The Chair

I have this chair that belonged to my grandmother. It’s a terrible almost crushed velvet in emerald green. The arms are well worn and the head rest is covered in years of White Rain hairspray from when she would rock in it while drinking her umpteenth cup of coffee for the day. It was her favorite piece in her living room, and it has now become my favorite piece in my living room.

It was given to me shortly before my grandfather’s passing. As dying people do, he was giving away the less meaningful or not previously claimed items in his possession and gifted me the chair a long with a well loved vanity and two retro end tables. I hadn’t really wanted the chair but he insisted I needed it even though I already had been given my mother’s wooden rocker. I brought the green chair home and sat it up next to one of the end tables in my living room and soon found myself sitting in it frequently. It didn’t take long before I was rocking Robbie in it at nap time. It was comforting. It was almost like having my grandmother there with me, as if she was somehow getting to be with her great granddaughter and I during those precious moments.

Sometime later I moved into my current residence and the chair found itself neglected and covered in unfolded laundry and toys. I had completely forgotten its power and warmth until one evening Josiah was fussy and I was struggling to calm him on the couch. I shoved everything into the floor and took to rocking him. Soon he was softly snoring in my arms. Since that day I have rocked him at almost every bedtime in the chair while telling Zach that we can never get rid of it.

Tonight after putting Josiah to bed, I gathered Robbie up in my lap and rocked her to sleep for the first time in a few years. As she nuzzled her sweet little face into the crook of my arm and drifted off peacefully, I thought of my grandparents and how they couldn’t have known that the chair would make its way into my home and be used to comfort my babies when they purchased it over two decades ago. I thought of my grandmother with her chipped white coffee mugs filled to the brim with microwaved instant Folger’s and a napkin pressed to the bottom of the mug, gently rocking while resting before she would go out to bring the cattle in to milk in the afternoons. I thought of countless hours spent cross legged, computer in my lap, with my phone resting on the arm softly playing music as I typed out stories, read, or studied. I thought of my husband and children and how I want this chair to be significant in their memories when they look back. I thought of how something so ordinary can mean so much, which lead me to share my feelings with you, Dear Reader. If you don’t already, I hope that some day you find an everyday item that has great sentimental value and you reflect on the emotions and memories tied to it.

In Which, I Rant.

Good Morning Dear Reader. Today I’m frustrated. I am just flat out irritated. I’ve been working on a project at work for almost a month and it is going no where. It’s making me so mad. I’m someone who takes a lot of pride in my work and I strive to give the best customer service possible. So as you can imagine, I’m taking this pretty personal.

Which I’m finding is a trend in my life. I take everything personal.

Because I was frustrated, I stopped at my favorite coffee shop in town on my way to work to type this. I love that place. They staff is great, the drinks are always the perfect temperature, and they’re a business ministry that helps women who are ex-convicts rehabilitate, assimilate, and find gainful employment. But this morning when they barista was like “OH! Congratulations! When are you due? “ I immediately thought “WHY? DO I LOOK LIKE A COW OR SOMETHING?”…

Really Alex? This chick is someone you see occasionally through the drive through window, of course she didn’t know you were pregnant. AND, she gave you a free drink because clearly you’re sleep deprived, which she could tell that from the huge bags under your eyes. Don’t be such a psycho hose beast.

I should just punch myself in the face for that one.

I really need to learn that not everything is an attack. I also need to learn how to keep my emotions in check when I haven’t slept and am so pregnant that I make an elephant’s gestational period look short.

I think it’s going to be one of those days Dear Reader.

I better go get another tea. I’m going to need it.

The Cross

Happy Sunday Dear Reader. I'm crabby this evening. Tomorrow is Zach's birthday, so I baked his cake earlier. Do you know how hard it is to bake a cake when you can't have any? Gestational diabetes is stupid and I miss carbs.

Anyway.

After my sappy last post, you learned just how dramatically my life has changed over the course of the year. I had originally planned on writing more about that today but I'm just not feeling sentimental and mushy. Instead I'm just going to tell you about a moment in time I keep replying in my head.

