Secret Things #3: Names

February 2, 2014 - Week 8

Names. Oy.

Jason and I have our long-ago agreed upon first choice names for a boy and girl. I believe it was decided during the return leg of a road trip. Road trips are excellent for those kind of conversations.

I told Jason two first names that I really liked and told him to come up with appropriate middle names on his own. Obviously, I had already decided the two appropriate middle names, but I wanted to give him a chance to have some input. I'm a good wife like that.

So. He pondered for a bit. And then... He came up with the two middle names that I had already chosen in my head. It was really weird. But also really good. We have one brain between the two of us [that joke never grows old...]. No name bickering needed. No need for "compromising" and ending up with a child named Melchizedek Charlie Vermette.  And... that was one more tiny little item that could be checked off of our To Have a Baby checklist.

But that was months upon months ago. [We like to get the little things out of the way first.]

I am about to make a very silly confession, but I just need to get it out of my system. I need to acknowledge my ridiculousness. So, here goes.

Ever since that months upon months ago moment, I have kept my eyes and ears open, nervously awaiting for someone, anyone, to steal my baby's name. It does not help much that this past year was just a ridiculous explosion of everything baby. Someone seemed to have tweaked that hidden Facebook setting [probably located near the ever-changing and confusing privacy settings] that controls my news feed to Only Baby-Related posts. Everyone was having babies. Constantly. Like bunnies. And foxes.

I just knew that eventually, inevitably, someone was going to announce that their child was named my not-yet-conceived baby's name. And I was going to be super annoyed because that would ruin the name and I would have to figure out another perfect name [a nearly impossible task] and know for the rest of my life that the other baby was not deserving of such an incredible name and... I know this is ridiculous. I know. Hi, my name is Sharayah Vermette, and I am absolutely illogically ridiculous. But I have had these names in my head for months upon months and if, after all this time, someone else named their baby my baby's name... I would forever think of that particular baby as a hamster. [I blame Jason and his Scrubs (as should you if you are reading this and happen to be the unlucky parent of the now-forevermore hamster).]

Anyway. So far, so good. All babies have been named and my baby names remain untainted. But there are still many months for hamsters to spring up, so I continue to stay vigilant.

I do have another slight problem, however. I really like our little girl name. Why is this a problem, you ask? Well, the Vermettes apparently lean heavily towards boys. I am not sure of specific details, but it is a common comment that Vermettes have boys. I have always considered this to be a good thing, as I have always thought I would enjoy raising a house filled with boys only. They just seem easier for whatever reason. And they're much easier to name [good girl names, in my and Jason's opinion, are really hard to come by].

But, now... Now I want-. Nay! I need a tiny little half-Asian girl. To wear tiny little dresses. And to have her head adorned with tiny little headbands. And to build pillow castles filled with stuffed animals. And to teach how to throw a football. And, most of all, to bear the awesome name of ___!  

So, see, it is a problem that I adore our little girl name so much. Because I am currently under the impression that it is much more likely that we will have a boy. And if that turns out to be the case, I will have to hold onto this little girl name for who knows how long. And my head might burst if someone hamster-fies it before I can use it.

Do not, I repeat, do not hamster-fy my little girl's name. That is all.

Who knew a tiny little kidney-bean-sized person could elicit such ridiculous thoughts?

Dear Tiny Little Half-Asian kpluBlet,

I honestly do not care if you are a tiny little girl or tiny little boy. You will be mine, and I will love the stuffing out of you. You will have a name worthy of your incredible little self. A good name. A strong name. A name that will give the world just the faintest glimpse at the foundation of your character. You will do the name proud, I have no doubt.

And speaking of names, little one, I am still unsure what I want to be called by you. Mommy, Momma, Mum, Maternal Keeper. It is a difficult thing, assigning a new name to myself. I just don't know what name fits, you know? I have half a mind to just let you decide; whatever comes out of your mouth first, that will be my name [unless your first word is gleba*]. Because, really, what name fully conveys Protector? Intercessor? Bear-Hugger? Tear-Wiper? Forevermore Cheerleader? Whatever that name is, that is who I want to be to you. 

Don't worry. We'll figure it out. We're going to be a great team.

*The fleshy, spore-bearing inner mass of a puffball. No thanks.

Secret Things #2: Surprises

January 26th, 2014 - Week 7

I love surprises. I hate secrets. It is a terribly frustrating conundrum.

