A different Christmas story

A while back, I wrote about the romantic guy who elaborately proposed to his lady with the help of a bunch of friends and the Bruno Mars song, “Marry You.” I just saw an update on the couple and they have set a date in 2014 after she finishes nursing school.

My heart sank because I personally know how insane nursing school can make someone. Take me, for instance: I’m a fairly normal individual, but nursing school made my hair fall out, I started having seizures, and now I have a brain tumor. My marriage is lucky to have survived!

I wish the “Marry You” couple the best of luck because I still think that man is incredible, but today I want to tell you a different story about another guy who is also very wonderful, Shannon. He’s my sister, Meredith’s, boyfriend.

Meredith and Shannon started dating almost two years ago when she was just about to finish nursing school. Shannon is a great guy with an infectious smile who is a ton of fun to be around.

Meredith is similar to the other women in my family in that she doesn’t put up with much of anything. Some may call us intolerant, but I prefer “perfection driven.” We like things a certain way so we end up either complaining to ourselves or we call each other to vent. If something is exceptionally irksome, watch out because Mount Vesuvius will erupt! In other words, don’t overly irritate us and we’re fine.

Shannon loves to pick on Meredith for fun. If she yells at him, it doesn’t bother him at all and he just laughs it off. It is the weirdest thing because if my sister yells at me, I try to put maximum distance between us.

So it was Christmas day and they were unwrapping gifts. Shannon gave her a present. It was a picture frame that said “Family, all because two people fell in love.” How sweet.

He reached into the Christmas tree and pulled out a little black box. It looked suspiciously like a ring box.

As he handed it to her he asked, “Should I get down on one knee?”

She eyed him and said, “I don’t know. Do you need to?” He told her to open it and she did to discover a very ugly heart-shaped ring. She thought to herself, “He has horrible taste in jewelry.” While she put it on her finger, she noticed something else: the heart changed colors.

“This is a mood ring?” She asked.

“YES!” He joyously proclaimed as he began laughing. He then gave her another present, her real present, a Keurig coffee maker. He was very pleased with his little prank.

Now, I have to admit that I have been giggling ever since she told me the story. Our own mother said, “I like him more and more all the time,” when Meredith told her. I feel bad for laughing, but I just can’t believe he did it! I can’t believe he’s going to sleep next to her every night and feel safe!

If my husband had done that to me on Christmas, I probably would’ve stormed off to the bedroom and stayed there all day.

Shannon, you’re a brave and foolish man. I hope she keeps you around, but be careful with these stunts.

To the rest of you men out there, in the interest of your personal longevity, you are advised to never, ever attempt this!

Big decision for a little girl

In the ER, every now and then we get children as patients. I don’t enjoy dealing with kids mainly because I don’t like giving them shots or starting IVs on them. Some are pretty calm about it, but others go absolutely insane and it takes several people to hold them down which has got to be traumatizing no matter how soothing we try to make our voices sound.

I know for a fact that my daughter would be one of those fighters. If she gets a splinter in her finger, she goes off the deep end emotionally and when I try to simply take a look at it, she gets all distrustful and jerks her hand away like I’m hiding a screw driver up my sleeve.

I have never hurt this child outside of a spanking which was announced ahead of time, so I’m at a loss where she gets this attitude.

Because of her antics with the most minor of painful situations, when she broke the news last year that she wanted her ears pierced, I knew we had time.

First, I will say that I did not get her ears pierced when she was a baby because I wanted her to experience this rite of passage. I was seven when my own ears were done and I remember how exciting it was.

I’m not saying it is wrong for parents to have their baby girl’s ears pierced; I just wanted my daughter to be able to ask for this herself and go pick her first earrings and cherish that special time. I have friends who think I’m a big weenie about this, but that’s okay with me.

So after telling her about the procedure, she decided to wait a while longer and get clip-on earrings until she turned six.

Around her sixth birthday, she brought up the subject again so her dad took her to Claire’s in the mall to watch someone else get their ears done. She again decided to postpone.

This brings us to the present time. She was done waiting and wanted to forge ahead. She was ready to endure the pain and pestered us daily until we took her back to Claire’s this past Sunday.

She chose a set of flower earrings and sat in the chair. The piercer made little blue dots where the jewelry would be placed and gave our girl instructions about being very still. The left earring went in, “CACHUCK!”

