Saturday, May 31, 2008
Like hold up my head.
No, really. I keep finding myself with my head propped on my arm, just struggling to stay upright.
Pretty sure it's the cold.
My mom took the news rather well. There was only flash of momentary panic before she masked it well and said all the appropriate things. Not the least of which is. "It's probably nothing, but you just need to check and make sure." Which is what everyone is saying. And what we said to my sister two weeks before her mastectomy.
I'm feeling pretty good about it and only panic once or twice a day. And it probably is nothing. I don't have (nor have ever had) the lifestyle that something like this generally stems from, so it would have to be the genetic version. And what are the odds?
Don't answer that.
But at the end of the day, God is still God. He is still on the throne. He is still good. And He does, in fact, know that my kids need me and I do have to be there to see them get married and have their own babies and by-george-cancer-is-unacceptable!
Friday, May 30, 2008
I did this a lot when we were first married, except it was ants, not tarantulas and ants the size of my index finger.
I remembered that once I was told what dreaming of bugs meant, but I forgot so this morning I googled it. (Man I love google. What did I do before the internet?) The very first hit?
"To see a bug in your dream, suggests that you are worried about something. It is symbolic of your anxieties and/or fears. What is literally bugging you?" (From www.dreammoods.com)
Yeah, you could say that.
I also dreamed going in for the procedure. I think I'll have actually done the procedure 100 times before I actually go have it.
And I dreamed that I went back to high school. Ick. It was horrid. I was trying to juggle my kids and school work and a "social life" when it occurred to me, "Hey! I have a college degree! Screw this!" (Hey, I was in high school and I said things like that back then.) And I up and left. So there.
I can't figure out how to tell my mom who is currently sleeping in my basement, in over her head worrying about my sister.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
So, though it is probably a false alarm, I would appreciate prayers. Girl cancer seems to run in my family and I'd prefer it not find its way to me.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Monday, May 26, 2008
And just in case you, like me, read Scoop, it starts the same way. I was so blaming confused, certain I hadn't read this, but forgetting that it is in the same family as Scoop, flipping back and forth.....well, my excuse is that the kids are home from school and I'm getting too much sun. (Speaking of too much sun, Scoop is a word right? The spell checker isn't giving me a squiggly line, and I'm certain that is the title, but it looks so funny there in type!)
Blissfully unaware that Atlantica Flight 1945 from Atlanta to Amsterdam is about to make aviation history, First Officer Danny McSweeney focuses his energies on navigating the turbulent personalities of an eccentric female captain, a co-pilot with a talent for tactless comments and conspiracy theories, and a lead flight attendant with an outsized attitude that definitely exceeds the limits for carry-on baggage.
On the other side of the cockpit door, the unscheduled in-flight entertainment includes a potbellied pig, a jittery diamond courier, and the recently jilted Lucy Meredith, whose personal mantra of “What Would Oprah Do?” will be challenged by the sudden appearance of her ex and his new traveling partner. On her left sits Hank Hazard, whose unusually polite but constant requests–prompted by his covert role as a spy for the airline–test the limits of the crew’s customer service.
But as Lucy and the rest of the crew discover, Hank’s odd behavior is linked to a quiet faith that may play a key role in the fate of everyone on board. Especially when an unexpected traveler sets this already bumpy flight on a course toward the unfriendly skies.
I can't believe my baby is five! You can touch your ear on the opposite side of your head. You can sing your ABCs. You can count to 12 by ones and you can count to 20 by twos (starting with 12---that takes talent, my man!). I know you are going to take kindergarten by storm!
How much joy you've brought to my life.
May your love for movies bring some good into the world. I hope, at least, you can channel it into something worthwhile!
I love you, my son.
(Thank goodness I'm not in labor!)
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Aside from the obvious things like dirt and grass, or even stale bread crusts and fossilized cheese from the couch, there have been some doozies. Take, for instance the night light light bulb. Or the Styrofoam ball (where did that come from?). How about the wadded up ball of saturated toilet paper? (He also used some saturated toilet paper for wall art. He's very creative.)
Will he eat watermelon? No.
The thing about having the fourth child is that it is simply impossible to baby proof your home. Diligence only goes so far and there are tiny toy pieces everywhere. Or rocks in the backyard. Whatever. I'm just continually praying for safety for this little one. He gets into stuff like no child before him.