In my hometown there is gigantic white cross off the East side of the highway. It sits in the middle of an open field that was clearly farmland at some point and has since found itself the future home of a Christian learning center and proud holder of said cross. The piece of property is the typical heartland beauty, fence rows lined with scrubby trees, Bermuda grass growing in wild patches, handfuls of little weed like flowers are scattered over the area. It's simple and still somehow breathtaking.

When that cross was erected, I remember being in awe of it's beauty and being ashamed that my little town would support such an obvious waste of funds that could have gone to the school or some charity. I was just torn emotionally on the landmark, but I still found myself driving by it with Robbie and telling her why it was there and what it meant.

I should mention that at the time, my relationship with myself and any form of organized religion was quite strained. I wanted to believe in God, but I felt like I was standing outside of the fence while I watched other people find themselves and their faith.

I wasn't part of the crowd. I was uninvited.

On one particularly bad day I was driving home from my mother's house when something just hit me. I wanted to disappear, to end all of my struggle. At the same time I was passing that cross. I couldn't help but notice the line of trees on the fences and I thought something along the lines of how it was a perfect representation of my life. Forever kept on the outside. Never getting to cross over and join the crowd and always lonely. I was so angry with God and myself and the world. How could I just be pushed to the side like that time after time? Why should I be forced to carry such hurt in my heart constantly?

Flash forward to present day. I have clearly dealt with many of my issues, and I'm doing much better mentally thanks to hard work and a whole lot of love and support from Zach. But that day still nags at me. I can hear the thoughts in my head. I can see the the cross and the trees kind of blur as I drive past. I can feel the same anguish. I just can't get past this small paragraph in my story.

Last Sunday at church the message was good as usual, but it hit home for Zach. Something resonated with him and he had a moment that was absolutely heartbreaking and healing all at once. It was something I had never experienced or witnessed before. He just simply let go.

If you've ever seen this happen before, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Something just changes in the room. It is serious and inspirational, and most likely at least a handful of people will cry. It's very intense and basically indescribable.

I know you're thinking that I just jumped topics here, but we are coming full circle. Seeing my husband experience something so personal and monumental has weighed on my mind greatly. He was raised in the church, so this is nothing new for him. But when you are someone who is new to the fold, it has a much deeper impact.

What if seeing that brought the cross memory to the forefront of my mind because it's time to just simply let go of all of my baggage? How does one even begin? I have so many unanswered questions and I am searching for answers, but what if that was my answer? This is something that is going to take some pondering, praying, and a lot of coffee to figure out. But maybe, just maybe, for the first time in my life I am on the path to being a whole, healed, soul.

Blog Mom, Blog!: Welcome Home

Blog Mom, Blog!: Welcome Home: Good morning, Dear Reader. It's been entirely too long since I've posted anything. Partly because I haven't had any inspiration,...

Welcome Home

Good morning, Dear Reader. It's been entirely too long since I've posted anything. Partly because I haven't had any inspiration, but mostly because I have been extremely busy. I'm not entirely certain where I left you, but let me catch you up. Robbie's father and I split up, I met a wonderful man named Zach, got a promotion at Panera, left Panera for a job with a credit union, got married and pregnant, got a promotion at the credit union, moved to be closer to work, and now we're two months out from my our son, Josiah, being born.

I've crammed what normal people go through in the span of like five years into roughly a year, give or take a few months.

And I couldn't be happier. I find myself thanking God daily that so much changed so quickly. No, it isn't easy by any means. Zach and I struggle daily, but I've finally found someone who knows how to handle just how neurotic I am. We actually talk about our issues, usually before they become an issue, and he loves me. He truly loves Alex and all that happens in Alexland.

Plus he is so damn handsome and he enjoys energy drinks just as much as I do. It was destiny.

