The nursing program at my local college has various hoops of different sizes and types to jump through in order to gain admission into the program. Some are simple and low to the ground. Others are spiked and on fire.

The health records required just to get into the nurse aide training class would be the latter variety of hoop. It requires a self-history, asking you to remember such things as the year and the MONTH you had chicken pox as a child. Then there is the required immunization charts that must be up to date.

After that, a full physical must be performed by your doctor, and your doctor must administer not one, but TWO tuberculosis tests, 7 days apart. Only after all of this has been completed, faxed to the Health Records Office, and given a processing time of 5 business days, are you given permission to register for this damn class.

Spiked and on fire, I tell you.

Today was my physical and the first TB test. My doctor is out on maternity leave right now, so I set up an appt. with her stand-in. Nice doctor – she took the time to get to know me, and discuss past health issues and such. I told her of the fatigue I had, and we agreed it was probably due to having far too much on my plate at the moment. We both agreed that some of the moles I have should be looked at by a dermatologist just to play it safe.

And then came the breast exam. I started to notice something was off when she spent a little too long on the right breast. Then she asked me, “Have you ever noticed your breasts being particularly lumpy?” Well, no, not really. Then she had me feel an area on the top, where I did, in fact, feel an area that was harder than the tissue around it, and smooth.

I didn’t think much of it, until she said she wanted to refer me for an ultrasound of that area. “You don’t have anything like that on the left breast, so I want to just play it safe and check it out.” she told me.

The remainder of the visit was a bit of a blur, to be honest. My antidepressant dose was upped ever so slightly to see if it helped with the fatigue. I was given a referral to a dermatologist. The TB test was administered, and I set up an appointment to return on Thursday for bloodwork and to check the results of the TB test.

I also left with instructions for the ultrasound. It isn’t something to have checked out sometime in the future – it’s tomorrow morning, first thing. I’ll be going to the Breast Care clinic at OSU – which is a fancy name for where they treat those with breast cancer. I’m sure the “hardened tissue area” is probably nothing, but I find myself more than a little nervous at the possibilities.

Suddenly the paperwork and TB test doesn’t seem all that bad of a hoop to jump through.

First, I had no idea people would love my wrestling commentary. Maybe I am missing my calling? Seriously, this child kicked my ass this weekend. She’s picked up some new moves that I wasn’t prepared for at all. I’m tempted to move her into pull-ups, just because it would be easier to change her that way. I thought giving a cat a bath was difficult, but this, well, this is far worse.

Friday we had a failed attempt at going to the zoo. It sounded like such a simple plan: Aaron, Cordy and I would go to the zoo and meet up with another couple with child, all do lunch, then walk around the zoo together. Well, it seemed like a good plan, but apparently it was the plan that every other parent in Columbus chose as well. I’ve never seen the zoo so crowded. We tried to find food, but the shortest lines were probably at least a 30-40 minute wait. Yes, you read that right: that was the wait for food, not some new and exciting ride. Crazy. In the debate over what to do, we ended up leaving on our own and taking Cordy to Olive Garden.

Saturday we had friends over to the house and we hosted a small dinner party. As I think I’ve mentioned before, I’m no cook, so it was off to Whole Foods in the morning to pick up some mostly-prepared dinner. I chose spinach and cheese manicotti, bison burgers, grilled vegetables, salad, and chocolate cake. Yum!

We also got the biggest financial setback of the past few months on Saturday. Aaron took his car to the mechanic because the brakes were acting funny. Turns out the back brakes were pretty much gone, and it would cost $650 to replace them entirely. Now, we just had the brakes serviced less than 6 months ago, but it was just the front brakes. You’d think they would have let us know at that time that the back brakes would need replacing soon, but they didn’t. We need both of our cars (that rant will be saved for another day), and we can’t afford another car at the moment, so we had to pay for the fix. I think the car has now doubled in value.

And then there was Easter. Cordelia had been an angel on Friday and Saturday, so we should have realized it wasn’t going to last. It didn’t. I’m not going into details at the moment (because I’ve entered the details into Queen of Spain’s contest), but let’s just say this mommy needed a stiff drink when she got home.

Finally, the highlight of my weekend:

Cordy is now drinking from a sippy cup without assistance!! Long ago I wrote of our struggles with the sippy cup. Cordy spent many months using us as her personal cup bearers, too high-born to dirty her hands with the menial task of holding her own cup when she’s drinking. But over the past week, she’s mostly stopped bringing the cup to us so we can hold it for her.

How did we do it? Well, it’s clear that’s a hot topic, since I get several Google searches for it weekly. Truth is: I really don’t know. She finally just gave in, I guess. There were several times I played dumb and didn’t hold it high enough for her to get any liquid. She would then get frustrated and grab the cup away, as if to say, “Sheesh, lady, can’t you do anything right?” If you’re going through the sippy cup battle, I say to you: it will end at some point. It’s sucky advice, but it’s all I got.

