What Daddies Do Best

I have had an epiphany. My life CAN go on without me. You see, I'm a prideful little thing and I have been operating under the assumption that I am the only one capable of doing what I do. Not so. Turns out my husband & children are far more capable than I have ever given them credit for. Last week, I developed a horrible kidney infection and ended up in the hospital. As I lay in that hospital bed, I was panicking about all of the things that I was supposed to do that week. It's a horrible feeling to be so sick that it's impossible to live up to the expectations that you put on yourself. I was certain that it was the end of the world as we knew it. Then, Daddy stepped up.

My husband isn't usually the splitting the housework / cooking / kids stuff responsibilities sort of guy. We have a fairly old fashioned dynamic. He prefers for me to stay home and let him handle the bread winning thing largely because he doesn't want to have to come home after work and work more. It's just convenient for me to stay home and make a mad attempt at domesticity. Ordinarily, I'm happy with the set-up. I've never been too worried about the evils of stereotyping or the women's rights agenda. Most days it just seems like we're both doing what we're best at and balancing our partner out. The only time that I get bent out of shape about it at all is when for some reason the thought, "What if I died?" runs through my head and I freak out at the thought of my husband being left with our four children and no mommy to supervise.

It's times like that when I spring random comments on him like, "Do you even know where the kids' doctor's office is?!" as the poor guy nervously backs away, cornered by my accusation that he couldn't ever hold it together without me. In my mind, it's a sad, sad scenario without me and I picture my children starving and filthy in the hands of the man who knows not the name of their home room teacher or the proper dosage of Tylenol to give them. Don't get me wrong, he's a great dad. He's just always been the fun one. He's the one who comes home from work and plays video games with them and comes up with the best ideas for building cool snow forts. He doesn't need to know if they're up to date on their vaccines or where I keep the birth certificates because I've always selfishly taken care of all of that. From the outside looking in, I've realized that I'm a control freak, a workaholic without a job with a monetary paycheck. All these years, it wasn't that he couldn't do it. It was that I never backed off enough to let him steal my glory.

The thing about being a stay at home mom, you don't really have a lot of chances to shine. Sure, I can pat myself on the back on the rare occasion that my kitchen floor is sparkly clean or I make my way to the bottom of the laundry pile. Overall though, it's a lonely, boring, thankless job. The only sources of pride and accomplishment that I really have come from watching my kids be healthy and happy or having my husband tell me that dinner was delicious. So, I grasp on to every little morsel of power that I can. I plan menus to ensure that all nutritional bases are covered and I volunteer in classrooms so that both the school and my kids get the message that I DO care about their education. I buy a plethora of books & subscribe to Highlights and National Geographic kids and Boys Life so that I can pat myself on the back knowing that they're reading. It's all really a little over the top & ridiculous once I've stepped back and looked at it.

So, it took me well over a week to get well enough to have energy to even get out of bed in the morning to get the kids off to school. I didn't know how they would manage to get on the bus on time or how on earth they would have a successful day at school without me making them a protein shake or helping them match their outfits. I was sure that home work wouldn't make it into backpacks and that by the end of the week they wouldn't even have any clean clothes to wear at all. Boy, was I wrong. Everything flowed beautifully. When they came home in the afternoon, I was amazed at how NICE they looked. What's more, my house looked nice too. All week long, I never lifted a finger and somehow my dishes got done. I never even heard any nagging or arguing. The kids did their homework. They brushed their teeth. Dustin took them all to the potluck for Tatton's soccer team (and made the food to bring) and took Brooke to the daddy-daughter dance. He not only fed them well, but delivered meals to me and made extra trips to the grocery store whenever I ran out of cranberry juice or anything else. He refilled prescriptions at the pharmacy. The only thing I noticed missing was the stress. When I do everything that he did, I'm running around like a chicken with my head cut off. We're always rushing and I'm always nagging. I hate to say it, but I think he MAY be better at my job than I am. Surprisingly, that makes me happy.


My epiphany is that I've been way over complicating things. All of these years of futilely chasing supermom status has been silly. It's nice to know that I can afford to get sick and that my family will survive. While Dustin has happily slid back into his breadwinner role as I've gotten healthier, it's nice to know that I'm doing what I'm doing voluntarily to make his life easier and not because he's incapable of it. And I really appreciate what a good job he did of taking care of me when I was sick.

Valentine's Schmalentines- Why I Want To Boycott

Don't ask me why, but I'm SO annoyed that Valentine's Day is this weekend. I just want it to go away. I tried singing "Valentine's Day Go Away" to the tune of Rain, Rain Go Away but obviously the meter was off. So, here's what I'm thinking...

A. If my hubby decides to spontaneously bring me flowers or chocolates or take me out to dinner on any random day, I am charmed at his romantic gesture and think, "He loves me! He REALLY loves me!" If he feels pressured into forking over hard earned cash on marked up flowers because the calendar says that it's the day when all people are supposed to write their paychecks over to Hershey's and Hallmark? Not so romantic.

B. I have 4 kids. Which means that there are 4 class parties involving purchasing & addressing cards & candy for their peers & teachers and sending in treats so that they can eat themselves into a sugar high meets belly ache right before riding the school bus home to me just in time for their blood sugar levels to crash and the tantrums to ensue.

Plus, in the latest sign of our hard times, recent retail polls indicate Americans are going to spend less on Valentine's Day this year.

Say it ain't so.

In the middle of a soul-crushing recession, with dire economic news unleashed upon us every day, the bad news is that Americans are expected to shell out a mere $14.7 billion on romantic gifts this weekend.

Stop me if I sound stupid, but why are we spending one red cent on this so-called holiday -- especially right now? Believe me, there are better ways to share the love and smarter ways to spend your money.

Materialism run amok...

I have nothing against romance, love, sex, frilly red hearts or an excuse to eat chocolate (mmmm... CHOCOLATE...)

The problem is that Valentine's Day, like many other American occasions, has grown from being a celebration that once aspired to some meaning, to being a trashy, materialistic extravaganza.

Think about how much pressure there is to participate:

Every schoolchild, practically, is expected to make or send cards to their classmates or bring treats to class. I just spent $26.00 on stuff for my kids' class celebrations. My two older boys were like, "Uh- Mom? Do I really have to give even the boys in my class cards that say I love them? Isn't that sorta creepy?" Luckily, I found snack size Snickers bars that just say To: & From: in lieu of the usual sappy, cutesy variety. You can't go wrong with a Snickers bar. They say, "I love you as a friend, Man." more than "Be mine.", you know?

Some single women feel so left out on Valentine's Day that they've been known to send flowers to themselves, so they won't look like losers. As if the absence of a bouquet or the baggage of a significant other should really tattoo "LOSER" on your forehead. How sad is that?

And don't assume couples are happier: For many, Valentine's Day is a yearly excuse to have a nasty fight, with partners feeling unloved & neglected . . . because they didn't get a stuffed bear or some candy. Seriously?

It's equations like this that lead millions of consumers to spend $14.7 billion. While the economy is melting way faster than the polar ice caps...

A short history of a dumb day:
What makes this ritual even more puzzling is that Valentine's Day doesn't even have a good story (see: Christmas, Thanksgiving and the Fourth of July) or spooky ghosts and pumpkins. In fact, we don't even know the real story for sure.

Valentine's Day is simply put big business.
Basically, throughout the millennia, February was always a slow shopping month. Then, because a couple of early Christian martyrs (both named Valentine?) might have died for love, a holiday emerged.

I'm not making this up.
A priest secretly married lovers in defiance of a Roman emperor's decree and supposedly was executed for it.

Another man, as legend has it, was rejected by his mistress, and -- you'll like this -- he carved out his own heart and gave it to her. Yech.

Somehow, about 1,700 years later, we're stuck spending gobs of money on predetermined displays of "romance."