The expression on her face suddenly changed. The woman immediately went to the other side, but our daughter wasn’t ready yet.

“No. Wait!” Her right shoulder went up protectively in front of her ear and her hands began frantically blocking. There would be trouble.

After a minute or so of scrambling around with her, the other earring was placed slightly higher than the first. It is barely noticeable.

She left with tears welled up in her eyes, but they never made it down her cheeks because she finally had earrings like all her friends.

The daily cleanings are a nightmare. For some reason, she’s convinced we are going to rip those flower posts out of her ear lobes. That kid!

After this past week and all the horrible news, I’m so thankful I am able to make these memories with my children. It truly saddens my heart to know that other parents are out there grieving the loss of their little ones. My prayers and thoughts are with them.

Cruising for some fun

Last week, my husband, Chris, and I celebrated the 23^rd anniversary of our very first date by doing something we’ve never done before: take a cruise on a boat to another country.

The first lesson one learns on a cruise ship is that you are essentially living in a floating hotel, but the rooms are much smaller and you never, ever leave the lid up on the toilet when you attempt to flush. I am not sure why this is a rule, but there is a lot of scary noise when the flushing occurs so I tend to believe it without question.

The second rule is that you must own some form of non-cash payment method because the ship only deals in room numbers that charge a credit account. This sounds wonderful, especially when all your meals are included in the original ticket price, but it doesn’t take very long to rack up an impressive amount with just drinks, even those of the nonalcoholic variety.

I have a third rule that is a normal etiquette I live by each day, but most people disregard it. Please, when using elevators, allow the people already on the elevator an opportunity to get off the elevator before you barge in. It is just the polite thing to do.

Royal Caribbean was the cruise line we chose thanks to the help of my pseudo-cousin, Wendy, who got us an excellent deal. We rode the “Monarch of the Seas” which is ending its career with the Royal Caribbean fleet in the near future.

Our first stop was in Nassau where we stayed for 12 hours. Chris rented us a scooter and I bravely rode on the back while he drove.

Bahamian traffic drives on the opposite side of the road and their potholes don’t seem to get much attention from repair crews. I spent most of the ride praying I wouldn’t fall off the back and get to experience the inside of an emergency room in Nassau.

We explored a couple of beaches and the inside of some caves where a couple of local kids showed us around. They were adorable and knowledgeable so we tipped them and headed to the Straw Market.

In the evening, we took a sunset catamaran cruise around Paradise Island and then had a late dinner at Senor Frog’s. That ended our time in Nassau.

The next morning placed us on the shores of Royal Caribbean’s private resort, Coco Cay. I chose to lie on the beach all day long and do absolutely nothing. We all have our goals in life.

Chris, on the other hand, he’s a real go-getter. He snorkeled the day away and went “swimming with the fishes” in a very non-mob style. He even found a marker that earned him a prize on the ship. What a lucky guy!

Though I’m confident I could learn to live my life on permanent vacation if I had the funds to support the lifestyle, I don’t think I could stay on a ship for any extended period of time. That feeling of being closed-in starts getting to me after a short while and there is nowhere to run but Open Ocean.

When we arrived back on dry land, I was most excited about returning to my own bed with its normal dimensions and pillow-soft top. I was happy about being back on the proper side of the road too.

Back home also means back to work. I suppose weird toilets and funky beds weren’t all that bad.

Spinning tunes from the past

Saturday, December 1^st was my 39^th birthday. I don’t normally feel much difference with the changing of each year, but I think this past year has heaped an unusual type of baggage in my mind and I spent a fair chunk of the day basking in nostalgia.

My husband, Chris, assisted with my walk down memory lane on Friday evening when he gave me an early birthday present which was something I’ve desired for a while: a record player.

I bought my first vinyl album when I was about 10 years old for the bargain price of eight bucks and I still have it. I saved all my old records through the years even though I haven’t owned anything to play them with since around 1992.

When our son was still a baby, we had a garage sale and a friend of ours dropped off several albums of his to sell, but I could not bring myself to let them go so I added them to my own collection instead.

I spent the evening on Friday and most of the day Saturday spinning tunes with records that have not felt a needle in 20 years or more.