Announcer1: Welcome to MNT Wrestling**! We’re LIVE in Columbus, OH tonight, and this promises to be an exciting show, folks!

Announcer2: That’s right, JR, tonight’s main event is sure to be one for the record books. It’s a repeat match-up between Mommy Dearest and her arch rival, the Toddler Tornado.

A1: They’ve met in the ring several times over the past year. You may remember, King, Mommy Dearest was the undisputed champion for most of that year.

A2: Yes, JR, but these past few months have seen the Toddler Tornado back in the gym, working harder than ever to take down Mommy Dearest and claim the MNT Wrestling World Title. Will she be able to take down Mommy Dearest, who clearly has her beat in height and weight?

A1: Mommy Dearest may have her beat in the numbers, but remember, this is a diaper match. Numbers don’t matter much in this type of match if you have the speed and agility to outwit your opponent. I think she’s got a trick or two up her sleeve tonight, King. Let’s watch.

Ring Announcer: The following event is a diaper match. The winner of this match will be determined as follows: Mommy Dearest will be declared the victor if she secures a new diaper on Toddler Tornado. Should Toddler Tornado escape before the new diaper is secure, she will be awarded the win.

First up is the champion, weighing in at *cough*hack*cough* pounds, the mom with the smarts, Mommy Dearest! *cheers*

And her opponent, weighing in at 28 pounds 12 ounces, the kid with a kick, it’s the Toddler Tornado! *cheers*

*DING DING DING*

A2: And Mommy Dearest starts out with a sneak attack! She comes up from behind and scoops up Toddler Tornado! What a move!

A1: Much better than her old tactic of announcing her actions.

A2: That’s for sure. But the Toddler Tornado is retaliating with a shriek and squirming. It seems Mommy Dearest has the lock on her, though.

A1: And Mommy Dearest has now put Toddler Tornado on her back! This may be over before it even starts!

A2: The pants are off, and Toddler Tornado has to realize that if she doesn’t make her move soon, she’s a goner. Now the old diaper is off!

A1: But Toddler Tornado is up! She’s resisting the hold with all her might, her upper body up and attempting to roll away from Mommy Dearest!

A2: Yes, JR, Mommy Dearest made a critical mistake. She let up on her grip in order to reach for the baby wipes, allowing Toddler Tornado the chance to use her Rolling Thunder hold break.

A1: Now the two competitors are locked in a struggle for control! Mommy Dearest is attempting to pin Toddler Tornado, but this small competitor is resisting. Look at that passion!

A2: Is the Toddler laughing at Mommy Dearest? What a slap in the face!

A1: Mommy Dearest has positioned the new diaper now, but can she get it on Toddler Tornado?

A2: The Toddler Tornado looks like she’s giving up! Mommy Dearest is drawing in closer now.

A1: Oh! My! Gawd! It was a fakeout! Toddler Tornado is now using her signature Flailing Legs move! Mommy Dearest can’t get a hand near her! What a slobberknocker of a fight!

A2: Look at those legs go! But you’ve got to give Mommy Dearest credit – she’s taken several kicks to the legs and stomach, but keeps going!

A1: Uh-oh, Toddler Tornado seems to be tiring out. The Flailing Legs move took too much out of her, and now Mommy Dearest has her pinned in the Double Leg Lock! The diaper is on! It’s all over! It’s all over!

*DING DING DING*

A2: Tune in tomorrow for a handicap match with Toddler Tornado versus tag team partners Mommy Dearest and Big Bad Voodoo Daddy!

** MNT = Mothers ‘n Toddlers Wrestling

I was double teamed and tagged by both Sandra and Emily for this little meme. Had it been one, I might have been able to fight it off, but two tags? I can’t resist.

So, I shall join the crowd and present to you six weird facts/things/habits about myself, then suck six more people into the game. Sing it with me – this is the meme that nev-er ends, it just goes on and on my friends…

Six Things To Use Against Me Someday:

1. I’m more than a little obsessed with death. Not in a “want to die” kind of way – I just find the whole process interesting. Had I really discovered who I really was earlier in life, I probably would have gone into forensic science.

2. I am a life-long nail-picker. My nails are short, ragged, and ugly, and always have been. While some people bite their nails, I pick at them and peel them away. It’s a nervous habit that I’ve tried to break (it was even one of my resolutions this year), but I have yet to succeed for more than a month. Sometimes I don’t even realize I’m doing it.

3. I can’t whistle. Not at all. I’ve tried and tried, but I can’t get a single steady note out. Put your lips together and blow? Yeah, right, not for me. I am whistle deficient.

4. For genetics geeks: in high school biology class, we learned that everyone has unattached or attached earlobes. One or the other. (I don’t remember which one is dominant and which is a recessive gene.) While learning who had what trait in class, we discovered that I am a freak of nature, for I have one attached earlobe, and one unattached earlobe. That didn’t help with my teenage awkwardness. At all.

