A JunkEctomy

After my uplifting post about all the crap we get for Christmas, I have decided that I'm not going to take this lying down. The unrelenting onslaught of stuff we don't need or use is too much to take.

I'm going on a mission to purge our house of all the extra kids books and magazines. (Yes, I said magazines. Each of my kids receive a magazine every month. I'm from a big family so we need to find birthday and gifts for our kids that aren't always TOYS.) Gone are the board games that we never want to play because they take too long to play or the instructions are too complicated. Those puzzles that I swear we'll put together SOMEDAY as a fun family activity are going to be some other family's fun activity.

And, let's be realistic: Am I ever going to get around to all those sewing projects that I haven't been able to finish the last 4 years either? And what about the "skinny clothes" that I haven't fit into since before I had Peppermint Patty? I can only hold onto the dream for so long.

I am going to give my house a JunkEctomy. That's my New Year's resolution. At least, that's what I'll admit to. Because I'm fairly sure none of you will be over to check on my progress. So, yeah. As far as y'all know, my house will be clutter free by Valentine's day. Here's hoping.

Unfollowing

There was a time when I stalked my own blog. I would check it, check it again, reload it, click away, click back, etc. I wanted more followers on my blog, and I thought I could unlock some secret code for finding more followers. Maybe it involved not paying attention - you know, a watched blog never boils, right? Maybe it involved following more people on their blogs. Maybe it had something to do with that pesky SEO acronym.

Well, whatever the magic bullet is, I never quite figured it out. But I have acquired a few more followers over time. I certainly would never put myself in the "big leagues" but I'm at the point now where I'm comfortable just writing, getting things off my chest, and making personal connections (well, as personal as a person can be when I've never met them, spoke to them in person, or have any specific knowledge that they're not a serial killer).

I used to get hung up when someone would "unfollow" me. I wondered, Wait!! HEY!!!! Did I piss you off? Did I say something offensive? Or am I boring? Haven't I been posting enough? Or too much?

Then I thought about it, and I realized that I "unfollow" people all the time. My Google Reader changes every week. I will stop following a blog for any number of reasons - content, number of posts, my personal time, my own likes and dislikes - but none of the reasons are personal. Only ONCE have I intentionally unfollowed someone because they made me angry, and trust me: they knew it. Now, if someone unfollows me, I don't sweat it. I know my writing style can't appeal to everyone nor should it. And maybe someone followed me after reading a post I wrote on a good day, that was unfortunately followed by a bunch of bad days. You know I have them - c'mon, don't try to kid me. But, I am wondering, am I taking this too lightly? When I unfollow someone's blog, am I committing a major internet faux-pas? Have I crossed a line in the cyberworld sand that I'm unaware of?

What do you think? Does it bug you when people quit following your blog?

Christmas: A Reflection

I would love to say that Christmas is my favorite holiday. But it isn't. It's as much about the greed on my part as it is on the part of others.

No one is enjoying the presents I got them as much as I want them to. No one is gushing the "thank you's" as loudly as I'd like. No one is complimenting me on my roast turkey breast. No one is picking up the Christmas paper wrappings quickly enough. And, worst of all, no one got me a single present that I wanted, except for the presents that I went out and purchased myself, put into a flimsy gift bag, put on a self-adhesive gift tag, and in my own handwriting wrote "To: Mom, From: Santa".

This year I had to actually remind all the kids on December 23rd, "Remember, when you open gifts this year, you may or may not get exactly what you wanted. You are getting what Dad and I thought would be nice presents for you. You are getting what we could afford to buy you. You are getting gifts when other children are getting nothing. You WILL say "thank you". You WILL NOT pout. You WILL be polite. You WILL NOT compare the size or number of presents received to your siblings presents. Oh, and by the way, you WILL be taking your presents to your room or else your presents will be taken to Toys for Tots."

I'm kind-of a crazy grinchy bitch like that.

I have to say, I guess my kids have just gotten the better of me. And as far as I can understand that expression, I am taking it to mean that they have sucked all the good out of me. Any part of me that was once patient, understanding, kind, gentle, generous, and willing to twist her mouth into a smile is long since gone. I just want everyone to SHUT UP. And GO TO BED. Or PLAY OUTSIDE. And, for God's sake, don't ask me to make you food or give you a snack.

