Drama Queen's Momma

Ummm...

2009-08-19T08:31:00.004-06:00

I hate trying to think of titles for posts. I am usually doing good to even blog, as evidenced by my lack of posts for quite a while. Right now I'm just trying to keep my head on straight.

I can tell I am stressed because as I sit here, I am struggling to breathe. It's not an asthma-type of thing. I just tend to breathe very shallowly when I am stressed. I also have a tendency to hold my breath at times. Not good when you kind of need that oxygen to, I don't know, live or some such nonsense as that!

This week has held a lot of craziness, some expected and a lot not. I am a creature of habit. I like to do things the same way at the same time every day. I do not deal with change very well. I believe the technical word is "fuddy duddy."

This is my son's first year in the high school band. The last 2 weeks have been 7-8 hour practices, 5 days a week. Drama Queen's cheer practices started at the same time, so I've been shuttling kids back and forth or making plans for someone else to do it if I am still at work.

One morning we were getting ready to drop off my son at band practice, and his girlfriend called to see if we could meet them at the donut shop. That threw a wrench in my schedule, but off to the donut shop we flew (sans makeup). As we were heading there, another friend of his called to ask for a ride to practice. I ended up dropping my son at the donut shop, going to pick up his friend, dropping him off at practice and then flying home in time to throw on my makeup and head to work.

That afternoon I got a text from another mom who said that she couldn't go to the parent meeting that night and would I let her know of anything important. I didn't even know we had a meeting. The school assumes that everyone gets the local newspaper, apparently, because they did not even have it listed on the school calendar or website. That was over an hour of wasted time sitting on bleachers and hearing the same speech I heard 3 years ago when Child #1 was attending there.

I was exhausted when I got home and was ready to head to bed early until I got a call from my SIL telling me that my dad had been taken to the hospital. I'm too tired to replay all of that, so you can head over to my sister's to read more about it.

School started today. Dragging DQ out of bed at 6:30 was so. much. fun. I can't wait to do it again tomorrow. *snort* Music practice at church is tonight. Open House is tomorrow night at DQ's school (on the 2nd day of school?!). School pictures on Friday. Band, band and more band. An appointment with a counselor on Sat. (that's another post for another time). And we're trying to find a new vehicle before the Cash for Clunkers program runs out of money again. Lather, rinse, repeat.

But you know what? I am incredibly blessed. I have 2 wonderful children that need to me cart them around to different activities. I'm not bailing them out of jail or calling the police because they ran away. I have a truck that gets me where I need to be. We just need to replace our old beast of a Suburban. If it doesn't happen, we'll miss out on a good incentive program, but we won't be walking everywhere we go. I am healthy and happy in spite of being frazzled from a hectic schedule. Life is good.

Life In Her World

2009-08-10T14:47:00.002-06:00

Last week when I signed my daughter up for tumbling, she assured me that she would go every week. I know how my daughter operates, so I wanted a commitment from her before I signed her up. I just got a call from her:

DQ: I don't want to go to tumbling today.
Me: I'm sorry, but you have to go.
DQ: But I don't feel like going.
Me: You still have to go. You told me last week that you would go every week if I signed you up.
DQ: I meant that I would go every week when I felt like it, but I didn't have to go when I didn't feel like it.

My blood pressure began to rise at this point.

I then got a follow-up call:

DQ: Well, then I have to eat before I go.
Me: Okay. There are hamburgers, hot dogs and ribs in the fridge.
DQ: We're having that again?
Me: No, but you can eat that before you go and then have dinner later.
DQ: I'm not eating anything (apparently she expects this ploy to allow her to get out of going)
Me: You need to eat something before you go.
DQ: No, I'm not eating anything.
Me: (now seeing red and not speaking very nicely) Fine, but if you get sick, it's your own fault. I don't want to hear about it, and I don't want a call.
DQ: Well, it's your fault for not buying groceries.

This is the point where my head spun around and flew off my body. It is a very good thing I was at work and she was not.

Round 3 is up now since I have to call and tell her to get her clothes changed and get ready to go. Any bets on how this conversation goes?

What I've Learned

2009-08-06T12:41:00.005-06:00

Last year I quit my job of 11 years as an in-home daycare provider and went to work as a customer service rep (Consumer Relations, if you want the fancy title). What an eye opener that has been! I had no idea that people make such huge issues out of such tiny things. It is so true that you can't please everyone. One person hates the product, the next one loves it. One thinks it's too sweet, the other thinks it doesn't have enough flavor. On and on and on. You get the idea.

But what really gets me are how many paranoid people there are. I don't know what is going on in these people's lives, but I can't imagine living like that. There are also people who are trying to prolong their life by eating well but are going to put themselves in an early grave if they don't stop obsessing and worrying about every little thing they put in their mouth! What kind of life is that? People need to just stop worrying and enjoy things once in a while.

Oh, the stories I could tell about the wacky people I talk to! What about you? Any good stories you'd like to share? There's a warm seat right next to me just for you.

What's on My Mind

2009-08-05T15:06:00.004-06:00

I'm on the verge of calling our pediatrician. My stomach has butterflies. I have been putting it off until I could do it without my co-worker hearing me, although she knows everything that's going on already.

My daughter is having issues. She's always been very nervous and anxious about things, but it is getting so much worse. She told me the other night that sometimes she wants to do something but is afraid something bad will happen if she does. The example she gave was that she wanted to give our dogs a bone, but her stomach dropped when she thought about it, and she was afraid something bad would happen. She also said that sometimes she wants to eat, but she's afraid she'll get sick, so she goes to bed hungry. These seem to be beyond the scope of normal, everyday tween fears.

I've suggested that she talk to someone, but she is so shy that she is scared to. I've taken the call-my-mom-and-sister-and-ask-for-advice routine. I've decided that I will talk to her doctor first and take it from there. Here goes...

UPDATE: I called the doctor and left a message. I missed a call from someone at an unavailable number almost an hour after their office closed. I'm sure it was them, although they never bother to leave a message. I guess we'll do this all over again tomorrow.

30 Days

2009-08-04T13:53:00.005-06:00

Let me preface this by saying that I can't remember exactly how I found out about Mrs. Flinger's 30 Days of Blank idea. In any event, I know that I've read about it over at my sister's place.

When I first read about it, I thought, "What would I choose for my 30 days?" Several things popped into my head immediately, the first being related to weight loss. I'm sick of that always being the thing I'm focused on, though, so I scratched that idea. Don't get me wrong: I need to lose weight. I'm just tired of focusing on only one of the areas of my life that needs improvement. I, like my sister, need to focus on positive things about other people and not being so judgmental. But the one that has really been sticking in my mind is my habit of interrupting people. Bad habit. I never had a real problem with it until I worked at a particular job where all of the ladies there talked over each other. I quickly learned that I couldn't wait for a break in the conversation or I was never going to get a chance to say anything. And, thus, my problem was born.

Now I intentionally do it at times to hurry people along. I know it's wrong to do that. I am very impatient, and it drives me crazy when someone is talking slowly (like my daughter!) and I already know what they are saying anyway. It seems so much easier to just jump in and let them know that I understand and then take it from there. Easier, yes. Good etiquette, no.

So my 30 Days is going to be 30 Days of Not Interrupting. I wish it was 30 days of not interrupting my sleep or something fun like that. Because 30 days without interrupting another person is going to be quite the challenge. I'll be so much better for it, and I know that others that talk to me will be grateful to get to finish their sentence all by their little ol' selves.

My lips are zipped...

And The Thunder Rolls

2009-07-30T12:57:00.009-06:00

There is a storm brewing. My daughter is blissfully unaware of it. It is not the weather kind of storm either. Let me lay a little groundwork...

Somewhere along the way, my children reversed what most people think of as the typical hygiene mindsets of boys and girls: my son takes 2 showers a day and Drama Queen tries to get away with going as long as possible without one. He will wear dirty jeans only out of necessity. Like when the dirty clothes pile rivals that of Mt. Rushmore and there's not a clean pair to be found. Drama Queen, on the other hand, will find something that satisfies her picky rules of comfort and then never want to wear anything else ever again. And she does not want it washed because it might shrink or somehow else alter the feel of the clothes.

We are sick of seeing her in the same outfit day after day. She is heading into the land of 6th grade this year. I have been trying to prepare her by telling her that now is the time to do her hair and change her clothes, else she will be eaten alive by those vicious little creatures known as tween girls.

I recently took her shopping for a few clothing items and told her we would be stocking up on more since the new rule is that she has to wear something different every day. I don't care if it's the same outfit every Monday, but not in the same week. So sad that I have to enforce a rule like that with my daughter!

The problem with fitting my daughter is that she is so skinny. In order to fit her waist, we have to buy a much smaller size. That's okay for some things, but not with skirts. Skirts that fit her waist just barely cover her hiney. We finally found an adorable little denim skirt at her favorite store. It is much shorter than allowed, so I told her she could wear leggings with it.

I ran into the principal at church last night and asked her to clarify just how long the skirts need to be. If she kneels on the floor, it can be no higher than 6 inches. Easy enough. When I asked about wearing leggings with skirts that are too short, my heart sank as she shook her head no.

Now Drama Queen very rarely wears skirts, so it's not that big a deal. Except that she is required to wear her cheer uniform every Friday during football season. And thus the dilemma. We ordered a new uniform this year. In April. Why we have to order so early is beyond me. I guess they expect none of these girls to grow at all during the summer. I know her foot grew since we ordered the shoes. She will be lucky to squeak by with that pair for the season. And the new uniform we ordered? Barely bigger than the one she used last year. I don't think those people knew what they were doing at all. I still need her to try it on and kneel down to see just how far from the floor it is.

Here's the real kicker: She gets a demerit if she doesn't wear her uniform on Fridays (too many demerits and she gets kicked off the team), and she can't wear the skirt to school if it's too short. Let the drama begin.

I'm a Hermit

2009-07-28T17:32:00.003-06:00

I have issues. I tend to lean on the crazy side. If you met me, I could probably fool you for a while. I think I have most of my casual acquaintances snowed too. Those closest to me know better. I do okay talking to one or two people, but I am very shy in large groups. While my sister's goal is to arrive 15-20 minutes early everywhere she goes, I don't like to arrive in the actual location of the people until 1-2 minutes before the starting time. I will arrive in the parking lot 10 minutes early, but I don't go in until the last minute. I'm too scared that if I arrive too early, I will have to think up things to say to those around me. Kra-zee.

I also tend to hibernate after work. Once I'm home, I don't want to go anywhere else. On many occasions, I have actually cooked dinner (something I hate doing) just to keep from having to go pick something up at a drive-through when my husband refused to go. I'm not scared in that situation, just exhausted.

So tonight I'm combining the best of both worlds and heading to a Ladies' Bunco Night at church. I had no intentions of going until several friends started trying to get me to go. I still would have bowed out until a visitor mentioned it to me. How could I not go if a visitor to our class (the one my husband teaches) was asking me if I was going? Reluctantly I signed up and have acted excited to attend.

Now that the time is here, my heart is starting to beat a little more quickly and my hands are shaking. I have 11 minutes until it starts, and I still need to put my makeup on and drive to the church. So what am I doing? Blogging. See how that works? Once again I will arrive at the very last minute.

So here goes: several hours of dreaming up things to talk about with the people at my table. The people who will change every round.

I better win something.

I Miss Blogging

2009-07-24T10:42:00.004-06:00

Wow, it's been a long time since I've blogged. My sister and everyone else in the free world is at BlogHer '09. I' m not and I'm jealous. I loved blogging. As I was lying in bed last night, trying to go to sleep, I started thinking about things that I had blogged about in the past. I miss being able to keep up with people through my blog. I miss talking about my kids and the crazy, silly things they do. I miss being able to vent. I just miss blogging.

Hopefully this will be my time to reenter the blogosphere. I may not post every day, and this time around it will be much for me than for anyone else. This is my way of preserving my memories for myself and my family.

Surprise!

2007-04-06T09:51:00.000-06:00

Surprise, everyone! I'm still around. Things have quieted down a bit, so I'm hoping to be on here more often. I still won't get to visit all of you until bows are done, though. For the last 5 weeks, I've been working 3 jobs: full-time child care, bows and part-time medical transcription. I had kids here from 7:00 to 5:30, typed from 6:00-10:00 at night, and worked on bows before, during, and after. Plus The Hubster had outpatient surgery in the midst of it all. Let me tell you, a nurse I am not. I was out of patience and compassion by 10:30 on the night of his surgery. Since I couldn't hear him in the bedroom with all of the kids here, I gave him a bell to ring when he needed me. I was so ready to chunk that bell through the window within 20 minutes. He had to have help with everything. Everything! He couldn't get in or out of bed without my help, could not go to the bathroom, could not get dressed, etc. I am thrilled to report that he goes back to the doctor on Monday and will probably be released to go back to work on Tuesday! Woo hoo!

Thank you to all of you who participated in Flat Stanley! Keilani, you made Drama Queen's day! She was so excited to come home and show me all of her treasures. And thanks for the chocolate-covered macadamia nuts!!! I can't wait until Drama Queen gets to bring home all of the pictures and things that you guys sent. I've been dying to see them.

I hope some of you still stop by from time to time. Let me know how you're doing until I can get back to dropping by your sites.

I'm Alive

2007-02-24T11:02:00.001-06:00

Believe it or not, I'm still around. It has been crazy busy around here. I plan on coming back and posting, but it will be very one-sided since I don't have time to visit everyone right now. It will be the end of May before my time-consuming project will be over.

Since I've been gone for so long, I figured the best way to come back would be begging for your help. Drama Queen is sapping every ounce of energy out of my body. She is the slowest moving child I have ever seen in my entire life. Have any of you ever dealt with a slow child? I'm talking taking 45 minutes to get dressed--when her clothes are already laid out! She just pokes along and seems to find everything else to do BUT get dressed--or whatever it is that she needs to be doing at the moment.

I end up frustrated and angry which then makes her mad at me since I'm nagging and yelling at her. No matter what I've tried--not letting her do something fun that she wants until she's accomplished her "task," grounding her, helping her--it just doesn't seem to work.

Any ideas? PLEASE????!!!!

Bon Voyage!

2007-01-14T08:53:00.000-06:00

I am in Galveston, Texas, right now at the hotel. Our shuttle will pick us up at 11:30 this morning so we can go stand in line (for hours!) to board the ship. I am so excited I can hardly stand it!

Meg, if you are reading this, please send me an email because I don't have your new address with me.

Have fun, everyone!

I'm Outta Here

2007-01-12T06:50:00.001-06:00

Slowly and carefully, I'm outta here. We are under an ice storm warning. For those of you who pray, please pray for our safety since we are leaving this evening. We'll be driving on ice for quite some time before we can get out of this storm.

Everybody have a great time while I'm gone, and I'll check back in after a week of fun and relaxation! (Are you jealous yet?)

Witty Title Goes Here

2007-01-07T21:47:00.000-06:00

Knock knock.
Who's There.
Dwain.
Dwain who?
Dwain the bathtub, I'm drowning!!

Well, I'm not actually in the bathtub, but I do feel like I'm drowning. It's the off-season for bows right now, but the "bow lady" called and asked if I could help do some headbands. No problem. Heh. Except that the @*#!* glue won't stick. So every. single. one. I do has to be redone. And redone again. Right now the first 78 headbands I've done are sitting in my closet trying to stay warm amongst all of the clothes. I will have to re-glue at least 65 of those. We've figured out that it's too cold in my house for the glue to stick. Well, turning up the heat defeats the purpose of making extra money doing these headbands if I have to use all the money to pay my electric bill. I've tried various things to help: putting them in the bathroom with the bathroom heater running, setting a fan to blow on them, even putting them on the drying rack in my dryer. The dryer works great--until I take them out and put them away, thinking they're finished. They're finished all right. Finished sticking together.

But, my friends, there is one thing looming larger than headbands that won't cooperate. A cruise. Not just any cruise, either. My very first ever cruise. Accompanied by The Hubster, my best (unrelated) friend, and her husband. Did you catch that there were no kids mentioned in that list? (I just embarrassed myself by letting out a very weird squeal. The Hubster just shook his head and went back to watching TV.)