So, here's what I'm thinking: if it's really the romance that you're looking for, give each other massages. It's free. Or you could always buy a pint of whipping cream for two dollars. I doubt I need to elaborate further. Take care of a chore that your loved one doesn't love doing for them so that they don't have to. Take the time to really have a conversation with each other. Curl up on the couch and watch a movie together. Make a concious effort to incorporate romance and gestures of affection into your every day life 365 days a year and don't stress out about making a commercialized, hyped up "holiday" into an unrealistic one day event full of too high expectations and flowers that die right about the time that you get the credit card bill for them.


And if you really need further inspiration:

Updated Repost: In Memory

So, today was my grandpa's memorial service. Well, technically his THIRD memorial service (two in Arizona & now the family one up here in Washington.) The man was well loved. It was a beautiful service. I had two favorite parts. First, I thought it was amazing to hear people speak about him & I was amused that several things that I had said about him in my blog were what other people remembered most about him too. My cousin spoke and Oh My Goodness! Was it touching. He described my grandpa to a tee and I wanted to jump out of my seat screaming, "YES! I remember that about him too! Wasn't he awesome?!"

Then, my grandpa had prepared for this. He made a DVD. Going to someone's funeral and then hearing their voice is a crazy thing. The dvd started off with him reading poetry that he had written (beautiful!) with his paintings as a background. Then, several pictures from when he was a very young man to just this last summer. It was great to see a ton of family that I haven't seen in a while and just to hear every one share about grandpa. It was brought to my attention that apparently more people are aware of my blog than I knew and several people had read my tribute to him. So, I decided to repost it so that the family members who were alerted to it didn't have to wade through a couple of weeks worth of posts to find it. So, here it is again:



The world lost a wonderful man yesterday. One of thee best men I've ever known actually. If I had to say what's shaped me into the person that I am today, having my grandparents in my life was possibly the biggest contributor. My grandpa didn't have an easy life, but he made it a fabulous one. In his book Daddy Your Shoes Didn't Fit My Feet, he shares with the world glimpses of his life story (as much of it as you can fit into under 200 pages anyway.) There's no doubt that he was a survivor. The saying "Out of difficulties grow miracles" is one way to describe his life. A lot of people allow themselves to be broken down and quit in the face of adversity. My grandpa used it as a tool to make himself into an inspirational motivator to those around him.


Growing up in the hills of Kentucky, my grandpa lost his father to a heart attack. His dad was only 38 years old and my grandpa was 11. That loss changed the dynamic of their family forever and the next several years would prove to be painful and terrifying for the family. After leaving home at a young age, my grandpa used his persistence and hard work to build himself the life he had always wanted. He proved to be quite the entrepreneur and was running a successful logging company (among other side ventures in real estate and such) when he started having chest pain at age 36. After running tests for the next few months, the doctors gave him a grim verdict: he had severe artery disease and if they did bypass surgery (which was brand new in 1970) that he would probably die on the operating table. They said he most likely only had about 6 months to live. In his usual "grab life by the horns" fashion, he set to work trying to get things in order for his wife and 4 kids. He didn't want to leave them with the same stresses and struggles that his family had faced when his own father had died.

It was then that my grandpa learned a valuable lesson. He sold his prestigious home in town and simplified their life. By being forced to slow down & downsize because of his health, he was able to realize something. Page 138 in his book says:

"The next few months taught me a valuable lesson. Happiness isn't found in prestige houses, big bank accounts, shiny new cars, or diamonds and silk cloth. Happiness is having peace within. It comes when we can accept who we are inside and are willing to trade worldly wealth for quiet time with your wife. It's when you relax before a fireplace while rocking a child that you helped bring into this world and let the sound of his rhythmic breathing bring peace to one's soul. It comes when you walk hand in hand with your five and six year olds, while the sun is dropping behind the evergreen trees, and you don't feel rushed when you stop and watch the hard working ants drag cuttings of cherry tree leaves. He doesn't seem to know where home is. The leaf is much bigger than he is, but he wants it all. I had spent much of my life like the little ant."

I feel so blessed to have come into my grandpa's world after he knew all of this, because all I ever knew of him was a man that acted as if he had all the time in the world to spend with me and made me feel like the greatest treasure. He had this gift for making you feel like you were his favorite person in the world & that you were a person of worth with talents and a purpose. I've never had self-esteem issues and I'm sure alot of that is because of his unconditional love since the day I was born (and technically before because I've read a love letter he wrote to my mom when she was pregnant with me that made it clear that he loved me even before I was born.) For a long time, with the way that he praised me and spoiled me, I thought that I was certainly his favorite. As I got older, I looked around and realized that that was just the way he treated everybody. He was always taking people under his wing and building people up. Now, I frequently run into people who ask, "How are your grandparents doing?" and they tell me how my grandparents have helped them get through a difficult time of some sort or enriched their life one way or another. "If it hadn't been for your grandparents..." is something I hear alot.

I have so many awesome memories of spending time with him. He loved to garden and always grew berries for us. When I eat a warm strawberry off the vine, I think of him. He also loved to fish, and I can't eat smoked salmon without thinking of him either. I remember spending the night at their house, he would always make me a special breakfast and so I also think of him when I think of omelets or waffles. There are so many memories of him tied into food. I think because like everything else he did, he just poured so much love into it. It wasn't really that he was giving me food so much as feeding my soul. Over the years, he became an amazing painter and his eye for beauty and love of nature are documented in his many paintings.

He didn't get much education growing up in Kentucky & Virginia, but he was absolutely one of the smartest people I've ever known and he loved learning. He was always up for a conversation and our talks would usually turn to the subject of goals and how smart he thought I was. He was so proud to see his kids and grand kids succeed and he always made it clear that he knew I had the brains to do anything I wanted in life. I still believe that and I'm so thankful that he instilled that confidence in me. The first mail that I ever received was when I was in preschool and my grandparents went to Arizona for the winter. I loved getting my "love letters" from my grandpa. He taught me so many life skills. Things like how to really talk to someone, how to look someone in the eye and truly listen. He showed me how to care about what people are saying and to have a servant's heart to help them if they need it. The first time I ever drove a vehicle was with him too. One afternoon, he just stopped by my house and said, "Do you wanna go for a ride?" and tossed me the keys. I was so nervous driving his truck, but he was patient as I swerved back and forth over the center line at 10 MPH, just casually talking the whole time and giving me the occasional pointer on driving.


Yesterday was my grandma's 70th birthday. My grandpa had begun planning for it over a month ago. He had arranged for all 4 of their kids to fly down and surprise her. I don't know if he knew then that he was going to pass away, but I wouldn't doubt it. I am shocked and amazed at the poetry of the way that he held on until all 4 of his kids were there and had a chance to say good-bye and be there to support my grandma. I have never known anyone else so capable of willing themselves to live. It was 39 years ago that they told him that he had about 6 months left. He has endured through heart attacks and strokes and heart surgeries over the years and has lost almost all of his siblings to heart disease in that time.

I'm sad for my grandma. I can't imagine losing your spouse after 53+ years of marriage, but I'm so thankful that our family (and community) had the privilege of having him in our lives for 39 years longer than the doctors told him we would. He passed away with the same dignity and with the same inspirational strength and love that he lived his life.


The work an unknown good man has done is like a vein of water flowing hidden underground, secretly making the ground green.
Thomas Carlyle








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Check Out: Daddy Your Shoes Didn't Fit My Feet by Fred Holbrook

Homework Headaches

Dear Blog,

Good mothers work hard to ensure their children's academic success. I aspire to one day be one of those mothers. Right now though, not so much. This week, I've decided that I'm more burnt out on school than I EVER was when I was a student myself. Why is that?

A. Son #1 has never been a fan of school. I accept this. We've done everything that we could think of to convince him otherwise since 1st grade, but sometimes you just have to face it. Some people just hate school with a passion and as a parent you reach a point when you realize, "Hey, I can't FORCE somebody to like something. I can only force him to go." That's it. I've given him rewards for improving his grades and punishments for letting them slip. We've medicated and tutored... the whole nine yards. Honestly, he's doing better now than he ever has (which means we're celebrating his C average) but I can't take a whole lot of credit for his success. He has some fabulous teachers and he's matured a lot this year as well. He still hates writing. As he threw a royal fit over the injustice of having to write a 5 paragraph report the other night, I was utterly perplexed. Doesn't he realize that 5 paragraphs is nothing at all? I write that much on my blog voluntarily. For fun even.

