My Dad

I was chatting with my dad today and I had the same thought that I have every time I talk with him. "Man, I love this guy! He understands me!" He's always had a knack for words. He always is so very honest.

I see now where I get my "talent" of words. I was born with the same genetic defect that my dad has. We both have diarrhea of the mouth. Yes, self-diagnosed for the both of us, but it can only be explained in that way. You know when you have a thought? It usually passes through a mental filter that determines if it is appropriate to say aloud or if it should just go back into that black empty space in your mind. Well, diarrhea of the mouth can be described as not having that filter and things just come out as they are thought. It is brutal but it is honest.

I member some of my dad's worst episodes that caught me off-guard. I still don't know if I should be offended or if I should laugh. He laughed, so maybe that was a cue that I should have chimed in too, but I think I just stood there pondering.....

A few years ago I had begun to experiment with my natural hair style (you know, embrace the curl) but my dad looked at me and asked if the Santa Ana's had done my hair. No, the wind did not do my hair and it took some very expensive hair product to make it look like it did.

This summer I wore a pretty green ankle-length skirt and my hair in a side pony-tail. My husband loved the look, but my dad asked me if I was "Norah Jones or something?"

Today I went to visit him at work because my Costco does not open an hour early for business members, as I thought, and I didn't want to wait in the parking lot for an hour. He looked at my vest and (cute)boots and asked if I was going camping in the snow...

This man that I didn't know so well as a child is one of my most favorite people in the world. He cracks me up every time I think of him and there is always a good "Dad story" to tell at any given time. Like the time that I worked for him and he made me "Employee of the Month" after catching me napping in the back storage room. I also got a raise. Nepotism at its finest!

So there you go, Dad. You tell me that you don't read my blog anymore because "it's too real" and I dedicate a special entry just for you. I love you! You are so much fun to share with the world!

Confessions of a stay-at-home-mom

I believe in God. I also believe in living my life transparently. As many friends know, I am a bit shy. I've always been a quiet person and that has kept me from many opportunities to build relationships that go beyond "the surface". Part of me wants to keep all of my insecurities to myself, but as I try to change into a transparent person, I realize that God has my back no matter what other people think of me. As long as I trust in him and obey his commandments, I'll be perfect in His eyes.

Have you ever wondered what I am really like? Maybe for years you've thought that you knew me, but now aren't sure. Once I realized that my husband loved me for all of my wierdness, I set off to set the rest of my relationships straight and go with the honest truth. It's been a fun experience for me. I realize that I have fun laughing at myself. It's actually brought me closer to many of my friends and family members too.

Here are a few fun facts about me that maybe you didn't really need to know:

*I shave my toe hairs more often than I shave my legs.
*I have dance-offs with myself in the mirror when the kids and husband are away.
*I secretly listen to Britany Spears on my MP3. There are a few songs though that just make me want to puke....
*I pick my nose, but have very long-ago given up eating what I pick.
*When someone tells me that my kids are very good looking, I fully agree.
*I have a complex with wanting to be the best at everything.
*I fear that if I stop exercising, my husband will think that I am unattractive.
*I have an addiction to granulated, processed sugar.
*OK, I have an addiction to food.
*I am intrigued by the Real Housewives of Orange County as well as A Baby Story, but don't have cable now so I can't watch either.
*I am a frequent showerer....sometimes 2-3 a day. It may have something to do with my super sensitive sense of smell.
*In high school, I swam because I couldn't stand sweating...but swimming in my sweat was apparently just fine with me.
*I have mood swings.....all the time.
*I have a weakness for Big Macs.
*I know that it wasn't in God's plans for me to have a little girl, but I still wonder often what it would be like...Sometimes my thoughts bring me to tears.

I love my friends and family with all my heart. I promise to be as honest and open as I can. It's the least that I can do for those people that truly want me to be a part of their lives. It is my prayer that they will all be transparent with me also.

Life without the mini-van

I might be exaggerating when I say this, but my life is doomed without my mini-van. Not a day goes by in which I can say that the "Swagger wagon" just rested in my driveway. Multiple pick-ups and drop offs to school and extra-curricular duties, grocery shopping and other-stuff-shopping, sanity drives to nowhere in particular (but without kids in the back)....It is the normal mom job.

Basically, I drive a bus. I take advantage of the auto-sliding door to get the kids in and out without having to stop the car....I mean, engine. My vehicle protects the soccer EZ-up and multiple folding chairs, just in case. Within the many, too many, little nooks and crannies you will find a plethora of knick-knacks and half-eaten granola bars. I call it emergency food when I find fruit snacks and Ritz crackers beneath the seats. I once even found a 3/4-full yogurt tube in the back compartment. Thank goodness is was so filled with sugar instead of dairy that it wouldn't stink up my van.

So, my van has a little problem with a popping front door and I took it in to get fixed. It could be a week before we reunite again. I worried a little when the "guy" told me this, but we've lived with 1 car before...That is, until I smashed into a parked armored car and then we had no car....Good Pepperdine memories! My husband usually rides his bike to work (he's one of THOSE save-the-earth while getting exercise kinda guys) so I can use his car, except for one day this week when he needs it to go super far away....Los Angeles. It's gonna take a little planning to get everyone to where they need to be with just one car, but it's a good challenge. It will force the rest of the family (mostly me) to do a little bike riding and walking (save-the-earth kinda transportation).

Needless to say, I am so attached to my van. It's not like it's the envy of the neighborhood or that I like to take my friends and family on joy-rides just to show it off. That is just plain silliness! I am just so dependent upon it. It helps me take my groceries home. It keeps mum about all of my over-budget purchases at TJ-Maxx or when I secretly endulge my sweet tooth as I wait in the church parking lot to pick up my son from Youth Group. If I need to hide from my kids to take a nap, it will always offer the back bench, although it's only been a thought/pipe dream. It will never criticize my horrible singing when I do my best impression of Steve Perry. Hey, "Don't Stop Belivin'"!

This is a reminder to me that God is still blessing my life. God has given me many things to help me cope with my temporary "loss". Our second family car is a blessing. The friends that I am going to call to help me get my kids home from school will be a blessing. The extra calories that I burned running home from the dealership was a blessing as well as the many more that I will be burning as I walk to and from the boys' school multiple times this week. My husband's flexible schedule is a blessing and so is his job to which will pay for the repairs.

