'm still scared.  I am looking forward, however, to actually getting in school, to actually listening to my calling, assuming I know what it is.
It begins now.  I am tired of each year passing, time going through my fingers.  I'm not getting older, I don't get these days back.  I'm about to turn 29 years old.  It's got to start now.
So, I'm dusting off my pencils, digging out my backpack.  Whee!

Day One

So, the very first day of the year, and resolution number one started.

And I'm scared shitless.

That's okay.  I told her.  I told her that I am being overworked, that I need more consideration, that I don't like the way she's treating me.

And got hung up on.  No, I'm not kidding.

And then dealt not with the boss, but with her husband.  Until two hours ago, when they both came over and we had a 'meeting'.  They had listened to my concerns, and had responses for them, though they still think I should be able to do it all and think I have time management problems.  Whatever.

I think I am going to be part time, reporter and layout only.  I am going to get back to what I meant to do a year ago; go back to school.  Hopefully, I'll take Julio with me.  I'm not sure how we'll swing it financially, but somehow we'll manage.