I love to be surprised. I want to be surprised. But I cannot stand not knowing what the surprise is. Here's my ideal situation:  Plan to surprise me, and I mean really really surprise me. Then, tell me there is a surprise. I will then pester you for hints about the surprise until... I guess the surprise. But! Do not tell me when I have correctly guessed the surprise. Instead, give a subtle eyebrow raise and then pretend [but not too well] that I was not even close to guessing correctly. Once I have come to the conclusion that I have managed to correctly guess the surprise, I will ask a few more clarifying questions for hints [some of them entirely unrelated to the answer I now 98% suspect is the true surprise], shout out jubilantly that I have cracked your surprise, and then settle back satisfied with my interrogation. You will then ask me to say what I think the surprise is and I will refuse to tell you and say that I am content to find out if I'm right when the Big Reveal happens. End of scenario. Until a few hours have passed. And then rinse and repeat.

This is how I do surprises. I love them. But I hate the not knowing part of it. I am pretty sure this is a key reason why I always read the last chapter of books first and look up football scores before I watch the game and read the series finale summary of a TV show before I am even halfway through the first season. I have an impatient soul and do not mind spoilers in the least. It is a bad combination.

However! I am getting off topic [can you get off topic before you really even get on the topic?]. Surprises. I love/hate being surprised, but I also love/hate doing the surprising. And obviously, the kpluBlet is my biggest surprise/secret to reveal... in 27 years. I want to tell the world, and yet apparently riding the dog like it's a small horse is FROWNED UPON IN THIS ESTABLISHMENT. Ahem.

So, to keep myself from bursting with this stupidly exciting news this early on, I have instead decided to focus all of this ridiculous energy into A) treasuring a secret that only Jason and I know and B) concocting brilliant ways for the Big Reveal to happen with our families. It needs to be brilliant as this will be Grandchild Uno on both the Millard and Vermette sides of the spectrum.

It's a difficult thing, coming up with a way to announce, "The world is about to become awesome!" Since most of Jason's family is nearby, we're trying to come up with ideas for an in-person announcement, but my family is all far away, so we have to think of an equally excellent from-a-distance announcement.

You always hear, "I better not find out about [big life event] via [impersonal communication medium of choice]!" But, I never thought to ask... What is your acceptable/preferred method of finding out? Obviously, in person is as good as it gets, but when you have to announce long distance... Hm.

The other day, we had to spend some Kohls Cash. We didn't really find anything we wanted/needed at the time, but we had to spend the $10 that day or it would be wasted. So we meandered into the baby section and...  Baby booties. Done. Purchased.

They are adorable. I want to put them on Puma, but Jason feels this would be a bad idea. Instead, we are probably going to send them to my family as part of their announcement. I will be sad to see them go. They are tiny knitted blue bears. Their names are Bumpy and Stumpy. I hope they fully comprehend the magnitude of their job. They are bearers [get it? get it?] of grand news. I am excited.

Anyway. Most likely, we will settle on a very not-at-all creative, "normal", and un-brilliant way of telling the news. And, most likely, both of our families already have at least a slight suspicion that an announcement such as this is in the making. But maybe, perhaps, we can take them unawares. Maybe, perhaps. And really, that's the best part of a surprise/secret.

Until then, the kpluBlet is just our little secret. Mine and Jason's*. It is a profoundly special thing.

Who knew a tiny little blue-berry-sized person could create such immense excitement?

Dear Tiny Little Half-Asian kpluBlet,

How I already adore you. I hope you have Jason's eyes. And my nose.

I hear your fingers and toes are already forming. Good job, little kpluBlet. Learn to wiggle them like a pro. I'll let you in on a little secret: The more you wiggle your hand toes and foot fingers, the harder it will be for your daddy to put on your socks and gloves. Trust me. He loves the challenge. So, wiggle away!

I await your arrival.

*Actually, the check-out man at Kohls may also be in on the secret...  He looked at the baby booties, looked at my feet, and then looked at the booties again. When he asked if we had a little one at home, I said, "Not yet." I think he figured it out. Sorry, families! 

Secret Things #1: Tears

January 19, 2014 - Week 6

I dislike crying. I don't like the uncontrollable feeling of it. I don't like the My Eyes Are Falling Out of My Head feeling of the aftermath. And mostly, I dislike the overwhelming feelings of frustration, anger, and apparently pent-up emotions from bizarrely unrelated times and thoughts and situations.

I don't cry when I'm sad.
I don't cry when I'm happy.