B. Son #2 used to LOVE school. Up until this year, he never had less than straight A's (or S+'s the elementary equivalent of an A.) All of a sudden he's avoiding his schoolwork like a draft dodger in route to Mexico and his report card is sporting (gasp) F's. Here I've spent (I don't want to tell you how much) money over the years on book collections and educational games and science kits to nurture his gifted brain that was frequently bored and now he's decided that it's all "too hard" and won't put in ANY effort. I'm sorry Son, but you can't throw in the towel and drop out in 4th grade. You were born in the wrong era for that. Not to mention, you've spent the previous years of your childhood rubbing salt into your brother's wounds about how you can't believe he struggles in school because it's "so easy" for you. I suppose the fact that his report card is now better than yours should be deemed some sort of justice for your arrogant ways, but I can't get past my frustration with your laziness to truly enjoy the poetry of your brother getting to celebrate pulling in better grades than you for a change. All I know is, I do feel sort of childish for splashing you in the face with that cup of ice water the other night when you were throwing a tantrum about your homework that should have taken 30 minutes tops and you had already extended it into a 3 hour ordeal complete with tears and teeth gnashing while blaming every one but yourself.

C. Son #3 brought home a packet of work that they had done together in the classroom and he had apparently not "gotten". His teacher attached a note, "Mrs. Hensley, Russell doesn't understand this. Please work with him at home." Sure, I can do that. Then, I look through the packet and see that he REALLY didn't understand it. A weeks worth of math worksheets all incorrect. A weeks worth of alphabetical order worksheets also all incorrect. A couple of Scholastic News reports on Barack Obama's inauguration and Martin Luther King, Jr. day looking like Greek to him. So, I'm sitting with him at the kitchen table trying to find a way to explain something that his teacher obviously must have explained already only I don't have a masters in teaching and am wondering how I'm supposed to make it make sense if she couldn't. Somehow, we managed to get it all done (while fighting with Tatton about how he MUST finish his homework... and trying to convince Lane that the 5 paragraph report is NOT as big a deal as he's making it out to be and that he should really just plop down at the table and write it one paragraph at a time... and practicing reading with Brooke...)

I'm just trying to figure out how when I was a kid, I managed to go to school, pull in good grades fairly effortlessly (I don't remember shedding all these tears that I'm seeing from my kids now) and still had time to run around outside climbing trees and riding bikes on my evenings and weekends? I don't remember my parents spending hours upon hours with me coaching me on reports and nagging me about all of the homework in my 30 lb. backpack. In fact, I don't remember having a backpack that caused chiropractor visits at all. So, when did this happen? When did it change so that my adult years now involve more schoolwork than my childhood ever seemed to? When did my kids stop having time to play and why does it seem we barely have any time to have a life outside of school unless their grades suffer for it? Grrr- maybe I was naive when I went into this parenting thing, but I'll tell you what: I never anticipated being this burnt out & exhausted from educating my kiddos and I would have never guessed that I'd have a kid who required anti-anxiety meds to go to school. Here our nation is in the middle of a childhood obesity epidemic and my kids are being held in at recess to catch up on missing assignments and doing even more schoolwork instead of physical activities on their evenings and weekends. I kind of doubt that their brains are even retaining any of it anyway since they're so burnt out themselves. That's my family planning motivation right there. Even though I'm a baby crazed mama who would LOVE to have more kids, I KNOW that I don't have the time or the energy for another one because I'm already so stressed and busy trying to keep up with the schoolwork for the ones I have. When you start getting so stressed over your child's homework that you break down and toss a glass of ice water on his tear streaked, whiny face, it's a good sign that you're incapable of handling more offspring and that MAYBE you shouldn't have had quite as many as you had in the first place.

He Said What?!

When I was pregnant with Lane, my husband was known to make "innocent" comments that just sounded WRONG. (Okay, you got me, he STILL does that.) Early on in the first trimester, Dustin (who was 19 at the time and still a long, lanky young man who actually had some pretty hot, defined muscles but had always wanted MORE muscles) said: "Hey, maybe if our baby is a boy he'll get my height and your thickness and be a linebacker." That's right. My thickness. I remembered this comment the other day when we were having trouble finding the boys new pants that fit. Lane didn't get that "thickness" and like his father before him, he swam in the 14 regulars he tried on and we were debating on whether mandatory belts or slim fit was the best course of action. Tatton and Russell on the other hand... Well, let's just say that they couldn't get their respective pants to button up. So, we ventured into the Husky section. Tatton has been sensitive in the whole body image department lately and I felt the need to give him a dressing room pep talk. I told him about how my brothers (all buff & stand out athletes, etc.) had to wear huskies. I remember them (right at Tatton's age) putting on a little pudge around the middle right before they hit puberty and got tall and muscly. That was when I had my "Oh..." moment and realized that my sons had indeed gotten my "thickness" that their father had requested. Word to the wise though Guys, even if made in the spirit of future football hopes, NEVER call your wife THICK, okay?

During that same pregnancy, Dustin also said, "Hey, our baby might be a white person like you, huh?" Um, excuse me? I mean, we're both white, so I don't really know what that even means... He clarified. "No, I mean REALLY white like you. I hope he's got my coloring." Oh, do you now? Well, I feel pretty, thanks. For those of you who don't know, Lane did indeed turn out to be a white person just like me. Lane and I both come in two color options: pasty white bordering on translucent and lobster red when exposed to the sun. In the skin department we seemed to split as a family 50/50. 3 of us are "white people" and the other 3 can stay in the sun for HOURS just getting bronzed and bronzer. Ultimately, I agree with Dustin now. I kind of wish that all of the kids had gotten his coloring. Worrying your child is going to get a blistering sunburn because they've been outside for 15 minutes and you forgot to put sunblock on them is not nearly as nice as having kids that never seem to burn whatsoever. I'm sure the two kids who got my skin tone would have preferred to have skipped having access to that part of my DNA. Poor Lane, between his OCD issues with worrying about being sick and his history of sunburns, he's been giving himself skin cancer checks since he was 6. "Uh, Mom- does this mole look like it's suspicious to you?!" is something I hear a lot.

Well, I guess I'd better go clean some more. :-( I hear I'm having a Super Bowl party at my house tomorrow. Don't get me wrong. I like watching the Super Bowl too. (Okay, okay, I don't LOVE football, but I like the food and commercials.) I just have no idea how I had absolutely nothing to do with the planning of this little shindig and yet I'm doing the cooking & cleaning for it... ??? It snuck up on me and morphed into something WAY bigger than I expected. It started off a few days ago when Dustin said, "Oh, I was planning on having a couple guys over to watch the game." I said, "Okay, cool." Next thing I knew, our guest list had multiplied faster than rabbits. Everybody is bringing friends and their friends are apparently bringing friends... I don't even KNOW most of these people. When I made a begrudging comment about it to Mr. Wonderful he said I was being anti-social and snobby. I'd like to make a statement: The correct term is LAZY. I just don't like having to do extra cooking and cleaning, thank you. It takes energy to entertain and make conversation with people you barely know.

I've decided that my 30th Birthday present to myself is going to be learning how to be assertive and speak my mind more often. We've already established that I'm thick, pale white, and snobby. I don't see how throwing bossy into the mix could really hurt anything.