And I'll leave it there for today because I'm having tiny panic attacks. I'm over committed and understaffed (there's only one of me after all) and shouldn't dally over a blog that, while therapeutic (and my excuse for not journaling my children's lives), isn't an obligation.
Say a prayer for me...and my baby. That we both survive this year.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Here's a winner of a light summer beach read! (Or, say, a spring weekend on the back porch read.) I put this book away like a pint of Dove Unconditional Chocolate Ice Cream. I just ate. it. up. I loved her daddy's comparison to the K-Mart blue light special and I have it marked and reserved for Princess someday (even if it will only make her laugh). So, here's what it's about:
Then, without warning, ownership of the run-down cafe where she's been waitressing falls right into Caroline's lap. While she's trying to determine the cafe's future, handsome Deputy Sheriff J.D. Rand captures Caroline's heart.
But when her first love, Mitch O'Neal, comes back to town, fresh from the heat of his newly-found fame as a country music singer in Nashville, Caroline must make some hard choices about love and the pursuit of the sweet life.
In '93, I started an epic WW2 novel with two plots. It was well rejected. After that ordeal, I took a break and put efforts into my job as a software project manager. But, I missed writing and in late ' 99, I took up the craft again.
With a little help from my friends, my first book was published in ' 04, Lambert's Pride, a romance novel. I love writing chick lit and romance. I love writing. What an honor.
I'll let you know. Probably more likely if I don't like it than if I do. If that isn't a testament to a reason to stop the negativity, I don't know what is.
(Hubs seems to be better. Cranky, but not feverish.)
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Friday, May 16, 2008
Yes, that one.
The one that actually is a line item in my budget. I found out this year that I help her fund her vacation every year. And that she really did quit doing Pampered Chef (bummer for me--though it probably saved me $20-25).
It is awesome when you find someone you have so much in common with, size wise and fashion wise, who is willing to sell her life for pennies on the dollar.
I am also pleased to report that this year I drove directly to her sale (past numerous others), spent my entire budget, and drove past countless others again on my way home. Yes, I am learning. They will all pale in comparison anyway, why bother?
So what did I get for the grand total of $100? Let me tell you. It's a shame, an absolute shame, that I am still so unsavvy to not be able to post a photo of the pile. But a photo wouldn't do it justice anyway, because you can't see the tags.
4, count 'em four, pair of jeans from the Gap in a "long."
1 pair gap shorts
1 pair of Kenneth Cole jeans. (long)
1 Pair BCBG Maxima slacks in a nice cocoa brown. (long)
1 pair limited slacks in a cranberry. (long)
1 silk Banana Republic tank sweater
2 Ann Taylor tank sweaters
1 beaded tank, 1 rust droopy shirt of gorgeousness, 1 pair of pjs of unknown brandage.
Actually, I don't know. I lost count. a couple skirt outfits, some school shirts, a couple skirts, a pair of crocs, and pair of tennis shoes, couple pair of jeans, a pair of capris, and a couple sweat suits. And one of those sweatery cape thingy's.
Again, as they immediately claimed them and put them in their closets (or I socked them away for next winter) I will go with the things that stand out. A pair of crocks, a pair of tennis shoes, a swimsuit, spidey pjs, superman t-shirt, some shorts and some jeans and some school clothes for next year. And since he was with me, 2 care bears and a power ranger guy.
Two new shirts for school, a couple pair of shorts, and a big pile of K'Nex with a pull along carrier.
And if that wasn't enough for you, I'm sure I left about 50% of it out. It literally filled the back of my van. With that, and the bar stool I bought so I can type at my kitchen counter.
What are the odds that one would find, in this huge city, someone with my taste, who wears my size, has a daughter one year older than Princess, a son that is one year older than Frodo, has kids that like the same kinds of toys my kids like, and used to sell Pampered Chef? And yet I found her. She has a sale the weekend of Mother's Day every year and she's stocked my closet since I bought out her maternity clothes five years ago.
As I told her, I used to be embarrassed to go to her sale and buy her out, but now I just think of it as my shopping spree of the year. (I'm still a little embarrassed, but it is so worth it.)
Princess came to me this morning a bit downhearted. It seems her girlfriends were talking about what they were going to do after school. One was going to put on lip gloss. Another was going to do her hair. Another was going to ballet. You get the idea. When it came time for Princess to answer, she said, "I'm going to go home and read my Bible!" (She has a little devotional Bible that is really mostly devotion and a bit of Bible.)
