What If?

I was lying in bed this morning reflecting on a post I've seen copied and pasted by several of my friends on Facebook.

‎7yrs old: Mom I love you. 10 yrs old: Mom whatever. 16 yrs old: OMG my mom is so annoying. 18 yrs old: I wanna leave this house. 25 yrs old: Mom, you were right. 30 yrs old: I wanna go back to my mom's house. 50 yrs old: I don"t wanna lose my mom. 70 yrs old: I would give up everything for my mom to be here with me.

Well I'm in my thirties and my mom has been gone for over ten years now and I have still gone through the "mom was right" stages but without the ability to tell her. That is actually the part that I am most sad about.

This train of thought led me to look at myself now and wonder what I would give up to have my mom here with me. I would truly love to have her here, as well as the other family members that are still deeply embedded in my heart but no longer my life. What if none of the sicknesses and diseases had happened? What would my life be like right now and what would I be like?

It made me wonder if I would have the beautiful marriage that I have right now. Would what started out as a sometimes rocky relationship have blossomed into the oneness that we have come to? Without all of the tragedies would I have learned to turn to my husband, lean on his capable shoulders and truly understand the depth of his love for me?

If my mother, aunt, and grandparents were still here would I be the mother that I am today? Would I know to cling to their every smile and quirk and appreciate the fleeting moments? Would I even understand that everything in life truly turns out to be fleeting? Would I have relied on my elders for wisdom and help rather than just looking at my children and doing my best to meet their individual needs?

I would truly give anything to have a moment with all of them so that I could tell them the things that I wasn't mature enough to say when they were here, especially when I would fight the reality of their passing up until they were gone. I was so sure there would be some miracle at the end or that maybe the doctors were wrong, that I didn't lay out all that I felt. I hope to never make that same mistake again. I am really grateful for the person they helped me to be through their love and faith in me as I grew up and the lessons that have shaped who I am today through their deaths.

"What if?" It is a question that is interesting to ask yourself about things that could have happened to avoid bad luck or tragedies but the reality of it is that bad luck and tragedies make us appreciate the things that actually go right. I love and miss my family with every breath that I take but the course of despair has actually taught me more about the purity of love and family than I could have learned any other way. I think that instead of asking "What if?", I will start to focus on "What's next?"

Crackcakes

I sometimes feel like my life is just a series of ridiculous situations strung together to create a tableau. One that can make you laugh and cry all at the same time.

Back on Valentine's Day weekend I had a wild hair up my ass to redo the girls' room. Melanie was to move to the downstairs room by herself and I was putting the younger two with bunks in their room and adding some bright paint hoping that it would be distracting enough to help me not notice the perpetual and varying states of disaster their room is usually in.

On Sunday I was still trying to finish so my dear, sweet, and now that I look back on it, EVIL sister in law took all three kids for the day so that I could move their furniture around and paint the room "cantaloupe". Random color I know. As it turned out, Jack was whining about the runny paint and had me return it which was a joy since they don't return paint that has been tinted. The explanation that I gave them was that my husband described it as "runny and some other things peppered with the eff word". They gave me my money back and I planned on grabbing the kids and stopping by Home Depot to get a different brand.

When I picked the kids up they were bouncing around telling me how much fun they had making cupcakes and eating candy and playing with the dogs and, and, and... I was thrilled that they had such a good time until we got to Home Depot. I gave them the customary lecture before we got out of the car, "If you don't behave in here I swear I will make you pay... blah... kick your... blah... " It apparently had no impact.

While selecting paint colors they were wrestling each other to the ground, chasing up and down the aisles, shouting, laughing like crazed lunatics... wait, that might have been me shortly before I really freaked out. Anyway, I was standing in line trying to hold on to Doodles as she attempted to jerk my arm out of the socket by running from one side of me to the other while alternately laughing, screaming and crying. It was the worst I had ever seen them. I was dying.

Just then I glanced up to see a gentleman just staring sympathetically at me. He had three children of ages that may have been similar to my own. He simply said, "My kids are always like that when I pick them up from from my sister in law's." Ironic eh? I told him so. He looked me in the eye and said, "I will pray for you."

I just left that at a "thank you" but I wasn't sure if I should laugh or cry. How frickin' hilarious is it that my kids make complete strangers feel the need to pray for me? Alternately, how sad is that? In defense, this situation is waaaaay worse than average but dang, it. was. crazy!!!

I got the evil people strapped into the car about the time that Doodles was earnestly starting her crying meltdown. I then got in the driver's seat and promptly sent my sister in law a text message.