Even though I am incredibly excited, I am sad and a little nervous about leaving my children for 8 days. They are staying with my sister, so I know they will have a great time and will be just fine. I'm missing Drama Queen's first gymnastics meet, though, a fact she reminds me of daily. To assuage my guilt and to primarily help Drama Queen make it through without us (she doesn't do change well--just like her mother), I've written notes to both children for each day that we will be gone. Maybe that and the promise of souvenirs will help them adjust.

All of this is to say that I will be MIA for the next couple of weeks. I may be able to post a blurb here and there in the next couple of days, but I doubt I'll have time to visit anyone. Sorry, folks! I'll make it up to you when I get back.

The water is rising again, so it's back to headbands/packing/feeling guilty.
bubble, glub, bubble

Off and Running

2007-01-04T13:04:00.001-06:00

I was asleep, enjoying every snore-free moment since The Hubster was already gone to work. My sleep was interrupted by the doorbell, followed immediately by my dogs barking incessantly. I flew out of bed and scrambled to throw on some clothes, any clothes, all the while thinking "What day is it? What. Day. Is. It?!?!"

Turns out it was 7:30 this morning, which is, of course, Thursday. A work day. I had two children standing on my front porch waiting for me to open the door so their parents could go to work. Karate Kid's ride was waiting out front to take him to school. Except he was still in bed sound asleep too. I ran in to wake him up, and he convinced me to let him stay home since he hadn't been feeling well anyway. Worked for me!

As soon as everyone got in the door, I went to put in my contacts--and scratched my eye. I am now wearing my glasses that I got when either Karate Kid or Drama Queen was born. I'm not sure which child it was, but I know they are 9 years old at a minimum, but more likely 12 years old. And let me tell you, stylish they are not.

Today was only the second day ever that I've had to take one of the girls to preschool. Thankfully my friend met me there and stayed in the parking lot so I could just run her in without having to take everyone in with me. The down side was that we had to wait for one little boy to be dropped off at the house before we could go. He arrived (late) with a dirty diaper. It took us an hour to get all of the errands run, so we were treated to the refreshing aroma of Ode de Poop the entire time.

So that's the joy that has been my day. How about you? I bet yours seems much better now by comparison, doesn't it? What can I say? I'm just that kind of friend.

Fodder for One More Therapy Session

2006-12-31T17:32:00.000-06:00

For the past several years we have battled Drama Queen to go to the movies with us. She never, ever, ever wants to go, which can be a big pain in the rear. No matter how many times I've asked her, she never has given me a reason for why she doesn't want to go. At one point she led me to believe that it was because she was afraid she would have to sit by someone she didn't know. I thought I had the problem solved by always offering to let her sit between us. No dice. She still threw a fit whenever we mentioned going to see a movie.

Friday night we went to a birthday party, part of which was going to see A Night at the Museum. The Hubster declared himself to be tired of being sent home to stay with DQ while we went and had all the fun, so he made the decision that they were going with us. This was of course met with weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Once the movie was over, heaven opened and a ray of sunlight shone on me as DQ decided to finally reveal the reason for her aversion to movie theaters. The child is scared to go because she's afraid someone will throw up on her head. She also gets hot while in the theater, a by-product of worrying that someone will regurgitate on her noggin'. Getting hot then makes her think that she, herself, is going to become sick and puke. See the endless cycle, all related to vomit? When I asked her why she thought someone would throw up on her head, she had a valid reason: they might eat too much. How can you argue with that?

I'm thinking a therapy fund might be in order.

Happy Holidays!

2006-12-29T22:19:00.001-06:00

Since I missed wishing everyone a Merry Christmas, I just wanted to take a second to tell you all that I hope you have a great New Year's Eve celebration, whatever and wherever that may be. Please be careful if you are going to be out and about that evening.

I don't make New Year's Resolutions anymore. I have goals, but not set-in-stone resolutions. I'm still thinking about what I hope to accomplish this next year. What about you?

Tears

2006-12-18T12:02:00.000-06:00

This weekend was my first experience in caring for someone with Alzheimers. I've been around several people with the disease, but I have never had to actually take part in caring for them. The Hubster's parents had a Christmas party Saturday night and needed someone to stay with his grandmother while they were gone.

The evening was progressing smoothly until it was just the two of us in the living room. She sat up straight in the recliner and started trying to get up. When I asked her what was wrong or what she needed, she told me, "To go home." Home to her is her childhood home, with her parents. Apparently she had told my MIL several times that day that she needed to go home because she hadn't told anybody she was leaving.

When it was time for her to go to bed, I had to take her to the bathroom. She was doing okay at first, but then I had to remind her to pull down her panties. When we got to the sink to wash her hands, I gave her a pump of soap, but she didn't know what to do. I told her to rub it in, so she started rubbing the soap onto the dispenser. I thought maybe she was trying to get more soap, so I gave her another pump of soap. She continued to rub it onto the dispenser and then finally started washing her hands with it.

Changing clothes meant undressing her and putting her pajamas on for her. Once she was in bed, I tucked her in and kissed her goodnight (feeling like I was tucking in one of my children). As soon as I walked out of the room, I started to worry she was too close to the edge and would fall out of bed, so I went back in and had her scoot over.

I'm not sure how long the whole bedtime routine took, but it felt like an hour. In all reality, it was probably only 10 minutes. As soon as I had her tucked in, I headed into the living room for a good cry. I was just devestated by what the disease has done to her. She literally has to be treated like a child, being told what to do every step of the way. She's not even related to me by blood, but I was so upset by her condition. I cannot imagine what I would feel like if it was one of my own parents. I'm praying I'll never know.

Wiped Out

2006-12-16T11:25:00.000-06:00

Karate Kid and The Hubster went to a Boy Scout lock-in last night. K.K. asked me yesterday if he could stay up all night. He was incredulous when I told him it was okay, but he quickly wanted to make sure that I also wouldn't tell him he had to take a nap or go to bed early. I told him I wouldn't make him, but that he would probably want to on his own.

As I was working on the computer this morning, K.K. was down in the floor playing with the dog. It got suspiciously quiet, so I turned around and found him like this:

Not to be outdone, those are The Hubster's feet up on the couch, where he had already been snoring away for quite some time.

Missing Out

2006-12-15T14:19:00.000-06:00

Here is a conversation between Karate Kid and I last night. For those of you who only have girls, this is one conversation you'll never have--at least I hope.

KK: (as I was walking out of his room from tucking him in) Mom, turn the light on a second and look at this.
Me: Is it snot?
KK: No.
Me: Is it a lugie?
KK: No.
Me: Is it ear wax?
KK: No.
Me: Is it anything out of your throat or mouth?
KK: No.
Me: Okay, I'll look (It wasn't until this point that I even turned on the light, fearing that I would be subjected to an unwanted surprise).

See what you're missing? I bet you all want to run right out and borrow the neighbor's son for a good heart-to-heart, don't you?

Little Angels

2006-12-14T21:30:00.000-06:00

I was in the worst mood yesterday, a combination of PMS and 7 children who must have been bitten by a rabid skunk. Sing it with me: twelve time-outs, eleven pushing children, ten temper tantrums, nine boxing matches, eight screaming sessions, seven crying children, six shin kickings, fiiiiiiive breakdowns. Four deep scratches, three hair pullings, two biting boys, and a partridge in a pear tree.

To top it all off, I had to buy presents for all of my children's teachers and then stay up until midnight writing letters to all of them. 'Cause apparently it wouldn't be Christmas if I didn't wait until the night before the school parties to take care of all of this. Every. single. year.

In between buying the gifts and writing the letters, I remembered a project our family was going to do. I fixed two Christmas trays with some cookies and things I had made, put an angel on each that Drama Queen colored and attached this note (not my original idea or poem):

The Christmas Angel has come to town,
To leave you some goodies, I see you have found.

If you wish to spread some of this good cheer,
Continue this greeting, 'cause Christmas is near.

First post the "Angel" where all can see,
And leave it there until Christmas Eve.

Then make 2 treats, with 2 notes like this,
Deliver to 2 neighbors who the Angel has missed.

You have only two days to leave a treat.
Ring the doorbell and run -- be fast on your feet.

Let's share in the spirit of friendship and love,
That's what Christmas is really made of.

We picked two neighbor families we wanted to treat and headed out. The first family wasn't home so we headed to a different one. The kids put the plate on the porch, rang the doorbell and ran to where The Hubster and I were hiding beside their fence. Nobody answered so we sent them back with a new strategy, a combo of door ringing and knocking. Still no answer. Since we have so many cats and dogs roaming the neighborhood, we decided the wise thing to do was remove the goodies and treat someone else.

As we were sneaking to the other neighbors we had planned to treat, the guy across the street came out. Apparently four people slinking through the dark at 9:00 (yes, I know it was late) is a little alarming. He was a good neighbor and watched us the whole time. Our treated neighbor came out and asked if the other man was the one who left the tray. He very quickly pointed out our hiding place on the side of the house. We stopped and chatted for a few minutes and then headed on to try to find someone else home.

It was a bust at another house, probably because they couldn't see anything when they looked out the peephole. We finally decided our next-door neighbors would enjoy being treated. I got smart on this one and set one of their outdoor chairs on the porch and put the tray on it. Digression: We secretly call this family the Griswolds because of their love of Christmas decorations. We sometimes worry that the planes may mistake them for the airport. So when we rang the doorbell and ran, it was like jumping hurdles and running an obstacle course all rolled into one.

But you know what happened to my mood by the time we were home? It did a complete turnaround. All the secrecy, giggling, running and hiding made me completely forget about all the things that had gone wrong that day and helped me focus on doing something nice for someone else. And we found out today that the first set we treated passed it along by treating two more neighbors today. How fun is that?

Six (More) Weird Things About Me

2006-12-13T15:58:00.000-06:00

I was tagged by Kelly at Pass the Torch for this meme. Since I seem to have a never-ending supply of weirdness, here are 6 more:

1. I can't stand for my feet to be touched or to touch anyone else's feet.

2. I hate decorating for any holiday besides Christmas.

3. I went to the tanning salon two weeks ago, the first time I've gone since a very short-lived stint in high school. I had an anxiety attack while I was there this time and had to call my sister to calm me down (skin cancer, claustrophobia, "nuking" myself, etc.)

4. I hate sending Christmas cards. I sent them the first year we were married and have refused to do it since then.

5. I call The Hubster "Daddy" instead of using his real name 99% of the time. I started calling him that when we got our dog, two years before our first child was born.

6. This one falls into the TMI category. If you don't want to know, stop reading here!

Every single time I go to the library, I have to, um, go potty. And not #1. Dollar Tree has the same effect on me.

Aren't you glad I shared?

Still Here

2006-12-12T20:03:00.000-06:00

I haven't dropped off the face of the earth. I've been busy enjoying my Christmas season (and shopping for my cruise--*squeal*). I'll try to post in the next couple of days. I'll also be dropping in to say hi when I get the chance.

Hugs to you all!

MeMe

2006-12-08T12:22:00.000-06:00

I'm too tired to come up with anything today, so I decided to do the Meme I saw over at What's On My Mind.

This is a one-word association meme.

Yourself: Tired
Your partner: Hunting
Your hair: Short
Your Mother: Patient
Your Father: Jokester
Your Favorite Item: Books
Your dream last night: many
Your Favorite Drink: coffee
Your Dream Car: ???
Your Dream Home: Big
The Room You Are In: living
Your Ex: boyfriend
Your fear: lice
Where you Want to be in Ten Years: here
Who you hung out with last night: friend
What You are Not: patient
Muffins: no
One of Your Wish List Items: quiet
Time: 12:30 p.m.
The Last Thing You Did: cooked
What You Are Wearing: jeans/T-shirt
Your favorite weather: mild
Your Favorite Book: all
Last thing you ate: okra
Your Life: great
Your mood: content
Your Best Friends: cherished
What are you thinking about right now: sleep
Your car: dirty
What are you doing at the moment: ignoring
Your summer: short
What is on your tv: nothing
What is the weather like: cold
When is the last time you laughed: today

Grace in Action

2006-12-06T11:53:00.000-06:00

Have you ever heard of Turf Toe? Me neither. When I hear that term I think of wet shower tiles in the locker room. Makes me think of jock itch and athlete's foot, neither of which I've had the pleasure of contracting. Apparently athletes get turf toe when they catch their foot on the astroturf. An athlete I am not, but I have turf toe. From my kitchen linoleum.

Yesterday morning one of the kiddos left a beaded necklace on the kitchen floor. As I turned around, I stepped on it and slid across the floor. I managed to catch myself with my other foot and kept from completely falling down. And then the pain. I have a hard time getting to the doctor during the day, so I headed to Urgent Care last night.

I began to feel very silly as I sat in the waiting room. The lady a couple of seats in front of me was moaning and about to hyperventilate as she doubled over. I would have thought she was in labor had she been bigger. Me thinks she should have gone to the ER instead of Urgent Care. A young girl who was in there sounded like she was coughing up the very bottom of her lungs. I was starting to be afraid to breathe. I found out later that she was having an asthma attack (bad for her, better for my health). The girl (an aquaintance) next to me seemed fine, but as I sat in the exam room waiting for the doc, I heard the nurses yelling at each other down the hallway that she had lice. Oh, my freakin' gosh! If you've read my blog for very long, you know that is one of my worst fears.

So here I am with the oh-so-fashionable walking boot/shoe type thing for the next 7-10 days. It's a lovely navy blue, so it should go great with everything I wear. Maybe I should get a bedazzler and fancy it up a little. Or puff paint! That would be even better, dontcha think? Gah.

And as Meg reminded me last night, I'm out of Saturday's game, sidelined by my injury. There go my hopes of playing in the bowl game in a few weeks. Dang.

How Do I Hate Thee?

2006-12-05T15:32:00.000-06:00

Let me count the ways.

Remember when we got our puppy? She was so cute and cuddly--for about 5 minutes. And then she chewed and pottied and pooped ad nauseum. My love quickly turned to frustration. No toy has been safe in the house since her arrival. Neither has the Tivo cord, my shoes, my throw pillows and...

A few weeks ago the guys were gone on their monthly Boy Scout camping trip. I had the whole bed to myself--except for the dogs. I got into bed but immediately remembered something I had left in the bathroom. I got up, walked 5 feet to the bathroom, turned right back around to get in bed and promptly stuck my foot into the big pee spot at the foot of my bed. The next night: same song, second verse. She did the exact same thing. I couldn't go to sleep because I was plotting ways to get rid of the dog without my family knowing it was me.

I have begged, pleaded, threatened, cajoled and whatever else I thought would work to convince my family to get rid of her. No luck. I am sick to death of this dog! My "middle" dog is the one that drove me crazy until we got the puppy. Now the middle one is a walk in the park.

The puppy is now in heat. I spend my days chasing her around with doggy diapers or little girl panties with pads inserted into them. It takes two people approximately 7 minutes to get one on her and a total of 1.3 seconds for her to get it off. I was so sick of waking up to--ahem--dirty sheets, that I drug her carrier in from the snow drifts and put her in it. After listening to her bark all. night. long. she suddenly appeared at our bedroom door. She somehow managed to work her way out of the crate. Back she went, this time with the newly filled dog food container on top to weigh it down. This resulted in more barking and another Houdini escape.

I think this morning took the cake, though. I woke up and, for some reason, ran my hands through my hair before I got up out of bed. Can you imagine how excited (massive sarcasm here) I was to discover gum and the gum wrapper stuck in my hair?! The dog had apparently been up during the night and either found a stray piece of gum or dug a used one out of the trash. In either event, she kindly deposited it on my pillow when she was done.

If you see a black and tan Dachshund running down the street, it's probably mine. She answers to Sassy. I do NOT want her back! There is no reward unless you take her and promise to never return her to my humble abode again.

Snow Fun

2006-12-02T16:50:00.000-06:00

It is very rare that it snows enough in Oklahoma that we can go sledding. What is even more rare is that I break out of my warm and cozy cocoon to even go in the first place. It has been 7 years since we've been sledding. In keeping with my "slow down and enjoy the holidays" theme, I braved the cold so we could go have some family fun.