I cry when I just cannot find another way to express my extreme frustrations. As soon as I start crying, I get even more frustrated that I'm crying and, thus, cry even more. It is a frustrating cycle. But at least it's predictable. I prefer it over crying at random times.

A couple of weeks ago, though, the weirdest thing happened.

I am currently reading a 12-book series called the A.D. Chronicles. I was in Book 2 at the time. One of the stories weaved into this tale was that of a leper colony. After chapters of reading about their misery and their abandonment and their hopelessness... The moment had come. Yeshua stepped into their lives. And He healed them all. One by one. Inside and out. He healed them all. And the weird thing? I read it and could not stop myself from crying.

I do not cry when I read books. I consume books. I analyze books. I read them, put them down, and move onto the next one. But here I was crying. For seemingly no apparent reason. And no feelings of frustration or anger. It was weird and baffling.

But I shrugged and moved on.

A few days later, I came upon a picture of a lady lying on top of a gigantic dog. I do not even remember the story that went with it. Just picture gigantic dog and woman. And when I saw it, I felt it. That terrible [in my opinion] feeling at the bridge of your nose and the back of your eyes and the middle of your throat and the base of your chest. That feeling of impending tears. Over this lady and her gigantic dog.

I knew then and there that something fishy was going on. Something was up, and it was getting out of hand.

*cue suspicious music*

When I have a problem or question to resolve, I become probably unhealthily obsessed with it. I just cannot get it out of my mind for more than an hour or so. With my current suspicions such a Big Deal, I could barely focus on anything else and yet I was determined to wait it out, be patient, let time tell. And if having "What if? What if? What if?  What if?!" circling in your head on repeat for two weeks counts as being patient, then I am the queen of all things patient.

Time came and went. My normally routine self officially became no longer routined. We let more time come and go. We set a date for The Test. Saturday. We would take The Test Saturday. A few hours later, I decided Friday would work just as well. And, a little while later, I decided, what the heck, that very evening would work best. Yes, Thursday evening would be for The Test. Perfect.

Some small bullet points:

• Shop-Rite is oddly devoid of Tests.
• Tests are pricier than I feel they should be.
• What I wished to make my Facebook status that day: "Sticks are meant for peeing."

I don't think that tiny blue line has quite set in yet. I kept staring at it while trying to contain my squeaking and hopping. It wasn't really a complete surprise as I had suspected there was a tiny little swimmer* inside of me for a couple of weeks now, but now it was confirmed. And my reaction? "I must find out how a pregnancy test works because otherwise it seems like a magic pee stick." Luckily, there were some nicely detailed, interactive demonstrations of the science behind the magic stick on the interwebs. Whew.

So. Now. I am beyond excited. What is beyond excitement? Just, indescribable joy.

Who knew a lentil-sized person could hold so much power over my emotions?  

Dear Tiny Little Half-Asian kpluBlet,

I saw my first shooting star a while back. I became so excited I nearly forgot to make a wish. I know Star Wishing isn't a real or practical thing, but it was on my list of Things I Must Do Based on Things I Read in Books. So I did it. I squinched my eyes up tightly and wished, wished, wished.

I wished for you upon a star.

You're my dream come true.

I cannot wait to shake your tiny little hand.

*Jason says I have to stop calling the kpluBlet the "little swimmer" as technically no more swimming is happening right now. But I can't help it. I am picturing our little kpluBlet just swimming and swimming and swimming, exploring the digs and finding all of the cozy places to hang out for the next 8 months.

The big news

So, you've probably heard the news and seen the pictures. There's a little person growing in Sharayah. We'll be meeting him or her in September. We're obviously super excited for the times to come.

It wasn't easy for us to keep the news a secret for so long. As soon as we heard the heartbeat and saw the ultrasound, it was all we could do to keep from telling the world. The day we saw the ultrasound, we made a video to tell Sharayah's parents. Since they live too far away to tell them in person, our plan was to send them a pair of baby shoes in the mail with a link to the video with the news (why we already had a pair of baby shoes is another story). But, about 3 minutes after making the video, we couldn't take it anymore. We immediately sent them the link online and kept the shoes, waiting anxiously to get a call from them to share in our excitement.