Now, when I say what I say, you have to understand that it's all just tongue-in-cheek, especially since I just wrote a post about not getting angry at the people in the parking lot of Toys R Us. Oh sure, I can keep my cool with them, but my own children? Yeah, I get a bit psycho after an hour or two with those monkeys.

But seriously, Christmas has just lost its appeal for me. I'm just tired of buying things in the belief that material gifts make people happier than sentiment. Christmas seems like a time when everyone, including me, is expected to just buy buy buy. And the gifts are more about hitting a certain price point than about getting a person what he or she would genuinely use or like. Have I spent enough money? Did I spend as much on that person as they spent on me? Are all the kids going to get a relatively EQUAL amount of gifts AND have an equal number of gifts? With friends and family, I just don't want to receive any more presents or to give any more presents. I want love, time, kindness, sharing, cooperation. But since you can't put a dollar amount on those things or wrap them with a pretty bow, instead we give each other things like sweaters and popcorn tins and Chia Pets.

I suggested to my husband, way back around August, that this year we only give each of the kids 3 presents: one "big" present (around $50 each), one small present, and $20 cash. He nixed that idea right away. He said he just didn't think it would work. I argued that it would be hard, but we needed to MAKE it work. All the continuous piles of toys and presents are causing the gifts to lose their significance. Sure, I stand in the toy aisle forever, wait in the check out line for an eternity, just so that my kid can rip off the wrapping paper and say, "Eh? What's next?"

And it's not that our kids are spoiled or selfish. I just think it's that our kids are... American. We live in a throw-away society where toys are a dime a dozen and not meant to last. Toys are designed to break after minimal usage and be replaced with new toys. I guess it helps the economy or something. So, my kids don't mind losing pieces to their toys. "It's okay mom. We can just buy a new one." UH? NO!!!! Legos strewn into every corner of the house? "No biggie mom - I've got plenty of Legos. If I don't find them all it's okay." UH? NO!!!! Getting tired of a toy that is only months or weeks old? "Hey Mom, I think I'm going to just throw this toy away. I don't want it anymore. It's boring." UH? NO!!!!

It's a vicious cycle. Kids get toys for gifts.... then they play with them... and eventually get bored with them... so we buy them more toys... and the old toys never get played with... and the new toys eventually become boring... and the kids realize that all they need to do in order to get new toys is to "get bored" with them... and then it's a Birthday or Christmas... more toys... old toys boring... lather, rinse repeat. And I am totally guilty of this. I spend all day cleaning up toys that my kids have only lukewarm feelings for. But I need them to stay occupied while I"m working, so I find MORE TOYS TO KEEP THEM INTERESTED AND THIS JUST MULTIPLIES MY PROBLEM!!!!!!!!!!

So, now you can probably understand why I love holidays like 4th of July: no presents, and all the decorations explode and get thrown away. Now that's my kind of holiday.

Keep Your Parking Lot Etiquette in Check

Or, alternately titled, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE???"

Have you gone to Target/Wal-Mart/Kroger/Kohls/etc. to get the half-off Christmas cards for next year and drastically reduced and broken to bits candy canes? I haven't braved the crowds yet. I say "yet" because the idea of Hershey's Kisses at 75% off is just too tempting to pass up.

So, what is it like out there? Are the checkout lines a marathon event to rival Black Friday? Are the parking lots a mess? Texan Papa had some first hand experience with the asphalt jungle before Christmas. He was outside hell Toys R Us to find a puzzle for our Angel Tree adoptee. He saw someone pulling out of a parking spot, so he waited and put his blinker on. While pulling out, another car drove up and decided to wait for the spot also because the car that was backing up was obstructing the view of TP's Jeep. When the spot was available, TP pulled into the parking space and to say he got an earful from the other person waiting for the spot, well that's an understatement. I think many obscenities were used and I believe the bird was flown more than once. Not by my husband, though. He thinks these incidents are just another chance encounter with the dregs of society. I mean really, is a parking space SO important? Is it worth raising your blood pressure over having to walk an extra 30 feet to the front of the store?