When we went 7 years ago, Drama Queen cried the whole time because she got snow in her face on the way down (the one and only time she went down) and got cold. Since she's so much older now, I figured she would have a blast. Heh. She went down a few times and then started crying because she was too light to get the sled to go as far at the bottom of the hill as the rest of us. Then she got cold. Same song, second verse.

I'm quickly coming to realize that all of the warm and fuzzy Christmas/family time memories are only perfect in the movies and Norman Rockwell paintings. But you know what? I'm having a blast making each and every memory, perfect or not.

First (and probably only) Snowfall of the Year

2006-12-01T10:32:00.000-06:00

Christmas Fun

2006-11-29T23:39:00.000-06:00

Remember my plan to slow down and enjoy Christmas? So far, so good. Monday night the weather was wonderfully warm, so The Hubster and I took a walk around the neighborhood to look at the lights that people have put up. I had to remind him several times to slow down. This morning I sat and looked at the Christmas tree lights while I mentally ran through what makes Christmas so special to me.

Last night was one of the fun things that we already had on our calendar. All of the 3rd grade classes at Drama Queen's school had a family night last night. We met to make family decorations and then have refreshments and watch The Polar Express. Since the guys had Boy Scouts, I had visions of the two of us working together and then watching the movie side-by-side. I should have known better when she started asking if a friend of hers could sit with us.

Since the table where her friends were already seated had already filled up quickly, there was a spot for DQ to sit but not me. No problem, I just sat at the table behind her and watched while she did the "family" decoration. It was fun watching her interact with friends that I usually don't see her around but hear about ALL the time.

We were told to bring blankets, bean bag chairs, pillows and any other cushy things we wanted to help make us comfortable on the cafeteria floor while we watched the movie. I wanted to bring my nice, comfortable lawn chair, but DQ was horrified at the thought. It didn't matter, though, because all of ours are in the camper which is now proudly residing at my sister's new house. Since DQ was parked on our blankets with all of her friends, I continued to sit on my teeny, tiny round circle of a seat at the cafeteria table--for two hours.

As soon as the movie started, I noticed that the boy in front of DQ's group had his back completely turned to the screen and was watching the girls. Pretty soon the boy next to him did the same. I got so tickled watching the two of them flirt with the girls for the next 45 minutes. Once the movie got to the good part, they finally turned around and watched--until near the end, when boredom overtook them again. They entertained themselves flipping decorations back and forth to each other and then realized it was more fun to thrown them at the girls.

Now, I said I got tickled watching them. In reality I was enjoying it until I started getting glimpses of the future, when they are all old enough to date. I immediately started watching the boys more closely and found myself thinking, "No, she's not going out with that one. He looks like he'll be into partying too much." or "He's so cute, but I bet he'll be one of those boys who only has one thing in mind" (and, seriously, what boy doesn't have that on his mind?). Then I felt just a little sick to my stomach.

So even though I didn't have the great bonding experience I envisioned, I had a fun evening anyway. Well, minus the look into the future, that is.

Contemplation

2006-11-28T10:46:00.000-06:00

All of us are born with certain traits: introverted, extroverted, sloppy, meticulous, etc. Some of our traits can be changed, some cannot. But should we try to change?

I am an introvert. I have two very close friends that know EVERYTHING about me, and I do mean everything. One is the complete opposite of me, a social butterfly. The other, my sister, is also the opposite of me while still being like me in several ways. To those of you extroverts out there, only two "best friends" sounds pretty sad. I'm perfectly happy with it. I still have lots of acquaintances and friends, I just don't invest as much of myself and my time into them.

I think I was born to be in a hurry. It doesn't matter if I have a deadline or time limit, I seem to always be in a perpetual state of rushing. Well, at least until I run myself down. I go 90-to-nothing all morning long and then spend the rest of the day trying to recover. It's no wonder I have problems with anxiety. My body always feels like it's in the fight or flight state. Around 9:00 each evening I get my second wind and then spend the rest of the night trying to unwind so I can go to bed. I can't turn off the light until I know that I will fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow. If I don't go right to sleep, my mind starts cranking out anxiety-producing thoughts that keep me up for hours.

So what's a Type-A personality to do? Are we supposed to make the best of our strengths/weaknesses that we are born with or try to change? What if every Type-A person tried to become more easy-going and laid-back? Not that I will EVER be either of those in this or any other lifetime. Are Type-B people supposed to become more goal-oriented and uptight? Does it upset the balance of things when we try to change who we are inherently?

I think what my struggle boils down to is this: I feel like I run, run, run constantly and never get anything accomplished. If I take the time and effort to slow down, enjoy life more, and try not to be so stressed-out all the time, will I ever get anything done? Is it just a handy excuse for letting things slide? I already feel like a lazy person (as evidenced by my house). Will I turn into a complete and total bum?

Please give me some feedback on this one, even if you normally don't chime in. I'd like to know how people of both sides of the issue feel about it.

In the Holiday Mood

2006-11-27T15:00:00.000-06:00

Every year the holidays seem to just fly by without me having a chance to really enjoy them. The Christmas/New Year season is my favorite time of year, but I seem to fill up my time with buying and wrapping presents. I never seem to slow down any to just enjoy the time. I've decided that this year is going to be different. I am not going to be so busy doing that I forget to be in the moment, enjoying the holidays.

My plan is to do one thing every day until January 1st to enjoy the season. The ideas will range from very small (turning out the lights and enjoying the lights of the Christmas tree) to grand (attending a Christmas dinner theater). I have some ideas of my own, plus things that are already on our holiday schedule. What I need from you, dear readers, are some more ideas. What do you do to enjoy the season? There are 35 days from now until the end of the December (Yikes! Where did this year go?!). List as many ideas as you can to help me fill up these days with fun holiday memories. While you're at it, why not join me? Let's make this the most enjoyed Christmas season ever.

Much Better

2006-11-22T12:09:00.000-06:00

Bloglines has been a life saver! Well, I guess that's taking it a bit far, but it sure has been a time saver. I have time to read everyone's blog and sometimes comment when I can.

Thanks for the suggestions, everyone!

What To Do

2006-11-20T10:32:00.001-06:00

I'm having a dilemma. I love blogging: love to post and love to read others' posts. BUT, I feel like I have been neglecting things around here too much. So I'm debating on how to handle the situation. Do I:

1. Visit one blog a day?

2. Visit blogs only when I have a chance?

3. Use Bloglines? (I set up an account today but don't know if it will help or not.)

4. Pull back from blogging for awhile?

I have made so many new blogging friends that I hate to give it up entirely, but I feel bad if I don't visit everyone's blog every day or two.

Any advice for me? I'm open to suggestions.

The Turkey Man

2006-11-19T15:20:00.000-06:00

When we got out to the campground last night, the boys and leaders kept talking about the Turkey Man. After we'd heard about it three or four times, Drama Queen began quizzing me on what they were talking about. I had no idea and sent her to The Hubster. He never answered her (which should have been a clue), so I asked Karate Kid. He pulled me to the side and told me that it's a prank they pull on the new/younger boys every year. They talk about the Turkey Man all day, trying to set the mood. While we were there, Karate Kid and another boy went off and pulled a section of a thornbush off. They came back saying it was a claw from the Turkey Man, and that he must be nearby since they had found several of them.

The stories continue for the entire day. That night they take the boys on a night hike to look for the Turkey Man. Somehow they drop a scarecrow out of a tree that they put there earlier in the day, scaring the snot (and other bodily fluids, I'm sure) out of the boys.

That's all well and good...except that my daughter was standing there listening. She never gave me any indication that she was scared, so I had no idea. As soon as dinner was over, she started asking me when we were leaving. We just got a portable DVD player today, and she had been watching a movie on the way there. At first she told me she wanted to watch her movie. When that didn't work, she started telling me she was tired. That didn't work, so she finally pulled me to the side and told me she was scared.

As we were going walking to the bathroom (the permanent port-a-potty--fun!), she kept talking about how scared she was. I told her that it was all pretend. She didn't believe me because her brother had found a claw and another boy had been "scratched by the Turkey Man." To top it all off, The Hubster started scratching on the small window in the bathroom while we were in there, setting her off even more.

Once we got back to the fire, I decided we better go since she was scared. Once we were away from the others, The Hubster and I both told her again that it was all pretend, but I don't think she believed it until her brother came over to the car and told her the truth and told her what the "claw" really was.

On the way home, Drama Queen cleared up another little mystery for me. She had politely declined turkey at dinner, which is very unusual for her. While we had been sitting around the fire, waiting for dinner to finish cooking, someone commented that the Turkey Man would probably really come out because we were eating some of his kin (the turkeys they were frying for our dinner). Drama Queen was determined to do everything in her power not to be killed by the Turkey Man, so she refused to eat his relatives.

Poor girl. Sometimes I forget how scary life can be for a 9yo.

Grrrr!

2006-11-18T21:01:00.001-06:00

When I got home at 10:00 last night I had a message from Karate Kid:

"Ummm...Mom? I need you to get me a book called Caught in the Act. I can't remember who wrote it. I read the wrong book for class and have to read it by Monday."

Niiiiiiice. I checked online at our library, but it was already checked out. I checked the libraries in the next town over and found one library that had it. I put a hold on it and headed over there this morning. It wasn't on the shelf so I had the librarian help me. We never found it.

I decided my best bet would be to buy it, so I headed to Barnes Noble. They didn't have it, nor did their other store in town. Neither did either of the Borders stores. I headed to Super Target out of desperation but didn't find it there either. I finally got smart and sat in the parking lot and called 4 other bookstores. Nobody in town had that book.

Two hours after my search began, I called Karate Kid back and told him that I couldn't find it anywhere. You know what he told me? "Well, I don't have to have that particular book. I just have to read one in the series that has those kids in it. The one I read didn't have them in it."

@*!#%

Back to the library we went. After two more calls to Karate Kid, I finally got the boy a book. It's a very good thing I didn't get out to the campground for several hours. You might have been hearing about one of us on the news.

Wimping Out

2006-11-17T10:23:00.000-06:00

When Karate Kid was in Cub Scouts, they went on a camping trip once a year. Now that he's in Boy Scouts it's a monthly occurrence. I have no problem with that because it means I get two nights of snore-free sleeping. And if I'm really, really lucky, Drama Queen sometimes spends the night with a friend and I get the entire house to myself.

This weekend is a family camping trip. That's right, fun for the entire family. Now don't get me wrong, I adore camping. I just don't like camping when it's cold outside. This stems from going to Colorado for two weeks every year when I was a child and sleeping in a tent. I never, ever warmed up the entire time we were there. I told the scouts the only way I would go is if we took our camper, complete with toilet, shower, lights and heat. The Hubster was all for the idea because that meant he also got to sleep in the camper instead of a tent.

The whole idea of this weekend is to invite some Cub Scouts and their families to show them how much fun Boy Scouting is. And just in case we don't get enough turkey later this week, they are frying (!) two turkeys and we have to provide all the side dishes so that we can have our own little Thanksgiving feast. Guess who got to buy all the food this time. Not only buy it, but pay for it out of our personal account and then wait to be reimbursed. Here's a sampling of what we had to buy:

10 gallons of peanut oil (The Hubster asked if anyone was allergic to peanuts and was told, "We haven't had a problem so far." Whatever. I guess it doesn't matter that they've invited guests who've never been before)
2- 14lb. turkeys
3 pounds of bacon
5 pounds of sausage
Plus lots of other stuff

At least it didn't cost as much as I anticipated.

We tried to make reservations at the campground last weekend but there weren't any available. I checked again yesterday and noticed that the campground was closed for the year. I double-checked with The Hubster that I had the correct campground. Yep. I decided to give the campground a call, secretly hoping that they would be closed and we could scrap the whole idea. I was informed that the campground is closed, but they still allow dry camping. That meant nothing to me, so I humbly asked what dry camping was. Dry camping = water out of a hydrant but not at each campsite, no showers, non-flushing toilets, and no electricity. I. Don't. Think. So. The Hubster told me our camper was supposed to be self-sufficient, but he couldn't guarantee that the battery would last long enough for us to have heat both nights. And on that note, I bowed out. I'm still going tomorrow, but just for the day.

So call me a wimp, a fair-weather camper, whatever. The beauty of skipping out is that Drama Queen is indeed spending the night with a friend and I have the whole evening (and house) to myself. Oh, and all the heat I could want.

2006-11-16T10:32:00.000-06:00

The Last 13 Books I've Read

1. Kiowa Trail by Louis L'Amour
2. Beach Road by James Patterson
3. High Five by Janet Evanovich
4. Long After Midnight by Iris Johnansen
5. Manhunt by Janet Evanovich
6. Flirting with Forty by Jane Porter
7. First to Die by James Patterson
8. Jewels of the Sun by Nora Roberts
9. Blow Out by Catharine Coulter
10. Irreparable Harm by Randy Singer
11. Carnal Innocence by Nora Roberts
12. Alone by Lisa Gardner
13. Natural Causes by Michael Palmer

Oops!

2006-11-15T10:30:00.000-06:00

I forgot that this edition of Works for Me Wednesday is a Christmas theme. I'm going to leave the following post up anyway just in case it helps someone who stops by here.

Gather 'Round the Table

2006-11-15T10:24:00.000-06:00

We have been so remiss in sitting around the table at dinner. I hear stories about how important it is and feel such incredible guilt. Both of the kids were missing that time with us, just as we were missing the time to connect with them. With our schedules, it's often hard for all of us to get together at that time of the evening since somebody is always gone to a meeting or practice.

I figured out that everyone is generally home close to bedtime, so I just substituted our Bedtime Snack for our family dinner. Now when the kids get a snack before bed, we all stop what we are doing and congregate in the same area. Sometimes it's the table, sometimes it's in another area. This is our chance to sit down and talk. I recently ordered Family Time Dinner Games, so we also use those. We have had a blast playing some of those games. A plus is that they have kept us all together much longer than if we had just eaten, since we all want to take "just one more turn" before getting ready for bed.

In today's busy world, this is our chance to visit, share and bond. It works for me!

Hideous Haircut

2006-11-13T12:58:00.000-06:00

I have no hair. Well, I have a little bit, but not near enough to suit me. I took a picture in Saturday night to show the stylist what I wanted. Whenever I choose a short cut, I always, always, always ask them to leave it a little bit longer than in the picture. I totally forgot to tell her this time. Not only that, she cut it even shorter than it showed in the picture!

Before you ask, I will NOT be posting a picture for two reasons: (1) I in no way want a permanent record of this cut, and (2) I will not knowingly post a picture of myself until I get to my goal weight. Just send me support via empathy, sympathy and chocolate. Oh, wait. That would kind of derail the weight loss thing, huh? Okay, just a virtual hug will work for now. Or a wig.

OMG!

2006-11-11T12:21:00.000-06:00

My daughter just informed me that she didn't want to stay outside for two hours. Feeling lost when she tells me things is nothing new, but I play along anyway. I told her she didn't have to, and she shot back: "Yes, I do. I put that stuff on my hair."

Sun In. Lordy, I have no idea how much or where she put it. For all I know, she will end up with one huge blond spot right on the top of her head. The bottle is probably two years old too. She may have orange hair instead.

Lovin' It!

2006-11-11T10:57:00.000-06:00

Okay, this post is for anybody using Firefox. I just found the best add on: Performancing. I think there is a link at the end of this post, way down at the bottom. Instead of having to log into Blogger, type my post, publish it and then hit the republish button, I just hit the little icon on the bottom of my screen, type out my post and hit publish. That's. It. I can't believe how much faster and easier it is! It can be used with WordPress, Live Journal, and others. If you're using Blogger, you have to download a newer version to make it work correctly.

It is well worth the download!!

Who's Your Momma?

