Sleep Disorder

I'm pretty sure I mentioned that I have a new love for eCards, right? Also asking "right?" all the time is my other new and favorite irritating habit.  Ask Jack. Well, and everyone else that has to listen to me.  You guys would agree, right?! HELLO... Hello... hellooo... Who am I kidding? Nobody listens to me! 

I felt like this eCard is representative of my combination problems of ADD and insomnia.  It's seriously problematic.  It's also why I suck at meditating and find myself seeking a glass of wine to chill out since I can't sit still long enough, and stay focused long enough to find peace via meditation.  This is why I have to be funny!  If I didn't find humor in my daily bullshit life, I would have to be institutionalized.  

School started again today.  Didn't even need the paper bag, but I must confess that I indulged in wine tonight, though not as much as I predicted I would need to keep me from losing it when faced with a predictable future of sleepless nights hunched over my keyboard, cursing my stupidity for signing up for school again in the first place.  

Incidentally I did learn some things today.  I learned about how disgusting war is and that in the end there are no "good guys" or "bad guys", and the "why's/wherefore's" don't matter, and that in the end, there are only dead guys.  Lots of them.  I also learned, to my surprise, that even in grad school there is always that one person in class that every time they talk, everyone else looks to each other and tries to think nice thoughts, despite the desperate yearning to roll our eyes into the back of our heads, because, well... We are studying peace after all.

Yeah, peace out, bitches! *Insert peace sign with eye roll* Cuz I can.

Life Unplugged

It has been 25 hours and 11 minutes since I had an operational phone.  I don't know if I will be able to survive this.  I'm drowning in a pit of despair, lonely for all of my friends... Now I actually have to pay attention to what's going on around me.

Like my kids.

 And my housework.

 Reality is just so hard.  No more Whirly Word, Facebook, Instagram, or texting rage faces or memes to entertain me in my waking hours! What will I doooooo???!!

It is currently buried in its ricey grave, hopefully to be resurrected soon.  I don't care that it will be a zombie phone! I just want it to live!

RIP my dear... You will be forever in my heart... *sob*

New Beginnings

And here we are again... As I read over my blog, I see points where my diligence and motivation to maintain any kind of record of my family fun/chaos/mayhem/bullshit, fall off from time-to-time, and I begin again with a post about some new-found second wind and promise to be better. So now I know that I'm totally gonna drop off the face of the blog-o-sphere at some point again when the metaphorical shit hits the metaphorical fan, or in my world, not as metaphorical as I would like, and more likely to be a weed-eater than a fan, but the point is, I ramble too much that I'm totally cool with that! I'm working on my ability to love and forgive myself and all that shit.

My recent slackerdom is related to spending the last two+ years in hell school.  Almost three months from the graduation ceremony, I still can't sleep like a normal person at night and the thought of writing an essay has me reaching for a paper bag while I calculate how many bottles of wine it will take to put me back in my happy place.

Grad school starts in three weeks.

I'm not sure that my body can hold enough wine to help me cope with that.  Every minute of every day, I coach myself through the "why's" and "why not's" of my decision to continue, and continue, and continue my education. Some moments I come up with something brilliant and inspirational, but other times I imagine myself actually melting into a pool of insanity, where I can fantasize about the nature of bubbles and leprechauns and republicans and all kinds of other shit I don't understand.

Recently, a relative, (you know who you are) reminded me that I even had this little 'ol blog. I looked it up and remembered how fun it could be to write my random tales.  I'm thinking it's time to dust the cobwebs outta my overtaxed brain and play for awhile.  At least until grad school starts. Or doesn't. Or does. Or doesn't.

My sanity is definitely one of the great unknowns.

I also have a new love for e-cards.  I will likely post many of them.  If I post anything at all.

Why did I not think of this?  I would own that program.  I would own it without the paper bag, and the wine would only help sharpen my skills.  But in the end- reality sucks, so I can only practice my sarcasm on the poor lucky bastards that have to put up with me all the time.  