Just before Christmas, I was watching the Today Show and saw a video of a Ft. Lauderdale man being run over by a car. This man, a college professor and landlord of an apartment building, asked the driver of the car to move his vehicle off the grass from where it was parked. Apparently the driver didn't like the way he looked or the way he asked it or something. So he decided to use his car to chase and run over the landlord/professor.

Good Lord, what has the world come to? When in the world did we cross that threshold from "running a person down with my car is inconceivable" to "running a person down with my car is my right and an acceptable expression of my rage"? I mean, if there's one thing I'm trying to teach my kids, it's that being angry is okay. Anger is an emotion. We can't control our emotions. However, what we CAN control is our reaction to our anger. When did that lesson quit getting taught? When did freedom of speech evolve into freedom to do whatever the hell I want?

America is going to hell in a handbasket, whatever that means, but I know it's not good.

Not Your Typical Christmas Song

I searched Limewire for Christmas songs and came across this one.



This is so funny. It's called "I'm Getting Nothing For Christmas." Seriously, who wrote it?

If your kids are getting annoying, on the last day before "Present Day", you can play this song on full volume.

You're Welcome.

Santa Knows How To Give the Bird

So I went shopping at Target today. And actually it wasn't too bad. I have this great shopping list pad of paper, where there are all these columns divided into sections like "Frozen" and "Paper/Cleaning" and "Deli" etc. That way, I never have to push the cart up and down the same aisle 5 times because I just can't get all the items from that aisle at the same time. If I push my cart up and down an aisle 5 times it is only because I can't find something or because I realized I needed something that wasn't on the list.

Anyway, after leaving Target, I am leaving the parking lot. I'm on the main strip of pavement - you know, the one that runs straight in front of the store, the one where all the perpendicular parking rows feed into that one - and I'm just about to head out of the Target parking lot. Suddenly, a maroon Nissan Pathfinder almost pulls out in front of me from a side parking row. We're both coming at the same time - neither of us speeding or anything - but I figure that I've got the right of way, so I slow down at first but then keep traveling. And, as I look over, I see an old man who looks quite a bit like Santa driving the maroon Nissan Pathfinder. I chuckle to myself, because I figure, well it's not a sleigh but at least he's got the color right. And, as he pulls into the flow of traffic behind me, he blows his jolly old horn, nice and long, and flips me the bird. Not casually either. Not like, "Ah, you're a jerk." It was almost as if he was pointing at me. Like, "Yeah, I mean YOU! Here's my middle finger, just for you! No, I'm NOT telling you you're number one! I'm telling you, YOU'RE ON THE NAUGHTY LIST!!!"

I think I'll light a fire in my fireplace on Christmas Eve.

Click Here for the credit of Old Man White Beard photo.

Random Thoughts Tuesday

Is there any worse smell in the whole world than burnt popcorn?
And, why is it spelled "burnt" and not "burned"? I notice that spellcheck allows both spellings. But when I type "spellcheck" it gives me the red squiggle line. I guess "spellcheck" is not recognized by spellcheck. But I guess that's a separate random thought.

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I think it's funny that people say about breastfeeding, "It forces you to slow down and sit for a few minutes to spend time with the baby and relax." Uh, I must have missed that memo. I am always trying to figure out a way to hold the baby to my nipple while changing Sally's diaper. Or while signing a permission slip. Or while chopping vegetables. Okay, not really that last one, but I do try to hold her and nurse her while preparing dinner (usually gourmet fare like Hamburger Helper).

The worst time for me, as far as coordinating nursing and... there's no other word for it... LIFE, is in the morning while I'm trying to shove my 3 older kids out the door to catch the bus. Most mornings, I am so dead tired from just the usual amount of mothering, but lately even more so because Violet gets up throughout the night to eat. So, when 6:45 rolls around I am DEAD tired. Violet is usually still sleeping so I slink out of bed, trying not to wake her, so I can get the kids off to school without juggling a nursing baby, packing lunches, and wiping up a bowl of Lucky Charms that have spilled on the floor. But so far, I never make it. Violet wakes up and starts to howl. "I'm HUUUUNNNNNNGGRRRRRYYYYYYY!!!! WAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!! MMMMAAAAAMMMMMAAAA!!!! FEEEEEEDDDDD MMMMMEEEEEEEEE!!!!!" And so on, for 30 minutes or until I crumble from the witty bitty baby cries and let her sidle up to the milk bar.