Her best friend/worst enemy (isn't that how girls are?) replied, "What kind of a girl are you?!"
Unfortunately for Princess, she inherited the rough and tumble, bookworm gene from me. She will pretty herself up with the best of them when she's in the mood, but most of the time we are jeans-wearin'-book-totin'-fresh-faced-sunburned-skinned-knee kinda girls. And I like us that way. I only hope that my Princess will continue to be herself without worrying what her friends will think.
I know. Wishful thinking.
(And yes, I also see that being herself is a bit of being me. She is allowed to not be me if that is what she's after.)
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
And you take great joy out of answering the nurse's question about the last time Aunt Flo visited with, "June....2006" just to see the shocked look on her face (before you let her in on the nursing baby that may never wean story).
I scheduled it for 7:40 AM so I could go alone. (I desperately missed the morning routine around home...NOT.) I was in the office and visiting with the Dr. by 7:35 (he's ahead of schedule in the AM, I guess) and prodded and scraped, out the door and on the highway rocking out to the radio by 8:06.
I got home feeling like I had DONE SOMETHING.
Yes, I do realize how very sad that is.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Loved book one. Loved book two. Loved book three. And now is you chance. I know, I know, I hate to start trilogies when book three is seven years out, but I promise you, I just read the conclusion. All loose threads are tied up (quite nicely, I might add), you can now take the plunge. Go ahead and pick up all three. You won't be disappointed. And you won't have to wait in agony to know what Sophie is going to do. Or Ritter. Or Michael. Or Phillip. Or Deion. Am I missing anyone? Oh, Juan. And Ramona. And Edelberto. And WALT! How did I forget Walt? I tell ya, no simple plot lines for author Tricia Goyer, nuh-uh. She's got so many people doing so many things all over the country (and continent) that you won't figure it out until the end.
And this blog tour is a little different. We're doing a MEME.
1. List three things you would do with a chest full of gold (assuming you got to keep it!)
How big is the chest? Okay, lessee. Today I want a baby to match my Eldest: $15,000. New carpet/flooring: $6000. And a trip to Africa with my youth group for me, Hubs and my two eldest children: $12,000. And, oh, I'd PAY OFF MY HOUSE.
2. List three charities/missions/organizations you support (and why).
All Gods Children International because they seem to really have a heart for the kids and their fees are nearly reasonable as far as international adoptions go. And when Guatemala adoptions shut down, they didn't shut down their facilities there. They stayed to continue to help the kids.
World Vision because sponsoring a child reminds me daily that I have it sooooooo good.
And Focus on the Family because, well, who they are and what they do. And it doesn't hurt that they like my writing style.
3. List three ways you have volunteered your time/services.
I work nursery in church. I run our orphan's ministry (ONEchild Project). I used to work with the youth groups. Until one day I figured out that I was hiring sitters to raise my kids so that I could raise someone else's. Now I volunteer my time to change diapers, cook, clean, and wipe...faces!
4. List three things you keep "hidden" when company comes over.
I TRY to keep my underwear hidden, but as my sitter can attest, my daughter knows where to find it and likes to model. (Yes, that was years ago.)
Um, the fact that I really, really, really want to check my email because I heard it beep from the other room and I know their story is anguishing, but I'm now totally distracted. Is it me editor? Is it my writer's group? Is it spam?
My bedroom if it is in chaos. And it often is. Can't blame that one on the kids. Of course I usually can. But it doesn't seem like you can blame the kids for your unmade bed.
5. List the last three things you've lost.
My waistline. My marbles. My heart. Really? I have no idea. A bill that needs to be paid, probably.
6. List the last three things you've found.
My Silpada earrings. (In a pants pocket.) A tiny book that goes with Princess' tiny dollhouse (In a pants pocket). $0.98 (You guessed it!)
I've also found inner strength. I've almost learned that I don't have to wallow in my self-defeating attitude and can actually pull myself out of a death spiral. 32.5 years must be the magical number!
During the tour, you can enter to win one of FIVE signed copies of A Whisper of Freedom by signing up for Tricia's newsletter here!
Three brave "players" will be selected at random to win their own lost gold (Gourmet chocolate coins and all three books in the Chronicles of the Spanish Civil War series). To enter all you have to do is answer the MEME on your blog and then leave a comment on Tricia’s blog tour post here that you’ve posted your MEME. Easy.