Cheers!

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...

Oblivion

I was just reading my last post realizing that it has been since right after Christmas that I've had anything monumental to say. Not that anything I've had to say was monumental really. The sad truth is that I am writing right now and still have nothing monumental pinging around in my brain but feel the need to write something nevertheless. I am that uncomfortable with silence person.

So the last few months have been pretty uneventful except for a near miss health crisis with Melanie. Thought she might need brain surgery, but discovered that she may just be a fainter. Awesome.

I bought myself a planner at the first of this year not to document any extensive future plans or keep track of my crazy appointments. Nope, it's just for me to write down every day what I have done regardless of how boring it is. Some days it's "work and watch Idol". Sounds pathetic eh? What I've found is that I've slid into a ridiculous rut of monotony that I'm struggling to get out of. I started writing down my pathetic activities so that when asked what I've been up to, that I might actually remember or at least have a reference. I just need to remember to write it down. The days feel like they just slide by. They slide into weeks and months and later when I look back I'm scratching my head wondering what just happened. Did I accomplish anything at all?

I've decided that Jack is a bad influence on the children. I know! Crazy eh? Who knew? I was driving yesterday with Doodles in the backseat of the car and we were at a stoplight. Out of nowhere I hear, "Be good mom while the cop goes by." This was said in all seriousness and a hint of desperate worry. Amazing. Jack is working diligently on instilling the concept of being good only when figures of authority are looking and a generalized feeling of distrust and malice toward the po-po. I wonder how this will work for us in their teen years? I may have to go on strike and let him clean up his own messes!

The other day I had a strange experience at the grocery store. You know those moments that are ridiculous and not a big deal, but they are embedded in your thoughts for no good reason? It was one such occasion for me. I got up at the ass-crack of dawn on Friday to go to the store and get the stuff to put together a lasagna for after work. I'm at the checkout clutching my coffee and looking especially haggard while she rang up two measly little bags of groceries that constituted the necessary ingredients. And I had been thoughtful of my children and bought six various sprinkley doughnuts. I sat there with my card held in midair while she read me my total. "That'll be $73. (and some change) I just stood there with my card still adrift looking at her, looking at my bags, back to her, and my bags. She looked at me, back at my bags, and then wordlessly starts scanning through the receipt. She was charging me for six dozen doughnuts. That would have sucked. It was such an interesting though wordless exchange at 6am. Then I'm in the throes of making lasagna and Mel had just finished her doughnut-

Mel: Oh! Did you go to the store?

Me: Nope, I baked those doughnuts.

Someday when my kids are being smart asses I'll look back to these moments and know that it's karma. I just have so little self control with it.

We Survived!

It is finally the evening of Christmas in the Murray home, and all is quiet.... I and my family have survived the holiday season intact, and just barely swerved out of the way of a nervous breakdown. I have been looking forward to just this moment in time when I am not at work and all of the gatherings and gifts and stress are behind me. This is the best moment of Christmas. The moment when you can sit down, breath a sigh of relief, and wrap yourself up in the warmth of the memories made with loved ones.

Surprisingly, (not) I have no pictures yet, but they may come. Like next year sometime after I post last years. I can't keep too high of expectations for myself about stuff like that or I'll just feel like a depressed failure and bag the whole thing entirely.

The girls all got Nintendo DS's for Christmas which has proved to be an amazing blessing for us, and is what allows me to be sitting here right now typing this. Because I have my laptop to myself. With nobody lurking around asking for "their turn". As if I have an obligation to share! Since they haven't had their own systems, they have become addicted to several internet game sites like barbie.com, webkinz, and some mooshi thing. The other night Jack and I crashed into bed around eleven and left the girls to a movie since it's Christmas break. At some point I woke up to Doodles turning on my bathroom light and digging around my night stand while singing to herself. I'm dazed and looking around trying to figure out what the heck time it was, and Jack's looking at his phone grumbling about it being three in the morning!