By the way, I know the solution. I'm not a COMPLETE idiot (only partial). I just need to get up at 6:15 and feed the baby so she'll be happy. But those extra 30 minutes of sleep are just too seductive. The night before, getting up at 6:15 seems so sensible and seems like it will make my day sail along smoothly. Then in the morning the plan all goes to hell.

Okay, that last random thought went on too long.

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Lately my feet have been hurting. My sister had bunion surgery, so I guess it's possible that I'm getting bunions too. But, frankly, I have so many damn parts on my body that are falling apart, I'm not interested in seeing a podiatrist to find out if THAT part of me is breaking down too. So, I tried to do a little bit of self-diagnosis and treatment. I came across these:

photo courtesy of PROFOOT care

But I just have to ask myself, how is this product, priced at $9.99, any different than THIS product, priced at around $1.99?

I mean, seriously? There is only so much money in my budget that I can allow myself to be swindled out of with empty promises of health, beauty, and smaller thighs.

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Okay, that's it for today. Go check out Keely for other random thoughts!

Motherhood is...

Motherhood is
grocery shopping on Friday night
a clay ashtray that will never be used for burnt cigarettes
a finger-sized paint smear on the bathroom door that will still be there when you move 17 years from now
knowing that the blue #4 engine is definitely Gordon, not Thomas.

Motherhood is
"it's a girl"
"it's a boy"
or even
"I see one... two... three heartbeats."

Motherhood is
"Give mama a kiss"
"I see the bus coming!!! Don't forget your lunchbox!!!"
"Well, where did you see it last?"
"It's okay honey. Accidents happen."
"BECAUSE I AM THE MOM AND I SAID SO."

Motherhood is
sometimes standing up for your child
because he needs to know that you're in his corner;
and sometimes letting your child fall down
because learning from his mistakes will grow this boy into a man.

Motherhood is
teaching your daughter how to be a friend
and crying with your daughter when she has no friends.

Motherhood is
"Look Mommy. Look Mommy! LOOK MOMMMEEEEE!!!!!!!"
"Higher, Mommy! Push me higher!"
"Dup Doose. Dup Doose. Dup Doose." "Cup of Juice?" "Dup Doose."

Motherhood is
now.
yesterday.
tomorrow.

Where would the world be without mothers?

You ARE Important

If all the craziness of the holiday is driving you nuts...

If you're starting to feel overworked and unappreciated...

If everyone is starting to get on your nerves...

Then, all I have to say, is watch this and grab a hanky.

I Hope I Get An "A"

Oh Dear Lord,
Please forgive me for what I have just done. I swore I would never do this. My actions will not help anyone and may end up hurting some people. It was dishonest and, worst of all, it was in deliberate defiance of trusting that You will take care of us.

I just finished my child's homework for her.

You see, Lord, she is a bright child. But you know her - she is easily distracted from her homework. She dawdles and hems and haws. Unless her assignment is about Littlest Pet Shop, or unless it is broadcast on TV, she loses interest quickly. She is quite sharp, but it takes her a while to come around to the idea. To ANY idea. So, getting her to finish some initial research for her report on a Famous Texan was just a bit daunting. Plus, we have never seen a TV show of our Famous Texan, so you can see why she wouldn't have all the information memorized by now. Oh sure, she can recite from memory the commercial for Bosley Hair Restoration, but she has trouble understanding Texas History. I blame Nickelodeon.

But I digress.