Damaged Goods

Hello. My name is Natalie and I am broken. (You all say: "Hi, Natalie!) I have a few different posts in the drafts department addressing this issue. However, it wasn't until a couple of comments from my hubby this week that I have finally decided to throw this subject out into the blogging universe. I have never broken a bone in my life. I do not have any chipped or cracked nails to speak of. I barely even have any split ends. The harsh reality though... I am utterly broken. For all of my pseudo outer strength, it has become clear that my insides are something like scratched Teflon. Black, things rarely stick, and the few areas that things do stick are because there's some sort of damage that makes me hold on to things that are in fact not supposed to stick. I've "scrubbed' and "scrubbed" to get rid of the stuff that isn't supposed to stick (like priding myself on my lack of tears) in order to make room for the stuff that is (like being able to cry), but sometimes I think that all of that scrubbing is just making my Teflon more scratched. And I really don't want that because as bizarre as some people may think that having a slippery black heart may be, it's REALLY convenient. My Teflon has served me well, People.

They say that admitting to weakness is really a sign of strength. You're supposedly "strong in your vulnerability". So, I envy other people who can just be emotional. I have NO CLUE how to do that. For a long time, I prided myself on my lack of tears. I thought it meant that I could handle anything that came my way. My husband says that it means I'm cold though. I said, "Of course I'm cold! It's freaking 26 degrees out!" He didn't laugh. I guess because I've also always prided myself on laughing things off. Humor helps. Or at least that's what I thought. He just looked at me with this face that said, "You sad, sad, creature. You don't really know how pathetic that is, do you?"

I feel somewhat defensive about these accusations. He makes it sound like he thinks I'm some weird, psychopathic monster. After 13 years of marriage, you would think he would know me better than that! I'm not incapable of love. I can sympathize with the best of them. I just have a tendency to rationalize why things aren't a big deal. Other people allow themselves to be overcome with emotion and act on impulse. When they feel angry, sad, scared, etc. they scream and cry or act out one way or another. I usually just go, "Oh, okay..." and deal. Now, whether the way that I "deal" is healthy or not... I'm not the one to say. It FEELS fine. It apparently freaks my husband out. He listed off a whole bunch of examples of times that I have been inappropriately stoic. Who knew I was scaring people with my lack of emotion?

This week, when my grandpa died, I was sad. I calmly talked to my mom on the phone when she told me, then came out and calmly told Dustin the news. I got out some old pictures and looked through them and then wrote a blog about him. Dustin kept coming up and hugging me tight and (with tears in HIS eyes) surveying my face for some sign of emotional breakdown. After a while, he asked me why I wasn't more upset. I told him because we mourn for those of us that are left behind, not the ones that pass on. My grandpa is in a better place. I think that the hardest losses to take are when you had unfinished business with someone. The wife who just had a fight with her husband and said some cruel words as he drove away before getting in a car wreck. The mother who lost a child and wasn't able to experience all of the stages of raising them. I didn't have any unfinished business with my grandpa though. I had already gotten more love and support from him than a lot of people receive in a lifetime. I have nothing but gratitude for the time that I did have with him. So, why would I NEED to put on a big display of grief?


Now, Dustin is concerned that I may not cry at his own funeral (barring an unexpected turn of events resulting in unfinished business, of course.) He pointed out that he's never seen me cry at a funeral. I NEVER cry during movies. I NEVER cry when I get bad news. So, he thinks it's probable that my eyes will be dry when he dies. Obviously, I can't predict how I would react, but I'm assuming that losing my spouse would probably spur tears. But even if I DIDN'T cry... that doesn't mean I loved him any less. It probably just means that I'm mentally checking off all of the reasons why it's going to be okay & making mental notes of all the things that I appreciate or want to remember. That's how my mind works. I usually step back and assess the situation and find the solution or at least the positive before I bother waisting any energy freaking out. I REALLY hate the way it feels to freak out. Alternately, I love the empowerment of being able stay calm. There's a certain confidence in being pro-active about things instead of well, just crumbling. I hope he realizes someday that it's a useful trait when he's upset and I'm able to handle things for the both of us. Seriously, it's people like me who can stay cool under pressure that can act as crutches for the people who are falling apart. So, call it psychopathic or cold or whatever you want to call it... I still really like my Teflon. Oh, and my heart really isn't black. I swear. Certain individuals just assume that because I have a good poker face and prefer to analyze things.

Maybe that does mean I'm broken. Maybe I'd really be "living" if I just threw caution to the wind and went through life FEELING my way through situations rather than strategizing and interpreting shades of grey. I'm sure I could pick up a Dr. Phil book about this or something... but damaged goods or not, I dunno. That's what he says.

What A Guy

Russell, bless his heart, has a new habit. As soon as he takes his clothes off, he throws them in the DRYER. Now, keep in mind that he's only 8 and the world of laundry is fairly new to him. So, technically, it's pretty sweet to see him doing this "helpful" thing on his own. In his mind, he's just being a responsible big person who washes their own clothes. I tried to monopolize on this and teach him to throw them in the washer instead. He really seems to like the dryer though.


This morning, I walked around the lake picking up MORE litter that the flood brought in. When I came inside, I was feeling pretty nasty. Call me a girly girl, but tromping through the mud, standing garbage cans back upright after draining muddy water from them, and picking up soggy garbage makes me feel downright smelly. So, I ran a hot bath and went into the laundry room to wash my work clothes in HOT water (and extra soap... with an extra rinse cycle...) Sure enough, sitting there in the dryer were the jammies that Russell had taken off before school this morning. It made me smile. Eventually, I'll get him to put them in the washer and add some soap, etc. For now, it sure is cute & definitely one of those things that I want to remember about him later.

Little Miss Sunshine

So, after glancing over my last few posts I realized something. I've been really gloomy, whiny, sort of lame, and have blogged about my messy house in excess. So, in honor of the sunshine making an appearance today (seriously gorgeous out!) I'm going to randomly list off a few things that have actually made me HAPPY this week:

My kids went back to school. Enough said.

Okay, okay, yes, I do feel like a mean mommy for celebrating that, but hey! Even they appreciate it. The reality is, even though they're just like most kids and they say they don't like school and they love breaks as much as the next kid, they also admit to liking the way it feels to get back to their familiar schedule and friends. And... (probably shouldn't admit this because I'm not sure what it says for my cooking...) they LOVE eating school lunches. My kids seriously get excited about the lunch menu. Plus, even though I'm not thrilled that back to school also means evenings full of homework, overall our evenings are nicer when school is in session because we had a chance to miss each other during the day and we only have to play nice for a few hours before it's bedtime and everyone has stuff to talk about over dinner because we actually went out into the world and acquired some new info to share. It's a win-win.


The second thing I'm happy about is that I spent some really nice, much needed time with my hubby yesterday. I've gotten spoiled since usually he has every Tuesday off and so each week while the kids are all in school we get 6 hours of uninterrupted mommy & daddy time. However, that hasn't happened for a while because, you know, no school. We've spent plenty of time together but it hasn't really been quality time. It's been "surrounded by a ton of other people who are all simultaneously demanding attention while we're attempting to work together to divert a crisis" sort of time instead. We're both stressed. We're both grouchy and we've both been flinging snarky, underhanded comments at each other more than usual. Not exactly a honeymoon period around here. So, yesterday, simply going out to Olive Garden for lunch together felt SO NICE! Like "Wow, maybe we CAN stay married" nice. We both enjoyed it so much that he arranged for his parents to take the kids overnight on Friday. Now, I have something to look forward to this weekend. Which is GREAT since Monday & Tuesday there's no school again making this a 4 day weekend for the kiddos AND there are a couple of half days after that for report card prep! Yikes! Makes me wonder how my kids are ever going to learn anything this school year... Is a dozen 6 hour days of school per month enough? That's like 72 hours of school this month... Anyways...


I would also like to rejoice that the flood waters have receded and the sky is an amazing shade of blue. I can't imagine how overcome with joy they must have felt when the bird brought the leaf back to the ark, because as it is my joy this morning when I pulled open the blinds and saw the sky was over the top. I don't know if my body could have handled THAT much serotonin if I had been in the ark. As it was, I had to restrain myself from dancing and singing as I went for a walk this morning. The people on musicals make it look so easy to just burst forth into song as they run through rolling fields. Even though I was tempted, I just couldn't sing "Doe- a deer, a female deer" as I sprinted along at the park though. I might have channeled a little Bon Jovi & hummed a few lines of Living On A Prayer... but you'll never get me to admit that.