2006-11-10T10:42:00.000-06:00

This morning at 4:30, I heard Drama Queen hollering, "Mom! Mom!" I was so out of it that I reached across The Hubster to wake up the fictitious mom on the other side of him. It took me a second for the thought to register, "Wait a minute. I'm her mom!" I got up and stumbled my way to her room to see what she needed. She told me that her bed was wet. I stood there swaying and trying to figure out why her bed would be wet. "Did she wet the bed? She doesn't ever wet the bed." Just a couple of thoughts later she told me that her bed was wet from her ice. I, in my stupor, thought she said "eyes." That started a whole new round of confusing thoughts: "Her bed is soaking wet from her eyes? Has she been crying in her sleep? How could she possible cry that much to soak her bed without calling out to me earlier?" It finally sunk in that she said "ice" instead of "eyes." That made much more sense, of course. For whatever reason the child regularly takes a baggie of ice to bed with her, to cure whatever is ailing her, I guess. Apparently it leaked this time.

The moral of this story, I guess, is never count on me in the middle of the night to take care of anything. Shoot, I don't even know who my children are at that time of night.

Oops!

2006-11-09T15:55:00.000-06:00

I guess I need to watch what I say. I just heard Karate Kid say, "Halle-freakin'-lujah." Apparently I had just said it and he was mimicing me. Good thing it wasn't anything worse than that!

An Open Letter to Child Care Parents

2006-11-09T15:49:00.000-06:00

Dear Parent,

When you bring your child to my house at noon after picking said child up from preschool, please do not bring a bag full of food from Taco Bueno for your child to eat in front of all the other kids while they eat whatever it is that I've cooked. None of us are happy about it. Believe me.

Sincerely,

Tired of the Whining

Hurricane D.Q.

2006-11-08T15:36:00.000-06:00

I am holding onto my hat and battoning down the hatches because Hurricane Drama Queen is getting ready to blow through the door. The storm has been brewing for several days. The current conditions of a friend who is in the same class at school and the same gymnastics class/team coupled with the high pressure system of said friend coming over after school while her mom finishes a project at work is troublesome enough. Added to the mix is walking (!) home when it is (gasp) 81° outside, Drama Queen refusing to wear anything but jeans, and that both girls are bossy (although D.Q. declares it is only her friend who is bossy), and the forecast becomes very grim. The black clouds on the horizon are getting ominously near. We here in the D.Q. household are in imminent danger.

Wish us well.

Daydreamin'

2006-11-07T09:20:00.000-06:00

When I’m asked how I’m doing, it’s almost a guarantee that “busy” will come out of my mouth at some point. Even when there is no reason to rush, that is exactly what I do. I think I was born with my button stuck on fast forward. I walk fast, eat fast, can’t watch TV without doing something else…you get the idea. During the course of this frantic pace, I started to lose track of things. My children know that unless they write it down, I will never remember. I call myself and leave messages on the answering machine. I email myself all the time.

One day I ran across an article that said it is horrible that adults don’t take the time to daydream every day. My first thought was, “Daydream? Who has time for that? Besides how could I sit still that long and do nothing?” As I continued the article, it started to make sense and actually started sounding like a pretty good idea. I decided to test it out.

It didn’t take me long to get the hang of it. Set the timer, stare at a fixed point, and let my wander wherever it chose. I’ve dreamed about a myriad of things like sitting by a river in Colorado, our upcoming cruise, and vacation places I would like to visit. I couldn’t believe how relaxed I felt at the end of those 15 minutes. My experience completely supported what the article said. I got a huge surprise out of the deal too. I started remembering things. Not long lost memories or anything like that. No, I was remembering appointments that I needed to write down, things I needed to pick up at the store, things I needed to send to school with my children, bits and pieces of things I never would have remembered had I not slowed down and taken a moment to let my mind just relax. Now I’ve learned to keep a piece of paper and a pen with me so I can jot things down and continue my daydreaming without worrying about what I have to remember.

So here’s a challenge to you. Take 10 or 15 minutes today and just daydream.

Literally

2006-11-06T11:38:00.000-06:00

Children are so literal. When waking Drama Queen up a few morning ago, I uttered the phrase, "Up and at 'em!" I remember when I was very young my parents would say the same thing to me, but I thought they were saying, “Up and Adam.” That made no sense to me whatsoever.

My parents, as all good parents do, also frequently asked me if I was lying. Now, where we lived/live it came out as, “Are you lyin’?” To my young ears, “lyin’” sounded like “lion.” I answered them truthfully every time: No. All the while I was thinking, “Of course I’m not a lion. What are you thinking?

As adults we often forget how things sound to small children. When my sister was young, she was trying to tell me something but couldn’t seem to get the words out. When I told her to “spit it out,” she immediately put her hand to her mouth and spit an imaginary something out of her mouth and went on with her story without missing a beat.

A few days ago Drama Queen opened the kitchen junk drawer and asked me why I had a hammer in there. I was totally joking when I said, “If the kids get out of line, I hit them in the head with it.” Was she concerned with me hitting them with a hammer? No. Her comeback was, “But, Mom, you don’t make the kids stand in line.” (I worry about her sometimes.)

My very favorite miscommunication is from the time I was a college student working in the church nursery and many of the kids had been gone with the chicken pox. I hadn’t seen one little girl for several weeks so I asked her if she had had chicken pox. She thought for a minute and came back with, “No, but I’ve had chicken nuggets.”

Out of the mouths of babes.

9 Weird Things About Me

2006-11-03T08:57:00.000-06:00

I was tagged by Kristie over at Slacker-Moms-R-Us awhile back, and I'm just now getting around to posting my answers. I've posted many weird things about myself in the past. Some of these are repeats and some are new.

Weirdness #1: When I reach for an object among multiple objects (a fork, a straw, whatever), I have to get the one that I was intending to pick up even if another one falls on top of it and I have to dig for it.

Weirdness #2: I cannot stand it when there are things hanging out of a drawer that is closed. I would rather the drawer be left wide open instead of closed with a piece of something sticking out of the top.

Weirdness #3: I don't kiss anybody on the lips except The Hubster.

Weirdness #4: I have to walk on the right side when walking next to someone.

Weirdness #5: I sleep on my side with the covers up over my ear. This originated from a book I read as a child about a girl who did the same thing so a spider on her ceiling wouldn't fall on her and crawl into her ear. I thought it was good advice, and now I can't break the habit.

Weirdness #6: I won't wear a coat unless it is close to 0° and I'm going to be outside for an extended amount of time. I never, ever wear a coat in the car.

Weirdness #7: I'm afraid to go to Yellowstone National Park.

Weirdness #8: I don't like ice cream. The closest thing I will eat is Banana Pecan frozen yogurt. That's it.

Weirdness #9: I would rather change the nastiest diaper in the world than mop the floor.

2006-11-02T09:37:00.000-06:00

I am huge on giving nicknames to people and/or being the recipient of a nickname. There's something about that special name for another person that just seems to show what an important person they are and that there is a relationship between the two parties. Having said that, here are 13 nicknames I've given other people or that they have given me:

1. Bubbie. Although this is what Drama Queen calls her brother, I use it more often than his real name.
2. Chili Pepper (Drama Queen) I had no idea what an appropriate nickname it would be--she definitely adds spice to our lives.
3. Chilimous Willimous (DQ)
4. Mr. B. (Karate Kid)
5. Vladimir Puten (The Hubster) I think the "Puten" part reminded me of a certain bodily function that he "shares" us with quite often. I sometimes shorten this one to just Vladimir or Vladdy Daddy.
6. Allie Ballie Boodlebug, often shortenend to just Boodlebug (for one of the girls that I watch)
7. Gracie Bacie Biddlebee, often shortenened to Biddlebee (Boodlebug's little sister)
8. Bubba (My brother) I started calling him that in high school to annoy him, and it stuck. Karate Kid was 2 before he knew my brother's real name was not Bubba.
9. Boog, short for Booger (My sister)
10. Madre (my mom) I'm not Spanish and don't even know if that's how you spell it, but I call her this quite often.
11. Tonya Tot (what my best friend calls me)
12. Sissy (what my sister called me when we were younger). I hated this one because it reminded me of Sissy Spacek, whom I couldn't stand because she was in Coal Miner's Daughter. I was totally embarrassed by that movie when I was a child because it showed them in bed having sex, although they were under the covers. The night before I got married and the two of us were having our cry fest, I begged her to keep calling me Sissy.
13. Too Tall (what my Dad called me). I think this originated from Too Tall Jones, but I'm not sure. I was taller than my classmates for quite a while, and that's when he started calling me that. It's also the reason I have such poor posture now, from trying to slump down to be the same height as my peers when I was in grade school.

As I said, I love nicknames, so please share yours with me.

Aw, Shucks

2006-11-01T10:02:00.000-06:00

Look what I won! Kelly at Pass the Torch awarded me the Perfect Post Award for this post.

Thanks, Kelly!

What Are You?

2006-11-01T09:32:00.000-06:00

For months Drama Queen told me she was wearing her cheerleading outfit for Halloween. She gets to be what she wants, I get away with a free costume, and everybody's happy. Friday night Drama Queen went to a Halloween party at her friend's house. Fifteen minutes before we were supposed to leave, she changed her mind about being a cheerleader. I threw out suggestion after suggestion, all of which were met with her very apparent disapproval. She ended up putting on her regular clothes, declaring she was a 4yo and stomping out the door.

Last night she had gymnastics until 6:30. She had made plans to go trick-or-treating with a friend of hers, so I sent her to get her costume on as soon as she walked in the door. This is what she came out in, only the pants were pink instead of green (she wore the pink ones to school today):

Me: What are you?
DQ: Hannah Montana.
Me: I think you need a name tag. Nobody's going to know who you are.

She actually went and made a name tag that said, "Hi! I'm Hannah Montana. I rock."

Nobody questioned her costume either.

How Old Is Too Old?

2006-11-01T08:56:00.000-06:00

How old is too old to trick-or-treat? Karate Kid said this is his last year. I guess he figured that once he's a teenager(!) he should call it quits. Somebody should tell the other 1000 teenagers out trick-or-treating last night. There's something a little disconcerting about a teenage boy taller than me coming to the door covered in blood and carrying a machete. And the girls! The Hubster told me I should have put the candy in one girl's cleavage. We saw one girl crossing the street that had to have been dressed like a hooker. There's just no other thing she could have been dressed the way she was.

It's pretty sad when you see more teenagers out trick-or-treating than children.

Trick or Treat?

2006-10-31T16:38:00.000-06:00

How bad is it that I'm dreading tonight? It's cold outside and will only get colder as the sun goes down. My best friend that we go trick-or-treating with every year can't go because her son's football team has a tournament. Tonight. On Halloween. Who schedules a ballgame on Halloween?

I had a tiny ray of hope when Drama Queen asked if she could go with a friend of hers. I started to dream about how I would get to spend the evening in the warmth of my home, letting Karate Kid hand out candy. Then DQ informed me that I would take them to our regular haunt (get it? haunt? Oh well, maybe I haven't caught up on my sleep quite yet) and then she would go around her friend's neighborhood with her. I would just send The Hubster with her, but he can't even order a pizza by himself, let alone go trick-or-treating without me.

I guess I'll just bundle up and hope for the best. The best being good candy for me to steal from her sack, of course.

Hallelujah!

2006-10-30T09:56:00.001-06:00

I'm done! Done, I say! I can actually have my life back now. My life consists of blogging, of course, so I'll finally be around to your sites again to catch up on what's been going on. It may take me a few days, but I'll come see you.

In other news, we've found a piece of land that we're interested in buying. It "happens" to be right by my sister's new place. There are lots of unknowns and details to be worked through before we know for sure whether or not we're going to try for it. Normally I would be a nervous wreck about the whole thing. I'm sure I'll totally fall apart if we actually decide to buy it, but for now I'm okay. I realized that life can pass me by if I'm too scared to make any changes or take any risks. Who knows how many times have I missed out on the best things in life by being to scared to take a chance? Not this time.

Coming Up For Air

2006-10-28T11:45:00.000-06:00

I don't have anything profound to write about because my brain is totally consumed with getting these bows done by tomorrow. Hallelujah for my friend who is also behind on getting hers done. They were originally due Thursday, but we'll both be done (hopefully) and get them turned in tomorrow. There is a light at the end of the tunnel!

I know I gripe about how much time these take up and all the things I'm not accomplishing (like sleeping!), but it isn't as bad as I make it out to be. I continue to do these because we use the money as play money. No bills, no obligations, just fun. In fact, I paid for the cruise we'll be taking in January entirely with money I made doing bows. Plus I'm adding a hefty little amount of spending money from the ones I'm finishing up right now.

I'll leave you with a picture of what happens when The Hubster inadvertently tells the Tivo not to record something I set it to record. Of course I couldn't just sit and watch the shows on the computer 'cause I have bows to finish, dang it! I hauled everything over to the computer and realized there wasn't enough light. The first clip-on lamp burned out, so I dragged the piano bench over and put another lamp on it. It wasn't tall enough, so I had to add my small ironing board to get it raised up enough. Just pretend like you don't see all the jackets and things piled on the chair next the computer. Those belong to all of the kiddos I watch. I've really got to get a coat rack.

Presenting the Redneck Bow and TV Hour:

2006-10-26T09:48:00.000-06:00

Thirteen Things I'm Going To Do When I'm Done with Bows

1. Sleep!
2. Take Drama Queen ice skating
3. Take Karate Kid to the movies
4. Catch up on reading with my children
5. Read more of my own book
6. Blog
7. Catch up on everyone else's blog!
8. Sleep!
9. Clean my house
10. Get a haircut
11. Lie in the hammock
12. Daydream (more on this in a later post)
13. Make a real effort to lose some weight

Works For Me Wednesday

2006-10-25T08:26:00.000-06:00

For those of you new to my site, I am a voracious reader. The Hubster is not. When Karate Kid was born, I was determined to make him love reading just as much as me. We spent lots of time reading when he was a baby, but once he hit toddlerhood, it was impossible to keep him still long enough to read to him. My solution? I read while he was in his high chair eating breakfast. He was a captive audience then.

This became a daily routine for us: breakfast and books. I did the same thing when Drama Queen was small. It was such a part of our life that it continued until Karate Kid was in 4th grade and Drama Queen was in 1st. It was too hard then because they were both getting ready for school at the same time and weren't interested in the same books. We've since moved our reading time to the evenings.

Hope this helps those of you with small ones running around. It works for me.

You Did What?!

2006-10-24T08:14:00.000-06:00

Some of you may have already read about this at my sister's site. That's okay, but I also wanted a chance to brag on my son.

This weekend we went to my grandmother's house. We had just finished lunch and were all sitting around talking. Karate Kid and his cousin, who is a year younger than K.K., walked in from hanging out on the screened-in deck, a favorite of the kids--and adults who are looking to escape the 75° heat of the house. I heard bits and pieces of the boys' conversation, and what I heard scared me just a tad. I decided I better investigate further, so I called them over to ask what they were talking about.

Karate Kid: Oh, Cousin choked on a pickle, so I did the Heimlech (said in a very nonchalant, no big deal tone)
Me: Nuh-uh.
K.K. Yes, he did.
Me: Are you kidding?
K.K. No.

This went on for quite a while until I was convinced that it really did happen.

K.K.: Cousin did the universal sign for choking, so I did the Heimlech.
Me: Could he breathe?
K.K.: No
Me: Did it fly out?
K.K. No, it just came up into his mouth enough that he could spit it out.

As I was relating this to my brother, he told us this is the 4th time my nephew has had to have the Heimlech performed on him! In my brother's words, "That is one kid that should never eat alone!"

Once I realized that the whole scenario had really happened, the adrenaline shot through me, complete with racing heart and shaking. I couldn't believe that both boys acted like it wasn't a big deal. It was a huge deal!! I love what my brother said, "Next time could you tell an adult?" He must have realized how that sounded because he immediately added, "Don't stop doing the Heimlech, though! Send somebody else to get an adult."

I am continually amazed at the maturity and responsibility that I see developing in my son. He's going to be such a great guy. What am I saying? He already is.

