Lose vs. Loose- Learn the difference people!

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Image courtesy of David Castillo Dominici at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Image courtesy of David Castillo Dominici at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

This has got to be one of my biggest pet peeves. I’m reading some articles online today doing some research for work. In one particular article, the author continuously uses loose instead of lose. I literally can not finish the article because I am so annoyed. It’s possible that I am slightly extra grouchy today because of the fact I was wide awake in bed last night from 2 am-5:30 am. Or maybe it’s because it’s 12 degrees outside today. Or maybe Jupiter is aligning improperly with the rest of the dag-on planets and now my aura is off or something. All I know is grown people should KNOW the difference between lose and loose.

Thank you dictionary.com for the following definitions:

loose

[loos]  Show IPA adjective, loos·er, loos·est, adverb, verb, loosed, loos·ing.

adjective

1. free or released from fastening or attachment: a loose end.
2. free from anything that binds or restrains
3. uncombined, as a chemical element.
4. not bound together: to wear one’s hair loose.
5. not put up in a package or other container: loose mushrooms.

lose

[looz]  Show IPA verb, lost, los·ing.

verb (used with object)

1. to come to be without something in one’s possession or care
2. to fail inadvertently to retain something
3. to suffer the deprivation of: to lose one’s job; to lose one’s life.
4. to be bereaved of by death: to lose a sister.
5. to fail to keep, preserve, or maintain: to lose one’s balance; to lose one’s figure.So, are the differences clear here? Lose is a verb- which means you can lose some money (not loose some money) or lose your job (not loose your job).  Loose is used as an adjective (a descriptive word remember); your clothes are too loose, or your dog could get loose.Often times if you say the sentence in your head and the word you want ends in a ‘z’ sound- that’s lose. Loose sounds like an ‘s’ at the end.Please people, watch your grammar. Before I loose my mind.

 

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It’s Kind of a Big Deal…

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Wearing his smart hat 🙂

I recently received this letter in the mail from Elijah’s principle:

“Congratulations! Your child, Elijah, has been selected as a Classroom Student of the month. He has displayed a thorough understanding of what it means to be a Lake leader: quality performance in the classroom, positive role model, and demonstrated responsibility for personal learning.

‘Mrs. B (his home room teacher): Eli is a super sweet boy that always brings life to our classroom. He is a kind boy that is a great asset to our team.’ “

Now, obviously, I’m one proud mama here. Each child gets to be the “Student of the Week” at one point during each school year. But Student of the Month is something he has never gotten before. He has always wanted, but never received. And I’m super proud of him.

When I read the letter to him, he was a little taken back when I said his teacher had said he was ‘an asset’. At first he was offended until I explained to him that is was actually a good thing, and not anything close to what he thought it meant.

At the beginning of the school year, his grades were ok, not anything to write home about. He has always been a Straight A student, and the first nine weeks, he had a couple ‘C’s’ on his report card. I wasn’t necessarily upset with him, but I explained that he actually had to start trying harder now. He was getting older and classes were getting more difficult. He actually had to study now at night, and try harder in classes. Now, he has managed to pull all of his grades back up to A’s, with one B still hanging in there. In any case, he is now trying harder, and it’s showing. And I couldn’t be more proud of him (in case you couldn’t tell).

Chicago… Chicagoooo

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Ahh, the joys of reminiscing. I just can’t stop thinking about this girl for the last couple days, and need to get it out on paper 🙂

Shortly after I graduated high school I moved to Chicago to become a nanny. I actually went to a ‘Nanny and Governess’ school (who knew those actually existed?), and they then found me a family to work for. This particular family was located in Chicago, and I was beyond excited and scared to move out there. I was from a small town, and at the time, we literally had Amish buggy’s out on the road at any given day. Moving to downtown Chicago? *GULP* Can you say culture shock. I remember during my ‘interview weekend’ with them the dad had taken me on the subway for my first time. I was in awe, and thought it was the coolest thing ever. My first time riding it alone after I moved there, I inadvertently got on the ‘Express’ train, and imagine my absolute horror when the train went speeding by my stop, along with the few before and after. I had no clue what I was doing, or going, I only knew for certain what stop I needed to get off at.

After being there for a few months, I still didn’t really know anyone, or have any friends. It was just me, the baby and their dog hanging out all day, everyday. The weekends I would wonder around downtown sightseeing. One day I had received a phone call from some random chick who said she was from the nanny school I went to but a year prior, and wanted to know if I wanted to meet up. So we made a play date, grabbed ‘our kids’, headed to the Lincoln Zoo. After that day, we became inseparable. We did everything together, and very quickly became closer than close. She was my only sanity in this new world I was in. As much as I enjoyed nanny-ing (or rather, as much as I enjoyed this little boy), I felt out-of-place. These people that I lived with were born in the money, and had a completely different way about them than anything I was familiar with. I did quite enjoy taking trips to Nantucket, private jets, extensive stays in North Carolina, but I never felt 100% comfortable with them. Christina was someone I could completely be myself with.