...And as I snooped around his car this afternoon as I waited for the little guy to get out of school, I found a nice emergency plastic baggie full of ketchup and crushed pepper packets just in case I ever get trapped in his car. How VERY thoughtful!

What I've learned from zucchini

It's an interesting title. It was meant to catch your eye so you don't overlook the AMAZING and emotional synopsis that I am about to tell.

So there's this 5th grade Thanksgiving play. It will be filled with talking and singing gourds and poultry. Some of those being zucchini. I, being of a pretty creative capacity, had signed up to make a few...ok, not a few, it is way too many, costumes to replace the ingenious butcher paper squash and turkeys. The old costumes were falling apart. Elmer's glue can only hold for so long. New costumes needed to be made to last for the rest of the life of the play. I had some material in my rafters. I have a sewing machine, I also have a mom and mother-in-law that have some knowledge of sewing.

My mom did interior design and professionally made quilts, coverlets, chair covers, curtains... She also made most of my wardrobe while I was in elementary school (that is, until I got too fat and had to start wearing my Dad's t-shirts to school)....I guess I was thinking that I'd have an innate ability to sew. I spent many hours in front of her sewing machine making scrunchies and odd-shaped pillows. I even had my own Cabbage Patch sewing machine when I was 10.

Here's what I first learned. As soon as I sat down to make new patterns, I quickly realized that I just didn't have the sewing knowledge to make any complicated design. The turkey costumes were put aside because they were just too difficult for me to create in my mind as well as in felt. Wings and tail feathers for 8+ turkeys...all under budget (pretty much $0) was not an easy task.

I moved onto something that looked a little less complicated. The zucchini. 2nd, I learned that a zucchini can look a lot like a pickle if you choose the wrong color and size. I didn't want people to think that I was a failure by sending pickles to the Thanksgiving play. 3rd, I learned that a zucchini is not only green. It has many other shades of white and yellow. I had to make sure to protect the integrity of the "Cucurbita pepo". I used fabric paint to recreate the natural beauty lines and spots along the deep green flesh. 4th, I re-learned that I can't sew like my mother. Maybe it was because I wasn't using her machine (I don't think that was the case) or maybe it was that I had broken the foot pad that keeps the fabric from moving around while the machine stitches (I don't think that was the case either). I think it was because I am an amateur seamstress...I was gonna write "amateur sewer", but we all know that "sewer" is also, like, the thing that our poopies go to after we flush...LOL!

Yes, that was lesson 5. Sewer and sewer (one that sews) are the same word.

I'll end with this. I greatly admire the craftiness of the person that made the construction paper costumes. I also have great respect for parents that volunteer at my boys' schools. They take on projects just like this one all of the time. A little stressful and a little frustrating at times, but I know that my kids, as well as future 5th graders, will long for the day when they can be the zucchini in the school play because the costumes are "Totally RAD" (as a boy in class yelled out when I took them in to show them off).

Parking

For some people, it comes as second nature. It is so simple. Line your vehicle up to fit inside of the lines. For me, it doesn't come so easily. I admit, I have a problem. I should NOT have passed that portion of my driver's test, but I did....somehow. (Oh yeah, I didn't have to parallel park...or even park in a parking spot for that matter...How did I get my driver's license anyway?)

For the 17ish years that I have been legally allowed to push a pedal to accelerate a 4-wheel motor vehicle (minus the 30 days that I was on probation and had to WALK home from high school...poor me!) I have been practicing my parking skills and have gotten much better. I still have days though when I need to repark because I hog 2 spots or when I am at Ikea and drive into a space crooked. Really, I don't understand how my spatial abilities could be so bad. I mean, I can understand, but refuse to admit that I am a poor driver.

Today I perfectly parallel-parked in front of the kids' school. I was an inch away from the curb and I didn't hit the car in front or behind me. PRAISE THE LORD! I have always been afraid of parallel parking. This sense of insecurity comes from many failed attempts of trying to parallel park on a hill at Pepperdine in an 80's Mercury Sable. I never hit anyone, but I remember sweating profusely as I attempted to fit into a piece of curb the size of a brontosaurus. Usually after minutes of backing into and trying to swing around, I'd give up and go down to the bottom of the hill and park in the parking lot (to which I'd still have issues with fitting inside the lines). I'd hike all 4 million steps up to campus. Either way, I was sweating the same amount.

So what do I have to say for myself? It must have something to do with self-confidence. I do a much better parking job when I don't have an audience. I go early to school so I can pick out my special spot to practice in. I can't promise that I'll get any better, but my van is highly visible so you can take extra precautions to move your car out of my way when you see it coming.

Mother Nature

WARNING: SENSITIVE WOMAN INFORMATION

I've had a bit of spare time to catch up on all of my "academic" reading material lately. It is so interesting to me how many ads there are for Tampax in Good Housekeeping, Fitness, Family Circle...... They all look a bit like this: A neatly dressed woman in a nicely pressed, green dress suit has a fancy, red bow-tied box in her hands ready to gift to a fun-loving woman. Since when did "that time of month" come in a fancy package? I don't ever remember a time when I thought to myself, "Oh, I really wish that my monthly visitor would be gifted to me in a beautiful box." What are the people at Tampax thinking? That they can glorify a woman's menstrual cycle by packaging it in a sparkly box?

I was watching the news a couple of days ago and I saw another ad from Tampax with Mother Nature (to whom is really getting on my nerves right now). The unsuspecting woman sees the green-dressed Mother of all...cramps, mood swings, hot flashes, bloating.... But the woman is one step ahead of Mother Nature. She has a "cute little transformer-like tampon" that she pulls out of her pocket. If that ain't kryptonite..... Mother Nature is angry. The woman can go on dancing!

I'd personally like to see Mother Nature and Midol go up against each other in an ad. That would be awesome! In my case, Midol really kicks butt!...more so than a collapsible pocket-sized tampon.

A Martha Stewart Kind of Day

It's funny that I think of Martha Stewart as the "Superwoman" of this century. For many years I've been reading her magazines and watching her on tv but always thought that I'd never be as creative or as passionate about my own home as she is, but today I had a Martha Stewart kind of day. I don't often have them. They are simple but packed with acomplishment. They are days that have you thinking, "I am a good homemaker!" They are days in which your "crazy" is suppressed and you can easily put your best food forward (even though I think that we all know that Martha Stewart is a little crazy herself).