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggedy Jog

2006-10-23T15:12:00.000-06:00

I used to play this "game" with myself: "A week ago today I was _____ or two weeks from today I will be ______." For some reason I had a hard time living in the present. I was always busy mourning the end of some fun event that had already occurred or looking forward to the next big thing looming on the horizon. I would come home from camping or vacation or visiting relatives and mope around the house, wishing I was still there. The day before we were to head home, I started getting the blues. The day of was even worse; I usually ended up in tears at some point during the day. I've noticed recently, though, that the "game" has no appeal for me anymore.

This weekend was usually one of the more momentous events that stirred up all of these emotions. My grandmother lives in AR, and every October they have a big arts and crafts weekend. There are festivals all over the place near where she lives. Every year my family congregates at her house for the festivals, food and lots of family time. I look forward to this weekend every year.

Normally I start feeling "down" on Saturday, knowing that Sunday is the day we have to head home. I have a hard time enjoying myself the later in the day it gets. Instead of getting every drop of fun out of the day, I end up wasting it on wishing it could last longer. On Sunday I try to wait until the very last moment to leave. That last moment is the fraction of a second before The Hubster loses his patience with my foot-dragging. I spend the first part of the drive staring out the car window, trying to drink in every sight and commit it to memory like I will never be there again. I usually shed a few tears in the process and then fall asleep for the rest of the drive home.

As soon as I walk in the door, I start calling friends and the family that I've just left. I just can't stand for the weekend of companionship to be over. I try to drag it out as long as possible. Then I spend the next couple of days saying, "This time yesterday I was playing Skip-Bo with everybody" or "Two days ago I was taking a nap and then getting ready to go to the festival." It usually takes until Wednesday before I kick the gloom for good.

I've noticed this past year, though, that the "game" doesn't hold the same allure. I still look forward to every fun event, anticipating all of the great things I'll be doing. I have a great time whenever I'm there. The thing that has changed, though, is that I don't dread going home. I don't obsess over what I was doing 17 hours ago or what thing I have to look forward to next just so I won't be depressed that the current fun is over. In fact, if it even comes to mind, I find myself thinking, "It was fun but I'm just as happy here folding clothes/checking homework/changing diapers as I was when I was at the amusement park/my grandma's house/vacation. When the fun's over, I'm happy to be heading home. I think this change in attitude has helped me enjoy myself even more since I don't waste an entire day dreading leaving the following day.

I don't know what caused the change in me because it certainly wasn't anything I consciously chose to do. Maybe I'm finally growing up. Maybe it's because I'm not battling depression on a daily basis anymore. Maybe I've just learned to be content. Whatever the case, "there's no place like home." It's about time.

Laugh With Me

2006-10-20T10:33:00.001-06:00

I'm valiantly trying to visit some of your blogs and read an entry or two as time allows. I headed over to visit Kristie at Slacker-Moms-R-Us and ran across this entry. You have to go listen to this. Hilarious.

This will have to hold you over until Monday. I'll be out-of-town this weekend, taking a break from bows, and having a great time with my extended family.

Ommmmmmmm

2006-10-20T08:18:00.000-06:00

In my effort to lose weight and The Hubster’s goal to bring down his cholesterol, our family joined the local “Y” this week. We’ve done cardio several times this week, but I waited all week to go to the yoga class they offered last night.

Late yesterday afternoon I realized that I had nothing appropriate to wear to the class, so I headed to the handy-dandy Wal-Mart to get some workout clothes that wouldn’t gross everyone out—at least I hope. While I was there I figured that it would be in everyone’s best interest to buy some Gas-X. They now have Gas-X thin strips, so I grabbed a box and headed off.

I’ve done lots of yoga videos but have never attended a class. I was just a little apprehensive, but figured I’d just stand in the back of the room and hide. Wrong. Everyone lined up side-by-side, facing a mirror. A mirror, folks! Not only was I not in the back of the class, but my reflection was there for the whole class to see. Nice.

I had rushed out of the house so fast that I didn’t stop to think about grabbing my mat. Did they have any mats there? Nooooo. The instructor told me I would be fine without one, but another lady took pity on me and got an extra one out of her car. Turns out her son used to attend yoga class with her, but he joined one of the military branches and had shipped out. She kept his mat in her car as a reminder of him.

Class started and I was able to keep pace with everything they were doing. All of the moves were familiar to me, so I felt at ease right away. Well, I felt at ease with what we were doing. The Gas-X strips, unfortunately, did not work at all. There is nothing like bending over, clenching and praying that nothing escapes to enhance one’s workout. It really lends itself to relaxation.

We ended the class with the relaxation pose. Everyone laid on their backs, eyes closed, and, well, relaxed. Hence the name, I suppose. The instructor even turned the lights off. The music was still playing softly, but once it ended all I could concentrate on was the airplane flying overhead and the cars passing on the highway. I don’t know how long we stayed like that, probably 7 or 8 minutes. It seemed like forever. Had I not tanked up on caffeine, I would have fallen asleep. My mind must have wandered or I drifted off just a tad because I suddenly thought, How long have we been here? Did everyone leave? I raised my head just a tad and saw that everyone else was, thankfully, still there. I don’t know why I thought everyone had left. How could they all get up, put on their shoes, roll up their mats and exit without me hearing? I’m thinking too much caffeine and not enough sleep on my part. Makes me think crazy thoughts, I guess.

All in all it was a great experience. Next time I will arrive mat in hand, hopefully flatulence-free, ready to fully enjoy myself and relax as intended.

Namaste.

Where One Leaves Off...

2006-10-18T14:48:00.001-06:00

Once in a very great while, my children have a very low-key, ordinary, run of the mill day. It's usually when one of them is gone and the other is left at home without an adversary to fight. Lest I enjoy the peace too much, I can always count on one of my child care kiddos to step in and provide the drama du jour.

My children are out of school for the rest of the week for Fall Break. I, craving the quiet of the normal nap time around here, shuffled children around to new sleeping spots so Drama Queen could play in her room while they napped. I just didn't have the fortitude to hear her complain about having someone in her room or how she was bored or a myriad of other complaints that she lodges during this very elusive time in my day--the hour of peace and quiet. In order to preserve my sanity, I put up a playpen in the "big kid" room. This created a dilemma because Mr. Red Head loves to stand up in the playpen and holler at the others as they are trying to go to sleep (thus the reason he sleeps all by his lonesome in DQ's room). I decided to rig up a tent/divider/obstruction of sorts, thinking maybe he would settle down easier if he couldn't see any of the others.

I brought a chair into the room and draped one end of a blanket over it and shut the other end in the top dresser drawer. One side was high enough but not the other, so I had to figure out a way to raise the lower side. Apparently just a teensy bit of the creativity my children have came from me. I ran into my bedroom and got the clamp-on light that's on our headboard. In the process of getting the lamp, I accidentally unplugged my alarm clock. Does anybody hate having to reset their clock as much as me? It just annoys me to no end. I decided that I would just leave it and set it when I got ready to go to bed. Back in the other room, I clamped the light onto the back of the chair. Voila! The blanket was high enough that he couldn't see over it.

Just as I was getting ready to walk out of the room, I heard Mr. Red Head having a meltdown in the hall. I walked out to see him pointing in fear into my bedroom. Since there is a gate in the doorway, I knew that none of the kids or the dogs had gone in there. I looked around to see what was scaring him, but I couldn't see anything. He kept pointing and babbling/crying, so I looked several more times to try to find the reason for his fear. Have you figured it out yet? It took me awhile. The big, bad monster scaring this new 2yo was: (drumroll please) the blinking numbers on my alarm clock. Seriously. As soon as I set the clock he was fine again.

Just when I think we've cornered the market on insane phobias, someone else comes along and lets me know there's more than enough craziness to go around.

Where One Leaves Off...

2006-10-18T14:48:00.000-06:00

Thank You!

2006-10-17T13:58:00.000-06:00

Thank to each and every one of you who helped Drama Queen with her school project! I'm not sure that every one of you will be included because she had already gone to school by the time I received some of your addresses. I emailed them to the teacher ( I had written her a note telling her I might be sending more), but I'm not sure what time they actually worked on this project. I didn't tell DQ that I was asking for your help (obviously, since I posted it at 12:30 this morning!), so she was surprised when I told her this morning. She was so excited about all the different states. She kept saying over and over, "I love your blog friends! That was so nice of them!"

You guys are wonderful. Me, not so much right now. I'm swamped, sinking in the mire of bows that are sucking me ever downward (Where does my daughter get her dramatic flair?). I'm trying to hit everyone's blog a post at a time, here and there, whenever I can sneak one in. Please don't think I've forgotten you! I'll be back to visiting you daily, my faithful friends, as soon as this two weeks of caffeine and sleeplessness are over.

Help!

2006-10-16T23:10:00.000-06:00

This is a very last minute cry for help. Drama Queen's class just read a book called Flat Stanley. I don't know anything about the book other than Stanley was flattened and then went on adventures through the mail. Drama Queen's class is going to be mailing their own Flat Stanleys, and they need addresses. I think they're trying to see how many places they can go.

If any of you would be willing to help out, please email me and let me know. There is a link to my email in the sidebar, but just to make it easy, you can email me at:

1booklover@sbcglobal.net

I think they will want you to send them a short letter back. This is a one time deal, no pen pal things. If any of you would be willing to participate, please let me know. I promise to delete your address from my email as soon as I send it with her to school. Thanks to anybody that can help.

Aspirations

2006-10-14T11:07:00.000-06:00

As of 3:00 this morning, I am through making these (sorry the picture quality isn't the greatest):

It's only temporary, though. My friend brings my next batch of bows to me this afternoon after she delivers these to the "bow lady," as my children call her.

Remember my post about modesty? Drama Queen came home the other day and had this little gem to share with me:

DQ: Mom, I know what I want to be when I grow up, but I'm not telling you because you won't want me to do it.

Me: What is it?

DQ: I'm not telling.

Karate Kid: A stripper? (Always full of helpful ideas, that one.)

Me: What is it, Drama Queen?

DQ: Okaaaaay, I'll tell you--but you won't like it. I'm going to be...a swimsuit model! Because they get to wear those tiny little swimsuits.

Please just kill me now.

Just MS

2006-10-13T15:34:00.000-06:00

I grew up in a Victorian era-type household, where many subjects were taboo. I was so sheltered and naieve. While there is something to be said for that, it was carried way too far. I never want my children to be embarrassed to talk to me about anything, so I've tried to be very open and honest with them. I try to do it tastefully, but I now have a pre-pubescent son and a husband whose mind-set very closely matches his son. Drama Queen wouldn't even call the Christmas ornaments "balls" last year for fear of what the boys would dream up to say. Once you get them started, it's all downhill from there.

A few days ago I asked Karate Kid to run to the neighborhood convenience store (a family store, owned and operated by a man in our church and the only convenience store I'll let K.K. go to) to buy me a candy bar. Apparently my child knows me well:

K.K. Do you have PMS (He knows that's the only time I crave chocolate.)?
Me: There's no "P" to it; it's "MS" all the way, baby.
K.K. What does that mean?
Me: There's no "pre." I'm smack dab in the middle of it.

A few minutes later he called his best friend to see if he wanted to ride bikes up there with him. I overheard him say, "No, it's just MS. (pause) There's no 'P,' just 'MS.' I guess the 'P' means "pre" or something. She must just be in the middle of it."

Knowing my son, the owner of the convenience store now knows that I have "MS."

Halloween Meme

2006-10-12T08:37:00.000-06:00

Kristie over at Slacker-Moms-R-Us tagged me with this meme several days ago, and I'm just now finding the time to participate.

1. What's the scariest movie you've ever seen?

I can't remember the name of the scariest one I saw because it's been many years since I've seen it. Something about gargoyles and a woman stealing people's breath.

2. What was your favorite Halloween costume from childhood?

The one that stands out in my mind the most was when I went as half boy/half girl. That costume took some doing: folding a ball cap in half and pinning it to my head, wearing pants and then rolling up one leg and pinning a skirt over the top, makeup on one half of my face, etc.

3. If you had an unlimited budget, what would your fantasy costume for this Halloween be?

If I had an unlimited budget, I'd be in a log cabin in the mountains, sitting next to a roaring fire, sipping a drink and reading a book. The river right outside the cabin would be loud enough that I'd be able to hear it in the cabin.

4. When was the last time you went trick or treating?

Well, I took the kids last year, but all I had to do was stand on the sidewalk and talk to my friend. Two years ago I actually had to walk Drama Queen up to the houses.

5. What's your favorite Halloween candy?

Dots!

6. Tell us about a scary nightmare you once had.

Good grief, where would I start? I have nightmares all the time. One that I remember from when I was younger was dreaming that someone broke into our house and killed my family. I think I found my sister stuffed in a trashcan.

7. What is your supernatural fear?

Demons.

8. What is your creepy-crawly fear?

Spiders and mice.

9. Tell us about a time you saw a ghost or heard something go bump in the night.

When I was younger, our front door was very heavy and had to be slammed to get it to shut. There was a small window in the door, and it rattled every time it was slammed. One night everyone was in bed, and I heard the door slam and the window rattle. My brother and I each had a friend spending the night, so I assumed the boys had gone outside. I went to check and found them both snoring in the living room floor. I went to see if my dad had gone outside for some reason, but he was so soundly asleep that I had a hard time waking him up. I thought maybe I had just imagined hearing it, but when I went back in my room, my friend asked me who had gone outside.

10. Would you ever stay in a real haunted house overnight?

No! I don't believe in ghosts and hauntings, but I do believe that the things people see as ghosts are really demons. No way would I ever want to stay around them!

11. Are you a traditionalist (just a face) Jack O'Lantern carver, or do you get really creative with your pumpkins?

I think I personally have only carved one pumpkin, and it was the traditional face. I much prefer painting them or leaving them be--because I'm lazy and can't stand to scrape all the stuff out.

12. How much do you decorate your home for Halloween?

Not at all. The only time I decorate is for Christmas. That one takes so long and is so intense, I think it ruined me for all other holidays/seasons.

13. What do you want on your tombstone?

Pepperoni and mushrooms. Sorry, I couldn't resist.

Daddy's Girl

2006-10-11T11:17:00.000-06:00

Busy Little Bee

2006-10-10T11:30:00.000-06:00

How much coffee and how little sleep can a girl get without her body imploding?

I have been working on my "other" job. You know the oh-so-fabulous school uniforms that girls have to wear? The plaid "school girl" skirts? Well, there is a lady that lives a couple of towns over that supplies matching hair accessories to the stores that sell the uniforms. She makes all of the accessories for 19 of this company's stores. Correction: she hires the people that make the accessories that match the skirts that are sold in the stores in the house that Jack built.

I am one of said hired people. I have no idea how many people she employs nor all of the different kinds of accessories that are made. All I know is that I am responsible for two different kinds. And, holy crap (just for you, Meg), if I haven't been loaded down this time! This is a seasonal job, so we usually only have one order this time of year that takes two weeks for us to complete. The order this time was so huge that she split it into two 2-week orders. My first order is 306 sets (2 bows per set) of one kind and 162 bows (1 bow per set, but each bow is made up of 3 bows stacked on top of each other) of the other. I have never, ever, ever had such a huge order. I feel like I haven't seen the light of day in over a week.

I kind of want to nominate myself for the Super Woman of the Day award for yesterday (I'm sure such an award exists somewhere). I went to bed at 3:00 yesterday morning and finally fell asleep around 3:20-ish. I got up at 6:00 to get the new day started. Since I had been holed up with bows all weekend, I had never had a chance to get to the grocery store. Since my family has this crazy notion that there should be food in the house, I decided a trip to the store would be in order. And what's more fun than a trip to the store by oneself? Why, taking 6 kids all age 3 and under, of course! The fact that we all made it back in one piece and not too much worse for the wear was a huge accomplishment, if I do say so myself.

This order is due Friday, so those of you who normally see me at your blogs, don't give up on me. I'll be there as soon as I can, comment guns blazing. As soon as I have a finished product of both kinds of bows, I'll post pics. In the meantime, I can hear the whip cracking over my head, so it's back to work for me.

I'd Like to Thank the Academy...