Me: Doodles, what the heck are you doing????

Doodles: Looking for my ni-night panties. hmm.. hmm, la, la...

Me: Did you wet the bed or something? Gah!

Doodles: No! I go to bed now! I was playing on the 'puter. (pronounced- pewter)

I cannot believe the little turd stayed up all frickin' night playing frickin' computer games! I'd like to blame that on someone else, but I'm sure that one is a genetic trait somehow linked to me. Whoops.

Then I have Miss. Syd who is the Queen of Random Thoughts. This one came out of nowhere and made me realize what a deep thinker she is for her young age. She's my sensitive one for sure. I had worked late and then had to run errands and to get ingredients for some holiday baking and while I was putting away stuff Sydney was hanging around.

Sydney: Mom. Can I talk to you?

Me: Sure! (please don't ask where babies come from, please don't ask....)

Sydney: Did you get to say "goodbye" to your mom?

I could not believe that was what she wanted to talk about. I hadn't even really thought about it quite like that myself. It made me just stop in my tracks. No, I didn't. Not really. I said the goodbye that means "see ya later" but not the goodbye that really means "goodbye". This was the perfect time to explain to her that sometimes you don't know when your goodbye will be forever which is why you always need to treat and speak to everyone like it might be the last time. I tried to keep that conversation near to my heart during these last couple of days, through all the family gatherings, and be grateful for the chaos and fatigue that comes with this time of year because I couldn't be more grateful for the family and the many blessings that I have. To my family and friends- I love you and hope that you have had a wonderful Christmas!

Add-On To Previous...

So I was talking to my sister-in-law Abby the other night and she was expressing her disappointment that I left out what she thought was the best part of this story. I realize that I told two stories in that post, so I am specifically referring to the one involving duct. tape. Just for Abby I will tell the rest of the sordid tale....

So later after we got ourselves together, survived the Murray Family Christmas Gathering, tree shopping, and a 2-year old's birthday party, we were finally home relaxing with Jack's brother, Abby and their two boys, Chase-8 and Cole-5. The kids were all playing well except for....... *drum roll please*....... wait for it............. you'll never guess!!!! DOODLES!!! Never saw that coming eh? Anyhoo, I'm not really sure what was going on but she was being a pest and Jack was in the midst of something, I don't know what, but he was on a mission. All we hear is Doodles being loud and obnoxious and Jack calling from the upstairs for... duct. tape. I guess the reason that this would be hilarious is because we were all pretty convinced that his mission may have been to use it on Doodles. I joked nervously like, "Yeah, yeah, you could be right. He's probably taping her to the wall as we speak!" The kids giggled in a hushed sort of way, but kept looking around at each other like they were waiting to see if it was really a joke because well, really we all know that she has a way of pushing you just past that line in the sand. The one that divides the Land of the Sane and the opposite, The Land Where Amber Resides. Needless to say, he avoided the temptation, but the wondering if she would be coming back down with him or not was way too much fun!

Doodles

One would never know it based solely on this picture, that this child could be the most devilish of my brood. The problem is that she is so darn cute! It's those eyes, and the "I love you too, Mom!" as she runs up the stairs to piss off her sisters that keeps her alive. I don't even have to say "I love you" to get that response. That's what is so dang adorable about it! She adds the "too" whether I say it first or not. At least her cuteness may save her from mine and Jack's wrath, but Mel and Syd may be a different story. I'm pretty sure it's a matter of time before she gets shanked. They have been giving her everything she wants since she was born just to shut her up, but I sense years of bitterness boiling close to the edge, and I fear for that wee devil! What is it they say about reaping what you sow?

Me: cleaning and putzing in kitchen...

Doodles: Kyle is a Douche Bag.

Me: heading upstairs to beat hell out of Jack

You May Want To Play Poker With Jack....