Dear Lord, please forgive me for taking my own thoughts and attempting to paraphrase them into "4th grader speak". Please forgive me for beginning, then working on, and eventually completing my daughter's bibliography (after she asks, "What's a bibliotophity?") And, Lord, forgive me for being so impatient that I can't sit down for 2 hours to do the right thing and walk her through this assignment. As you know, I have a toddler who loves to eat paint, a baby who has recently morphed from sleeping all day into needing to be held 23.5 hours a day, and 2 older boys who love to kick soccer balls in the house and also jump off high ledges. I know that I'm not doing my daughter any favors by "helping" her through this assignment. But let's face it God: those teachers at her school are not going to understand that Wednesday night during Advent is for going to church, not finishing homework.

So, maybe Peppermint Patty will get an "A" on her assignment. Which is good, considering I get an "F" in parenting.

Oh well, there's always tomorrow! Your mercies are new every morning. Amen.

Random Thoughts Tuesday: Interesting Combinations

Ho ho ho! Happy RTT (Random Thoughts Tuesday)! Go visit Keely to check out other people's randomness.

If the plural of mouse is mice, why isn't the plural of spouse, SPICE?

I went to the store today. In my shopping cart was: A bag of chocolate donuts. And, two of those stretchy-body-shaper things. I think this is an interesting combination. I wonder what other combinations the checkers see? Like, vitamins and cigarettes. Or, an Enya CD and Mortal Combat video game. Just a thought.

Short list today... I have no idea how you folks do it who type on the computer with one hand while taking care of a baby. It takes me too long and I get frustrated!!!

Happy Tuesday!

Just Hit Delete

Okay... here goes...

I love you all to pieces. But my Google Reader is approaching 250 unread messages. I can't stand to look at that number anymore.

So, I'm going to do it. I'm going to "Mark All As Read". Even though it's a big lie. I haven't read them all! I haven't even looked at them. I'm sure that every single post is awesome, and witty, and thought-provoking. But I just have to draw the line. Either I read all 250 messages, or I pay bills.

And, what it really all boils down to is this: If I ignore you, JUST THIS ONCE, I think you might forgive me. If I ignore Visa, they aren't as nice. As a matter of fact, they are sonsabit**es.

It's like ripping off a Band-Aid...

Okay, here I go...

It Never Gets Easier

I'm a pro. Or so, that's what some people call me when I tell them that Little Violet is my 5th child.

"Oh, This is all just old hat for you, right?"
"I bet you have this motherhood thing down pat."
"You must be a pro at this by now."

And, I'm here to tell ya, it never gets any easier. First child, Fifth child, it feels exactly the same to me. Well, not exactly the same, but really close.

I still have dreams that I've fallen asleep and rolled over on top of her and smothered her. I am re-reading the parenting books like it's the first time. I still fumble around that little umbilical cord stump like I've never seen one before. I still wonder, every time she cries, why is she crying? Is something wrong? Was it something I ate? Is she sick? Should I call the pediatrician?

Sometimes I feel like I should be smarter by now! I should know what I'm doing and be able to do it with my eyes closed! But just last week I took Violet for her 2-week check up. And, not only had she not gained back her birth weight, she'd lost a few more ounces. I felt like a dog with its tail between its legs. WHAT WAS I DOING??? Well, I know what I was doing... she's a champion sleeper so I'd been letting her sleep 3, 4, even 5 hours at a time and not feeding her until she woke up on her own. So, basically, I was starving my own baby. But she wasn't crying! And she wasn't fussy or fidgety! And I have about a dozen more excuses!

I told Texan Papa that I feel really awful. I mean, REALLY awful. Because, you know, we all joke about the one basic requirement of a mom is to keep your children alive. But HELLO? I was even sorta failing on that expectation.

Now, I've gotten militant about feeding her every 2 or 3 hours, and she's already making a lot more poopy diapers. I go in on Monday for another weight check. I'm praying that she's fatter.

It just blows my mind that if Violet had been someone else's child, and I'd heard that story, I would have been all, "DUH. You need to feed her more often. Poor baby isn't getting enough to eat!" But because it was myself, I couldn't see it.

Maybe it's the post-partum hormones screwing up my brain. Maybe it's all the chaos of 4 other children. I don't know. But some days I feel like I need a CPS (Child Protective Services) person coming by to check on me to make sure I haven't completely forgotten how to be a parent.

God bless Little Violet. And hopefully He will protect her in spite of my best parenting efforts!