Really, when I'm being honest with myself, I have a TON of stuff to be thankful for and I could go on and on about things that I'm happy about this week. I guess I just lost site of that for a while. There's nothing like public school, a lunch date with the hubby, and some sunshine to remind me how good I've got it. Hope you guys are having a good week too!

Just Another Migraine Monday

I don't know what you call this. Seasonal depression, maybe? When I get really stressed, I get a killer migraine on the right side of my head. I can feel it coming up through my tensed up right shoulder and throbbing behind my right eye. I get nauseous and dizzy. I'm super sensitive to smells, lights, and sounds. Do you want to know the best part? While I have had this going on for DAYS, we have been flooded in at our house. The kids' school had something of an emergency evac / sent the kids home at 10:30 on Thursday because of rising waters. From there on out, the water just kept getting deeper and deeper until our road was closed essentially trapping me inside of my house with my 4 noisy, smelly children. I love them. Honestly, I really do. However, there's this viscous cycle where they cause me to feel stressed and get a migraine and then my migraine makes me nearly incapable of dealing with the noises and smells that come along with said children. On Friday night, I lost it and made them all go to bed at 7:00. Believe me, you haven't heard a child throw a fit until you tell a 12 year old that they're going to bed at 7:00 on a Friday night.

Between the snow days, and the Holidays, and now the flooding... my kids have only gone to school a handful of times since the beginning of December. I've been trying to remember how on earth we made it through 90 days of summer vacation considering one month of "vacation" in the winter is enough to make me consider getting medicated. I think that we might be okay if the sun would just make a bloody appearance to recharge my sanity albeit temporarily. Oddly enough, I've always considered myself an easy going person. So it comes as quite a shock to me that my children's love of a Bohemian existence sends me so far over the edge. The mere fact that my daughter feels that clothing should be optional and my son eats 24/7 are driving me mad.

On Friday morning my daughter's clothing optional mindset manifested itself in a rather embarrassing way. Since my throbbing head was killing me and we had NO WHERE to go since they weren't going to school, I was lazily sleeping the morning away. That said, I didn't notice my kids excitedly throwing on their rubber boots so that they could go splash in the muddy flood waters which I admit, do probably look like glorified mud puddles to my puddle loving kiddos. If it weren't for the fact that the house was eerily TOO quiet (odd the way that quiet now sets off alarms and wakes me) I wouldn't have noticed at all and would have continued blissfully sleeping.

It was about 9:30 when the silence wasn't golden, and I jumped out of bed and went looking for the missing noise makers. A glance out the window, and I realized that not only were they happily splashing in the water that had found its way to our yard after flowing swiftly through fields of cow manure and over engorged septic systems but that Brooke was wearing nothing but her beloved pink robe that's a few sizes too small and a pair of boots. To really top it off, there were several gawkers taking pictures. That's right. My poor parenting has been documented. I just hope and pray that none of those pictures make their way into the hands of child protective services. In my defense, I did run out and force her to come inside and take a bath and put clothes on while I washed her robe. I don't have any pictures of that though.

So, here it is Monday. My migraine is still going strong, but my kids ARE back to school. I'm trying (really, really, REALLY trying) to have a good attitude about all the clean-up that I have to do. I'm telling myself that at least I'm in good enough health to clean. Heck, I could be paralyzed or something. I should be thankful that I can vacuum, right? And even though I strongly resent the fact that the dirty laundry has been coming in twice as fast as I've been able to wash it, I should be thankful that I HAVE a family to make that laundry dirty, right? Same goes for the dishes. Sure, I'd love it if the clouds opened up and the other 5 people who live in this house (and all the guests who are always coming in our revolving front door) would pitch in without me losing my voice nagging them... but hey, at least I have a kitchen to clean, right? When the weather has gotten extreme this winter I've been feeling extra grateful for the roof over my head.

So, there you have it. I'm done ranting. Now, I guess I should get back to my chores while the kids are at school. Hopefully my excedrin kicks in soon. Oh, and here is a pic of our flooded back yard. (The ones of Brooke in her robe not included.):

Straight Off the Compound

So, here's why I'm not entirely opposed to the concept of polygamy: Now, hear me out! I know, I know... I can hear the collective gasp of indignation. I would just like to say that if you were over here right now and you could see the size of my laundry pile, you would agree that every once in a while it would be pretty convenient to up the mom to kid ratio. You see, today is the first day that all 4 of my kids have gone to school since the beginning of December. Throw in a couple Holidays, a ton of tracked in snow mess, and a round of the flu and my house is so messy that the walls are closing in on me.


I've been "cheerily" chipping away at it for well, forever basically, and the only thing getting me through the chaos has been repeating "I'll get caught up as soon as our schedule gets back to normal" 35 times a day. Guess what?! Today's the day! I watched out the window as all 8 of their little feet tread up the steps on to the school bus and then threw myself into dishes and laundry and vacuuming... and blogging??? Okay, maybe I could have left that last part out today, but we'll call it a "sanity safety meeting".

I forced all of the kids to deep clean their bedrooms this weekend, which means that they brought out every morsel of clothing they own and declared it "dirty" even though half of it is still folded / attached to a hanger. I simply must wash it since it's been keeping company in the hamper with laundry that really is dirty though... Love that. I vacuumed the house from one side to the other and pulled out the furniture / appliances / etc. and used the wall attachment to deep clean the ceiling fans and light fixtures and stuff. Seriously ashamed to admit, the vacuum bag was almost empty when I started and now it's busting at the seams it's so full.


Now, I don't know how much it would cost to hire a maid, but I'm pretty sure I'm too poor white trash for that. Which leads me back to where we started at... can't you just picture sharing household responsibilities? Gosh, I would LOVE to be able to say, "It's your night to cook" or "I'll take care of the babies while you help the older kids with homework..." What do you guys think? Would the pros of that type of relationship ever outweigh the cons for you? When you see the pictures of the ladies in frumpy dresses and prairie braids are you simply horrified at the injustice or do you ever think, "Wow! I wouldn't have to handle it all on my own!"

A House Divided

As if it weren't hard enough to lose weight when you have 4 growing kids that want to eat yummy foods in your house... we have a new stumbling block around here. We now have a child that is on a diet to help him GAIN weight. Now, when I first got serious about losing weight I made a decision to take back control of the type of foods that come into my home. I can't lose my willpower and gorge myself on chocolate ice cream if there isn't any in the freezer. Simple strategy. It would have worked too, had my 12 year old not lost 14 lbs. recently thanks to his ADD meds. Losing 14 lbs. is a lot when you were only 90 lbs. to start off with and you're supposed to be doing a little thing called growing. When he stepped on the scale at his check-up today and the doctor shook his head at the number I asked the good doc to prescribe some for me too. He laughed. I was like, "No, seriously..." Apparently, he takes his medical license seriously or something.

So, he gave me a handout with a list of suggested foods: whole milk, ice cream, mac 'n cheese, peanut butter, trail mix, protein shakes, bagels with cream cheese, fruit juices... all the good stuff. I'm supposed to make sure he eats LOTS and LOTS of yummy, high calorie foods whenever he feels like it. It felt like dejavu... why does this seem familiar? Oh yeah! That's what I did to get fat too! Well, at least he's in good hands. I've got this gaining weight thing down like a pro. I'm just a little nervous about how I'm supposed to be good & eat my broccoli and celery sticks while I'm loading my grocery cart with artery busters.


Which brings me to my next concern: I went to the pharmacy to fill his prescription and forgot to skip reading the paperwork that goes along with it. Every time that I do certain words jump out at me and make my heart race like a rabbits. Tell your doctor if you or your child have any heart problems, heart defects, high blood pressure, or a family history of these problems. Well, I DID tell the doctor that I do have high blood pressure and a family history of significant heart problems and he still prescribed it, so I GUESS I'm trusting him...