It started at 4:30 this morning when I woke up for a run with a friend. I was prompt and on time. I perfectly parked my car along the side of the street less than 6 inches from the curb. That is a huge success for me! I got home and as the boys started to get up, I finished another 2 miles on the treadmill. I started my dinner....yeah, my dinner....by boiling down a fryer for some homemade chicken stock. I used some herbs from my garden outside to make it even tastier. My son loves my homemade chicken soup and dumplings. A very healthy choice and budget-friendly too.

As I waited for the fridge repair man, I weeded the vegetable garden and sprayed the plants for insects. I even planted some sunflowers against the wall and harvested carrot seeds that I planted into our planter beds.

My middle son and I made early preparations for tomorrow's start to school by taking medication to the elementary school and an immunization card to the middle school. We picked up the little guy at a friend's house and then went home so I could prune the rose bush in the front yard in my floppy straw hat.

I was so proud of myself for holding off my children from tv until 4 PM. They fought all afternoon, but I remained calm. I completed my half of the carpool to soccer practice and then finished my soup by chopping the chicken and vegetables to add to the stock. I even saved the breast (I managed to pull it out in one piece so it was in the shape of a heart) for a chicken casserole that I will make later in the week (because my meals are planned out for the next 5 days).

At a time when I usually nap, I was folding laundry and cleaning up the little boys' room. I wasn't bitter about it. I just do a better job than they do. I balanced the soccer team's check book and even cuddled a little with my little guy. (He's a little aprehensive about his first day of kindergarten).

If someone were to ask me what I did today, I really wouldn't have anything much to tell them. It was a meaningful day spent at home tending to the simple things that get lost in the hustle and bustle of life. I would tell them, though, that I brushed my teeth 5 times. I guess that's as many times as I went to the bathroom today also. I don't know why, but I felt the urge to. Maybe that isn't so Martha-Stewart-y, but I must be getting enough liquids. Hooray!

Boy CrAzY!

I had a "proud" moment a few days ago and I still think of it and it makes me laugh. I am not sure if would be considered something that makes me proud or if it just makes me feel good about my genetic gene pool, but I feel the need to share it with the world. It's kind of odd, but it is a sign of what I have to look forward to as a mother of 3 cookie-cutter boys. When I say cookie-cutter, I mean that they pretty much look like replicas of each other at different stages of life.

My oldest son, my dishwasher-unloader, white-hair picking, guitar-playing, brother-annoying, smart-as-heck-just-turned-13-year-old is out of town with his grandparents. He got to take a trip of a lifetime with the person (grandpa) that will provide him everything he's ever dreamed of because that is my dad's love language (hopefully you read the book too....very informative....love tanks....yeah...). I haven't heard from my son in a couple days because he is probably playing endless video games, watching movies-galore, and eating great food at restaurants that his own parents can't afford to take him to.

Here's the odd part of the story: He wasn't avaliable to pick up his middle school registration so his brothers and I went for him. Things went smoothly until I noticed an annoying giggling sound behind us. It got louder with some little high-pitched squealing and also some whispers and shooshing. OK. I turned around and there they were........a gaggle of girls (about 5 of them) following us around and pointing. I totally "get" the middle-school girl drama. I've been there, but Bryson wasn't even with me. He was in Albuquerque. They were following my lil guys around because they looked just like my oldest. Good grief! "He's sooo cute!....*squeek, squeek*" I couldn't understand half of what they were saying because my adult ears don't pick up on tone of that decibel.

So my oldest has a nickname now..."Bon-bon". I heard it a few times between the giggles. I vaguely remember hearing girls yell it out into the quad during Open House last year and I guess I didn't think that my son would have a bunch of girl groupies. He never talks about girls even when he is with his guy friends. I can imagine that they are as annoying to him as they were to me. One day, though, I am sure that things will change and the hormones of teenage life will mature and "girl-crazy" will hit our household like a trainwreck.

I thank God for immaturity. I thank God that my boys are late-bloomers. I thank God that they love to share with my husband and me. I pray that my boys will continue to be humble soldiers of God even when they realize that they are "cute" to the opposite sex. I pray that they know that good looks don't get them anything more than good looks. I pray that they always have the utmost respect for the opposite sex even when they act like a gaggle of geese. I pray that they strive to take the long road and do everything the "right" way even if it means that it is more difficult.

I've heard it so many times from parents that have girls..."Oh, it's so much more difficult to raise girls in this society." I don't know about that. I think that boys may have less "drama".....but they still have it. The challenge in boys is to raise them up to make mature decisions on how they will deal with girls/women. We need to provide our boys with enough wisdom and knowledge through words and actions about how to treat a woman and raise them up to be better people. We are raising our sons to be future head's-of-households and that is a very heavy weight that should not be taken lightly (oxymoron....LOL!).

Body Image

I've never been happy with the way my body looks. I get an occasional glimpse of happiness when I fit my buns into a smaller pair of pants or wear a size smaller than normal, but overall, I have very strong feelings of hatred towards my body type. I can generalize my issues as the same issues of most women.... lack of a firm tummy, cellulite on larger thighs, extra "fluff" around the hips. Why do I spend so much of my time concerned about how I look? I don't even want to look model-thin. I just want to look fit. In my mind I am fit, but my body says otherwise. Even with the 20-26 miles-a-week of running, light weights, and smaller meals, I feel like I can't get to a happy place.

I am especially critical of my small chest. I've been swimsuit shopping for months now trying to find the perfect suit. Believe me, just because it says XS it doesn't mean that it was meant for smaller-breasted women. In most cases, it was meant for stick-thin teenagers with large busts. So it's come down to me having to find a suit in the girl's department. It may fit, but I'm not too keen on sparkly stars, peace signs, hearts, and The Little Mermaid. I then tried the mature women's suits. I had bought a suit, but my husband wasn't too attracted to the amount of fabric. He was more concerned that when I get the suit wet, I'd drown in fabric. So I am in a state of disappointment with the swimsuit industry, but also with myself for not working hard enough to make my bottom half match the size of my top half. The 2-piece athletic suits are a perfect fit for my top, but I can't get my leg into the bottoms.