For my parents, the next weekend was their joint birthday celebration, so we were determined to wait for that to tell them. We made an awesome birthday card with multiple pages of amazing crayon-drawn stick-people. At the very end, after the nice note wishing them a happy birthday, was a secret bonus page with the news. Trying to coordinate their birthday plans all week without revealing that we had big news and were planning to hijack their party was crazy hard, but we made it. Then, before we got to the card, my grandma informs us that she would like great-grandchildren from us soon. I had to play dumb like she was putting on the pressure and we just weren't ready yet. In the end, I think the surprise went off really well.

Over the weeks we've been writing secret blogs about it that we haven't been able to put up here. Actually, most of them are Sharayah, and they're really good. Apparently she's better than I am at expressing her feelings. Anyway, probably most of them will be added in the coming weeks with time stamps indicating when they were actually written.

Now, if you're starting to worry that this is another general life story blog that's suddenly going to turn into a blog by some parents constantly talking about their kids, you have nothing to worry about. By that, I mean it's definitely going to happen, so don't worry about it. Neither of us thinks there's anything wrong with parents' lives mostly revolving around their kids, so as we continue to tell our life story here, that's what you're going to hear about.

I suppose the blog will need a name change, as well. Yes, we'll have to rename it "The Mathematician and His Asians." Sounds about right. Has a nice ring to it.

assortment of things

Last day of February. How did this happen.

Thing One:  We are beginning the process of de-Christmas-fying our apartment. Yes, we realize tomorrow is the first of March. Yes, we realize Christmas was over 2 months ago. But, more importantly, Jason realizes how much I love Christmas and all things wintery. It seems to make perfectly good sense that Winter = Christmas and so why shouldn't that lovely tree and twinkling lights stay around for the 3-month winter period? Good sense, I say.

Thing Two:  Following an argument to its logical end needs to be done more often. Seriously, folks.

Thing Three:  I am participating in Goodreads Reading Challenge this year. Honestly, I'm mostly doing it out of curiosity to see how many books I leisurely read in a given year rather than pushing myself to read more. I have a very modest goal of 75 books. I promise I will not include non-chapter/picture books. We will see how that goes.

Thing Four:  I am starting to get desires for a vacation. We have zero plans so far. This will not do. I still wish to relive my childhood memories of Disney World [especially since Jason has little to no memories of his Disney experiences], but I doubt this will be the year for that. So I will set my sights on something more probable. Maybe some place woodsy. Hmm...

Thing Five:  Yes, Jesus loved and served everyone. I just find it hard to believe that His love was manifested in sugarcoating sin and that He served by participating in the sin of others. No, love is not condemnation and hate. But, on the other hand, love does not always mean feelings of acceptance and happiness. It just doesn't. God is Love. Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. So, in a way, Love is Truth. The argument seems to inevitably come down to "Jesus is Love. What is love?" I think an equally valid question is, "Jesus is Truth. What is truth?" Everything is not relative. There are absolutes.

Thing Six:  Tomorrow, there will be a Big Birthday Bash Brunch for Jason's parents. They will be served food [which will hopefully be edible]. They will wear party hats. They will eat cake. They will open cards and/or gifts. They may or may not play a round of Pin the Tail on the Grandparents. Fun will be had. It is a requirement. FUN WILL BE HAD. No exceptions. End of story.

Thing Seven:  There is an obese pigeon on our patio.

To March!

Post-party pass-out.

unrelated to cats

A very exhausting winter semester is over. I think I'd like to teach the same class again, because it would be much more enjoyable without having to prepare everything from scratch again. This spring semester I don't have to teach anything, since I'm on a fellowship to just do research. Hopefully with so much time to devote to my research I can make a large amount of progress. I think I've had my fill of grad school. I'm ready to be done with it and get a real job. Goal for 2014 (if I didn't already say this): finish dissertation research. Ideally, finish dissertation as well, but I'll take finishing enough research that I can write the thing and graduate in spring 2015. There, now that it's out there I have to do it. Then I can go get a job.

Oddly enough, I think I prefer teaching to research. I thought that teaching would be boring, especially teaching the same thing more than once. Actually, I like trying to help people understand stuff, so teaching is interesting for me. I also like figuring out the best way to explain things, refining how I teach each topic each time I teach the same class. I'd like to see how well I could teach a class on the 7th or 8th try. I think by then I'd be really good. At any rate, hopefully I'll be able to find a place where I can do some research, but my main focus is on teaching. I like learning new things, especially new math. It's really interesting. I just don't enjoy so much the constant feelings of you-must-produce-new-research-right-now-at-this-very-moment. Maybe it gets easier over time, but at this point, it's not really my thing. I'd prefer research to be the enjoyable thing I do on the side to keep my brain stimulated while I teach.