If you want to be a winner at any real power play games, i.e. poker, you may want Jack as your opponent. He has a gift for just showing his hand with little to no coersion. I've always known that he wasn't a master manipulator which is something that I truly appreciate, but I am so much more appreciative that he just blows out the punchline without me even asking!

For example, tonight I'm cuddled under the covers looking at him complaining how cold and bone tired I am and that the kitchen was a total disaster. And here's the punchline.... "Well you know if you leave it long enough that I'll just do it myself." I had no response other than my wide eyed look of shock. Plus I was too busy listening to the angels singing a joyous ditty in my head. Just when I think my day was total $hit, my husband hands me a gem of an epiphany. Full house baby!

The Things Wee People Say...

People judge you every day. They judge you by your appearance, the car you drive, where you live, and I hope, against all hope that they don't judge me by the things that come out of the mouths of my children. Sometimes the things they say make me raise my eyebrows and my mouth to form a perfectly surprised "O".

Please don't judge me for the tales I'm about to share. I only share them because I know (hope) that someday my children will read this and know what they did to me. I don't feel that they will truly appreciate it though until they have children of their own to give them the same kind of love (aggravation) that I have experienced.

I am forever lecturing Jack about the things he says to/around the children. They are impressionable you know? One of his favorite names to call people on his list of "Individuals Too Stupid To Live", (which is most everyone in his opinion) is Douche Bag. Just the word on its own probably leads you to imagine any number of situations, but the real story is more inappropriate/hilarious/embarrassing than I would have ever imagined!

The Setting: Jack, I, and the girls were at a local Blockbuster looking along the new release wall with my brother and his wife. The girls were frolicking around and there were a few other people milling about.

Me: Where the heck did Sydney wander off to?

Jack: I don't know... Mel! Go find your sister!

Sydney: I'm back here Douche Bag!!!!

Group: Stunned silence followed by muffled snickers from loitering strangers.

She did not say it in a conversational tone, no, she. yelled. it. It was one of those situations where I didn't address the child with my wrath, but immediately turned my flame throwing gaze to my dear husband saying, "You did this!"

The other day we were hustling to get ready for Jack's family Christmas event and I was trying to do Melanie's hair to the tune of Doodles screaming at the top of her lungs over anything and everything that went wrong with her world. Randomly, Mel walked away while I reached for something. Totally annoyed I yell for her to get her a$$ back in there so we could get going! I get no response, so I yell for her again! Ready to go on a killing spree, I turn around and she comes back all nonchalant without an explanation like she hadn't been screwing around while I waited for her with a flatiron. As I grab a piece of her hair and get back to work, I look over and Doodles is standing there with tears welled up in her eyes and a large piece of duct tape across her mouth. Yes, duct tape. Mel says nothing and stands there ignoring the situation like no big.

Me: Uh, Mel, ummm.... Do you really think that taping her mouth shut was the best idea?

Mel: Oh she's fine. It's just duct tape.

Doodles promptly ran downstairs to Jack who coddled her and acted appropriately ashamed of the situation. Had I done something that fun and diabolical to my brother as a kid, I would have been snorting and stifling giggles behind my hand, but my child just sits there bland like "what?" I don't know if I shoulda hi-fived her or fretted about her moral compass. I lean toward the hi-five, but then I don't know if my moral compass points due north either because if I'm being honest with myself, deep down, I wish that I had the courage to tape her mouth shut more often!

Halloween 2008

No, you have not stepped into a time warp, and no I am not delusional (sorta not) and think it's the year 2008. I am fully aware that it is now 2009 and that I am just now finally getting last years Halloween pictures up. I think I need to join Slackers Anonymous.

Anyhoo... Last year we were still in good ol' Sierra Vista AZ where they actually allow the schools to have Halloween parties! Yes! Seriously! This year they had a Harvest Party which we all know is not nearly as cool as a Halloween party because we are without what??? Yep! Halloween costumes! How much funner is that?! So last year I got to get the kids ready for Halloween bright and early in the morning in time for school.