So this morning I spent hours running on my treadmill and eating a handful of Rice Chex here and there hoping that it will make a difference, and it will, but not where I want it to. A small honest comment made by my husband about my figure will be tattooed into my mind forever now. I can't understand why, but it will. He never said it to hurt my feelings or to make me feel bad. I must have supressed issues from my childhood. It's like the time my sister told me that I had "corndog arms". Yes, I was overly-tan from swimming and my shoulders were broad and my forearms were skinny. That was 15 years ago. I still work on my arms so they will never look like that again. I think of that comment often....almost everyday.

So how do you get to a continuous "happy place" with your body? How can you not feel down when all of the cute outfits and swimsuits weren't made for your body type? How do you get over honest comments that people close to you make about your body? I don't think that it's ok to say, "Oh well, I don't care what people think." I care. I care a lot. I care mostly that my husband remains attracted to me and that I am continuously improving the way that I look. I also care about how I behave around him and the kids and when I am spending hours on exercising and eating without enjoying what I eat, that is just a bad combination that leads to mood swings and agression.

I've seen results from my exercise and eating routines. I weigh less now than I did in high school. I feel stronger than I ever have and I am getting healthier meals on the table because my family deserves it. I guess for now, it should be the focus of my happiness. It just won't get me into a pair of size 2 jeans, a size 32A bra, or a triangle top string bikini....but maybe I should be dressing a little more age-appropriate anyways.

You know what makes me cry?

I'll tell you what makes me cry:

This entire past week was an emotional rollercoaster. I was tired. I was grumpy. It led to many moments of tears shed in my bathroom and soft sniffles as I sat at the edge of my bed.

My oldest son turned 13. We didn't have a big whoot-whoot birthday experience for him, but he did want to go out to dinner and he really enjoyed his new shoes and outfit (very practical). He hasn't gone through an obvious man-metamorphosis yet, but he has definitely outgrown that awkward pre-teen stage. (I observed it with him as his feet, teeth, arms, legs, and ego being too big for the rest of his body...the big ears, they'll never go away and I LOVE that!)

He still doesn't have armpit hair and I have yet to smell that deep robust aroma of cumin and onions coming from his armpits. He doesn't have pimples yet....Oh, wait. He had one. It made his dad teary-eyed, as if that was a sign of him becoming a man. I chalked it up to an excessive amount of french fries and other non-nutritions foods and a lack of showering.

He has man-sized discussions with us and uses man-sized vocabulary. When he questions a decision made, I have to give him a straight answer because "because I'm the mom" isn't enough. He's become much more social with people he doesn't know yet. He has shown great interest with the high school kids that he has interactions with. I don't even want to start with clothes, but they are obviously a HUGE deal.

I look forward to the teen years. I have much faith that he will travel the right path, and even with rocky roads, I pray that he will never be afraid to turn to us for help. It makes me cry because I have missed so many opportunities to enjoy him as a little boy. I cry because he makes me proud.

I also cry because I know that I still have 2 more boys that will eventually grow up and become men. They will break my heart, break my bank, break my belongings,... but I also look forward to all of the opportunities in which they will make me a proud mother too. I can't believe that I am raising boys to men. I guess I should have thought about that about 13 years ago when I started my journey...but it wasn't my plan. I really had little say in that.

I look forward to the day when I have all three of my men around me just enjoying our time together and laughing at the awkward moments of their pasts. I can't wait 'til the day when I can observe them as wonderful fathers and husbands just like their own dad and grandpas modeled for them.

But really, when it comes down to it....it's the PMS! It's the PMS that makes me want to cry ALL OF THE TIME!

TV

There was a tragedy that occured in our household. It involved a TV and a MAJOR malfunction. A lifeless screen hung from the wall for days as the kids complained and I became increasingly frustrated with their bickering and whining....but the TV didn't care what it had deprived our family of or what chaos it had caused. It just stared at us with its pathetic blank screen.

Thank God Almighty that we made it through the World Cup. I cannot imagine the disappointment of my middle son, being that soccer seems to be his life these days. But we did miss a few days of the Tour de France and a couple "important" episodes of Man VS Food and WipeOut. Hubby and I didn't have our usual 2-3 episodes of Criminal Minds, to which we watch together to relax....if serial killers aren't super relaxing, I don't know what is?

They say that going through times of difficulty make you a stronger person. Well, if this wasn't a time of difficulty. Last week was an energy-sucking week that left me lifeless and moody by the weekend. Mostly because I didn't have my TV. Not that I allow my kids to sit and watch all day, but it is nice to be able to cook dinner and have them quiet and ingrossed in some form of animated edu-tainment. It is also a luxury to be able to sleep in until 7:30 AM (ok, 9:00) because the kiddos can enjoy some early morning cartoons. Yeah, remember, that was the week when the sun came up, like, at 4:00 AM and the kids rose with it....

So, I think I may have received a little less sympathy from my husband when I told him about how difficult life was without the TV. I may have gotten a little upset that he chuckled and thought that I was a little silly. He tried to give me advice when I just wanted to vent about my horrible week sans HD visual stimulation. I was a little stupid to think that it was the TV's fault.

I did learn a few things without TV. I learned that my kids do have imaginations, even if my oldest reminds me that he doesn't have one. If they can't watch WipeOut on TV, they can surely play it in the living room. Radio is a pretty cool thing to listen to even when you are not in a mini-van. They can read books and "clean" their rooms for hours-on-end.

The boys did get hungry more often, but I gladly fed them. Two of them even wanted to help me prepare the food in the kitchen. We had lunch together and had longer conversations because no one was rushing to get back to see if MythBusters blew up anything cool.

I never would have imagined that TV would have such a geat impact on my life, but after this last week, I think that I have put too much faith in my rectangular friend. Sure, there is a time for TV. When Mom needs a nap because she spent all day keeping her kids entertained and away from the TV, that would be an appropriate time. My youngest has received reinforcement on sounding out letters and combining letter sounds to make words from TV. He sings old folk songs (lost treasures from history, I believe) that he's learned from a "tune hound". As long as our family learns to keep it to that instead of filling our minds with hours of "smut", I think that we will thrive and avoid remote-control thumb arthritis.

Intervention

I'm sure that you've noticed that I've been blogging a lot about myself lately. You may think that it may be like therapy...."Talk about yourself...How does that make you feel?" Or maybe it's more like self-realization, but I'll tell you the truth. I just like to talk about my feelings. Well, that really isn't true. I don't like to talk about them. I like to type about them. No immediate feedback. I can say how I feel and not have anyone tell me that I'm crazy to my face. It hurts less when someone types it in as a comment...and usually by the time I read the comment, I think to myself, "I AM CraZy!"