I wish I wasn't so overwhelmed with the stuff, but that is partly my fault.
I wish they were better behaved, but that is also partly my fault.
But mostly I really enjoy them and I have moments where I can't believe I am so lucky to have hit the jackpot four times over. How did I get the four most awesome kids available? I wouldn't trade them for yours, or yours, or yours, or yours (and I know the feeling is mutual) no matter how wonderful they are.
Weird, huh? God really does know what He's doing when he blesses us with those trying little critters.
Speaking of mommy-guilt, I had more today. Why is it that when our children are most excited and happy, we are the most annoyed? Two words: Zoo Trip.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Yes, I cried today. More than once.
Nothing makes me feel like a failure quite like Mother's Day.
I used to say that when I didn't/couldn't have kids. Now that I have them, not much has changed. I think I did have a year or two when it was fun. Before the kids got old enough that they knew what was going on.
Yes, I'm a wretch. Why I'm the only one that is overwhelmed with the cards and the love, I don't know. "No, I can't help you make me a paper flower for me! We need to get to church and I haven't had a shower yet!"
See, I know they are trying to do for me, but it sure feels like they are still making me do for them so that they can feel good about doing for me (so I have to go to church with oily hair).
As Rex says, "Great. Now I have guilt." Because only a wretch would be annoyed by having a day in their honor wherein people demonstrate over and over how much they adore you (and secretly all you want is a quiet moment to read a novel and eat bon-bons).
Anyway, after saying all that, the day was much improved over last year. Apparently the 6-ish age is the hardest.
I did get my traditional breakfast in bed. Pepsi. No pistachios or chips this year. And cards.
"Thank You! mom for Beyen a Good mom! (star, star, star, qubed) this is mom (above a heart cut with zig-zag scissors with a head and stick limbs (I'm all heart!)).
"I Love mom to the Ends of the Earth"
"I Love my MoM." (Picture of me and Princess)
"You're the best! your the number 1 mom"
And a picture of me at church with all the parking spots ("way more than we have at church")
And then Pastor gets on stage at church and asks why when it's Father's Day do we charge men to do better and be better dads, but on Mother's Day we talk about how wonderful mothers are and massage their egos.
I can tell ya. Because we do enough beating up of ourselves and we don't need any more.
And then I came home, ate dinner (did you know that McDonalds serves breakfast until 11? I used to think they did, but kept getting burned at 10:45 asking for breakfast and they'd tell me lunch started at 10:30. Whatever), did a pant load of dishes and then made 5 meals for my freezer.
My fam took me out for ice cream because I was free.
And then I ditched. Went out and changed my oil. Yes I did. It was lovely. The purple van was way over due. And had the guys at NTB not had the basketball game turned up so high that I couldn't think, it would have been nearly as relaxing as a pedicure.
Not that I would know, but one of these days, I'm doing it.
I should have gotten a haircut. This head is ridiculous. I'm starting to feel spiders crawling on my tummy because I'm not used to having hair down to the small of my back. It's kinda creepy.
Thursday, May 08, 2008
So this morning, in an effort to improve my mood, I am still cleaning the rat trap my children call a room. What do I find in Eldest's bed but five pair of dirty school pants.
Gee, I wonder why I didn't get them washed and put back into his closet?
This from the child who throws clean clothes in the laundry.
Because, let's face it, if they really held it in such high esteem, they would know where it goes.
I'm trying. Oh, how I am trying, to improve my attitude this morning. But at the current moment I feel like grabbing a big black trash bag or twelve and filling them to capacity and placing them at the curb. My life is ridiculous. We have too much. We are too blessed. We have so many possessions we've forgotten how great we have it.
I heard in church on Sunday that the orphanage we help support operates on $10,000 a month. They feed, clothe and shelter 137 children (and workers) on 10K. What is wrong with us that we think we are suffering greatly on a third of that for our families of 6 (ish)?
No. My mood isn't based on that fact and I know that "we live in the US and things just don't work that way" so no lectures. It is just playing at the back of my mind as I am frustrated with my kids for always wanting more when they don't take care of what they have.
And we are entering birthday season wherein I will have to find a place for a ton more CRAP that they will fight over for three days and then promptly forget.
I'm going to go clean something.