2006-10-09T10:30:00.000-06:00

Drama Queen has always been able to spend long amounts of time playing by herself. It is a joyous thing in our household since her older brother can’t ever be by himself. We are often treated to muffled conversations and hours of singing floating through her closed bedroom door. Her ability to be entertain herself can cause conflict at times because she is content to play whatever girlie game she desires while her brother begs, pleads, bargains and fights to get her to play with him. Different ages, different genders, big problems.

Last night I sent Drama Queen in to take a shower. I heard her say, “Pretend like I can’t swim.” That one stopped me because I was wondering who she was talking to since we were the only two at home. I shrugged it off and went on with what I was doing. Pretty soon I was treated to this award-winning performance (she had left the door open, so I had no problem hearing):

I…can’t…go…on! (accompanied by much gasping and hard breathing)

You have to!

I…can’t.

But I love you!

I’m…just…not…strong…enough.

How will I go on without you?!

I’m…

No! (insert much sobbing here)

I guess the title of this one act play was Sybil Meets Titanic.

Get the Kleenex Ready

2006-10-06T12:02:00.000-06:00

I got this in an email yesterday and thought it was too good not the share.

The night before the burial of her husband's body, Katherine Cathey refused to leave the casket, asking to sleep next to his body for the last time. The Marines made a bed for her, tucking in the sheets below the flag. Before
she fell asleep, she opened her laptop computer and played songs that reminded her of 'Cat,' and one of the Marines asked if she wanted them to continue standing watch as she slept. "I think it would be kind of nice if you kept doing it," she said. "I think that's what he would have wanted."

The Answer

2006-10-06T11:54:00.000-06:00

Okay, I meant to post the total yesterday, but I got busy. Alison was the closest with a guess of $1.20 (you need to start a blog, girl, so we can all come visit you!).Currently in the "Yelling Management" Jar: $2.60. A full $1.00 of that was the result of a "discussion" with The Hubster (I didn't actually keep track, I just figured $1.00 was a good even figure). I was very tempted to just throw in another $1.00 and get it all out of my system!

That's a lot of yelling over the week, but it's so much less than it would have been. I think only 3 of those times were directed at my children. Most of them were yelling over the loudness of the child care kids when I should have just crossed the room to speak directly to whatever child I was talking to at the moment. Notice I said "most" not "all." There were times that it was just frustrated yelling coming out of my mouth.

I noticed something funny today that I hadn't even really realized. Instead of yelling "Heeeeeyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!" over the loudness of all the kids to get their attention, I've been doing a sing-songy "Yoo hoo" instead (Yes, I'm fully aware of how hokey it is.). Today the child care licensing rep. was here doing his drop-in visit. One of the boys was trying to talk to him, but the rep. wasn't paying attention. Suddenly I heard, "Yooooo hooooo!" Apparently my technique is catching on.

Update

2006-10-05T08:30:00.000-06:00

It's been a week since I started my "quiet" month. Anybody want to guess how much is in the jar? Go ahead, guess. I'll come back later and let you know who got the closest.

Come On In

2006-10-05T08:24:00.000-06:00

Because nothing says, "Welcome to Our Home" like dirty socks and a dead Open House project. *sigh*

Messages

2006-10-04T08:32:00.000-06:00

If I don’t write it down, I’ll never remember it again. I am constantly writing notes to myself. Sticky notes abound on my kitchen counter, which make a nice colorful mess when they get wet. There are times my counter looks like Eric Carle has been illustrating his newest book right there in my very own kitchen.

The other day at the store, I saw that they had an easel dry erase board. I picked it up, fell in love, and then proceeded to try to talk myself out of it. Did I really need to spend that much money on another note writing tool? After all, I also have a love affair with dry erase boards and have several at home already. Not only that, I already had one in my basket that I was going to use in the laundry room. It didn’t take too long for the board to convince me that it would be absolutely the next greatest thing for my house.

I knew that it would come in handy, but I never knew it would be communication central between Drama Queen and myself. We are both very visually-oriented people. Trying to get my daughter to talk to me is sometimes an exercise in futility. She’s so distracted by whatever catches her eye that conversation is often a lost cause. We call her “Oooo, Shiny” behind her back because her eye is so easily caught by anything, resulting in many, many MANY frustrating attempts at speaking with her.

Enter the wonderful board. I wrote this note to her the first morning, and she added her own little note back to me (terribly misspelled because she was in a hurry--and spelling is not her strongest subject anyway)

This note is from this morning, when she was in a bad mood and I was using the board to try and avoid nagging or a confrontation. Can you just hear the attitude in those two words?

From one extreme to the other!

Contentment, Part 1

2006-10-03T08:06:00.000-06:00

I’ve discovered something recently, quite by surprise. I am happy with who I am and where I am in my life. In fact, if you had asked me at the ripe old age of 16 what I pictured myself doing in 20 years, I would have described my life as it is now, with the exception of doing childcare. Although I love what I do, I would much prefer to be able to stay at home with just my own children. Since childcare lets me stay home with them while also contributing to our family financially, that is what I do.

Drama Queen asked me last week if I could be any age besides 36, what age would I want to be. I thought back to my childhood, which was great, but I wouldn’t want to relive it because I was unknowingly suffering from depression. I had the weight of the world on my shoulders and always felt responsible for everyone and everything around me.

What about 16? Well, we had just moved across the state, and I was starting a brand-new (to me) high school. A much larger school than I had been attending. My graduating class had as many as my whole junior high (7^th, 8^th, and 9^th) put together.

What about that next big milestone, 21? Not on your life. I got engaged on my 21^st birthday and was married 8 months later. I began birth control pills in April and had to stop in August. I could not begin to describe to you the panic attacks they caused. I would throw up every morning, not from nausea from the Pill, but from anxiety. I would go for 3 days without eating until The Hubster would finally beg me to eat. I could usually choke down part of a salad and then would throw it all up again the next morning. The paranoia was terrible! I was scared to get the mail and to check the answering machine. I burst into tears for absolutely no reason. Thank God my aunt recognized the symptoms since she had gone through the same thing. I just wish it hadn’t taken so long. She lived in another state, so August was the first time I had seen her since the wedding in May.

No, there isn’t another age I would rather be. I am perfectly content with the age I am. I know medication for depression and anxiety has played a huge roll in the peace and contentment I have finally been able to experience.

There’s more to my contentment, but you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to hear (dun, dun, dun…) The Rest of the Story (a la Paul Harvey).

A Kind Act

2006-10-02T08:10:00.000-06:00

For Boy Scouts, Karate Kid had to plan and organize his whole family into carrying out a project that would help someone else. We have a divorced woman living across the street from us who now lives alone since both of her sons have moved out. Karate Kid wanted to do her yard work as his project. Since we all had to participate, I wasn't sure what Drama Queen was going to get to do since she is too young to use any of the equipment. With that in mind, I tried to steer him in another direction, like picking up trash at the local park. Nope, he was dead-set on doing her yard.

After several times of scheduling and re-scheduling, he decided last night would be the night. The Hubster tried to get me to weed eat, but I'm scared of the weed eater. We finally decided K.K. would mow, I would edge and The Hubster would weed eat. That still left D.Q. hanging. Thankfully our neighbor was on her way out the door as we were discussing the various jobs. She helped us out by telling us that D.Q. could pull the grass out of the flower bed.

It ended up that I pulled the grass, D.Q. worked for about 2 minutes and then spent the rest of the time playing with a roly-poly, looking at flower bulbs, getting a drink, and then finally putting all the grass that I had pulled into the sack.

It felt so good to be helping our neighbor! I tried to stress to D.Q. how it was helping and how good we could feel for doing something nice for her. It was great to all work together in an unselfish, helpful way.

**********

On a totally different note, Karate Kid has been on a hiatus from karate for a good 4 months. Last night I was considering changing his nickname from Karate Kid to Boy Scout on my blog. Since I sometimes shorten Karate Kid to K.K., I didn't think the abbreviation for Boy Scout, B.S., would be such a hot idea. Yes, he gets on my nerves at times, but "B.S." seems to be carrying it a little too far, dontcha think?

Embarrassing Moment #1791

2006-09-29T10:03:00.000-06:00

This morning Karate Kid came into the kitchen and said, “Sassy (the puppy) got something out of your cabinet that’s pink and square.” Since I was busy fixing breakfast and lunches, I didn’t really take the time to think about it. When I went into my bedroom later, I found that she had pulled a package of panty liners out of the cabinet and spread them from the bathroom all the way to the other side of my room. At least she only opened one package. But that incident reminded me of another one. No, not the panty liner in the driveway, another one.

A couple of years ago an insurance agent had come by the house to discuss some things with me. Just as she was leaving, one of the boys that I watched arrived, dropped off by his grandpa. Just as grandpa and grandson step into the room, the insurance lady says, “Um…your dog has something out of the trash.” My dog (not the same culprit as today) had been in the bathroom trash and was tearing up…ahem…a used feminine product in my living.room.floor. I don’t think I’ve ever moved that fast in my life.

2006-09-28T09:55:00.000-06:00

Okay, I'm a dork! My Thursday Thirteen is about my fears, so I was looking for a scary banner. When I saw this, it looked like two glowing eyes. After I loaded it onto my blog, I realized that it's a picture of outer space!

Before I get to my list, I just wanted to thank everyone for being so kind with your comments to my post yesterday. You never know what kind of comments a post will generate, and I'm so glad that everyone was supportive instead of tearing into me.

And now, without further ado, I present to you my Thursday Thirteen:

Thirteen Things that Scare Me
aka More of My Neuroses

1. Spiders--Before I had children, I was too scared to kill them at all. I learned to kill the small ones when my children were born because I was afraid the spider would crawl on them. The big ones? Not gonna happen. Last year I had a huge spider in my kitchen, so I trapped it under a bowl, put a pop bottle on top of the bowl, and then blocked off the kitchen so the bowl wouldn't get knocked over (and pulled a muscle climbing onto the counter!). The spider sat there for 2 or 3 hours until my friend's husband came over on his lunch hour and took it to the trash.

2. Mice--Where would I even begin to list the stories that have caused me to fear mice? How about when one ran out at me when I was a child and cleaning my closet? Or the time one ran across my leg? Oh, I know, when one ran through my hair while I was lying down. No, no, I've got it. When a pregnant one got in our house and had babies!!! (All but the last happened when I was a child. We weren't slobs or anything, we just lived next to a field, and I liked to hide food in my room so my brother wouldn't eat all of it. Not a good idea.)

3. Lice--OMG!! Karate Kid got lice when he was 2, and it quickly spread to Drama Queen (who was only 4mo at the time) and me! That was the same day the dryer broke. I spent hours and hours (and hours) trying to get rid of all the nits. For years I attacked my children whenever I saw them scratch their heads. Drama Queen even got to the point where she would scratch, hold her hand in the spot and say, "I'm itching, Mom!" so I could come check her.

4 Cancer--Of course this is a universal fear, but a partcularly bad one for me. Just the idea of having to battle cancer, the exhaustion of chemo, the hair loss, the nausea, and all of the many other facets of the disease that I don't even know about are more than I can even stand to think about. My biggest fear about cancer is that it will strike one of my children.

5. Screwing up my children. 'Nuff said.

6. Drowning--I can swim, so I'm not exactly sure why this is one of my biggest fears. I think it's the thought of knowing you are dying, of not being able to take a breath, and the terror of the whole situation. Whenever I see someone under water on TV or the movies (Fear Factor, Titanic, The Abyss, etc.) I can't even breathe correctly. I end up gasping for breath until the whole scene is over.

7. Heights--Once when I was in college, I went rapelling with some friends. I was only supposed to be going to watch, but I ended up participating because I didn't want them to think that I was a baby. I told the guys that I would cry, but I don't think they believed me. As soon as I lifted one foot off the ground, the tears started. Since I wasn't making any noise, we were about halfway up before they noticed the tears streaming down my face. Freaked them out. Once I was hooked into the rapelling line, I was absolutely fine. Going down was a blast. Going up, not so much.

8. Change-- I am a creature of habit. I do not like change at all. I crave consistency. It doesn't have to be big changes either. A doctor's appointment during the routine of my day can throw everything off and make me a nervous wreck.

9. Caves--Why would I ever choose to go into a dark hole filled with bats, bears, or something else I can't even imagine and have the possibility of it collapsing on me?

10. Flying--Sorry, Kailani. The only time I've flown was on a little, bitty private plane. It was so small that there weren't enough seats, and I had to sit in the co-pilot's chair. I was scared to death to move for fear I would hit an instrument or the steering wheel (what's it called in a plane?) and cause us to crash. I don't care what size the plane is; I don't want to be that high up in the air (see #7 above).

11. Traveling too far from home--that could be a challenge since I'm going on a cruise in January! For some reason, I only feel comfortable if I am close enough to home that I could get back quickly if needed.

12. Ski lifts--We went to Red River, NM, the summer I was 5. We were supposed to take the ski lift to the top of the mountain so we could see the view. We were running short on time, so my parents tried to scare me out of wanting to ride it by telling me about the big hole we had to go over (I'm sure it was not a hole so much as a huge depression). I've been scared of them ever since, although I have gotten on them. When my sister was 3mo, we were back in Red River, and my parents decided to ride the ski lift. I was too scared to go up but even more scared to stay by myself. I ended up riding with my dad and sister. I was so scared that she would wiggle too much and fall out of his arms. To make things worse, the wind was horrible. For some reason the lift stopped, the wind caught the wire, and we dropped. I thought we were going to die right then and there. I'm sure it didn't drop more than 3 or 4 feet, but it felt like 300.

13. Elevators--I panic when the doors close. If the elevator stops on more than one floor, I get sick (motion sickness). I've gotten a little better about riding them, but only when absolutely necessary. Like when I was 7 months pregnant and my doctor's office was on the 6th floor. I walked the stairs every time until then. I had to choose the lesser of two evils at that point.

And there you have it, friends. More reasons to make you wonder about my sanity.

A Month of Change

2006-09-27T09:57:00.001-06:00

Have you ever read Kelly's blog, Pass the Torch? She has such great insight into parenting matters, and I often feel challenged to do better in my journey as a mom. A few days ago she wrote a piece over at The Imperfect Parent. That post really spoke to me deep down in my heart.

I have fallen into the habit of yelling at my children. Sometimes I yell because I'm angry at them, but most of the time I yell because I feel like they can't hear me or are just choosing not to listen to me. This is not a healthy way to communicate with my children--for me or for them.

Habits are so hard to break, and this is definitely one habit I need to banish from my life. Kelly often has a monthly "theme" or challenge in her home. Since I was inspired by her writing, I am going to have my own monthly theme. This month will be Speak Softly Month. I will explain to my family this evening (and it is so hard for me to do this in front of The Hubster--gulp) that for the next month my goal is to speak softly and gently. No yelling. If they catch me yelling (or if I catch myself when no one else is around), I will put a dime in a jar. At the end of the month, we will do something special with that money. I haven't decided what that will be yet, but I'm hoping there's not much money in there by that time anyway.

I will periodically post the amount in the jar so you can see how I'm doing on my project. In the meantime, I better brush up on better communicating skills!

Argh!

2006-09-26T23:32:00.000-06:00

I have been trying to post for 30 minutes and nothing will work. I hate, hate, HATE Blogger! We'll see if I can even get this to post.

Hero

2006-09-26T23:09:00.003-06:00

I'm barely squeaking this entry in before Tuesday turns into Wednesday. I've been waiting a week to tell about this wonderful boy, so I wasn't about to miss this opportunity to sing his praises over at Pass the Torch.

Last week Josh Marlin, a sophomore at a nearby school, noticed that the school bus that he was riding on was veering toward the ditch. He went to the front of the bus and realized that the driver had passed out. Within 32 seconds, Josh managed to put the bus in neutral, pull it over to the side of the road, direct another student to dial 9-1-1 and get every student off the bus. All of that in 32 seconds! Josh then proceeded to do CPR on the bus driver (who was having a heart attack) until paramedics arrived.

Unfortunately, the driver passed away a week after the incident. It is so sad that he did not make it. But think about how much worse it could have been. Josh prevented an accident that could have injured and/or killed all of the other students on the bus, plus any other people in cars that could have been involved if he had not reacted so quickly.