Tell your doctor if you or your child have tics or Tourette's syndrome, or a family history of Tourette's syndrome or anxiety problems. Yep, told him that too. One of the reasons that we see him is because Lane was diagnosed with Tourette's and has severe anxiety. So, trusting him on that one too...


Especially tell your doctor if you or your child takes: anti-depression medication including MAOI's, seizure medicines, blood thinner medicines, blood pressure medicines, antacids, cold or allergy medicines that contain decongestants Umm... he knows that Lane is on an anti-depressant. He doesn't take cold / allergy meds on a regular basis but it is December and I've been known to give my kid cold meds when the snot strikes, so... okay, I guess.


Use this medicine with caution if you have a family history of emotional problems, or alcohol or substance abuse. Abuse may lead to addiction and severe mental changes. Do not stop taking this medicine suddenly. You may experience withdrawal symptoms. Since every time we go in to the doctor I'm forced to discuss my lengthy family history of drug & alcohol abuse & the fact that the majority of my relatives are self-medicating and/ or either in jail or rehab (why can't they just check the file anyway? Don't they know that i don't love answering those questions?), I'm pretty sure he knows that we do in fact have a genetic predisposition to drug abuse. So, I'm trusting him on that too...


I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's so hard as a parent to know what the right thing to do for your child is. This medicine has really helped improve his grades a lot. Which I'm sure will help his self-esteem a lot too. I guess you could call that it's redeeming quality. The risks that took the pharmacy 8 pages worth of paper & ink to describe are a major con and the fact that I'm filling my house with diet temptations in hopes that his biceps will one day stick out more than his elbows is also a pretty big downfall. I'm so thankful that science has brought us so many advancements and that the majority of our health woes can be lessened if not fixed all together nowadays. Oh my goodness some of these new pharmaceutical goodies can open up a whole new world of stress though! And I have no idea how I'm expected to lose weight while fattening Lane up. Too bad it wasn't as easy as just giving my fat to him.

Twas The Day After Christmas

Twas the day after Christmas and all through my house, there was clutter, more clutter, and an off skiing spouse. The children were jamming in Guitar Hero bliss, I was wishing that Santa had seen earplugs on my list... to my mind came an idea "let's go out to eat!" We attempted to groom and threw boots on our feet. I sat there with my kiddos, in a terrific mood, we were out of the house having wonderful food... when what to my wondering eyes did appear? I'll give you a clue... it was not reindeer. On Dasher, On Dancer, On Blitzen, On Comet... my eight year old son was covered in vomit. With apologies flying, I left a GOOD tip and face flaming beet red, we gave that mess the slip...

Moral of the story: even if feeling blue... just stay home with noise & clutter if exposed to the flu...

Truly Madly Deeply

         In case you haven't noticed, I adore my kids. I really do. I've had a series of no good, horrible, very bad days and you know what? My kids make me feel better all the time. Sometimes they make an effort to help in their awkwardly inexperienced ways (like grabbing a yogurt out of the fridge and handing it to me so quickly that it splatters all over because they thought that feeding me yogurt would cure all.) Other times they don't mean to help, but just do. Tonight, I really just wanted them to go to bed on time. I'm tired. I'm actually sick and tired. They decided that they wanted to be all Oktoberfest and go bobbing for apples though. So, they snuck a big bowl and filled it with apples and water. I figured it out when I heard the sh-shlup of water overflowing onto the floor amid hysterical giggling. At first, I wanted to beat them (just a little...) but then their faces looked so fresh and clean from the dunking in H20 and their eyes were so sparkly. I can't explain it, but it was cute... and kinda funny.

           I took them to the pumpkin farm this weekend too. I didn't want to. What I wanted was for their dad to be ready, willing, and able to step up & say, "Don't worry, Hon. I know you haven't been feeling well. You stay home and rest while I take them." (A girl can dream can't she?) He wasn't around though and they wanted to go SO badly. So, I sucked it up and we went.

          Once again, they made me laugh. Their cuteness won me over and I forgot I didn't feel well somewhere along the way. I don't know what I'm gonna do when they're not little anymore. Then what will distract me, make me laugh, cheer me up? It's already happening so fast. My rational mind tells me that I can hopefully still have fun with them and that it could possibly be even more fun to hang out with them as adults than it is now. Grown-up kids that I don't have to nag & worry about (as much) and cute little grand kids sounds wonderful. My mom mind panics and worries that they might decide to move far, far away because they don't like me anymore. What if they like their in-laws more than us? I'll miss them so much.

       I just want to savor every little moment that I have with them. I want to remember not to yell at them when they play pranks (rubber band on the handheld sprayer at the kitchen sink comes to mind) and just soak up the spirit that they bring into our home. I found out today that my heart isn't doing as well as I thought it was. I knew it hurt, but I thought that was just from all of the love that I feel for these guys. I didn't realize that if I'm not careful it could cut my time with them short. I so desperately want to get healthy fast so that I don't miss a moment. The thought of not being there for them and not having the privilege of being there to witness all of their story as it's being made almost paralyzes me with fear. Being a parent is just such an amazing gift and I am so truly, madly, deeply in love with my family. Plus, I even like them.

Just a reminder: go hug your loved ones.

Elders & Adoption

  A couple of years ago our cat had kittens (a whopping 8.) They were the cutest little things. One evening, the missionaries stopped in for a visit and we entertained them with kitten watching. About an hour after they left to go knock on all of our neighbor's doors, they came back with a little black kitten that looked to be the same age as ours. As they handed it to us saying, "We found this escapee down the block" we were pretty confused since it looked like it could be ours but none of our kittens were missing (or able to get that far yet) and the mama cat hadn't even gone outside since she'd had them.


We joined the Elders in walking around the neighborhood (their second time- if you think people are unhappy to have missionaries knocking on their door the first time you should really see the replay...) and asked all of our neighbors if they knew this kitten. Of course, no one did. So, we took the poor baby who couldn't be more than a week old and wouldn't be able to survive for long back to our mama cat hoping that she would accept it (although the missionaries were all excited about the prospect of her freaking out on it- 19 year old boys, you know.) Thankfully, as she lay there on her side with 8 kittens already fighting over a spot to nurse, she seemed to understand and made room for this little guy.

Tonight I was making breakfast for dinner & enlisted the kids to help out. I usually don't love making breakfast for dinner since the multi-tasking of stirring scrambled eggs, and flipping pancakes, and turning sausage, etc. isn't really my thing. I'm more the throw everything in the crock-pot or in a 13x9 baking dish so that I can do other things while it cooks & only have one pan to wash when it's over sort of girl. The kids are all getting old enough to hold their own in the kitchen though, so we threw caution to the wind and scrambled some eggs. As we cooked, someone said, "Remember that little kitten named Elder that Alley Cat adopted?" and the memory came back to me. It made me feel so sentimental thinking of how we named it Elder after the two guys in white shirts & ties that found it.

Then, I started thinking... why can't we humans be so ready & willing to take in kids that are lost / abandoned / orphaned? I've been trying to talk my hubby into foster care for the last few years. I suddenly felt inspired to go guilt trip him with a reminder of the willingness of our cat to serve the less fortunate. If she could love that kitten as her own just because we handed it to her, why couldn't we do the same? Sure, she only had to nurse it for 6 weeks and then we found all the kittens new homes and the mama cat got her freedom back, but...

Beyond My Control

       So, yesterday I did not one but TWO cheerful, Pollyanna style posts. I guess that means that today it's okay to vent a little. You see, while yesterday was in fact a good day with home improvements that didn't cost me anything and a weight being lifted off of my shoulders after a fabulous parent-teacher conference, there was some major stress inducing stuff too. So stress inducing in fact, that I had a really hard time going to sleep and am sporting a killer migraine and an upset stomach.