(Edited Monday Morning:) WOO HOO I took Violet to the doctor today and she's up from 7 lb. 2 oz. to 7 lb. 13 oz!!! 11 ounces in a week!!! Thanks for all the words of encouragement!

Flashback Friday: I've Become My Mother

Howdy! Flashback Friday is back, y'all! After a two-week hiatus, it's time once again to dig up an old post that was under-appreciated the first time around.

This week I'm revisiting a post about the inevitable shift from "I'll never be like my mom" to "My mom sure knew what she was doing!" Ugh. As a matter of fact, I went shopping today to find some new clothes. Now that I've had 5 kids, I am going to quit pretending that I like curve-hugging shirts. I have long-since abandoned my skinny jeans. But when I was looking at the shopping racks and found myself saying "oh, that's not so bad" to a shirt that looked like this, I felt like I was one step away from moving to Boca Raton and buying the early bird special. Oy vey.



(Originally Posted on 8/22/08)
Today I was riding home from the pool with Peppermint Patty (seated in the way back of the people mover), Linus (seated in the middle next to Sally in the carseat), and Charlie Brown, in the front seat next to me. Yes I know, major no-no to put a child under 12 in the front seat. But we've already had an accident with him in the front, a fender-bender as a matter of fact, and he survived. The air bags didn't even deploy. Will have to check with Dodge on that.

Anyway, Charlie Brown loves to mess with the radio. He loves to switch stations, turn the volume up & down, move the fade from left to right, back to front, change the treble and the bass, etc. Today, as he's switching stations, he comes upon a heavy metal song. He listens for a minute or so, then I change it to something else. He immediatly shouts, "No Mom! Go Back! Go back! I liked that!"

I responded with, "How can you like that? It's not even music. It's 'banging, banging, banging.' There's not even any music or singing."

Oh God, those are the EXACT words my mom said to my brother when he was 16. It is official. I have morphed into my mother. And, by the way, my mom has also morphed into her mother.

Suddenly I have the urge to go to a dance club or chug a tequila shot, whatever it will take to erase that vision from my head.

Baby Sneezes

Is this too cute or what?



(recorded on my new Flip camcorder that I won, thanks to Angie at 7 Clown Circus!)

Change is Never Easy

I live in a second-hand world. All my furniture is second-hand or hand-me-down. All our appliances were owned by someone else (or someones else) before us.

So, when our laundry machines began to crap out, and Black Friday deals were too good to pass up, we officially bought our first BRAND NEW appliances. Okay, technically, I bought a brand new toaster oven last year but that doesn't count because it was only $17.

So, we bought these Maytag Bravos Washer/Dryer machines. They are SHINY. And PRETTY. But I'm just not sure I like them.


First of all, there is no soak cycle. This is frustrating, considering that children get their clothes dirty. And my personal experience has proven that the SINGLE best way to get dirt out of clothes is to soak it out. But I have already tried to fill the drum up with water and turn the machine off. No dice. The machine is uber-efficient, so it uses hardly any water to begin with. And, when I press "pause", the water all drains out.

To get the machine with the soak cycle was an extra 300 bucks.

And, this machine only takes High Efficiency detergent. That sucks. I have a ton of detergent here all ready to be used. Now I guess I have to throw it away?

And, no water level control. The machine supposedly has a sensor to determine how much water the machine needs. And, the lid locks closed when it's on, to protect the consumer.

I think this machine must be a Democrat. It's all about taking the power and choices away from me and telling me how it's going to run my laundry cycle. This sucks.

Random Thoughts Tuesday

Howdy. Here it is, Tuesday, and I don't have many coherent thoughts circling around in my brain. All my brain cells are focused on feeding the baby, counting the number of poopy diapers I change each day, counting hours between feedings, and trying to keep track of my older childrens' homework assignments. And, in my spare time, I think I'm going to potty train Sally, just for shits and giggles.

Gah, my life is glamorous.

So, Random thoughts. Here's what I've got:

1. Mullets. Do you think that when Mullets were popular, back in the mid-eighties (Business in the front, party in the back... I just love saying that! tee hee), do you think they were called mullets? Like, "Hey there, bitchin' hairdresser. Give me a mullet! Gag me with a spoon!"