Josh may be young and inexperienced, but he is most definitely a hero. I know there are many, many thankful students, parents, relatives and friends who feel the same.

Moron

2006-09-25T11:31:00.000-06:00

Here's a shining example of brilliance for you:

In a high school science classroom in Kansas, about 50 juniors and seniors were conducting an experiment. The exact experiment is still unclear, but the students may have been checking their blood glucose levels. Harmless enough, although probably not too fun. The moronic part? The teacher had them all use the. same. lancet.

Hello? What was the teacher trying to accomplish here? Saving on funds? And what about all of those high school students? Didn't their parents ever teach them the dangers of dirty needles? Some of the students got a double dose because they came in contact with additional blood when they cleaned the dirty experiment slides.

Scary.

One Born Every Minute

2006-09-22T09:30:00.001-06:00

I keep getting weird e-mails from a guy who claims that he’s dying from cancer and has a mere 2 million dollars he’s wanting to disperse. Apparently out of all the millions of people on the earth, he chose little ‘ol me from an extensive search on the Internet.

I get 10% of the money and get to use the other 90% for the greater good of all mankind. He doesn’t want the money used in an ungodly manner, so he decided that I would be the perfect one to figure out how to use this wad of cash. ‘Cause there’s nothing ungodly about me. Nope. My halo is so bright that it keeps me up at night.

Since his health is deteriorating so quickly, I have to Act Now!! He found me online and doesn’t have all the particulars, so I just have to send him my address, phone number and fax number so he can make all the arrangements with the attorneys and have the funds sent to me from Europe.

Now I looked in the mirror this morning, and unless it’s written in invisible ink, the word “sucker” does not appear anywhere on my forehead. Give him my address?! Riiiiiiight. How about I give him my phone number so he can call me night and day. Or use it to find the address I wouldn’t give him.

So thank you, but no, Mr.Tarnue Weah. Let one of the other thousands of people that you sent this email to be given the privilege of handling your money. I can barely take care of my own.

Yesp!

2006-09-21T14:57:00.000-06:00

Let’s try something. I want you to inhale quickly like you are gasping. While you are doing that, try to make a sound like you are yelling/yelping. For lack of a better word, I am going to call that a yesp for the rest of this post. Actually, I think I’ll just start using that word and see how quickly it catches on. Who knows, I could be starting the next trend. I can just imagine it now: Someone saying, “Oh, that story made me yesp.” Or how about, “I yesped when I saw the price tag.”

For those of you lucky enough to speak a foreign (to me) language, please let me know if the word I’ve created means that I have solicited a farm animal, prostitute, a member of my family or anyone/anything else that is illegal.

*************

Last night I was in bed but was having trouble falling asleep. I had been lying there for a little while with my eyes closed, just trying to relax and drift off. I felt the edge of the bed sag, but I assumed it was one of the dogs. Yes, they sleep with us. Yes, any and all of them are up for adoption. Especially the one that won’t stop using my carpet for her own personal bathroom.

Anyway, when the dogs move around, it is never just one movement. I mean, they have four legs. They don’t take a step with one leg and then decide they’re through. So when I felt the bed sink down but no other movement, I opened my eyes. I totally and loudly yesped when I saw a figure standing over me. It wasn’t a quick little yesp, either. It was long, drawn-out and loud. The figure was my daughter, who had managed to come into my room without making any noise whatsoever. If she had, I would have heard her because I was still awake.

Once I removed my body from the ceiling and picked my heart and stomach off the floor and put them back in their normal places inside my body, I asked Drama Queen what was wrong. It seems she had a bad dream. At least I think that’ what she said. The roaring in my ears kind of drowned out what she was saying. I comforted her as well as a shaking, heart pounding, stomach-clenched momma could. She went back to bed after I rubbed her back for a minute and kissed her. I felt really bad about not walking her to her bedroom, but I really don’t think my legs could have supported me right then.

That little scare really did wonders for my insomnia. I spent the next 10 minutes willing my heart to beat in its regular rhythm again. I figured sleeping was a lost cause, but I was willing to try again. I snuggled back in my covers with all of my pillows (shut up, Meg), closed my eyes and tried again. And then…then I thought I heard a noise in my room. It was so quiet I wasn’t sure. I opened my eyes and, dang it, if my daughter wasn’t standing there again. Round 2 of yesping.

Do you know what my daughter said to me at that point? “Stop doing that! You’re scaring me!”

I'm Gonna Be Mad!

2006-09-21T14:45:00.000-06:00

We are under a tornado watch until 10:00 tonight. You know what that means, don't you? The weather men will begin to break into our regularly scheduled programming during the commercials. Then the break-ins will become more and more frequent, interruping the shows. At 9:00 they will show the first 7 minutes of Gray's Anatomy before going to continuos weather coverage. And. I. Will. Miss. Everything. I'll have to wait until 2:34 in the morning for them to rebroadcast it, which means I will be unable to turn on the radio, watch TV or speak to any other human being until I get to watch it. Gah.

I'm Doomed

2006-09-20T18:55:00.000-06:00

Recently overheard at our house:

* This skirt attracts boys.
* He told me I was hot.
* That boy that likes me gave me a bracelet today.
* There is another boy at school that likes me.
* I look gooOOOoood.
* That boy that likes me poked my rear today (What?!?!).

And she's only 9! Gah.

Following the Leader

2006-09-19T12:37:00.000-06:00

I have always been slow to follow fads, especially in fashion. I tend to dress very unobtrusively. I prefer dark colors that allow me to blend in with everyone else and not stand out (my self-esteem is just oozing out all over, can’t ya tell?).

I’ve heard that straight, tapered jeans are “in” this year. Do you know how long it took me to wear what I considered bell-bottoms? Years. And it took a l-o-n-g time before I could see big, chunky shoes and muster up the desire to wear them. I still can’t get myself to wear pointy toe shoes. I feel like the Wicked Witch of the East waiting for a house to drop on top of me.

I’m slow to follow a lot of trends. When the Sudoku craze hit, I had no idea what it was. My friend’s son likes to work the puzzles, so I picked up a book of his while at their house. One look at all the numbers and I broke out in a sweat. I thought that you had to actually do math to solve the puzzle.

You see, math and I? Not such good friends. Math is my life-long enemy. My nemesis. I suffered through years and years of math during school. The only classes I didn’t make an “A” in were math classes. I managed to pull off a “B” every time, but I seriously have no idea how I did it. The only way I passed Geometry was by the use of my fabulous notebook. Each homework assignment and all of the notes we took in class went into a 3-ring binder. The teacher, may God bless her for the rest of her life, allowed us to use those notebooks for our tests. No textbooks, just the notebook. You can bet I took plenty of detailed notes. The next year she banned the notebook. The next year. I got through by the skin of my teeth.

Not only did I have to slog through all of the equations, numerators, denominators (that word sounds a lot like “dominate,” dontcha think?), powers, and fractions (OMG, the fractions!) during my school years, but now I’m being subjected to it all over again via my children. Drama Queen seems to be able to whiz through it right now, but we’re not actually into multiplication yet.

Karate Kid, on the other hand, is a whole different story. He and I are just alike. Math is going to be his challenging subject also. Even if he finishes his work in class, he always brings it home for me to check. Thank goodness for the wonders of the Internet, so I can figure out what the heck I’m doing. But here’s the kicker: he’s in Honors Math. Spitting image of his mother, same lack of the math gene, and his teacher recommends him for honors. That means that he is in 6^th grade but using a 7^th grade book. That’s one whole year of missed instruction—for me. How am I supposed to be able to check this boy’s math if I missed an entire book? It’s very embarrassing when I tell him he has the wrong answer, we argue our point back and forth about why we each think we are right, I persuade him to change his answer, and then he gets it wrong. He, of course, had it right in the first place.

So back to Sudoku. I have managed to steer clear of it all this time. Until this weekend, that is. My sister brought along her Sudoku book, and I picked it up and was flipping through it while I was waiting for her to get ready. It’s a wonder I didn’t break out in hives just from picking it up. She, being the good sister that she is even though I got the last two extra pillows that the hotel had and wouldn’t share them with her, forcing her to sleep with no pillow so she could hold on to the one she had, told me I could work a puzzle if I wanted. And, dang it, if I wasn’t bored enough to try one (I obviously did not have a book with me, or I never would have been looking through it in the first place).

I had been told that you don’t have to do math at all to solve the problems. They very well could have used the alphabet or colors or something else instead of numbers. And you know what? They were right. No math needed, my friends.

Guess what my new, albeit late, addiction is?

We're on the "A" List

2006-09-18T15:33:00.000-06:00

Apparently combining 3½ hours of sleep, a tour of the winery—complete with taste-testing-- and a pina colada at dinner does not make me chipper. More like comatose. Remember how I thought we would all stay up late? Apparently that’s what we all did the night before we left on our Girls’ Weekend. After a full day of traveling, talking, laughing, eating, and hanging out at the amusement park, we were exhausted. We hit the complimentary “Ice Cream Social” at our hotel and then were in bed watching the Dog the Bounty Hunter marathon by 10:00. Party animals, I tell ya. Par-tee.

On My Soapbox

2006-09-15T14:03:00.000-06:00

I don't know about you, but I am sick of the clothing options for girls. I went to a store a couple of days ago and noticed that there were Disney character panties and shirts for teenagers and college-age girls, but the clothes for Drama Queen's size was slutty stuff! I wouldn't even let my teenager wear those types of clothes.

What is wrong with retailers? What is wrong with consumers that we would think it okay to buy clothing that attempts to make our girls grow up way too fast? Why do they feel the need to make clothing that would attract a boy's attention to various parts of my daughter's body? I know many, many people let their children wear pants or shorts that have words written across the rear-end. If you are one of those, please don't think I'm judging you or being critical of you. Each family has different rules, opinions, and guidelines. Our family has decided that it is not okay to draw a boy's eyes to my daughter's bottom. She is only 9 right now, but how can I justify letting her wear it now and then telling her in two or three years that suddenly it isn't okay anymore? I would rather draw the line now and not have to battle it later. The same goes for tops that bare her stomach.

It was a nightmare trying to find a swimsuit this year. My daughter is 9. She is not a 21-year-old college girl trying to snag a man. Now, I will admit to buying two-piece swimsuits, but only because it is so much easier for her to use the restroom in a two-piece. The girl practically lives in her swimsuit during the summer, so I'm all about whatever makes it easiest. Two-piece does not have to mean teeny, tiny bikini bottoms and a barely-there bikini top. Out of the myriad of suits we looked through, I think we ended up finding 3 that were actually decent enough for her to try on. We chose a swimsuit that is more like a tankini. It does show a little bit of her stomach, but not much.

No matter what her age, I don't want any boy to only be attracted to her for her body. And she has a gorgeous body, believe me. Her looks may attract the boys initially, but I want my daughter's character and the beauty inside her to be what shines the most. I have told her from the time she was little that she is pretty but that it's more important to be beautiful on the inside.

On the other side of the coin, I have a son who is going through puberty. The last thing he needs is for girls to be prancing around half-naked, making those raging hormones that much more uncontrollable. I would like for my son to wait for sex, but how he can stand against the onslaught of skin? And how can a girl's parents be so upset with a boy for pressuring their daughter for sex when she teases and tantalizes by showing so much cleavage and skin? I'm not taking sides on that issue, saying it's more the boy's fault or the girl's fault. I'm just saying that we as parents have a responsibility to teach our daughters modesty so that we can give the guys, and thereby the girls, a fighting chance against sex before they are ready. For me, that is after my children are married. For others that time could be after they turn a certain age or reach a certain maturity level.

Needless to say, I am all for modesty, so I was thrilled when I saw this:

The link won't work on the picture, so go visit Everyday Mommy to read her mission statement for Moms for Modesty. Let's teach our daughters that being modest is a good thing--for them and the boys!

Branson, Here I Come--Again

2006-09-15T08:43:00.000-06:00

I am so excited about this weekend, I am giddy! I have two best friends--my sister and Lisa. Lisa's birthday is today and mine is tomorrow. To celebrate, the three of us and two of Lisa's sisters are all going to Branson for a Girls Weekend. Being the gluttons for punishment that we are, we're leaving at 5:30 tomorrow morning! Actually, we want to get to Silver Dollar City by the time it opens. We'll be spending the day there and then out for dinner tomorrow night. I'm sure we'll stay up way too late talking and laughing and doing what girls do on a Girls Weekend. At least I hope we do!

Saturday morning we'll split up for a while. Lisa's sisters are going shopping and Meg, Lisa and I are going to the Titanic exhibit. I wanted to go so badly on vacation,but it cost way more than we wanted to spend for a family of four. Paying just for me is a much cheaper way to go.

But guess what else. I'll eventually have the house all to myself tonight! The guys are leaving for a Boy Scout camping trip. Drama Queen has a birthday party to go to and then I'm taking her to my parents'. Then it'll be back home to peace, quiet and doing anything I want to do. What I should do is go to bed early since I'm getting up early in the morning. Any guesses on what time I"ll actually turn out the light?

Thursday Thirteen

2006-09-14T11:45:00.000-06:00

Since I'm not officially a member yet (I'm still contemplating joining), I don't want to post the Thursday Thirteen banner. But I am going to post a list. I think you have to have a couple of lists up anyway before you can join, so maybe this will accomplish something.

This list is in honor of the new TV season. It just goes to show you what a TV junkie I am!

Thirteen Shows I Will Be Watching This Year

1. Grey's Anatomy (was there every any question?)
2. Desperate Housewives
3. Survivor
4. The Amazing Race
5. The New Adventures of Old Christine
6. How I Met Your Mother
7. ER (I quit watching towards the end of last season--too much junk about trips to Africa or wherever. This year they promise to get back to the basics of the show.)
8. Dancing with the Stars
9. The Bachelor: Rome
10. Deal or No Deal (only if I tape it on the VCR--the Tivo will be busy recording Grey's!)
(These are all of the ones I know I will watch. The next few I'll try out to see how I like them.)
11. Ugly Betty
12. 'Til Death
13. Men in Trees

Because I have nothing better to do with my time than rot in front of the TV, right?

My Direct Line

2006-09-13T11:56:00.000-06:00

*note Please don't leave me comments telling me that I shouldn't talk on the phone and drive. I rarely do it, and I already know that I shouldn't.

Yesterday on the way to Drama Queen's Girl Scout meeting, I had to call my friend and let her know I would be over to pick her up for a meeting. Drama Queen heard me talking but must not have been paying attention to the conversation. I hung up right before we got to the street leading out of our neighborhood. We usually have to sit for a minute or two until the traffic clears enough for us to turn out. This time, however, it was completely clear, which was perfect because we were already running late.

Drama Queen: Wow, that never happens! We always have to wait a long time before we can get out.
Me: That was God giving us a break.
Drama Queen: God talked to you on the phone!?!?

Homework Blues

2006-09-12T12:53:00.000-06:00

Today’s post is in honor of Pass the Torch Tuesday.

A few days ago Karate Kid came home from school rather upset. It seems that the day before a classmate was passing out papers and failed to give one to K.K. and another boy. Due to a miscommunication, K.K. thought he had all of the papers. He went to school the next day and found out that he didn’t have that one. The teacher gave him and the other boy 5 minutes to do the paper, but she was only going to give them half-credit. That meant that he would start out with a 50, an “F.” Anything below a “B” is upsetting to Karate Kid, so he was devastated. We talked it over many times that night and even the next morning.

A couple of days later, the teacher returned their graded papers. Karate Kid’s was marked with a 97. He immediately spoke up and told the teacher that he was supposed to only get half credit on that paper. She told him, “Oh, don’t worry about it. But thank you for being honest about it!”

I was so very proud of him for telling the truth even though he thought his grade would drop from an “A” to an “F.” That teacher didn’t have to let him keep that grade, but I’m so glad she did. I’ve always tried to teach my children that being honest will get you in a lot less trouble than trying to lie or hide things. It was so nice that he was, in essence, rewarded for his honesty.

He makes me proud!