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
I got a survey the other day from a greeting card company. I filled it out. They sent another survey. I filled it out. (One must wonder why. I must have been putting off finishing something for deadline.) They called and asked me to come in for an interview. By the time I rounded up a babysitter, the interview slot was filled, but would I be willing to sit by my home phone for 2 hours in case the other person didn't show? They'd compensate me. Serious cash. Enough to buy a family pass to the pool.
It was during nap time anyway.
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Charming, by the way, is not purple in the face this morning, though he didn't sleep much last night. If I'm incoherent, that is my excuse. Hubs thinks Charming has a newfound respect for stairs, but as far as I can tell, he's still pretty cavalier about them.
Okay, I've got one: The Pepins and Their Problems by Polly Horvath.
This is a hilarious book, if you have my rather sick sense of humor. I'm sure there are people out there that won't get this book AT ALL and will come back at me and wonder why on earth I would recommend it. Whatever. This is my blog and I suppose I can recommend whatever I want. But be warned. This is a goofy, off-the-wall middle reader that works well as a read aloud. I would probably peg this as a third or fourth grade level reader, though there is some pretty big vocabulary in it and a lot of the humor is grown-up. But, it's silly enough that little kids will love it. Think The BFG or Charlie and the Chocolate Factory(the book, not the movie).
Monday, May 05, 2008
she is doing this education in a long sleeved camo shirt with a monkey on it demanding chocolate, gray and orange shorts that say something about "dancing diva," navy blue knee high socks and black patent mary janes with brown flowers on them with her hair in a black floral headband. She dressed Frodo in an orange rugby shirt, topped with a white "Upward basketball" t-shirt over gray PE shorts with calf high black "Incredibles" socks and running shoes that are two sizes too big. They made his hair "cool dude" by "spiking" it (Frodo's hair is always spiky, I couldn't see the difference). (I know, I MUST learn how to upload photos on a regular basis.)
So, I have to ask, "On what planet?"
Last week, he cracked me up when we were at Target. When I let him out of the cart he took off running (grinning back at me over his shoulder) and came to a screeching halt at the fat, red line on the floor across the end of the aisle (about the width of a stair). He dropped onto his tummy, flipped around and scooted across the red line feet first.
Thankfully it slowed him down enough that I caught up with him and put him back in prison (aka: the cart).
THIS week, however, he thinks he is BIG. (Or maybe he thinks that the world's stairs are really just fake-out red lines that look like stairs.) He must go down stairs like a BIG PERSON. He usually only does one, then sits down and scoots down them in a more appropriate fashion.
Tonight, he refused to go to sleep (at his bedtime) and I had to leave for a meeting. Well, he saw me going and took chase. Feet first, right down a flight of stairs. (Half-flight to those who don't know my house. We have a maximum of 6 stairs in a row in any given point.)
Let's just say he wasn't successful.
Needless to say, I was very late to my meeting and his face will probably be purple in the morning.
Anyone want to venture a guess whether he will go down the stairs on his tummy tomorrow?
I'm betting not.
I guess the answer is to be addicted to V8 Juice instead of iced lattes and Pepsi.
What I do know is that no matter what container it is in, my kids can sniff out anything good (read: sugar laced caffeine) all the way down to the youngest bloodhound. Before I know it, my whole drink is gone and I can't remember having any.
I suppose that is good for my waistline, but I'm not sure it is good for theirs.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
See, anorexics don't like to eat because they know it will make their tummy "pooch." I knew that one bite of breakfast and the thin feeling would be over. Not that I'm anorexic. I love food too much. But I totally get the mindset.
So I ruined it with a donut and milk for breakfast, with a chaser of a frappuccino. And for lunch I had a cherry Pepsi (made with grenadine), chips and salsa, chips and espinaca, a Pepsi refill, and some fiesta nachos. (Couldn't let quatro de Mayo, the lesser known holiday, pass without my participation.)
And spent the next two hours trying to convince my husband that I really should go throw up. (He wouldn't let me. I think he knows that I'm continually on the edge of a disorder.) I thought I might explode. When I told my MIL that, she thought I had some exciting news come in on the email. No, I literally thought that if I didn't throw up, I would explode. Not figurative in the least.
Ugh. Still didn't want to eat tonight, but the growling stomach made me do it anyway. I hope this indigestion will soon go away.
Should have stuck with the anorexic tendencies of the AM, 'cause I'm paying for the denial of the inner crazy lady tonight.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
I especially like this one:
You should stop by both places and check them out.