This is my absolute favorite picture of the two of us, taken many moons ago.

This is my absolute favorite picture of the two of us, taken many moons ago. (And kinda the only one of the both of us that’s appropriate for the interwebz)

After we both left our jobs, we moved in with a friend of hers for a time (nightmare!), until we had enough for our own place. We ended up getting nanny jobs for two best friends (how fitting) in the Northern Suburbs and whose children were also best friends, and about the same ages. Not only did we live together, travel to and from work together, and spend most of our days working together, we still couldn’t wait for the weekends when we had nothing but time to spend with each other. We very rarely fought (and if we did I don’t remember) and it never mattered what we did, as long as we did it together. We actually ended up moving back to her hometown near Springfield, Ill for a few months until the family I was nanny-ing for begged me enough to come back to them. About a year and a half after I moved back to Chicago, I became pregnant, and moved back to Ohio. At first she and I talked all. the. time after I moved to Ohio, and slowly the conversations became fewer and farther between. Every now and again one of us would reach out, but it wasn’t the same. We both had a child a few months apart (hers was even given my name! Awww.), and life happened. I went out to visit her a couple times, but haven’t seen her in years. I miss her and it sucks. *sigh*

She and I got in touch the other night, and ‘text-talked’ for a few hours. It was so amazing bringing up some of our old times, and getting filled in on each others’ life. However, the only down side to that is the more we talk, the more I miss her. Like miss her it actually hurts. She and I have been through a lot of things, have had some amazing times, and shared a ridiculous amount of laughs and tears together. I loved her family; her mom was like my own, but her brother was NOT like a brother (I kinda had a lil crush on him…lol). She’s an amazing person, and I miss her like crazazy.

Love you Sheesh 🙂

Peanut Butter, Honey, Oatmeal Bars

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I’m on a diet. No, scratch that. I’m working on a lifestyle change. I realize that I am overweight, and am working to change that. That part that makes that difficult is that I love food! So ‘diets’ don’t work for me. I’ve gotten back into My Fitness Pal, and have started working out almost everyday. It’s amazing how just writing down everything you want to stuff in your pie hole can change the way you eat. I found these snacks out on the interwebz, and made them this weekend. Love them. Love. I like that they are ridiculously easy to make, and they taste fabulous. Three ingredients, and in 4 minutes, you’re done. (I’m not really sure who to credit for this recipe because I was looking at so many Saturday, and I honestly couldn’t tell ya which one I went with, so I apologize for that). Here is what you’ll need:

1 cup of peanut butter (I used Smucker’s Natural Peanut Butter)
1 cup honey
3 cups oats

Put peanut butter and honey in pot over low heat to soften. Stir until completely mixed together. Add oats, and stir until well blended. Do not cook- the process is just to soften the honey and peanut butter to allow for easy mixing. Once mixed press into 9×9 pan.

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Allow to cool completely and cut into 16 equal sized bars.

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I only had a small amount of honey on hand, so I used 1/3 cup of pb, 1/3 cup of honey, and 1 cup oats. I used a bread sized pan, and cut into 8 squares. When I figured out the calories, it came to 143 per bar for the amount that I made, and cut into 8 squares. Not bad for a quick and filling snack.

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They are a little soft, so I would recommend putting them in the fridge once cut to firm them up a bit. I was fine with the firmness of them, but if you want to pack them in lunches, it may be wise to do!

I actually made another batch last night; 1 cup creamy Jif, 1 cup o’ honey, and 3 cups o’ oats. I used a small scoop, and made 23 equal sized ‘balls’ . Each one came to 147 calories. (I didn’t figure out anything else, so for that I apologize). Also, I put them in the fridge overnight and had one for breakfast. Perfection.

These are the thoughts that I think…

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(I’m really nervous about putting this post out there. Like I’ve been sitting on it for days, terrified to click that publish button. I did a guest post here at Thoughts of a Lunatic, and have had a pretty warm response. Giving me that extra boost of courage I need to hit the publish button. A little bit because I’m afraid of what others are going to think, and a little bit because I hate putting myself out there. Fear of the backlash or repercussions of what I have said. What will people think if they only knew what I really thought and felt like on the inside? And this type of post doesn’t really fit with the theme of what I’ve been posting about. But someone told me recently that it can be amazingly freeing to write down this ultra personal stuff and get it out of our system. And I’m pretty sure she knows what she’s talking about.)

I have been depressed and anxious for as long as I can remember. Sometimes more than others, sometimes not at all. For a while I was taking Wellbutrin to help me with it, and it helped. A lot. It was hard for me to go in and talk to my doctor about wanting to be on some sort of medication, but it was even harder walking around dealing with myself and my thoughts. I was walking around all the time trying to hide my tears and being angry, instead of  happy and smiling. And tired. I was always so tired. But more than anything, I just hated myself. All of me. Let’s back up, maybe I should start at the beginning.