Seriously though, my life has dramatically changed for the better. My credit score couldn't be worse, but my finances are stable. I'm not in constant danger of my home being ripped away from me. My daughter gained an amazing father who is kind and patient and learned all of the names of the ponies in Equestria because she loves My Little Pony. I'm excited about having another baby (and maybe one or two more in the future) even though I swore I would never have anymore kids after Robbie was born. The in-laws I gained absolutely bend over backwards to help us if and when we need it, especially my mother in law. I don't know how she puts up with us.

And it's football season. *PISTOLS FIRING!*

For the first time in my adult life, I feel that life is beautiful. How can one person be so blessed?

Alex Laments. Episode:75984596295627465

As usual, Alexland is just mass chaos. I know that’s why you come here, Dear Reader. My hectic life and wild thoughts are your guilty pleasures. Kind of like when you see a People magazine headline that you just can’t not look at while standing in line to check out at the grocery store, only better. Because my drama is legit.

Anyway. The last time I had written, I told you I had just received a promotion at Panera Bread and was super stoked to start training. Since then, things have just gotten wildly out of hand, like life tends to do. In this time of utter nonsense, I’m finding myself in survival mode more often than not. I think as humans, this is what we do out of habit.

Sometimes survival mode is necessary to protect your sanity, your loved ones’ sanity, and also your bank account (so you don’t spend all of your money on Red Bull and menthol cigarettes. Not that I would know, because I have never purchased either of those items EVER in my life.) But often times, if we would just look whatever is plaguing us in the face, we could avoid trudging through the days, barely keeping our heads above water.

My point in bringing this up is, I need to learn how to look my demons in the face. I was recently told by someone very dear to me that they are impressed with how I handle the stress in my personal life. To this I replied “I don’t handle anything. I just pretend nothing is happening, throw myself in to my work, sleep very little, and caffeinate too much.” While this is a good coping mechanism for the first day or so, it keeps me from growing as a person through all of my trials and tribulations.

It could also probably cause me to look like death warmed over on my first day of a new job where I really felt like I needed to dazzle everyone since I could hypothetically have previous experience in the field.

Again, not that I would know from personal experience, I just assume.

Anywho. Growing as a person from major life events is rather important, and it dawned on me earlier this evening while listening to a loved one pray, that I really needed to work on growth; and that the only way for me to grow is to either A.) put my big girl boots on and handle it, or 2.) hand whatever the problem is over to God, and trust that he is going to work it out with/for me.

Both of these options are pretty damn scary. I mean, being an adult and actually acting like one? That is not for the faint of heart. But handing over your problems to some unknown supreme being and just trusting that he’s going to help you get through whatever is happening? That feels similar to walking through the living room at night, trusting that your child picked up all the legos off the floor like you told them to do a million times before they went to bed. Terrifying, isn’t it?

All I know is, we as people have to learn to buck up. Whether that means you charge head on at whatever life throws at you or you hand it over to whatever deity of your choosing, it has to be done.

You will thank yourself later for it, and not just because you won’t be in the poorhouse for spending all of your hard earned cash on caffeinated beverages.

Panera Promotions

Hello, Dear Reader. It's been almost a month since my last post, and I have much to write about. But today I am going to tell you about how I am literally drowning at work. So I think I've told you I got a promotion and that I was going to start training for my new position soon. Well, I've started training, and I am about halfway through. 

Each day that passes I wonder more and more why my superiors thought it was such a swell idea to move me up the chain of command; because all I really do is avoid any actual work and burn anything I have to bake during the day.

I guess my charming, sarcastic personality and my insatiable appetite for sucking up worked in my favor.

Anyway, it has been a pretty big disaster on the work front. While I can pick something up quickly, I can't seem to retain about half the information I'm being given, so I just walk around saying "I-I-I-I, I just...I JUST DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MY HANDS." Which is basically Alex Code for "Pardon my behavior, I am currently suffering a panic attack." No one seems to notice though. I guess that's because I am in a constant state of caffeine induced panic.

On a serious note, I am beyond thankful for this opportunity. I just hope my bosses don't decide that having to tell me I'm doing just fine 500 times a day isn't worth having an extra set of hands on the management team.