I've never watched the show Intervention, but I've seen enough commercials between all of our DVR'd Criminal Minds on A&E. Today got me thinking that I may be a little obsessive. Most people have wierd querks that border OCD, but I think that after today's realizations, I may need to consider therapy (Thanks M for helping me realize my true core....I've been lying to myself all of these years!) It all started with the garbage today. I am pretty obsessed with sorting my garbage. Our city gives us color-coded bins (just like in preschool...very easy for those that cannot read yet). Today I thought that I'd challenge myself. I threw everything into the regular garbage and now I have this halo of anxiety that I cannot shake. I have opened the garbage a few times to take a piece or two of paper recyclables out, but why can't I just forget?


A couple of weeks ago, my mom asked if I had stopped by her house while she was away. I said, "Yeah. I needed to pick up those chairs and the watermelon." She said that she knew that I was there because I always pick her dead stalks from her daylillies and leave them in a nice pile. It's a ritual. I do it everytime. I have a compulsion to pick my mom's weeds. I didn't even notice that I was doing it until that moment. But then I remembered thinking to myself that daylilies would be so nice in my garden because then I could pick out the dead stalks whenever I wanted to. Pretty dang freaky if I say so myself.

My closest friends and family members know full-well that I have a type "A" personality, but I think my strange actions go beyond that. This weekend we were filling our raised garden beds with manure, amend, and soil. I had another compulsion to crush all of the clods until it was smooth and clod-free. In reality, was that going to happen? No way. It's like trying to sift the sand clean at the beach with a plastic toy sifter....OK. I have tried it. We filled 2+ bags full of nails, wood, and other dangerous junk. I know that poor Stephen kept on going for hours only because he knew that I was on a mission.

I can't go to bed without rubbing the tips of my fingers against the threading of my pillow case. I've bled and am currently dealing with dry skin because I just cannot stop. I sometimes notice that my boys do it too. Could it be hereditary? It's a very odd habit. Yesterday I noticed that my youngest would not get out of the car until he rubbed the edge of his blankie on his chin. At Ikea, at JoAnn Fabrics, at Trader Joe's, at Target..... The sad thing is, I was looking at him and was thinking, "I bet that feels pretty good, like rubbing my fingers across the threads of my pillow case."

So, just like Intervention, Extreme Make-Over, What Not To Wear, Hoarders,...someone's gotta start the healing by nominating you to be on the show. Who's gonna "man-up" and start helping me?

Run, Run, Run

I am a little nervous. I wouldn't admit that to anyone face-to-face, but I'll tell the cyber-world. As some people know, I've been a wannabe runner for a few years. I've done a half marathon, a 10-mile, a few 5K's, and signed up and promised friends that I'd run in other races, only to disappoint them or myself by not going. I'm not the kind of person to exert any additional force to make myself a faster runner. I'm the kind of runner that just goes out to run and does it in the least painful way. I don't wear cute running gear and I don't have fancy running shoes. I don't even wear a heart rate monitor because it seems to me, totally pointless when I am trying to keep my heart rate as low as possible. I smile when I pass the Nike Women store because they have such cute outfits for fit runners. Maybe one day I can wear a "Runner's have the best buns" t-shirt, but until I can for-sure say "I do have nice buns", I will just have to save my money. So far, I have about $5 in change towards my purchase.

So, I'll tell you why I am nervous. Tomorrow is the big 4th of July 5k run. I did it last year and it was fun, but road races have always been so nerve-wrecking for me. I have disappointed myself each time that I've run. I deal with a major issue with self-esteem. I am never good enough for myself. Even if my goal is just to finish, by the end of the race, finishing isn't enough to feel content. If I train and I don't hit my goal time, I am in a horrible mood for the rest of the day.

So the plan for this year was not to set goals. Just RUN! I've got 3 great gals running with me. Gal #1: Steph, my Sat. morning therapy running partner. I think about the 10 mile race that we ran together until I pooped out during the last 2 miles and finished way benind her. I wanted so badly to stay up with her. Gal #2: Mari, my fun-and-silly-run-when-we-can-get-away-from-the-kids-or-when-the-husbands-don't-have-plans-to-ride running partner. I ran the 4th of July race with her last year. I guess I went out too fast and just pooped out, again, near the end and had to walk for a minute. Gal #3: Kari my newest and sweetest running friend. I've never run with her, although she assures me that she runs at my pace. I already told her that my feelings wouldn't be hurt if she just decided to take off and "smoke me". I know that none of these ladies would ever leave me behind to suffer alone...or would they? Nah. (Would they?...[that's my lack of self-esteem talking])

I have decided that I am just going to go out there tomorrow, nervous, but excited to spend some quality time with friends that care about me. I am hoping that I can help to make their run less stressful by having a good laugh or too, or even slowing their pace down a little bit. I might make them wear glittery stickers on their arms like me and bows in their hair. I'm done trying to be a serious racer...because no one would ever take my times seriously anyways. I am declaring myself an official fun-run racer. You know, the people that real racers hate because it cheapens their sport. But you know, I'll just say it, those compression socks aren't very flattering or attractive even on the best looking runner. It almost makes real runners look like fun-run runners. See you on Main Street Huntington Beach tomorrow with all of my bells and whistles!

Just in case you have no idea what compression socks are:

Three

When some think of the number three, they think of the number before four or after two, the Holy Trinity, a triangle, a snowman (I just made that up).... I want to share with you what I have learned about the number three in the last 4+ years.

First, it is an odd number. Two is a pair and two is balanced. Two hands, two eyes, two parents in a marriage. Then comes three, it is unbalanced...to say the least. It requires a mini-van and a bigger home. It becomes a struggle for two parents to make 3 events during a single time period. Driving in a small car filled to capacity is never a comfortable thing. Now I am sure that some families thrive on their large numbers in a small living space, but as you may recall, even the Duggars upgraded to a larger home. 19 kids!

Three means that there may be times when you can't remember the names of your own children. Some parents may forget with two, but when there are three involved, you also suffer from dizziness while trying to recall the name of the child that you are going to yell for because he left the fridge open and the Top Ramen boiling on the stove, unwatched.