Thanks to the Auntie Lois, Sydney was rockin' a Rainbow Brite costume that made me smile at all the childhood memories that one brought back! (I'm mailing that back. Seriously. See above commitment to Slackers Anonymous. Sorry.) She looked FABULOUS! I sprayed her hair orange and she was ready to go!

Now Melanie for the entire year had said that she wanted to be a bat. Seemed easy enough, but all we could find in the stores were capes and such which was not gonna cut it. Her opinion, not mine. So I googled for ideas and ended up staying up until 4:30 the night before (slacker...) sewing umbrella halves under the arms of a black turtleneck. It seemed like it would be a quick whip-stitch project but as usual, it was waaay more annoying than that. Melanie insisted that she had to be all black, just like a bat. Ok, so I didn't want to deal with spraying her hair black, so I just put the bat ears through a black stocking cap and painted her face black. And we had a bat. Sort of.

A week or so ago I was sitting in a parent teacher conference discussing Melanie's creative writing journal when I looked at what Mel had selected for the teacher to go over since it was her favorite entry. It was the entry about last Halloween and how she had dressed up as a bat burglar. I was smothering giggles until I finally couldn't control it anymore and had to explain the story of what we had actually intended as opposed to the result. Until I read that darling little journal I had never really thought about the conflicting messages that her costume had sent. Leave it to Mel to figure it out and just throw it in a journal. Bat burglar.... So check this!

See what I mean? Awesome, really. I bet she was the only bat burglar in existence that year. Because we're cool like that.

And Doodles, well Doodles insisted on being a kitty cat. She made me take pictures of her in the morning looking like her own cute self. (the natural devil costume)

Here she is in all her kitty cat glory, positively glowing at the opportunity to go an collect her weight in candy! Nothing makes that girl happier!

So this means that maybe next year I'll have this years stuff! hahaha! Just kidding! (maybe)

And School Begins! Like a Month Ago...

It's only a month into the school year so it seems that when compared to the fact that I haven't even posted last Halloween, nearly a year past now, that I'm dang near on time! Yesssss!

So the first day of school was the usual chaos with my sleep deprived children being drug out of bed by their equally sleep deprived mother after a gluttonous summer of letting her children look like orphans. Out came the soap, shampoo, (I know, right?) the flat iron, the rubber bands, and the shiny new school clothes. It took some time but we pulled it off on time for me to accompany them to their first day of school. I'm pretty sure that I managed with only a handful of swear words. I'm so fricking good.

So after spending a ridiculous amount of time making sure that my kids looked put together, I stood in my daughter's classroom with despair in my heart and likely a look of horror on my face while I watched the good moms take pictures of their smiling children sitting in their little desks. And standing there unloading their school supplies. And with the teacher. AND I FORGOT THE DAMN CAMERA!!!! Who does that? What good mom forgets the camera on the first day of school???? They don't!!! That would mean that I am not a good mom! Crap! I spent the whole day at work fretting about my lapse and cursing at myself under my breath.

But I found a solution... Oh yes, my crafty self was not going to let this be a total loss! I drove home like a bat outta hell and before even asking how the oh-so-important first day of school went, boot camp style started shouting orders- "Get up off the couch and get your shoes back on! Your blisters will be fine! Hurry up! Grab those backpacks and get over here so I can straighten your hair! Yeah, yeah, glad you had fun- No! Get your shoes on and go stand together!" All of this to make up for my inadequacies as a mother. I'm sure the therapist will help them work it out eventually.

So here's Mel forgetting that we are not posing for our senior pictures, and that she's only nine.

And this is them posing with their gang/peace signs, and no, Sydney does not have epilepsy.

Here they are again with Syd flipping her gang/peace signs, and yes, Melanie does have an attitude.