This all got me thinking about the future. I tried to picture my life in 5 years and here's what I came up with. I imagine in 5 years or so we'll be all settled into a real house with a real yard somewhere in semi-rural Pennsylvania, maybe a dog running around the yard and a few little munchkins running around the house. I'll be a professor at some nice little school and I'll get to spend plenty of time with my little family at home.

In my head, when I tried to picture my life in 5 years, it was much more descriptive than that. Apparently on paper I'm just really fact/list based. Trying to get complex thoughts and feelings onto a page is not really easy for me. For example, this paragraph is also starting to sound like a list to me. But I do have thoughts. And feelings. Even though I'm a dude. I don't think I'm even out of touch with them. I just don't describe them well. Anyway. The future looks pretty good to me, even if I can't quite capture in words what I see there.

with our hands lifted high

the big moment

With another February comes another Super Bowl. And with another Super Bowl comes another unofficial anniversary. The anniversary of I Like a Boy.

It was a very weird moment. It seems like a forever ago, even though it has only been... what? Seven years? I had never, up to that point, ever allowed myself to admit in my head or even think that I truly liked a boy. This sounds less weird when you realize that, for me, this admission of liking someone simultaneously declared, "I will marry him one day."

I know there are many reasons [large and small, ridiculous and sensible] why I never let myself acknowledge liking someone, but chief among them was just the common sense factor of, "I can't see myself marrying him, so I cannot, must not, really like him like him. Don't be a dumb girl." [One of my biggest social motivators is to not be a "dumb girl." And in order not to offend the world of females, I will not go into more details about what qualifies as Dumb Girl-isms.] So, that was really my measuring stick for evaluating fellows, and no one, up to that point, had yet passed the test.

Until Jason.

There were two key moments that February 4, 2007. First, Peyton Manning won the Super Bowl. And second, I realized a boy had unknowingly satisfied all of my criteria for the "I like a boy and will marry him one day" test. Unfortunately, due to the second moment, I completely missed the first moment. Long-term, though, I suppose it was worth it.

I am glad that my way of approaching relationships did not scare Jason off from the get-go. I am glad we were already such good friends. I am glad all of our late night/early morning AIM chats had occurred, even at the expense of my sleep. I am glad he seemed to not only be able to take but also seemed to enjoy my incessant poking and picking and needling and pestering. And mostly, I am glad he did not think it ridiculous that admitting to myself that I liked him meant that I wanted to marry him. Instead, he decided it was a grand idea, and he married me.

I'm lucky to have found a man who wasn't afraid of my all-in-or-nothing approach to "dating." The very night we admitted to each other that we liked each other, I asked him how many kids he wanted to have. Marriage was a foregone conclusion. I liked that. I never had any doubts. I never had any anxiety. It just was to be.

So, here we are, four score and seven years later [minus four score]. It is February yet again, and yet again, Peyton Manning will be playing in the Big Game. I wish so badly for him to win, if only so the Seahawks lose [sorry, Seattle has just come across to me as an annoyingly cocky/arrogant team]. But, win or lose for the Broncos, it doesn't really matter. I still have Jason, the only man I have ever truly liked, and the only one man enough to put his pants on two legs at a time.

Cheers, love.

Best pals.

winter things

This winter I'm teaching Calculus 2 at UD. Our school does something a little weird (at least it was new to me). After Christmas break, there's a short winter semester. Students can take a 5 week class in January and the first week of February, kind of like a summer class. The regular spring semester won't start until the 2nd week of February. I think it's pretty strange, since students who only take classes in the normal semesters basically have 7 weeks off for Christmas break. Not that I'd complain if I were them.

Anyway, that's how I find myself teaching a 4-credit class in 5 weeks. I haven't taught Calc 2 in a long time (actually I've only been a TA for it, never the instructor...) so it's been fun remembering all that stuff. It always surprises me how much sense it makes when I come back to it. It's all so much clearer than when I was a student. It's very challenging to try to help people understand it better than I did when I learned it, but that's usually my goal. I try to teach things in a logical structured way (being naturally meticulous and obsessive helps, though it takes a long time) and so far most of my students are doing better than I expected. Calc 2 is definitely a hard class and I'm not taking it easy on them.