"Thanks for feeding them the crackcakes."

FML

So about five short minutes ago my middle devil Sydney threw Jack under the bus so hard that I was stunned as were the Mormon missionaries and the Elders Quorum President that were in attendance for the show. Here's how it went:

I heard a knock on the door and go out to balcony to explain to my visitors that I had been home from work with the flu and that in consideration for their health, that it would be a bad idea for me to visit today. They are nodding and smiling in understanding when Sydney comes along and says this...

"When I told you last time that my dad was sleepy, it was a lie. He told me to."

That was one of those moments where I would like to be that mom from "The Incredibles" and stretch down to where she was prancing around dropping bombs and grab her by her evil wee neck! I just talked through it and left it because well, what do you say to that? I'm still trying to figure out how to talk to her about that kind of situation without involving too many curse words and threats of bodily harm.

The reason they were at my door coming for a visit is because I am a member of their church. I am not a "good" member in the sense that I do not attend and well, I like coffee, and tea, oh, and I drink very occasionally. I abstained from these things for quite awhile while attending church regularly and doing all of my churchly duties. Then one day around the time that I lost my Aunt Lindee, I just didn't want to do it anymore. I was too tired, felt like I had no more to give and was hopeful that the Lord would love me as I stood. Tired. Angry. Broken.

This was about four years ago and since then I went a handful of times in Arizona, but never again was able to regain the passion and commitment that I once had. Some of this is because I have never regained the person that I was before the people that laid the foundation of me were taken. I have nobody to look at my children and compare their antics with my own, or anyone to see my antics of today and know their origin and just my general history.

I feel like the person I am can never again come near to being the person that I was and I don't feel like I can go back to being that churchgoing Mormon girl again. First of all, I am a stinkin' liberal which does not generally fly, and it's not that I don't believe in it, but that I believe in so many other things as well. Without going into the list of what I believe, I can simply say that I feel like there is so much truth in so many things, that I can never sit through a lesson again about the "only truth" without raising my hand to feverishly object. I love the LDS church and many of the people in it but in groups I just feel differently now about how I fit with them. And I don't doubt that they would still love and tolerate me but I just don't have the dang energy. So I put off the real discussion with the nice young boys about the why's and such of my non-attendance because I look at their fresh, devout little faces and can't imagine that they would ever understand how it would be to have things as simple as doing callings, family home evenings, or three hours every Sunday be enough to throw you off of the sheer cliff you've been clinging to.

At least Sydney cleansed her soul of her little lie on her father's behalf! God bless her!

For The Love Of Jared Leto

This is a horrible picture, but I swear this guy is h-h-hot!! It's just hard to be a professional-like photographer when you are using your phone and being shoved on all sides.

I wanna squeal like a teenage girl at a Jonas Brother's concert when I think about the 30 Seconds to Mars concert I went to the other night! I was so excited to get tickets and go see them again! I saw them a couple years ago in Glendale AZ and loved the show, but this one was way cooler for me. The last one was at a huge venue and this one was considerably smaller and I decided that I wanted to be on the floor immersed with the other starstruck fans. I had watched excitedly and had a bird's eye view the last time and this time I wanted to experience the chaos of it. The whole time Jack muttered that we should be up top, and I would roll my eyes and go back to screaming and jumping like a super freak.

The only really annoying part were the girls that would try to shove in front of me like I wouldn't notice that someone was practically stepping on me and pushing me out of the way since there was so much room and all. Even make up flimsy stories, like my boyfriend is up there. "Whateva biatches, mine too, and his name is Jared." Psht. I'd give them the "you've got to be shittin' me" look I practice on my kids all the time and pointedly resumed taking up all of the non-space I had previously. As if...

All in all it was a great night and I got myself a new t-shirt so that I can retire the old one before it becomes any more threadbare!

Jack in Training

Marriage is a strange and wonderful thing. I think that mine leans more toward the strange end of the spectrum. I know, right? One of the wonderful things is that Jack is forever diligent about keeping track of things where I tend to be forgetful and flighty. (I hope that at least one person crinkles their forehead in confusion because they cannot imagine me being either of those things. Just one.) For example, every night he makes sure that my phone is found and plugged in for me. Every night I lay down and ask him if he's seen my phone. Every night he points toward my nightstand where it is plugged in. And every night I smile in gratitude that I don't have to get back up and organize a hunt.