Three means pure chaos when going to the store for a roasted chicken and a can of corn because the migraine that left you laying in a fetal position until 30 minutes to the arrival of your husband from work wasn't going to cook dinner for you. They all want to "drive" the cart and "help". Those self-scan registers are actually not time saving when you bring three kids either. Add a minute for each item because they are all fighting to scan the next item.(Mental note: buy 3 items or don't use the self-serve)

Three means LOUD. Sure, they're wrestling and having a good laugh on the floor of the doctor's office, but in five minutes, someone will be wailing and complaining that "so-and-so broke his arm". Even the boys' hand-held games become loud when a coveted game is not shared. There are very few of those in our house because, in our home, the games must have an "E" rating (and we all know that those are the games in the $15 bin.....'cuz nobody wants them).

Three can be a beautiful number too. Three very different personalities with three very different love languages. I am a better mother because I am skilled and have many more experiences to draw wisdom from. My stress level is down and I don't really care if they haven't bathed or changed their clothes (I've got way more important things to worry about now, like who is blocking me on their FB account). I am more appreciative of the moments that I have with each boy individually. Three means that there will almost always be someone around to keep you company...or to annoy you. Someone's gonna always make you laugh and someone's always going to make you cry.

A family of four was great, but is was so balanced. I believe that with our family of 5 we strive for balance and we appreciate our time together more. We make a greater effort to be supportive of one another. Money, time, food, privacy, a hand to hold....we have learned to not take these things for granted.

Three ginormous hearts that are filled with love for the people that brought them into this world. That is what makes three so perfect.

I Need You Now!

Lady Antebellum   More CMT Music   More CMT Music Videos

I heard this song a few weeks ago that I really started to like just recently. It’s one of those drown-your-sorrows-in-your-glass-of-beer kinda contemporary-country-love-songs. Lady A (as I’ve read their fans call them...according to my very reliable source, Wikipedia) has written a song about a day in MY life. How could they know about my most personal-daily relationship between my husband and me? They must be like God or Santa (my middle son explained to me that they could possibly be the same person because they both know EVERYTHING).

Let me paraphrase some of the more meaningful lines from the song and describe how I have come to believe that it is about me:

So this lady (me) is looking at some pictures and can’t fight the urge not to call this guy (my husband) that she is missing. She is wondering if he’s thinking of her because she thinks of him all the time. She told him that she wouldn't call but she's lost all control. It happens to be a quarter after 1:00.

There are two ways in which I relate this part of the song to myself. First, the romantic me says, “Yeah, that’s how I feel at a quarter after 1:00 PM in the afternoon when I miss my husband so much that I have to call him just to say ‘hi’ even if I know that I’ll be interrupting his work…..but I love him so much that I NEED to hear his voice on the phone.” The second situation in which I can place myself into the song looks a little like this: I am sitting in my room on the bed with the phone in my hand and tears in my eyes and I am crying to my husband, “It’s a quarter after 1:00 and I NEED you to come home and help me tame these kids……I can’t handle it!!!!!” Oh, and the song gets better.

Verse two is where the man (still me) is taking a shot of whiskey staring at the door waiting for this girl (my husband) to sweep into the room. It’s still a quarter after 1:00.

Don’t get me wrong, I am sure that a shot of whiskey at 1:00 AM is great, but sometimes, it may be better to have one at a quarter after 1:00 PM. I have considered a similar drink for a similar time. The other take on this verse would leave me as the “puppy” waiting at the door for my husband to arrive home….and isn’t that the truth?!!! I love the guy so much, but I have to be honest, I’m usually chipper due to the fact that he’ll be there to take care of the kids.

So when you watch this video, remember me rolling on my bed in my flannel PJ’s, whimpering and crying about needing my man because I am an incompetent mother. Or maybe you could visualize me taking a shot of whiskey as I sit at my kitchen table with dinner burning on the stove in the background. I hope that I didn’t ruin the song for you.

Abby and Heloise

I LOVE Abby. I LOVE Heloise. We all know who "Dear Abby" is. Heloise is also syndicated like Abby. She is like her homemaker equivalent. People write to her asking for advice on how to clean ring-around-the-tub. Next to the comics, I get a little slice of joy reading from these two women and I take their advice to heart. I do wonder, though, what they would say behind my back if ever they were to shadow me around for a day. So, here is my life, according to what Abby and Heloise might think:

7:00 AM "Oh Dear. Her alarm is set to Air Supply. She should wake up to something a little more patriotic such as: "America, the Beautiful" or something sprite and chipper from Mozart."

7:30 AM "What is this 10-second-rule that she is mumbling about? A piece of toast should always be thrown away if it has fallen onto the ground...especially if is is jelly-side down. Children should always be fed a well-rounded breakfast such as eggs and bacon, not fruit cocktail from a can. Tsk, tsk."

8:00 AM "I assume that she will brush her hair before she leaves the house....uh...uh...Oh no, she didn't. How unattractive it is to be seen unkempt at her son's school like that?!"

8:15 AM "Well then, I am glad to see that she is finally going to get ready for the day. It would help if she didn't dress straight from the clothes basket. I am so happy to see though, that she is wearing the appropriate nude color nylon stockings with those slip-on shoes. A lady of her age should always wear socks with her shoes."

8:30 AM "Chapstik? Chapstik! A lady always wears lipstick and blush when leaving the house. We are surprised that this woman has a husband."

9:00 AM-12:30 PM "It is always more polite to smile and look as though you really enjoy your job. It may help pass the time more quickly."

12:30 PM "I do believe that she is singing out loud while driving home. I would expect that from a teenager, but not from a grown woman."

1:00 PM "Is she doing the dishes without gloves? Dry skin and wrinkles are so unattractive, but at least she is attempting to clean her kitchen....although, it is the afternoon. If done properly, a kitchen should be cleaned after every meal."

2:35 PM "OH NO! I don't believe that she even STOPPED that car before her son jumped in....and in a Red zone....this woman has some issues to be dealt with."

3:00-4:00 PM "A good attempt has been made to feed her children a healthy snack and to help them finish their homework. They are sitting at the table quietly working....but where is she now?...Is that her napping on the bed?"

4:00 PM "My, what a lovely apron....very important when opening the bag of Mandarin Chicken from Trader Joe's. (That was scarcasm)"

5:00 PM "Dinnertime is very important for families to reconnect. I do believe that this family has the right idea....but the flatulence and burping at the table is really a bit inappropriate."