I've learned something a little odd since I left ORU. The little dinky school I came from actually had a more difficult standard in our math classes than at the big schools I've taught at. We learned quite a few things (and went into more difficult cases on other things) that I'm not supposed to cover here. The selection of higher level classes is obviously bigger at a state school (you can't take grad level classes your senior year of undergrad at a school that doesn't even have a graduate program), but for the undergrad level classes I've been pleasantly surprised to find out that the courses I took at my little Oklahoma school taught me just as thoroughly (and often moreso) than I would have learned at a big state school.

Sharayah and I went to a hockey game this past week (while my students were all studying for their first exam, I was in Philly watching the Flyers :-p). We were in the really high up seats, which was actually really cool. You can see the whole rink from up there, but it's not so far that you can't see the action. I don't really watch any hockey most of the time. I just know the rules from video games from back in the day. The things those guys can do with a stick and a hockey puck are just unreal. I even thought their warm-up was impressive. It looked choreographed how well they all skated around each other, crowded in because each team had 20 guys on the ice, passing and skating and shooting. If you ever get a chance, get the really good (i.e. far away and high up!) seats at a hockey game and show up an hour early to see them warm up.

Yesterday we had 3rd (4th?) Christmas at my parents' house. Then we watched the Broncos handle the Patriots and win a spot in the Super Bowl. I'm looking forward to watching that game. I always think it's fitting when the two top-seeded teams make it to the Super Bowl. It's more exciting that way. Let's hope the better team wins.

no small plans

I have a goal for this year.

Yes, yes, I want to exercise more, pray more, love more, read more, etc., etc., etc.

But I have another goal. I want to jot it down so that I can look at it, read it, remind myself whenever I find myself losing focus throughout the year. I want to hold myself accountable. I want to hold my thoughts accountable.

My goal this year is to be proud and unashamed of my dreams and ambitions.

It sounds a bit cheesy written out like that. But the deed is done. This is my goal for 2014. It will require less physical action than exercising and praying and loving and reading, but I know it will be mentally challenging. I think I am up for it.

Being "book smart" has always been my "thing." I have never been good at socializing with random people. My small talk skills end abruptly at "Hi." I have never had much fashion sense. If someone told me to wear something, I only asked, "How?" and did it. I feel like I was never able to get past mediocre when it came to athletic abilities. And my mediocre is just not good enough to put on public display. So, luckily, I had my academic intelligence, my one "talent."

I am not sure what determines people's "smart" levels. Perhaps it is just some inherent capacity for knowledge and logic or maybe it is purely a hard-work mentality or maybe, more likely, it is just some balanced combination of the two. However it is come by, I knew I had it. I knew I had the potential to accomplish anything I could possibly want... in any "smart" job field I could possibly want.

But, there was obstacle one. What profession did I want? What title would I want to be identified by for the majority of my adult life? Did I want to be Sharayah the Chemist? Or maybe Sharayah the Veterinarian? How did Sharayah the Computer Programmer sound? I could be a lawyer, or an actuary, or an engineer, or a mathematician [ha, no, I could not be a mathematician]. I could be nearly anything if I put my time and effort into it. I had the potential, and I was well aware of it. I just had no strong leanings one way or the other [science! is not a specific enough leaning as it turns out].

So, since imagining myself as an adult and planning out the rest of my life was a bit daunting, I switched gears. What would I enjoy learning about? Learning was a big part of my "thing." I read. I learned. I read some more. I learned some more. Whether it was how to be a good boy scout [I once built a stable ladder out of branches and rope (for spying on the neighbors, which, I suppose, is not so boy-scout-worthy)] or how to run a chicken farm or even just how to make toothpaste... I found it all fascinating to read and learn about. And what is college but 4 years of your life dedicated to learning? I knew I would love college. I would learn new things.

Armed with my excitement to learn, I chose to learn about engineering. It was a good solid "smart" choice of a field. Smart people became engineers. What an excellent choice. So, off to ORU I went. It was like living in a gigantic book-come-to-life. Learning was everywhere.

One of the first things I learned was that I wasn't as smart as my SAT scores may have led me to believe. Nearly every single one of my friends was a better student than I was. They got better grades. They understood things quicker. They also all were "learners" and being "smart" was their "thing." I was not special by any stretch of the imagination. They all were aspiring doctors and programmers and engineers and lawyers, and for good reason:  They all seemed to know what they wanted to do/be, and they were all smart enough to be able to achieve it.