2. Potty Posture. I've noticed that when I sit on the potty, I perch my tootsies up on the balls of my feet. So, my heels don't rest on the floor. I don't know why. Maybe it's my inability to relax, even when using the toilet. Maybe it's a learned posture from childhood when my feet couldn't reach the floor. Maybe it's because I'm always in a hurry to get done so that I can check on how much of the house has been destroyed in the 13.4 seconds I am behind a closed door, without eagle-eye view of my children. Whatever the reason, I feel I have just crossed the line from "interesting" to "eww. TMI"

3. Why do some TV shows do their season premiere in January? I hate that. Why can't they just premiere in September like everyone else? Have I mentioned how much I am anticipating season 6 of Lost?

Now, go visit Keely to check out other people's randomness. Certainly I'm not the only one whose thoughts are this scattered.

My Memory

Back when I was in high school, so long ago when my future self was a blank canvas, I was still under the delusion that I knew how my life would turn out. I truly believed that I could imagine what my future held, and there were no obstacles to achieving the life exactly as I had it all planned out. All I had to do was work hard, and put myself in the right place at the right time, and the opportunities would simply present themselves to me like a gift on a silver platter.

It's so funny how, when we are young, we are ready to hurry up and get to the next phase of our life. Yet, when we are older, we reminisce about the days when things were simpler, easier, less complicated, and more fun. I think I (maybe you, too) tend to forget any memories of my childhood that were so catastrophic at the time. Being teased relentlessly by the "mean girls", a daily battle with acne outbreaks, having truly physical heartaches about my puppy love not giving me the time of day, it all seems so silly now in retrospect.

During middle school, then junior high, then high school, I was sure that I would be a different person in the future. I would be cooler. More sophisticated. Very classy. Elegant. Even-tempered and witty. My bad habits would dissolve away and I would become the person who everyone felt comfortable around, everyone wanted to confide in, and everyone wanted to invite to their parties.

Well, I certainly did turn out to be a different. But sophisticated? Elegant? Even-tempered? Uh, not so much.

I never really appreciated who I was at any phase of my life. As a child I was full of fire and a bit of a tomboy. I loved to dig in the dirt and ride my banana-seat bike while wearing my accordion-pleated Easter dress. As a teenager I was very sensitive to my friends' feelings and I enjoyed being a sort-of "mother hen". I also had a quick wit and was told by some that they did not dare engage me in a verbal fight. As a young adult (college age girl) I stretched my wings and took chances. I finally felt comfortable breaking away from the pack in order to learn how to be comfortable in my own skin.

And yet, during each phase of my life, I was filled with self-doubt and criticism of my seemingly endless faults. Only now can I see myself as the wonderful person that I was. I grew, and I changed, and I matured. But each phase of ME was good. I know that now.

So, this has made me think about the phase of life I'm in right now. Again, I have trouble finding beauty in who I am presently. I criticize myself and find endless faults that need correction and forgiveness. But if hindsight can give any guidance for the future, I think my time would be better spent getting past my shortcomings and embracing my strengths. Of course, this is easier said than done. But realizing the negative thinking I'm up against is half the battle, right?

I have a good friend who is reading this right now. She knows who she is, I don't need to name her. She has always had a better memory than me. She knows who I was as a teenager, as a young adult, as an adult, and as a mother. She often tells me, "Remember back in Biology class when you said...." or "I can remember that you always told me you would...." Having her for a friend is so valuable to me. She sees me as I don't see myself, and she's able to give me perspective when my hindsight isn't 20/20. She can tell me what I REALLY was like, even though I may have been a worse critic of myself. She helps me keep my memory in check.

I hope you have a friend who remembers the authentic, genuine you. It helps keep us honest about who we were, who we are, and how far we've come.

Being a Grown-Up

Sometimes it just sucks being a grown-up. And, so often, I wonder if I'm actually a grown up or just a child with a few extra years under my belt.