5. My first boyfriend is now gay, my second boyfriend is thought to be gay. I’ve had great luck in falling for gay guys. In college I had a gay friend with the same taste in men. We had a pact: when we’d both go for a guy, whichever way he swung, that person got him, and the other would be happy for them. Let’s just say I spent most of those years without a date.

6. I worked at the Ohio Renaissance Festival as a costumed performer for 10 years. Many of the friends I have today I met there, and I met my husband there also. I was a member of the Queen’s Court, meaning my character was in the rich upper-class nobility, which meant I wore a corset under 35 pound velvet, jeweled dresses on 90 degree days. I spoke with a British accent, knew my history of the period in and out, and spent those weekends behaving as a proper 16th century lady. I was also the understudy for Queen Elizabeth.

Yes, I was totally insane, and I loved it. Aaron still performs his stage act (with his partner) for smaller renaissance faires, and has two shows coming up in the next month.

There you have it: weirder than Martha Stewart, but far more normal than Tom Cruise.

And now, to tag six more victims lucky participants.

1. Carrcakes
2. Life with Aveline
3. Mommy Does it All
4. Motherhood Uncensored
5. Queen of Spain
6. Red Stapler

The Rules (aka the Fine Print):
1. Reveal six weird facts/things/habits about yourself and then tag six people

2. Leave a “You’re Tagged!” comment to let the people you have tagged know they have to reveal six things. (Because they obviously are people who don’t read your blog.)

3. Leave me a comment letting me know that you have completed your mission (if you have chosen to accept it!)

Right before Cordelia was born, my mom and I were talking about my childhood. She told me that to this day she still feels guilty for not giving me enough of her time. After the divorce, she was a single mom, with an associates degree in laboratory technology, trying to make a living for herself and her child. She worked long hours and bad shifts (3-11pm), waiting for the day she would have more seniority and could ask for better hours.

Her advice, from one mother to her daughter, was to always take sick time to be with your kids. When I was sick as a child, my mom often called up her mom. My grandmother would come watch me while my mom went to work, because my mom felt that her employer needed her more at the time. “Never think that your work needs you more than your child. Because later you’ll look back and realize they didn’t need you. Your child needed you more. Someone can always replace you at work, but no one can take the place of a mother.” (Incidentally, I should point out that my mom really did make most choices with my best interests in mind. Her guilt is unfounded, because I know she did so much for me.)

She knew my grandmother was never all that happy with coming to stay with me. She thought I was hyperactive (I was a kid) and thought my mom wasn’t strict enough with me. I didn’t like her much because she was so strict and seemed to have a “suck it up” attitude far too strong to force on a young child. There was a large generation gap between us that couldn’t be crossed. But my grandmother was my mom’s only lifeline for these situations, so she called on her. I would be stuck on the couch, eating only chicken soup and drinking 7-up while my grandmother sat across the room and crocheted in silence.

Grandma also resented having to watch me because she felt her days of child-rearing were done. She had raised her three girls well: one became a leader in the business world, another got her PhD and was a professor and chief librarian at a big-name university, and the youngest, well, the youngest continued the family line with a daughter. She saw no need to be involved in my life more than absolutely necessary. Plus, no one in my family is very emotional. Stoic, reserved, cool – all can be used to describe them. Her hands-off approach led to my mom feeling very alone, and me feeling like she was someone I couldn’t relate to at all.

It was no surprise, then, when my mom informed that she planned to be a hands-on grandmother. And oh how she has! She volunteered one of her days off each week to drive 45 min. north to watch Cordy when I’m at work. She is happy to see us any chance she can get. We’ve even been lucky enough to take two working vacations, with my mom staying at our house to watch Cordelia.

It amazes me to see what aspects of our mothers we choose to embrace and which we choose to reject. My mom, while still not nearly as emotional as me, has cast off the stoic nature of generations past. She hugs Cordy, she’s animated in talking to her, and she is genuinely warm to her. Mom doesn’t see it as a burden to help care for Cordy; in truth, mom always wanted more children, and this is her way of getting to live that dream. I don’t yet know all the aspects of my mom that I will incorporate into my parenting, but my devotion to my daughter is sure to be one of them.

It seems the young can affect the older as well. My grandmother, the hands-off, uninterested matriarch, generally travels up with my mom each week to spend the day with Cordy. Yes, she actually wants to come along. She seems to really enjoy spending time with this 3rd generation descendant of hers. Of course, I have to hear a lot of unwanted advice that is closer to the 1701 book than modern parenting styles, but I don’t mind the lectures in exchange for seeing her look so happy when Cordy graces her with a “dance”.

And so we have four generations, three of which are mothers, and all three of those generations have their own parenting styles. I’ll admit I look forward to seeing what Cordy will become: how she will absorb some of our traits, and how she will also discard some of her history in favor of her own ways. I think it will also be exciting to see the changes in all of us as a result of her as well.