And this, this is Doodles flipping straight up gang signs cuz she be da bomb. Das right.

So the next day....

The next day I decided to further torture my children in order to make up for my eff-up the previous morning by lugging the camera to the bus stop. The children may have been a bit annoyed with me. Especially Mel...

And the other parents and children were a little bit miffed that I was holding up the line so that I could pose the children by the school bus.

Only those of you that have known me from my school days can truly appreciate pictures of my children getting on the bus with the other children. And by this I mean that the novelty is that my children are not gasping for breath, holding their sides after running for their lives to catch the bus. That may have been my experience. I've heard about it but I think it may be one of those repressed memories from my childhood. Like when I got a referral and removed from the bus after I (Rochelle) called the bus driver a b!tch. That same b!tch we got to sit behind during Sacrament meeting on Sunday. I wish I had repressed that one a little more. I don't know if I ever thanked you for that one Rochelle. And I know I never thanked Heather for tapping on my window every dang day so that we could walk to the bus together only to have to come in and help me throw myself together because the tap had become my alarm clock. Oop's.

So here they are looking a little relieved that they were on their way far, far away from my embarrassing antics.

Aren't they precious?

Don't Forget To Remember...

I've been sitting here thinking all evening about how strange it is that I have had such a normal everyday, day. It's a bit surreal if I let my mind drift back to today, eight years ago. When I was young my family would reminisce about what they were doing when Kennedy was assassinated, or when Elvis died, Peal Harbor, or any of those monumental moments in our history. When I turned on the television that early morning and watched the second plane slam into the tower, I was transfixed with horror. As I sank my sick, pregnant body into the recliner in front of the television, I knew with perfect clarity that this moment would stay with me forever.

In the days, weeks, and months following the most brutal attacks on U.S. soil, it seemed as if we were inundated with images from that day. Images of horrified American citizens running for their lives with looks of not just terror, but confusion on their faces. They, and all of us watching were wondering "why"? We no longer wonder because we understand the who now, but I am still wondering why, why we are able to so quickly fall away from the lessons of that day. That day we learned about terror, but we also learned about unity and rediscovered humanity. I felt that suddenly we were able to connect with one another on a level far deeper than at any other time in my life. Suddenly we as Americans could reach across all divides and feel the same pain. We were sharing the same fears for our future and celebrating the same guilty gratitude that it wasn't us on that television screen covered in dust and blood wondering what just happened, grateful that we could hug our loved ones. I wonder today, having not seen one of those images that was burned into my brain from repeated exposure, if we have broken that promise of not forgetting? Have we settled back into our mundane existences, forgetting that we are still fighting the war that began on that day? I think that maybe we have. I did hear a comment or two on the radio today but it seemed like not enough. Of course how can we quantify what would be enough?

I saw a petition of sorts on my husband's facebook page asking if he thought if 9/11 should be a national holiday. He answered "yes" and I was almost offended that we had to ask this. Isn't it already? How could we not consider a day when the world stopped to watch thousands be murdered a "national holiday"? Do we have to make it official and plug it in on the calendar to make it any more valid or to keep us from forgetting? It is/was far more important than that.

I just want to take a moment to publicly (to the two of you readers) state that I am so grateful for our troops that still fight the war that began on this day eight years ago, with honor and at great sacrifice to themselves and their families. I am grateful for my country and the freedom that it stands for around the world. I am grateful for this day that I have the freedom to write this, and publish it while my husband and baby sleep beside me in safety because of those that have sacrificed for us and will continue to do so as long as there is a need.

And as for me, I will always remember...

Dangerous Hippos

So I was reading (wasting time/avoiding chores) a few minutes ago when I ran across a photo that made me chuckle because it relates to this conversation I had with Sydney. According to Sydney, hippos are "the dangerousest animals on earf". I had my doubts until I saw this on MSN. I had been torn between sharks and lions, but I am certainly glad not to be this poor bastard.