And then there was me. I was learning new things in all of my classes, but I still had no strong ambitions one way or the other for a profession. I knew I could do anything, but I had nothing I truly wanted to do. I felt completely devoid of ambition and 10-year plans and professional aspirations. My "I'll just learn things!" mentality sounded absolutely stupid, but what could I do but carry through with it?

Things started off a bit bumpier than I would have liked. I remember living out one semester that felt like one of my recurring academic nightmares:  I am sitting at a desk taking a test for a class that I don't remember attending but that is completely crucial to my curriculum, and how I do will determine if I pass or fail... at life. Except that this was worse than a nightmare, because it was real. I knew it was real because I had to walk to my Chick-fil-a shift after the test wanting to curl up and die because I just knew I was going to get a D in the class, if not an F. I had done poorly all semester, so I knew I was deserving of such a grade, but the truth didn't make it any less awful of a realization. And what would I do if I failed a class? What would my family say? What would my friends think? Learning and being "smart" was supposed to be my "thing." How can you fail at your own "thing"? I was miserable.

I did not fail the class. In fact, I got a B, which was a full letter better than I could have ever hoped or considered begging for. To this day, I still think something get tweaked weirdly in the totaling of my scores, but I was not going to question it. [Is this bad? Oh well...] Fail or not, I do not think I ever fully recovered my self-confidence from that class. Add to that some other rough grades and a messed up schedule that led to pre-requisite issues, which necessitated taking a year longer to graduate, and I left ORU feeling like an utter failure.

I was still terrible at making small talk, though I had somehow managed to fool some people into thinking I wasn't an uncomfortable social mess. I still defined my fashion style as "little to no effort and everything goes with flip flips, right?" If anything, I had become less skilled in athletic things, and much less willing to show off my bumbling coordination. And, to top it off, I was now completely aware of how I measured up academically. If pickles were sad, I would say I was a very sad pickle [but everyone knows that pickles are happy foods].

Note:  All of life was not sad. I had Jason. And if I was a sad pickle, he would be my ever-supportive sauerkraut. Life truly was good.

So, I now had a degree in engineering. I briefly looked into engineering jobs or jobs that would use my degree and what remained of my "smarts." But... I just didn't want to be an engineer. I had learned about it. I had completed what I set out to do. I had zero interest in working in the field. I had zero interest in going in to sit in a cubicle every day. I didn't care about being a professional woman. Not one iota. But I knew I needed to do something so others wouldn't think I was worthless [I realize how dumb this sounds but emotions are sometimes not logic bound].

By the grace of the One who is Always Good, I took a course in medical transcription and found a job that I have enjoyed for the past 2 years. I am good at transcription. I received a 99.7% score on my first quality review and have received nothing but 100% on all the rest. It's not really a job that requires a high level of intelligence, just hard work and quick fingers. I am entirely blessed to have spent the past 2 years in this line of work.

But.

There's a part of me that cannot shake off the feeling that this job is not truly a profession, that it is not really a worthy use of time for someone with an engineering degree who used to believe she could conquer whatever professional world she pleased. She considers her academic intelligence to be her "thing"? Look at her now. What a fool. What a waste.

There is still a part of me that has subconsciously bought into the lie that my identity and purpose lies in the professional job title that I hold. I hate it.

I am aware of this lie's hold on my perspective, and I hate it. It is a mindset that is based on pride and insecurities. It is a mindset that is flaunted everywhere in society. People are so much more than their jobs. I am so much more than my job.

A while back, I was struck by how much I had allowed myself to be sucked into this idea of success = job = identity [as if my feelings of failure after graduating weren't enough of a sign]. I have married into a very professionally ambitious family. Intelligence runs through the Vermettes like soy sauce through rice [yum, rice!]. Everyone has a "smart" job, a job or aspiration that is befitting of their talents and "smarts." Anyway, during one particular conversation, it came to the dreaded [by me] Naming of the Prestigious Professions Represented. "So and so is this. So and so is that. What's His Name is this. What's Her Name is that." Engineers, doctors, computer programmers, lawyers, mathematicians. It seemed like everyone was someone. Except me.

I do not fault the person for the oversight. I know it was not on purpose. I know it was not meant to be hurtful. Professionally, I just don't represent much. And normally, I am okay with that. Time has passed since graduating and deciding to do MT work for the time being. The sting of what I felt to be academic/professional/personal failure has worn off slightly. I don't have lofty professional goals and I accept this as perfectly acceptable. Most of the time.