Last week I sat soaking in the tub when I suddenly heard one of my children yelling, "MOM!.... MOM!.... MOM!.... (do you guys know where Mom is?)... MOM!" And, instead of being a responsible adult and getting out of the tub, to explain (all while using my inside voice), "honey I'm in the tub right now and I can't talk"...

instead of doing that I just ignored the yelling child. Because, frankly, I hoped he wouldn't find me and he'd abort his search mission.

Lately I have been avoiding things so that I don't have to face them. THAT seems pretty immature to me. I will not pay bills until the very last minute. I don't return phone calls, I don't check up on deadlines, and any important papers that come into the house go into a wicker basket, then a plastic box, then a big cardboard box, until I can't ignore the papers anymore and I go through them. Usually by this time, I've missed a deadline for something fun or an event I wanted to attend.

The simple daily distractions are making me stomp my feet and say, "NO I don't want to deal with that!" Or, when I've really had enough (like yesterday, dealing with my arch-nemesis - a.k.a. the dental insurance company) I will throw a tantrum and yell and scream, hoping to get my way. Of course, it's all just a futile attempt. It's about as productive as a 2-year-old lying on the floor, kicking and screaming for another piece of candy.

But last night, after I'd seen just one too many homework papers left unfinished, tripped over one too many shoes in the middle of the floor, asked my husband to just put his shit away one too many times, I felt my soul shrink a little bit. I just don't want to be a grown-up anymore. I want someone to grab me and hug me and say, "Oh, don't worry. It will be alright. Let's have a bowl of ice cream."

Some days, getting to be the person who consoles and offers the bowl of ice cream to a child who needs it... some days that's rewarding. But today, I just get to miss those long-gone days when someone would do that for me. If you have a special someone who lets you escape being the grown-up, count yourself lucky.

Family Values

Hey Y'all. Thanks so much for all the wonderful wishes for me and our new daughter. And, yes, we think she's gorgeous too!


So, last week I took my older kids to McDonalds because, let's face it: the Thanksgiving holiday was wearing on me. God bless those women who homeschool their children because I just simply would never have it in me.

We got our food and ate it in the regular dining area. For some reason, I just can't stomach my Chicken Selects strips when the aroma of 7-year-old-wet-sneaker-feet is wafting through my nostrils. Plus, when we eat in an area AWAY from the brightly-colored bacteria magnet, it helps us cut down on the whole cycle of eat/touch germs/eat again/touch more germs/put hands in mouth/touch germs/etc.

Thankfully, I saw the mom dressed in her best Wal-Mart couture coming. She wore fleece pajama pants, a stretched-out t-shirt, a nylon windbreaker, dirty sneakers, and disheveled hair pulled into a scrunchy. To our delight, she sat in the booth right by us, so we didn't even have to try to eavesdrop to hear all of the f-bombs flowing freely from her mouth. I am (sincerely) glad, though, that my kids had already finished their food and had gone to play in the Playplace by the time she and her male companion (husband? Boyfriend? Second cousin?) sat down with a 7-year-old little girl and a baby boy in a pumpkin seat.

This is a sample of the conversation we (an about half of the dining area) heard:

"What the f*** did you get me this disgusting sh** for? I ain't gonna eat this sh**! If you like it so f***ing much, you eat it."

"I don't give a sh** what you want. That sh** is disgusting."

(By the way, she was talking about a Big Mac. Which she then promptly tossed on the table. The burger split apart and its contents teetered on the edge of the table. For the duration of their meal time, the special sauce, pickles, and lettuce oozed and dripped off the edge of the table onto the floor. And yep, you guessed it: they left it there as someone else's problem when they left the restaurant.)

I so wanted to go up to that lady and say something along the lines of, "Hi. I totally respect your right to free speech and all. But, could you maybe tone down all the cursing, at least until my family leaves? I mean, we've got a bunch of kids and I don't really want them hearing those words." But I was too afraid to say anything because I thought she might scratch my eyes out or spit on me or something like that. Truthfully, I felt kind-of ashamed. I felt like, WHERE ARE MY PRINCIPLES??? It's one thing to talk about your principles, but until you actually have to put them into action it's all just lip service.

So, whew. problem averted, thanks to the saving grace of McDonalds germ factory Playland.

What would YOU have done???