My son was amazed by two things. The first was that sound could be produced by something so primitive-looking. The second was that I kept my property in such good condition for so long.

Of course, this is the same kid that can’t seem to make anything last for one day, much less one year, so I wasn’t really surprised that he couldn’t fathom me treasuring an 8 dollar item.

Prince, Jimi Hendrix, The Doors, The Cars, The Police, and several other bands blasted through the house while my daughter spun and danced in the living room and my son critiqued each artist; for instance, his opinion that Elton John sounds a lot like a woman.

I didn’t care because I had been catapulted back in time to when I had to sit at my four foot tall, glass-encased stereo system, my blank cassette tape ready and my fingers hovering over the “record” and “play” buttons while I impatiently listened for the song to finally come on that the station had been promising for the last hour. This was how I ripped music in the eighties, the old fashioned way, right off the airwaves.

We took a break from the music marathon on Saturday to take our son to his first YMCA basketball game. He has been practicing every day after school and we were able to see all his efforts displayed on the court.

Chris and I were just about in tears to see him actually working hard and smiling while he did it. It was truly incredible. The focus he demonstrated was something we could barely believe he possessed!

As our daughter played Barbies with another little girl, I said to Chris, “If we could go back in time and show our 18-year old selves pictures of these beautiful kids, there’d be no question at all that we were supposed to be together.”

He said, “Yeah, as long as you didn’t show me a picture of myself now! I’d wonder what happened.”

I laughed because we are our own worst critics. I think he’s handsome, but when I compare myself now to then, I think of the blood pressure cuffs that keep inflating when they aren’t on someone’s arm.

My birthday was blessed, much like my life. Really, that is the greatest gift of all.

Online beats shopping in the stores

I almost got caught up in all the Black Friday hype last week. I say “almost” because there was a really great deal on a laptop that I wanted to buy for my husband, Chris. He’s returning to school in January and could benefit from a portable computer system.

I’m not ruining any surprise by discussing this right now because Chris already knows about this gift and, in fact, picked out the laptop himself.

When he bought my laptop a couple years ago, he asked what was important to me and I told him, “It must have a number pad.”

Chris has slightly more parameters that needed to be met. He knew exactly the amount of ROM and RAM and what type of processor and, for goodness sake, the kind of battery he preferred! I took notes, but I wanted him to double check the actual product to make absolute sure it would measure up to his expectations.

I won’t mention the winning store’s name, but I scoped out the lay of the land on Wednesday afternoon. I asked an employee exactly how crowd control would be handled and what time they expected the madness to begin before the doors were opened.

I was ready to go through the Friday morning hassle until I discovered I could get the exact same laptop for the same price with free shipping, minus the aggravation of the crowd, by ordering online at this store’s website on Thanksgiving morning.

Why on earth would I leave my house in the predawn hours?

The deal was sealed when I saw a delivery date for the following Tuesday which was one of my days off. This was perfect.

Tuesday arrived and I waited around the house all day watching reruns of “Americas Next Top Model.”

About 2:30, I got antsy and decided to check the delivery status. I logged onto the store’s site and saw the following: 3:18 AM-1 Items scanned and received; 7:58 AM-1 Items scanned to truck; 9:02 AM-Out for delivery; 9:06 AM-Not delivered, closed b/c holiday.

I was a tad bit bewildered by that last line. How could they be closed for a holiday on Tuesday? The transport company was one I never heard of before so I called the original online store to question the transaction.

The woman on the phone told me that my order had been rescheduled for Wednesday. I told her that would not work for me and asked what would happen if no one was home on Wednesday. She said that the order was set to be delivered on Wednesday. You can probably guess how things went from there.

After several minutes of no progress being made and none of my questions being answered (one of which was what holiday warranted the cancellation of my delivery), she asked if my needs had been met.

I said, “No. Consider my problem on pause. I may or may not call you back after I talk to the shipping company.”

The shipping company was more than helpful. It turns out that the “not delivered, closed b/c holiday” is a coding issue on their end to ensure packages are automatically placed on trucks for delivery the next day in case no one is home the first attempt. My blood pressure returned to normal in 10 seconds.

The laptop arrived at 3 pm and I finally took a shower. Now I can wrap it and make Chris wait until Christmas. I fully expect him to act surprised.