      In the AM, what had me feeling spastic (besides the diet pills) was that Lane had told me the night before that he was really concerned about one of his friends at school. Lane was upset because his friend has been talking about suicide a lot & had apparently cut himself with a rusty nail at recess on purpose. He asked me if it was okay to be a tattle-tale if you were protecting someone (which from previous conversations he knows is my rule, but I think he needed permission to ease his mind.) I was so proud of my little man, because he was so insightful and mature about the whole situation. I'm not sure I would have been as capable of handling a friend telling me something like this when I was in the 5th grade. He said, "Mom, I don't really believe he's going to do it. I think he just likes to talk about it for the shock factor, but I think I need to tell the teacher just in case." Then, he asked me if I would be okay with emailing or calling the teacher instead so he wasn't officially the nark. So, I did & hopefully this little boy will be able to get the help that he needs. It's so hard to think that my kids are getting old enough to be involved with this type of thing.


      In the PM, my stress was more associated with my parental units & the fall-out from their rather nasty divorce. Without divulging TOO MANY details, I'll say that I've been trying super hard to not get in the middle of it. I'm a grown-up. They're grown-ups. It should technically be fairly simple. It's hard though, because I see & hear things that just make me want to run in & fix everything (as if that were possible.) Not fix their marriage / get them back together because I don't actually think that's for the best, but fix the pain. I want to fix the hurt feelings & stubbornness that have escalated the situation so severally. I want to erase the financial problems, the worry, and the guilt.


     I'm the oldest child in my family & I have siblings that still live at home with my mom. My little sister is about the same age as my second child. Her world & my kid's world are entirely different though. She knows all too well about the adult world of what happens when you don't have enough money and how you can get attached to people and then have them ripped out of your life. So, when I came home from Cub Scouts & my mom was in front of my house and told me that her car is breaking down, and she lost her food stamp money because my dad said he was paying her child support even though she hasn't gotten any, and now she's getting evicted... It broke my heart. Honestly, there's only so much that I can do though. And when I dropped my kids off at school and I saw my little sister's body language as she bossed a classmate around & I knew that she was feeling like everything was out of control and trying to grasp for some sense of power, it made me feel like I had rocks in my stomach. Not to mention, knowing that someone you love is in pain right on the heels of thinking of a little 11 y/o boy who is hurting isn't really the perspective you want to see it in. While I know that the two situations are different there are enough similiarities to be bothersome.


      The reality is, I have always taken on everyone else's problems and feel like I need to slap a band-aid on everything around me. I know that I can only own myself and be responsible for my own actions though. There's really not a lot of point in worrying myself sick about my kid's friends or even my own extended family further than I can do something about it. That's easier said than done, but really- what else is there to do? If I could, I would... I just wish there was a little less heartbreak in the world. Don't we all?

I'm Lovin' It

Today I love my life. Why? You ask... Simple really. I feel like a rich person who can afford to hire people for home improvement projects but I don't have to pay for it. That's why. It's flipping sweet. For those of you who don't know, we're live-in caretakers at a county park. I debated on whether to actually say that considering the whole creepy people in Internet land thing, but I decided to roll the dice. Anyway... our roof started leaking this week. We had a pretty good down pour and what do you know? It was raining inside too! If we were homeowners this would have kicked our trash. However, we just called the county and they came out to measure for a new roof pronto. Now, they're up there putting it on & I'm sitting here typing away hoping they don't come crashing through my ceiling. This morning, the lawnmower man showed up to mow. So, between the visit from our "landscaper" and the new roof it's looking pretty decent around here. Our stinking counter tops in the kitchen are falling apart (literally, it's ceramic tile and they keep coming off and shattering when they hit the floor.) So, the county said I could choose the new counter tops. I feel spoiled. Sure, we aren't building up any equity here like we would be if say, we owned the place & these upgrades were going towards raising our property value or something... but it makes me feel so blessed to have all these people slamming out the work on my home. If I owned the place, sadly... it would probably not look as nice 'cause I wouldn't have the time or the money. So, yay for the opportunity to scrub public toilets in exchange for rent!

Hope & Relief

• I had such a nice conference with Lane's teachers the other day. I really like them. It was way better than I had expected, in fact. I think one of the worst parts of having a child who struggles in school is having the feelings as a parent of helplessness and wounded pride and ultimately guilt that goes along with it (at least for me.) Sure, I'm worried about him & his future and all of that. I somehow suspect though, that he's going to be okay. I know that there is so much more to life than a letter grade on paper & that a lot of people who were poor students end up being successful later. In the mean time, I don't like feeling like I'm SUPPOSED to enforce raising his grades and feeling incompetent to do so.
• 
  
  
  
  Going in to conferences I always kind of wish I had a rock to hide under because I'm sure that the teacher is wondering what type of messed up family life and poor parenting this child has had to get him to this particular level. I feel the need to explain defensively that we have tried SO MANY things to no avail, that while we're imperfect parents we're making an effort, and that we do have other kids who are doing fairly well in school. Yes, I realize that proving that we have 3 out of 4 kids who are getting decent grades isn't really what the teacher needs to know and that pride cometh before the fall... but I've gotta hold on to a morsel of validation that we're not all together failing our children's educational needs.
  
• 
  
  
  Anyway... the teachers were terrific. The didn't look at me like a white trash parent at all (or at least if they were thinking it they hid it well.) They told me how great of a kid they thought he was and I got the impression that they really meant it. They acknowledged that we had tried all sorts of stuff and that he was just one of those kids that traditional school didn't work for & that it wasn't his fault. They asked about his interests and talents and said that kids like him always find their niche. They understood that he is very artsy and always off in his own little world and that while that's problematic when you need him to be in the present during math that being a dreamer wasn't necessarily a bad thing. I felt like we were actually a team working together to brainstorm ways to help him and that everything was really going to be all right for him this school year. The things that were said that meant the most to me were:
  
• 
  
  
  "He's so well-behaved. He's nice to absolutely everybody, even the kids that no one else is nice to and the kids that aren't nice to him. If I had to choose between a kid getting good grades but being a jerk and a kid getting poor grades but being a good person, I'd take the kids with poor grades. So, he has some really redeeming qualities."
• 
  
  
  
  "Have you heard that students of band continue to outperform their non-band peers on the SAT? Plus, being musical can open up a lot of doors for him too. There are a ton of careers that he can pursue in the Arts and make a fortune. Just think, if he does end up writing a science fiction novel or something how much money he could get. There's nothing wrong with being an extremely creative person."
  
• 
  
  
  "It's these kind of kids that always find their niche. He might be 35 before he finds it, but he'll find something that he can excel in. Our job right now is to quit setting him up for failure & start making it possible for him to experience success. Whether that be assigning less work and helping him with task completion so he isn't always behind or changing his schedule so that he can do better in the classes that he has, our main priority needs to be to accommodate him & raise his self-esteem."
  
  
• 
  
  So, I walked out of that conference just feeling such hope & relief. When I got home, I told him how awesome his teachers thought he was & that I was so proud of him for standing out as one of the nice kids. Now, I feel like I have permission to get off his back about schoolwork and to just celebrate his achievements instead. I've always known that he was a great kid and felt like we just needed to "get through" this school thing and that he had enough other good qualities and skills to hopefully compensate. I've heard lots of stories of people who suddenly "got it" as an adult and I've hoped that he would be one of those guys that finally understood what his teachers had been trying to teach him once he got out in to the real world and needed those skills. I've just never felt like his teachers saw that & I felt a certain pressure to prove that there was an effort being made and that he had potential. It's so refreshing to know that his teachers are on the same page & that they're willing to put out the effort to help him realize his potential too.

Nostalgic

   I'm feeling very nostalgic this afternoon. I'm not sure why. I decided to make a digital scrapbook of some of my favorite Halloween memories. The kids are SO MUCH bigger now than even just last Halloween. Scary stuff. Brooke has already started making plans for when she moves out of our house. :-(   We were riding in the car the other day and she told me (again) that she won't be living with me when she's a grown up. Her main motivator? "Girls that live with their parents are fat." Where does she get this stuff? I'm kinda concerned that she worries about the whole fat thing too much for a 6 year old.