I grew up living with just my sister and mom. My parents divorced when I was quite young, and I remember that every other weekend that we got to spend with my dad was always my favorite time of all. I couldn’t wait until that Friday night at 6:00 to go and spend the weekend with him. But when we weren’t with him, we were with my mom. And growing up with my mom wasn’t the most pleasant experience. She was an alcoholic, she was bi-polar, and she was un-medicated. She was mean, and she was abusive. She was a very angry person and she took that out on my sister and I. We stayed with her until I was 12 (my sis was 18 I think) and then we moved into my dad’s, and finally the big secret was out, everybody knew. Unfortunately by that time, the damage was already done. For years I had heard nothing but how fat, and stupid, and ugly I was. Eventually I believed it, because hey she was my mom, and she must be telling the truth. My self-esteem was naught from the get-go, and it certainly wasn’t improved much (or at all) over the years. After I graduated high school, I moved to Chicago to become a nanny. A few incidents occurred which led me to drowning all of my sorrows from the past 15 years and current events in alcohol, drugs and men. Bad, and definitely not the right way to cope with life for sure. I got pregnant with my now 11-year-old, and he has completely turned my life around, and I firmly believe saved me from further going down a dark and narrow path of destruction. I found out when I was 7 months pregnant that my then-boyfriend for the last three years was also expecting a child with someone else; 2 months before I was due. So that was awesome. I moved back to Ohio and started a new life with my son, with LOTS of help from my dad and step-mom (who I only call step-mom here to differentiate between her and my ‘real’ mom. My step-mom has been more of a mom to me than my real one, and I call her ‘mom’, she’s amazing). I had hit an all-time low a few years ago, and that is when I went in to my doctor to ask for some medication. It helped and I could definitely feel myself coming out of the fog and climbing back out of that dark black hole. I lost my insurance about a year after I started and therefore lost my prescriptions. I felt great for quite a while and recently in the past few weeks, I can feel the depression trying to sneak and creep its way back into my life. I found a picture a few days ago from when I was about 5. On the back my mom had written my name, and then this caption: “Ugly as can be”. Pretty awesome, right?

Image courtesy of Sira Anamwong at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Image courtesy of Sira Anamwong at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

I struggle with thoughts day in and day out. I convince myself time and time again that I am single because I am too fat and ugly to actually get a boyfriend. That I’m awful at my job, and too stupid to actually figure things out here. And once I can see the light again, it doesn’t take much to pull me back down again. When people close to me never ask about whats going on in my life, big or small. Or make comments to make me feel like they not only aren’t happy with the positive things in my life, but actually wish I would fail at things. They acknowledge nothing positive in my life. Or take the hour conversation I had last night with a friend and in the entire conversation (via text- can that even be considered an actual conversation?) he didn’t ask me ONCE how I was or what I had been up to. Not once. It was just all about him and what was going on in his life. Made me feel as if I’m not even worth the breath (or thumb typing) to ask. Surely he doesn’t care enough about me as a person to even ask. Three steps back down in the black hole after taking one step out. Realistically I know that these thoughts aren’t true and it’s a bunch of rubbish (mostly. A few people in my life give me reason to believe otherwise). The problem is making sure my thoughts stay realistic. And not believing all the crap that is rolling around in my head at any given moment. “Fat” “Stupid” “Unlovable” “Worthless” “Social moron” “Awkward” And so many more things that I don’t even want to write down, or see on paper. A little bit because seeing is believing, but mostly because the language is pretty bad- I don’t want to offend the interwebz. I struggle with anxiety as much as I do the thoughts running rampant through my head. I have problems sleeping. I lie awake and just worry. I can’t sit still. I always think I am doing something wrong and am nervous on a regular basis. It’s annoying and I hate it.

I love reading Thoughts of a Lunatic, first because she makes me laugh. Secondly, she has recently posted some serious posts in the same general area of this, making me brave enough to confront my inner demons if you will. Or at least writing them down for the whole wide world to see. Finally, it’s nice to see that there are others like me out there in this cold hard world. I know that there are, but it’s comforting seeing other people struggle with the same things as I do. And by comforting I don’t mean I get a sick sense of pleasure seeing others struggle in their daily lives, but more like a sense of support, albeit a small one. A lot of ‘normal’ people don’t understand what it’s like to be in the mind and body of a depressed person. We don’t choose to be like this nor do we enjoy it. If we could ‘snap out of it’ or ‘get over it’ or ‘cheer up’ we would. Sometimes we just can’t, no matter how hard we try or how bad we want to. Just like someone with a cold one can’t stop coughing, we can’t stop our thoughts or our moods or our tears.