In Memory of Jeffrey D. Bittner

2006-09-10T22:54:00.000-06:00

Jeffrey Bittner was the sort of big brother that I always wanted. He was, in the words of his sister, “nurturing, protective, and wise.” Who wouldn’t want to have an older brother like that? I imagine him standing up for his sister when others were being mean to her. When they called her names, I’m sure he said, with much pride, “Don’t talk like that to her! She’s my sister!” I’m sure the siblings had a very special relationship because Jeffrey wasn’t just Pamela’s older brother; he was her twin brother, only older than his sister by one minute.

Jeffrey was the sort of person I would want for a friend. He has been described as being a brotherly person to everyone. He was kind, thoughtful and had a quiet way about him. He was the person who noticed those no one else even gave a second glance. He didn’t just notice them; he helped them and did things for them. He spent most of his life putting others before himself, often doing things for others without asking for thanks or recognition. Just a few weeks before September 11^th, Jeffrey joined a mentoring program that allowed him to be a big brother to NYC schoolchildren.

Jeffrey was the sort of co-worker I would love to have. While he attended the Kingswood-Oxford School, he was awarded the Primus Medal for outstanding academic and community achievement. He was a political science major in college and then went on to work as a research analyst at Keefe, Bruyette and Woods in New York. He worked on the 89^th Floor of Tower 2 at the World Trade Center. A co-worker said that Jeffrey “thrived on excellence in performance.” Although he had many opportunities to boast and brag about his accomplishments, that was not his way. Jeffrey was a very, very humble man. Even those he was only 27-years-old, he had the compassion and maturity that many people years older never achieve.

More than anything, Jeffrey D. Bittner was the sort of man that I hope my son will grow up to be.

In Memory of Pamela Gaff

2006-09-10T14:58:00.000-06:00

Today would have been your 56^th birthday. Tomorrow marks the anniversary of your death.

I wonder about your life. I know the particulars, but I would like to know more. How many times did you move, since you were the child of an Army officer? Did you get excited each time you moved or were you reluctant? Did you have lots of friends, or were you afraid to get too close to people since you might have to leave them?

What were like in college? Did you study hard or party? I’m betting on the former since you have degrees from two colleges. Finance and technology—you must have been very smart. What kind of jobs did you have that caused you to travel extensively? Was it still exciting to you to travel or was it old hat since you traveled when you were young? What was your favorite place? Did you ever return to any of the places with your husband for a relaxing vacation?

You had such a long marriage—30 years! That says a lot about you. You obviously married the love of your life, but I’m sure there were hard times too. You must have been a loyal, committed person, willing to do whatever it took to keep your marriage alive and intact. I’m sure your husband misses you terribly, even after 5 years. I know that he considered you his soul mate and that he was devastated by your death. Time may have eased the pain a little, but how would he ever “get over” his wife of 30 years? That’s just it—he won’t. I know you were on the 102^nd floor and that your husband didn’t receive the message you left on his cell phone telling him you were okay until later. I wonder if he still has that message saved so he can hear your voice just one more time.

I know your life must have touched many, many other people in ways I’ll never know. Friends, family, co-workers, acquaintances, strangers that you met on the street that received a smile or a greeting from you. How many times did you brighten someone else’s day? And how many people missed out on having a better day now that you’re gone?

Your life reminds us that each one of us needs to tell our friends and family how much they mean to us every chance we get. It’s our turn now to brighten someone else’s day.

Time Flies, Part 2

2006-09-09T14:56:00.000-06:00

Note: If you haven't read Part 1, below, you might want to so you can catch up.

Yesterday I left you at the point where The Hubster announced to our family that it was a "baby" and walked out. After chasing him down the hall and asking him again, he gave them the same answer. I think they had to go to the nursery to find out for sure what we'd had.

I was still in the operating room by myself. The doctor told me they were going to give me a little shot so I wouldn't remember what they were doing. Wrong! I remember every second of what they were doing--cleaning me out and stitching me up. For some reason I felt a lot of pain. Why I didn't tell them is beyond me. The shot must have kicked in when all that was done because I remember very little after they were done. I was taken to the recovery room but don't remember that ride at all.

This is skipping ahead a little bit, but a couple of days later my neighbor said, "When you were crying, I just wanted to cry with you." I was very polite until she left and then turned to my mom and said, "She was in the recovery room?" Once that question was answered I said, "I was crying?" My mom told me that I was crying so hard that the nurses came and got her and told her that I needed my momma. I forgot that I cry every time I am given anasthesia.

Although I really don't remember anything about the recovery room, God gave me a clear memory of seeing Karate Kid for the first time. My family was all in the room with me, and The Hubster brought my precious boy to me. I remember that The Hubster kept turning one way and then the other, trying to figure out which way to hand him to me. I impatiently told him, "Just give him to me!" I couldn't wait any longer to hold my baby. I had just finished mopping up all my tears caused by the drugs, but they started again. This time they were tears of wonderment and love. I couldn't believe he had finally arrived. I unwrapped him and counted all his fingers and toes, just like the stereotypical first-time mother. Everyone kept telling me he had a cone head (from his head being jammed under my rib cage), but I never saw it until we got his hospital pictures back. He was absolutely perfect in my eyes.

I was finally taken to my regular room, thankfully a private one. The rest of the day was spent holding Karate Kid and drifting in and out of consciousness. I still had the epidural, and the nurses were also giving me pain killers. I had no idea they were giving them to me. All I knew is that I would fall asleep mid-sentence or holding a cup of ice chips.

The Hubster was taking some college classes then, so he left in the early afternoon to get back for those. Not long after he left there was ashift change. All of the babies had to be taken back to the nursery so that nobody strolled out with a baby that didn't belong to them, escaping in the chaos of nurses coming and going. My mom and I waited and waited for Karate Kid to be brought back to my room. Mom finally walked down to the nursery and found out that Karate Kid was the only one left in there. I called down and asked them to bring him back to me. A nurse brought him in but asked that I try to nurse him. It seems that he was breathing too quickly and they wanted to see if nursing would help regulate his breathing and slow it down some. Karate Kid was too sleepy to even try to latch on, even though I tried repeatedly. The nurse said she needed to take him back to the nursery "for a minute" and that she'd be back. More eternal waiting. Just when I was ready to call back down there, she came in to tell me that they were moving him to the NICU--the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.

I can't explain the terror that filled me. My baby was in trouble, and I didn't know why. She explained that they were afraid he had an infection that was causing him to breathe too fast, and that they wanted to get some tests run and start him on antibiotics.

I don't know how many hours I cried. My husband was gone, my baby was gone, and because I was still on an IV and had a catheter, I couldn't get out of bed to be with him. The one thing I was grateful for was that they had closed-circuit television cameras in the NICU. The nurses turned the camera on Karate Kid so I could see him on my TV downstairs. Mom stayed with me until they got him all settled in, and then she went to check on him for me. Looking back on it, it was a miracle that they let her in. The rest of the time he was there, no one could go in to see him unless The Hubster or I was with them.

Poor Karate Kid was crying and crying. The nurses finally asked my mom if she thought I would let her rock him. Would I let her? I was so, so glad that she was there to take care of him for me. She rocked and rocked him for the longest time but couldn't calm him down either. She finally looked down at him, told him his mommy was going to be mad at her, and gave him a pacifier. That was what finally calmed him down. It took until he turned 3 to get that thing away from him!

The nurses had to turn the camera off at one point. I was left all alone in my room worrying about what was going on upstairs. Mom eventually came back down and rejoined me. It took her forever, but she finally helped calm me down too. About 9:00 that night, The Hubster walked in the door of my room. I took one look at him and said, "I'm going to cry again." My mom told me, "It's okay to cry," and the floodgates opened. My poor husband had no idea what was going on! He left thinking everything was great and returned to a hysterical wife.

The next morning the nurses told me that Karate Kid was hungry. They were ready for me to come nurse him, but they needed someone to come take my catheter out. I think I waited for 30 minutes for someone to come help me. It felt like 30 days. I was so impatient that I almost took it out myself. All I could think was that my baby was upstairs, probably crying because he was hungry, and no one could bother to come help me!

Karate Kid was put in the NICU on Thursday evening and was released late Saturday morning. It turns out that he didn't have an infection after all. Because he was born by C-section all of the fluid hadn't been squeezed out of his lungs that normally happens during a vaginal birth. Since I was breastfeeding and had already been released, they took him to a pediatric room instead of the nursery. I was able to use the bed while he stayed next to me in a bassinet. They treated me like I was still a patient, getting me drinks and food. They told me that since I fed their patient, they fed me.

I was so relieved that he was out of the NICU, but I was still so worried. He still had an IV in his head and was hooked up to monitors. At one point my mom was holding him while I sat in a chair across the room. His monitor went off showing that he wasn't breathing. Even though I had just had surgery, I flew up out of the chair and rushed across the room. The nurses flew through the door right behind me. It turned out to be a false alarm, something wrong with the equipment. From that moment on, I could hardly take my eyes off of his monitor. I was so scared that he would stop breathing for real. My dad was holding him later and counting his breaths. He told me that the maching was wrong because Karate Kid had taken many more breaths that it showed. That made me feel better, but only slightly.

That night, as I was lying in bed, one of the nurses came in to check on us. She found me staring at the monitor and crying. She, in all her wisdom, said, "Are you watching the numbers on that monitor?" When I confessed that I had been, she turned it around so I couldn't see it. What she didn't realize is that I had figured out that it made a soft little click when the numbers fell below a certain point. I was awake for hours, listening for the click and keeping my eyes glued to Karate Kid's little chest. Whenever it clicked, I began crying hysterically and yelling at The Hubster to check him. Again, it was a machine malfunction every time.

Sunday morning I took a shower and came out to a great surprise. The nurses had come in and disconnected all of the monitors and the IV. He still had the capped off part of his IV in his head, just in case, but for the first time since right after he was born, I could hold my baby without worrying about a monitor lead falling off or getting tangled up in all of the cords. It was heaven. We were so excited that The Hubster took a picture of it before I got out of the bathroom. That is one of my favorite pictures.

Monday morning the doctor told me that Karate Kid was ready to be released. I mistakenly thought we'd get to leave within the hour. We finally made it home at 10:00 that night! Home has never been such a welcome sight.

And that is the story of the trials and tribulations, the terror and the joy, of Karate Kid's birth. It's been 12 years since he was born. Twelve! It seems like just yesterday.

Time Flies, Part 1

2006-09-08T12:27:00.000-06:00

A month before I had Karate Kid, the doctor told me that she thought he was breach. We trotted down to the ultrasound room to have a gander. During the ultrasound she asked if we wanted to know the sex. As soon as we told her no, she said, "Well, I better move away from between the legs then because it's very apparent." I was ticked off that she even said that because I knew right then that he was a boy. I probably could have talked myself into thinking that I could have misunderstood her meaning, in the hopes that we could still be surprised, until a few minutes later she said, "We can try to turn him--turn the baby." We went out that night and started buying boys' clothes.

Twelve years ago today I woke up in the wee hours of the morning, showered, did my hair and makeup, and left for the hospital. Since he was still breach and he was my first baby, the doctor wouldn't let me try to have him au naturel. I was scheduled for a c-section two weeks before my due date. You wanna talk about one scared girl! Lordy, I was so nervous I was shaking all over. I can't remember if I babbled all the way to the hospital or if I didn't say a word. Knowing me, I babbled incessantly.

My parents' next-door neighbor (a family friend) was a nurse at the hospital I was going to, so she told me that she would adjust her schedule so she could be with me. I thought it was a great idea--until later. The first thing she did was hook me up to a fetal monitor. She tried and tried to find a hearbeat but couldn't get one. I was starting to worry, but when she asked me if I had felt any movement that morning, I freaked. She tried again and again before asking me where the doctor usually found it. She gave up and told me she'd be back in a minute. I was panicked by then! The wait for her to get back seemed to take forever. She brought a new monitor in and found the heartbeat the very first try. Apparently the first one was defective.

Next came the I.V. Definitely not fun, but bearable. However when I realized that my neighbor was the one that was going to shave me and insert a catheter? Any semblance of fun was gone. We ended up knowing each other in a much more intimate way after that day!

Down to the operating room we went. Time for the epidural. Wonderful things, those epies. BUT when they threaded mine in and said I would feel a little tingling, they forgot to warn me that if they hit a nerve it would feel like I had been struck by lightning. That was absolutely the worst part of the whole birth experience.

By the time it was actually too late to change doctors, I realized that I hated my doctor. With a passion. I quit asking her questions during our office visits because she would treat me like I was wasting her time or I was an idiot. She didn't have any children at the time, but I did a little dance when I found out a couple of years later that she was pregnant with twins. I hope it hurt. Just kidding. Kind of Anyway, I was not looking forward to having her do the procedure, but their office policy was that her partner would assist in all c-sections. He was the exact opposite of her--caring, warm and nice. For some reason, medication or nerves or both, my whole body started shaking. Everybody kept asking me if I was cold, but I wasn't. Dr. Nice got me a couple of heated blankets and covered me up and then held my feet to warm them up.

The last thing they did was strap my arms out to my sides on some armrests. Not a good thing for someone who is claustrophobic. They wouldn't let me wear my contacts, so I had my glasses on. Once they put the oxygen mask on me, my glasses fogged up and I couldn't see anything. That's when I started to panic. I felt like I couldn't catch my breath because of the stupid oxygen, like I was trying to look through a sauna room, and I was scared to death that they would start before I was completely numb. Thankfully this was about the time they brought The Hubster in.

Warning: A couple of things may be a tiny bit graphic. Squeamish people, read at your own risk.

Having The Hubster there really helped calm me down. He pulled my glasses away from my face a little bit and held my hand. I was still freaking out about them starting too soon, though. My doctor asked me if I was okay, and when I answered yes, she told me that they had made the first incision. I hadn't felt a thing. I didn't know whether to throw up, cry, or what.

Then the sounds reached my ears. Oh, my freakin' gosh! I thought I was going to come undone. I was begging The Hubster to talk to me, to say anything at all so I didn't have to hear what they were doing. I have no idea what he talked about, but it did the trick. Before too long, my sweet baby boy was born. I could barely see him. My glasses had fallen back down and I was crying, so I was pretty blind again at that point. Plus they held him next to my head kind of upside down, so I didn't get much of a view. All I wanted to do was hold my precious baby, but they had my arms tied to those stinkin' boards. Before I had much time to react, they took him away.

The Hubster went to watch them weigh and measure him and then came back. Now he is not good with blood, so he was very thankful that they had a drape so he didn't have to see anything. As he was sitting with me, my doctor called his name and said, "You want to know why he was breach and couldn't turn?" When she called his name, The Hubster instinctively turned to her. What he didn't know was that she was holding my uterus (was too far out of my body, if you ask me!) and he got a full view of it. She explained that I had a septum (a line) that ran down the center, making it heart shaped. Once Karate Kid got big enough to turn head down, that septum made it impossible for him to do so.

Nice going, doc. I had no idea what had happened, but The Hubster sat back down with a really weird look on his face. Well, on what I could see of his face above the mask. I asked him if he was okay, and he told he was find, just a little hot. His eyes began to glaze over, so I asked him again. The anesthesiologist heard him that time and asked if was okay. When The Hubster said he was fine, just hot, nurses came running from everywhere. They yanked him out of the operating room, took his mask off, gave him orange juice, and made him lie down on a bench in the hallway. Once he was feeling somewhat better, he went to the waiting room to give everyone the news. He must not have been completely over the ordeal because when they asked him what it was, he informed them it was a baby and then turned around and walked off.

To Be Continued...

Announcements

2006-09-08T12:10:00.000-06:00

Yep, I'm a Blogging Chick. If you haven't heard of them, look over in my sidebar and click on their little linky-loo.

In other news, head on over to A Mama's Rant if you want to win a free book. The book up for grabs is What Do You Do All Day? All of the how-to's to enter are at her site. I won one of her three copies of Flirting with Forty that she gave away a few weeks ago. She even threw in a neat little Club Mom water bottle. So head on over and check it out. You better hurry, though, because tomorrow is the cut-off for entering.