Just, for some reason, at that particular time, the reminder that I do not, and will not, ever fit into one of those proud listings of jobs was crushing. And I only have my ambitionless self to blame. It's ridiculous, I know, but when I brought the whole thing up to Jason some time later, I cried. I blabbered on and on about how stupid the world was [yes, this is generally how I express my frustrations] and how stupid I was for not wanting to make something of myself and how I was sorry he married such a stupid failure [stupid is my choice word].

Mid-blabber, he stopped me. He told me I was being silly. And he reminded me that I had the best professional ambitions in the world. He told me my professional ambition was one of the reasons he married me. And he finally voiced the heart of my conflict:  Of all people, despite everything I railed against, I had somehow bought into the lie that identity and success came through a professional job title.

It was an eye-opening moment for me.

Jason knows my one and only job aspiration. I want to be a mom. That has been the only "long-term" plan that I have ever had for my life, from childhood onward. When filling out engineering job applications, they would often ask for my 5-year plan. The only thing I could ever think to put there was, "Be a stay-at-home mom. Raise amazing kids. Bombard the world with adorableness." And Jason is fully supportive of this plan. I have never had any kind of professional ambitions like become a CEO or save lives in an operating room or build giant airplanes or even be a zookeeper [zookeepers can be professionals!] for the duration of my adult life. No, I have only ever truly, strongly, solely wanted to be a mom. That is my end goal. Everything else is peripheral.

Allowing myself to believe that being "just a mom" is somehow less admirable, respectable, and worthy simply because "anyone can be a mom" is a lie I am choosing to no longer believe. It is no longer an acceptable thought or mindset. Anyone can be a mom [if they are of the female gender, of course], but no one can be the kind of incredible mom that I can and will be. I take pride in that, and not what I can do to bring in money.

So. Goal for 2014:  To be proud and unashamed of my dreams and ambitions. Make no small plans here.

Oh, also:

• Exercise more...
• Pray more...
• Love more...
• Read more...

To all a good night.

I can also do bullets

Christmas was good this year. We got some fun stuff, including some cool new board games like:

• Pandemic - the game where you're all on a team (so everyone loses together!) fighting to stop 4 super-viruses from destroying all life on earth (at least, all human life). By the way, Amazon's description says it takes about an hour to play, but I disagree. You can lose much, much more quickly than that. It's actually quite challenging, but we have won a couple times.
• Catan: Seafarers - an expansion for Settler's of Catan that adds boats and islands and other things to the game. We haven't played this one yet but we read through the instructions and it sounds like a cool addition to an already great game. There are about 8 different variations you can play using this one expansion.
• Ticket to Ride - actually, we got this for ourselves with gift cards, but I think that counts. This game is much less stressful than Pandemic, because nobody dies, ever. You just build trains. Ahh. Trains. There are little paths across the US and you have to complete certain train routes between various cities. Now that I think of it, you're probably not building trains; you're building tracks. Unless there are trains that reach from LA to San Francisco. But it looks like you're building a train. (This paragraph was supposed to read "I don't really know how to describe how this game is played, but it's a lot of fun," but Sharayah said I had to make an attempt. So that was my attempt.)
• Morels - a game about foraging for mushrooms, which Sharayah always wins (because mushrooms), and which my dad thought was a book about safely foraging and eating wild mushrooms when he bought it for us.

We also got a food dehydrator that we're looking forward to trying out, a couple Lego video games, some books, and other cool things from our awesome families. (Oh, also we enjoyed spending time with family). It was a good end to an overall good year.

Since apparently I'm using Sharayah's bullet point style for this post, here are some notables from the past year:

• Our lovely 5th anniversary cruise, taken 4 months early in January.
• Many, many trips to Longwood Gardens and the zoo.
• Our actual 5th anniversary.
• David and Becky's California wedding.
• Our epic road trip to Wyoming and the fun times had while there.
• Visiting the newlyweds in DC and seeing some touristy stuff like the Smithsonian.
• Part two of the corn maze and the massive pumpkin patch.
• Our NYC half marathon with breaks for magical pizza.
• Winning 2nd place in soccer.
• The snowiest of Christmas tree hunts, and the equally adventurous drive to and from the tree farm.
• Peyton Manning breaking all kinds of records (most of the ones he didn't already own, and a few of the ones he did).

Yep, it was a pretty good year. So now a new year has begun. Things to do this year:

• See some cool people get married.
• Go to a hockey game.
• Teach classes.
• Finish PhD research.
• Work on arithmetic.
• Become better people.
• Think of more things to do this year.