 Of course, the other day she was self-concious about her teeth too. She told me, "Mom, I really do have horse teeth. They're too thick like horse teeth are, but they're only midget horse teeth 'cause they're shorties. They're  short & chubby baby horse teeth."  Who knew you could use the words "horse teeth" so many times in only 3 sentences?

Oh, and you should have heard her trying to explain why I shouldn't be upset with her for being awake WAY past her bed time. It sounded like this: "I'm the kind of person who's body just does whatever it wants to. I can't control it, so you can't be mad at me. Just be mad at my body, but not my head. My head is mad at my body too, but I'm not the kinda person who can just make myself go to sleep even if I want to. If my body doesn't want to sleep only God can force it to. I can't force myself to sleep, you know, 'cause I'm not that kinda person."  She really does just babble on and on repeating variations of the same phrases all the time. It cracks me up. I swear she didn't even know how to talk like... yesterday. Now she never stops. Where did the last 6 years go and are the next 6 going to fly by as quickly? I hope not!

 Then, the other day my friend Jenny and I were talking about what our kids prefer to sleep in (because her adorable son Niall was here for a sleepover with Russell) and it reminded me of what Tatton used to sleep in. You see, Tatton decided that he wasn't getting a good nights sleep due to always waking up cold after he kicked the blankets off. He decided it would be best to start getting dressed for school the night before and wearing a coat to bed. To him, this was an ingeniusly effecient plan since he was saving time in the AM and staying consistently warm. I let him do his thing and just chuckled at the way his cute little mind worked & never gave it a second thought. That is, until I went to foster parent certification classes and there was a chunk of class devoted to "what to expect when you're expecting foster kids" as in what problem behaviours were common. They made a big deal out of how a lot of foster kids "prefer to sleep in their clothes instead of pajamas". The reasons that they listed off (being homeless, being sexually abused, having become accustomed to unpredictability/ the need to pick up & run at a moments notice all made sense) but I still felt a little defensive about the sleeping in a coat thing. I didn't want people to just assume that there was something "wrong" if they found out that Tatton slept fully clothed including a coat. LOL  Now, he's a sleeping in boxers man and it seems kind of sad that this is just a memory to be pulled out of the archives for a good chuckle.

Anyway... just thinking. Wow, they're growing up fast. Lane keeps talking to me about how concerned he is about the economy and his views on Obama's health plan and of course, whether or not shaving will help his peach fuzz grow in thicker. *sigh*

Make a Smilebox scrapbook

Super Cool Contest!!! (Because It's Cheaper Than Therapy)

 
I've had blog block this week. I've never understood how anyone could get writer's block. My problem has always been trying to hold the flood of words in my head from spilling out in excess. This week, I finally experienced the feeling of wanting to write something and drawing a blank. Craziness. It's not that there weren't things that I wanted to talk about. There were LOTS of things I wanted to blab about, in fact. The only way that I could even fathom sharing those things was if I changed the names to protect the "innocent" and I'm pretty sure all of my readers are too smart for that. What's the point of changing names when all of your friends & family are such smart cookies that they'll figure it out anyway? It stinks 'cause I love blogging (it's cheaper than therapy) but unlike real therapy (where you are protected by confidentiality laws) this sort of blabbing involves the WORLD WIDE web.


Now, I personally don't have a whole lot to work with in the boundaries department. Supposedly, it's not very psychologically healthy to be ready, willing, & able to tell your whole life story to perfect strangers in the grocery store line. That's just the way I roll though. So, if the only thing I blogged about was me, myself, and I there would be no blog block. Unfortunately, most of the really juicy, great for retelling sort of stuff in my life involves other people who are slightly more private than I am. I thought about getting them all to sign coyly worded consent forms allowing me the freedom to disclose their life stories, but you know, they're smart cookies too and I don't think they would fall for it. Anyway, I'm pretty sure using the dirt you have on other people for blog fodder is breaking the less than well known 11th commandment.


So... what DO I write about when the only things I've had on my mind would be way too incriminating for certain individuals? I don't want to fall back on to the safe subjects like my daughter's stubbornness or my trying to lose weight or even how badly I want a baby even though I have self-imposed infertility. I CAN'T write about any one's love lives, brushes with the law, or hilariously embarrassing mishaps that we snicker about behind their backs and cross our fingers that karma doesn't come back to bite us in the rear for laughing about it. Furthermore, I don't really care to touch politics or religion. Not because they're taboo so much as the fact that I'm so on the fence about what I think that you would think that I was the politician talking in circles. When I know what I think you'll be the first to know. So, here's the deal... you throw some ideas my way and I'll reward the creative genius who comes up with the best blog subject with a mystery prize. Believe me, if I can get "Hannah Montana" to send a surprise gift to my daughter, I can send a little sumpin sumpin your way! The contest is open until midnight Pacific Mountain time on Friday. On your marks, get set, GO!!!

I'm A Big Freaking Liar

This is the post where I publicly out myself as a liar. It seemed perfectly innocent. Just a little white lie. I was at Walmart yesterday and I saw an ADORABLE little shirt that would look cute on Brookie. Then, out of the corner of my eye I spotted an even cuter headband. I could just picture her in them... AND they were on clearance! Problem: as most of you know Brooke is a very selective clothes wearer. I knew these were exactly the type of clothes that I loved and she hated, so accepting defeat, I put them back so that some other mother could come along and snatch them up for her little girl to look darling in.

I went about my business, gathering up the usual boring necessities: shampoo, toilet paper, toothpaste... Then, it occurred to me! "Brilliant!", I thought, amazed at my own creativity. It was so simple. The head band was a Hannah Montana brand and Brooke is a HUGE Hannah Montana fan. I decided then and there that I would buy them and wrap them up in a shipping box. I addressed the box to Brooke and made up a fake address for Miley Cyrus as the sender. I ran out and stuck it in the mail box knowing that Brooke loves to check the mail when she gets off the school bus. I couldn't wait for her to get home & discover it!

All of a sudden, it occurred to me that this plan of mine wasn't quite as flawless as I had originally believed. For starters, I was getting a twinge of guilt for lying to her. That was easy enough to ignore though. I told myself I lie to her about the tooth fairy & Santa in the same spirit of fun & anticipation. The stinker was that I didn't want her to go to school wearing said items and brag that she had gotten them as a gift from Hannah Montana and have everyone call her a liar. My child couldn't get called a liar for her mother's lie, after all! So, I typed up a letter from "Miley" about how she had this new product line and she chose some of her coolest girl fans to send free product trials to. "She" said that she thought Brooke had great taste and was hoping she could wear the shirt & headband to school so that other girls would want to go out and buy some. It was all a great, big marketing gimmick. Somehow, this sounded like a feasible explanation to me. Bonus: every time that I wanted to buy Brooke something & have her actually be excited to wear it instead of fighting me on it I could just send her another "shipment" to "product test". In my lying mind I foresaw all of our wardrobe battles being a thing of the past.

Unfortunately, my daughter is officially smarter than I am. She was skeptical from the minute she checked the mail.
"Uh, Mom... why does she have the same handwriting as you?", she asked.
"Hmmm... that's interesting. It does look a little like mine. That's cool that Miley and I write the same way."
She casually opened the package as if it were a box of canned peas or something equally boring. And you know what she said? "Oh." That's it! "Oh."
So, I played it up. "Wow! That is SOOOO cool! I can't believe that came from MILEY CYRUS!!!"
"I can't wear that to school."
"Why?"
"It's too cute."
"Of course it's cute, it came from Miley Cyrus! She always looks cute!"
"Ya... I'm not wearing that."

So, I guess I'll just return them to the store. My "brilliant" plan was an abysmal failure. The worst part? This morning I tried to convince her to just "be brave & wear it one time for Miley." She said, "Good try, Mom." I guess I may be a liar, but I'm not a very good one.