5:30-7:30 PM "Downtime. Every family member needs a little time to unwind in their own way. As I see it, a little Mythbusters or Good Eats is fine for the entire family....but there she is again....napping."

7:30-8:00 PM "The bedtime routine is cut-and-dry here in her household. The boys know exactly what to do without complaining. It appears that it is the husband's job to brush teeth and say prayers. Delegating jobs is important, but it would be better for her to have a hand in bedtime tasks....instead of napping or watching 'The Real Housewives of Orange County' (that is pure smut!).

8:00-11:00 PM "Stealing a bubble of intimacy (phrase taken from Good Housekeeping...a magazine that she reads instead of folding laundry) with her husband is always a good thing. Catching up on 3 episodes of Criminal Minds may not be the most romantic way to set the mood though....Oh good...they're changing the channel....to...CSI. (Frown)"

11:30 PM "If a woman wants to wake up in the morning refreshed and without black bags under her eyes, she's going to need to go to bed much earlier than this. 9:00 Would be appropriate."

"In our humble opinion, we get many letters from readers that are in much worse condition. Elaine may not be the perfect homemaker or have perfect etiquette like us ladies, but she gets some credit for raising 3 boys. Some say that raising 3 boys is like a free ticket to heaven, but it's not. It only allows you to have an extra glass of wine with dinner, as long as it doesn't come from a box and that you pour it into a proper glass...not a plastic neon cup from IKEA."

100% + 100% = 100%

I know that you're thinking, Elaine is a math teacher and she put this equation up on her blog. It doesn't appear to be correct, but I'm going to read the blog because maybe it will make sense, in a wierd way. She has that knack for making sense of wierd things.

There isn't much in America that makes sense. Our language system and our metric system are all out of whack. See here, I just wrote 3 sentences with the words "knack" and "whack" and you are still following....because I made it make sense!

I'll set up the whole situation: I was having dinner with 2 friends from high school recently and one of the ladies posed a question to us other two that was something along the lines of "How do you make your marriage work?" or "How do you live with someone that long?" I can't remember the exact question, but this equation came to mind immediately. It's something that Jerrod and I have been working on for a couple of years ever since the failure rate of (50% + 50% = 100%) began to skyrocket.

The explanation: We began with divvying up responsibilities in the household. One takes out the trash and cleans the dishes, the other does the laundry and puts the kids to bed.... What happened was that when one of us was unable to complete his/her task, there would be dissappointment and then (mostly in my case) it would come down to grudge-holding, especially if I had to pick up the slack. For some couples, I am sure that this equation works out perfectly. For us....it just led to disasterous effects. Add some kids into the mix and the equation gets complicated. I don't even have an equation to explain, but I think I would most likely symbolize our boys as exponents or as repeating decimals or fractions (I hate those things in math! They make solving equations so difficult).

So, now we try our best to do what we can and count picking-up-slack as part of our chores. We will always have unknown variables. Soccer practice may go long. Jerrod may have a later night at the office. I may NEED to get away from these kids for the evening (and usually Jerrod can pick up on my signals quicker than I can and has to kick me out and tell me not to come home until the boys are asleep....it's his way of showing me he cares). The 100% equation is not fool-proof, but it has helped us to maintain a more peaceful and less-frustrated atmosphere. Our communication skills are getting better because we are learning to ask each other for help instead of expecting it. It really just is the Golden Rule: Treat others as you would want to be treated. I really don't want to be verbally slapped in the face because my day was long and I didn't have time to cook vegetables for dinner. Why would I do that to Jerrod? PMS, maybe...but there is no excuse for that type of behavior. It's much easier to just go to the pantry and open up a can of green beans. It also appears to be "helping" instead of "OMG, I can't believe that she forgot the vegetables again!"

Budget Craziness

It won't be long until I say "farewell" to my tiny income, dressing up/showering, and driving to work. I soon will embrace full-time motherhood. I've been a mother all along, but this will be different. It will consume my life and there will be no place to hide. At work I always had my desk and a nice 15 minute break. My days will be filled with laundry, dusting, and deep cleaning (all the fun stuff that was neglected when I worked a very full 13 hour work week). I will brush up on my cooking skills and prepare a nutritional dinner that consists mostly of non-bagged, non-frozen chunks of meat in uncanned sauce. I know that I'll be an awful "housewife" because I don't like to do any of that stuff. NO MOTIVATION!...but I'm a better fit for "soccer mom"/"mom-in-a-mini-van". I have to say that I look a lot better in my floral apron than hubby anyday too.

I can take care of my kids, but with the budget talks making their way to the dinner table far more frequently, I think I may lose my most dependent babysitter. Premium tv channels are on their way out. I stopped going to get my car hand washed last year and I am slowly making my way to Smart & Final more than Ralphs (sadly,they DON'T have the light-up freezer section. I will miss that). I actually yell at my kids now when I can't find the scissors to clip my coupons. I've even borrowed a stock pot from a friend to make a triple batch of split pea soup so I could freeze some for future meals (very light on the wallet). It is a lot of work to save money. It's been a few months since the last financial pie graph chat, but I am sure that it will break my heart once again.....it's for the family!

So with all of that said, here are a few crazy things that I thought a budget-friendly person might say to make "it" hurt less:

*It really was between the Mercedes and the Honda Fit, but I went with the Honda 'cuz it really is more economical.
*Nah, I'd rather wash my own car. I enjoy spending hours scraping the bird-do and dead bugs off of the grill. I also get to keep all the change that I find under the mats. BONUS!
*I'm practicing my organization and alphabetizing skills with my new accordian folder. Clipping coupons has really improved my cutting skills too.
*Yeah, really, the generic brand tastes just as good as the real thing!
*The kids really do LOVE Top Ramen and Mac and Cheese....for lunch everyday.
*I know that there are holes in my underwear/socks, but they are just sooo comfortable.
*I'm on a diet. I'll just eat the (free) chips and salsa/bread and butter with a glass of water and a lemon slice.
*Um, we save the ketchup packets and hot sauce for the kids school lunches. Less mess.
*What a deal! Those $.50 greeting cards. No one really cares about the card anyways.
*I HATE Walmart...but they are the only store that sells Low-Sugar Frosted Flakes...
*When the restaurant gives you 2 corn tortillas for each taco, it's like a 2-for-1, but they don't even know that they're doing it. (Like stealing candy from a baby!!...and ignorance IS bliss!)
*I just couldn't put the book down. I finished it overnight because it was so good....and I needed to return it to Barnes and Noble so someone else could enjoy it.
*We really enjoy sharing cooties and because we are in LOVE, we can sip from the same cup at any restaurant.