Another one of my little quirks that Jack has to cope with is that I'm a dresser-drawer-leaver-opener. Yup, why open drawers more than you have to? Open once and just leave it. It's what I do. It drives Jack insane because I have a long, low dresser that is caddy corner from our bed. In order to get from bed to anywhere, Jack has to pass between the corner of the bed and the corner of the dresser. It's not a terribly tight squeeze unless of course the drawers are wide open. Unfortunately for him I keep my workout clothes in the bottom drawer nearest the bed and at 5am when I'm getting ready for the gym I can barely remember to get dressed let alone shut drawers.

A couple of weeks ago I had stayed up reading until almost 2 in the morning and must have disturbed him when I came to bed. Our room was pitch black and I heard Jack throw back the covers and stumble to his feet. Then I heard step, step, drawer closing... I suddenly started laughing SO hard and could not stop! Jack continued his journey in the dark muttering, "evil bitch..." I love that guy! Even in the pitch dark, half asleep he knows well enough that I had left the dang drawer open and that his shins were at serious risk!

I feel like I should give him some sort of certificate for achieving what some people can never have. The ability to just accept things as they really are and just cope. I felt a tear in my eye at how far he's come... *sniff*

Life with Cody

It's been almost 14 years since we made the fateful decision to bring our first canine companion into our lives. Fourteen years of exasperation, tears, with the occasional laugh at our own expense. It was always us on the receiving end of the misery as I can only think of one time that Cody's actions directly led to his own humiliation/misery. Other than when he pushed me to the edge a time or two (or fifty or sixty...) and I would grab him by either side of his beautiful white mane and scream at him, "Why do you have to be such an asshole?!"

This probably seems dramatic and maybe even a bit exaggerated, but I swear that this dog, this innocent looking geriatric dog has caused more problems than any creature I have heard of. I watched "Marley and Me" and scoffed at the antics of that dog while thinking to myself that they had nothing on my stories! In fact I've recently started a book about them. One that will likely never get published or recognized in any way, but one that needs to be written nevertheless. I feel like I need to tell the Cody stories even if it's only my form of self therapy. To get it off my chest as they say.

I've been kicking myself lately for not having documented any of his hijinks. Some of the stuff he has done would have definitely been photo worthy even if it was only for us to make a solid case against him for the loss of our sanity. Or to make people that don't know him believe that a dog was capable of such acts. In his old age he has lost some of his pep, but none of his bad and devious attitude. I attempted to make up for my poor documentation history with this picture.

Yes, that is crap on a case of Diet Pepsi. And yes, I do believe that it was totally intentional and pre-meditated. I do not joke about this. He was mad at me for something, pick any reason, and he knows that soda is important to me. That was his statement.

Mel and I walked him three miles that night because I mistakenly thought that Mr. Gimpster would give up and we'd have to leave him on the roadside, but he tromped along like a champ! I'm sure that he will live many more years if only just to spite us. He is the dog that refuses to stop breathing.

In all seriousness he is loved, but in sort of a Stockholm Syndrome sort of way.

Don't Judge Other Parents

I used to watch parents with their children out in public and gasp in shock occasionally at how they would turn around and snap at their child for some seemingly innocent request. I no longer do that. I wish that I could come up with some hand signal or salute that would become the universal sign for "I feel your pain; dang kids!" See, we as the observers have no idea what those children have put that parent through to get them to the point that they are ready to snap for no obvious reason.

The other day I was that parent on the verge of a meltdown, but I was not in a grocery store. I was in a pizza place trying to order a pizza so that I could sit and relax because I could feel myself nearing the end of my short rope. All this thanks to the evil wee people that had been running around insane all day, dragging me down with them. Anyway, Doodles and Sydney had walked down there with me and were running between the video games, the servers area, and me, while touching every table they saw and I tried to look at the menu on the counter. At my elbow was a large stack of to-go menus. As I'm trying to ask the guy at the counter something, I feel a disturbance with the paper menu stack. Without looking I slam my hand down on the stack and continue talking. Again comes the rattling of the paper and again I slam down my hand. The third time I grab the menu, put it pointedly back on the pile and swing my head in a downward arc prepared to threaten the life of a small person if they f*$!#d with the menus again. (remember the pending meltdown??) Only there wasn't a small person there. It was a full grown man hand. Yup. Some guy came in behind me and simply wanted to look at a menu. He looked at me kinda pissed if I do say so myself, and says "excuse me!" I respond with, "I'm sorrrryyy... I thought you were one of my evil children!"

He was judging me. Even after my oh so eloquent apology and the fact that my children were still running around like a-holes, I could tell that he thought that I was a horrible parent while he sat there with his quiet, well behaved child. I know a universal sign I could have given him...