Category: Jenny is a nerd

So, last night I was reading through my 100 Things About Me, and I thought it might be fun to tell you the stories behind some of my 100 Things.

Let’s start with #68: I didn’t learn to swim until I took a swimming class in college. I was the only one in the class who couldn’t swim.

I like to give my mom a hard time about the fact that my older brothers had swimming lessons and I never did. I guess when you have that third child, you start slacking off about whether or not they’ll survive the local swimming pool.

When I was in college, I decided to take “Beginning Swimming” because they were forcing me to take P.E. credits to graduate and I was paying good money for this education so why not learn something I needed to learn? I know, a novel idea.

Well, let me just say, that even though it was “Beginning Swimming”, I was the only idiot in the class who couldn’t go under water without holding her nose. For SOME reason, this caused the other students and the teacher to treat me like I was special. I became the class pet. A twenty-year-old who was encouraged to learn to breathe underwater in much the way we encourage our five-year-olds to learn to ride a bike without training wheels.

It was kinda weird.

But, in a very positive way.

When we were learning to dive, the teacher had to push me in. I was so petrified, I couldn’t quite force myself to tip forward into the cool blue liquid classroom. I did a complete somersault. But I came back up to the surface, and everyone cheered for me. Pretty soon I was diving on my own, and swimming the length of the pool. Still much slower than everyone else, but I was doing it. As the semester went on, I got better, and I was able to relax, and have fun. After awhile I began coming to the pool to actually swim for exercise. Crazy, right!?

At the end of the semester, I was sad to see the class end. I was really proud of myself – I honestly think that was the first skill I ever learned as an adult. And it was gratifying to see my peers encourage and help me – to kind of take me on as a class project, almost.

Sadly, I have not swum a lap in years now, but with a little practice, I think I still could.

For a long time when I looked back on that class, I would still feel only embarrassment at being the only student who couldn’t really swim, for being a big kid who still had the skills of a little kid. But now, I think of my fellow students, of the help they gave me, and I think that what is really worth remembering about that class is that a group gathered around to encourage one of their own who was nervous, timid, and anxious about the situation. They could have just done their strokes and earned their easy A, but most of them took time to help and encourage me.

How often do we as adults see others in our peer group struggling and offer to help? Maybe it is a new mom at church who seems overwhelmed and needs someone to tell her that they’ve been there (or offer to watch her baby while she gets a nap!) and that it will get easier. Maybe a teenager or college-age girl who seems lost, who needs someone to listen, to offer guidance, and talk of lessons learned.

I know life is busy. I often feel overwhelmed myself, but I have found it to be very true that I usually feel better when I am focused on helping someone else. I don’t love making my own dinner, but I take joy in preparing a meal for a family who’s been sick or has a new baby. I like having other people’s kiddos over to play for a couple of hours. I like finding a needed item on sale for a friend.

So why don’t I do it more often?

I let life get in the way. I close my eyes while I’m doing the backstroke and don’t see the person in the lane next to me struggling to stay afloat. Because I’m not looking.

I want to change that. I want to make my strokes more deliberate, turn my head to the left, to the right, rinse out my goggles and see what’s around me. Maybe there is someone who can move from special ed to the head of the class with just a little encouragement from me.

What can it hurt? It’s not like anyone actually has to see me in a swim cap!

If you are related to Jenny, if you’re her kids’ teacher, if you go to her church, if you have ever laid eyes on her, or if you even stumble across this blog… your house is going to smell great this year, because look what Jenny’s giving you for Christmas!

That’s right. Jenny’s on a Glade candle kick again.

You may remember this post, when Jenny told us about buying 12 Glade candles. Or this one, in which she bought 10. Or in any number of other posts, in which, according to my rough estimation, she purchased at least 51 additional glade candles.

And you may also remember this post, in which I gently encouraged Jenny to SEEK HELP for her disorder.

But, alas, she did not heed my warning, and she is at it again.

That stash in that picture up there? She tells me that she got paid about $14 to buy them. You know, by using coupons and witchcraft and other assorted trickery.

I think she probably stuffed them under her shirt and took off.

And guess what she’s doing right this minute?? Going to Target to buy more.

The girl is nuts. Nuts, I tell you!

So Merry Christmas from Jenny. I hope you have some matches.

*****
If you’d like to become addicted to get some Glade candles for free too, check out Marcy’s post here! NOT that I am promoting hoarding (*ahem*JENNY*ahem*).

Every morning when I wake up, the first thing I do is put on a pair of shoes. Not slippers, or “house shoes” as I would call them if I was OLD, but real shoes. Crocs, as a matter of fact, my Malindi’s or Olivia’s usually. I leave them next to my bed when I take them off at night so I can put them right back on in the morning. You see, being pregnant flattened out my feet, and it hurts them to go barefoot. So as soon as they hit the floor, they hit my shoes! As a matter of fact, I am currently rocking these shoes (which Bobby got me for our last anniversary, cause he knows what I likes):

With polka-dot pajama pants I’ve had since college and a giant sweatshirt Bobby’s parents gave me the first Christmas we were dating (it’s definitely “vintage”.)

We all have our little quirks, things that we do that make us in a small way, radically different from everyone else we know. It’s fun for me to see these quirks develop in my kids. Sophie, for instance, cannot stand to have her feet covered by blankets. She always has to have them sticking out of the covers. Joshua has to have his socks pulled up all the way, as far as they will possibly go, or he cannot bear to get on with his day.

(Hmm. I just realized we all have foot-related quirks!)

I’m getting to the age where I can actually start appreciating my quirks. I mean the fact that I have to sleep with white noise like an infant and have a glass of chocolate milk with Hershey’s syrup first thing every morning are just some things that make me me.

So tell me, what makes you or your kids Quirktastic?