A few weeks ago Chris and I were talking about school. Specifically about how he would like to go back to school someday. I've always wanted to go back to college too. Not to take anything challenging, but just to learn. There is something about having been in that environment that makes you want to go back. In fact, last year I had decided that I was going to take a few classes just for fun if I didn't get pregnant by December. Obviously, Miss Haven came along, so my history 101 class is going to have to wait.
Just for fun I looked up UNM's continuing ed classes to see if there was something Chris may be interested in doing. I'm sure there are a few...except that I found some writing classes I was interested in and on a whim signed up for one. I have a bachelor's degree in English with an emphasis on Creative Writing and the desire to write never leaves me. But, if I don't have someone pushing me I won't do it.
Today the internet course begins. I don't know how involved it will be or if I'll even have much time to do it. It wasn't expensive so if I can't give 100% to it, then I won't feel incredibly guilty. But, I've been looking forward to it all month.
Today was a menagerie of amusement. At least for me. It started with a bike ride. My parents came up to watch Haven, and Chris and I went for my 2nd mountain bike ride since Haven has been born. People should not expect much of me. I am notorious for crashing at the weirdest places (i.e. the easiest spots on the trail).
We weren't too far into it before I hit a rock and came crashing down. Thank God I was wearing my helmet because I banged my chin on a rock and also gave myself a fat lip. Not to mention scraping my hands, shoulder, and legs up pretty nicely. Chris said I had blood all over my teeth. Battle wounds. My first thought after I checked that all my limbs were still intact was that it would look pretty cool to have a fat lip and a bruised chin. Like I'd been in a fight. No such luck. You can barely tell even though it hurts like...well, like something that hurts bad. This is a PG rated blog.
Just a small aside: Chris always tells me I'm a wimp. A boss once told me that I have a big dog/little dog complex. In other words--I think I'm tougher than I really am. It's not that I try to act macho (except when I'm whuppin' Chris's butt when we wrestle), it's just that sometimes I feel like I need to prove my toughness. And nothing proves that you are tough like a bunch of cuts and scrapes, right?
Since my mom was over and Christmas is coming up, I wanted her to take pictures of our little family so I could make Christmas cards. I even gave Trudy a bath yesterday so she'd be picture perfect (yes, Trudy is part of our family and therefore included in the picture). I had also given Chris about a week's notice that we would be taking a family picture. I also warned him that he would have to shave. Well, wouldn't you know it? When the actual time came for the portrait what did he do? I'll tell you what he did. He threw a big fit. He didn't want to bathe, it wasn't working out, etc. etc. I tried to reason with him. I told him he didn't have to shave. None of it worked. Eventually I broke out the bossy wife voice and told him in no uncertain terms that we were taking the picture today, or I could schedule something at JC Penny's. He agreed to today.
I didn't have much help from my dad who was sitting on the couch offering his version of encouragement. And, while Chris was still fuming over having lost the battle, I just couldn't help it. I couldn't. I asked him if he wanted me to lay out an outfit for him. In complete exasperation he said, "I hate this!" I told him we could match. For some reason it didn't help. I guess it was kicking him while he was down.
Haven and I, along with some friends, went to a pumpkin patch yesterday. We took a hay ride, picked out a pumpkin, ate dirt (Haven and her little friends), played in the corn box (like a sandbox, but with corn kernels), pet some goats...you get the idea. I think the mommies were more impressed with it all than the babies, but that's probably to be expected since all the babies were under one year of age.
I thought this was cute: today my mom and I left Haven with my Dad and Chris (when we came back she was smoking cigars and belching--but that's not what this post is about). We left her so we could go get a flu shot. What a fun mother/daughter outing, no? Anyway, there was a line of people in front of us including a mother with her young daughter. The little girl must have been about 7 or 8. She was nervous about getting her flu shot. Her dad went first and she asked him if it hurt. He said no, but you could tell that she didn't really believe him.
My mom started talking to the little girl (her name was Disney, if you can believe it). She told her that she loved shots when she was a kid because she got a sucker. You could read the naked fear on her little face. But, when it was her turn she didn't cry a bit. I told her she was very brave. And then it was our turn. And the cute part? She held my hand while I had mine done just in case I was frightened. She was precious.