Embrace the budget!

Lucky 13

In essence, it wasn't really ever "luck". As we walked our way to the HB pier, hand-in-hand, Jerrod said something to me that really struck a chord. He said, "God loves humble beginnings." I think that anyone could further add to that by saying that God loves humble people. God loves all people, but maybe humble people are following His plans a little more closely. And as he said that to me, it gave me comfort. Maybe we are closer to God than we think. Maybe I am closer to God than I feel like I am on most days.

Jerrod and I did not begin our story as most couples do. After 13 years of marriage, I feel like I finally have a good sense of what kind of person Jerrod is and I am so thankful that God was ALWAYS looking out for me. We didn't really know each other all that well, and I think, that when you're 19 years old, you don't even know what kind of person you are anyways. It is easy to say that "it's all part of a plan", to which I DO believe it is, but it has always been more complex than "just a plan".

From humble beginnings we came, we struggled, we learned, we made mistakes. But through it all, we still strive to be humble people in our marriage, with our friends, at our jobs, etc. It's hard enough to humble yourself and to just listen to God speak in the quietness. It can be a difficult task to be humble and just listen to your spouse sometimes. If there is one thing that always saves our marriage from someone walking out the front door, it is humbleness.

My heart continues to grow for the man that I love day after day. He is a great teacher to my sons as well as to me. I observe him as he makes difficult decisions and I know that he strives so hard to be the man that God wants him to be. With that in mind, he is almost always patient, listening for God to speak to him. He is always studying/researching to follow the footprints of other Godly men. He is a humble man and is continually humbled by God.

If there is one thing that I can teach my sons, it would be that in meekness, comes strength. I see my sons grab my dumbells and pump some iron, but I'm not talking about that kind of strength (plus, 5 lbs probably won't get 'em very far). I'm speaking about the submissiveness to God's plans for their lives and relationships.

So, as I've said, it was never luck, it was always God and I trust that he will continue to bless my husband and me with valuable learning experiences, joy in time spent together, and passion for each other.

And just to add to the humbleness, I added a lovely picture of us at a medium size, instead of the small....'cuz I'm a 'lil stinker! (It was getting way too sappy in here for me)

Pray for Noah Huffman

Please click on the picture of this precious little girl if you are interested in seeing God's hands at work.

Lifesavers

I'm not thinking of the fruity-flavored roll of candies to which I would pick through and snatch only the cherry and pineapple. I'm thinking of those people/places/things that have really made getting through the day so much easier.

This morning was a blur. Busy, busy! But I finally got a chance to check my e-mail and in my box were 2 very meaningful and emotion-filled messages. One, pages long, but I still "breathed" in every word as I teared up staring at my computer screen. A college friend and his wife (to whom I had the pleasure of living with during my freshman year) are expecting their first baby any day now. Their daughter has a life-threatening heart condition, but their faith remains so solid. The other e-mail came from a dear friend that just lost her grandfather. The message was 4 words long, but still enough to make the tears in my eyes wet the keyboard.

I'd like to say that I "count my blessings" but at that moment, I felt the need to meditate and remember the "lifesavers" in my life. Here is my list that I've been working on, in no particular order (Just to add so I don't offend anyone else, this is NOT my list of most important things in my life, this is my list of what gets me through the day).

Lifesaver 1: My husband. The kiss that he plants on my lips every morning before he leaves for work is a reminder of just how much he loves me no matter what. He is my biggest fan and my best friend. He knows me better than I know myself sometimes. I just wish that he'd read my blog more often.

Lifesaver 2: My boys. Sure, they demand that I get out of my bed and feed them and they depend on my driving skills to get them to practice and Bible study. They are the truest reflection of me. In their actions, I can see my faults but also my successes as a parent. They are forgiving. They call me mom and that is the greatest job title that I've ever had.

Lifesaver 3: My running partners: At this point, the list is very small, but I am so greatful for the words of encouragement or the belly laugh that I get while exercising with my 2 buddies. I've become a much stronger person and have been able to get through a couple of tough situations with the support and compassion of these women.

Lifesaver 4: My parents, sister-in-law, and brother-in-law. Family is important, but it is so important to me to have people that I love within arm's reach, and not just for the babysitting. I can ALWAYS count on them for physical back-up (A broken-down car, an emergency with the boys, a night of fun, dinner that I don't have to cook....). Thank you!

Lifesaver 5: Funny as it seems to put here, but my middle son's teacher. At a time when I felt so down about the teaching profession, this woman had to inspire me and almost make me want to go back to teaching in public school....but no. I've seen so many wonderful things happen this year in my son's life and I owe much of that to his teacher. All-in-all, he is learning so many important skills dealing with work ethic, manners and politeness, setting goals,... It makes my job much easier. Yes, there really are teachers out there that care! Bravo Miss McLovin (he-he)!

Lifesaver 6: My treadmill. When I can't get out to burn off some steam, I do it on my stationary track. I put those earbuds in and I ignore the whimpering in the background and I just run. I've actually been working towards increasing my speed and at the push of a button, I can do that. I feel accomplished and sweaty at the end of a good 8 mile run. I feel empowered and ready for a nap at the same time. But I always shower first.

Lifesaver 7: Those friends and family members that share their journeys through life with me. The e-mails that I received really set my emotions going and I thank the authors for that. Friends that meet me for lunch/dinner, send me texts while I am working, call from their homes far away to check up on me, attend church with me, sit with me all afternoon on the soccer field...you know who you all are. Thank you to those friends that do feel comfortable enough to chat about life with me. You are the people that help me to build my integrity and help me to stay honest. I pray that I can be a beacon of light to you too and help you when you need a shoulder or a laugh.

Lifesaver 8: God. No explanation necessary.

Lifesaver 9: My home. It's very materialistic, but I am so happy at the end of a day to have a safe place to sleep at night. I like knowing that my boys know their way around town based upon the starting or ending point of our house. We add "beauty" to it by remodeling, but no matter how we decorate, it will always be the central meeting place. It will always be the place where we sit down together as a family and have dinner.

Lifesaver 10: Midol. I am dead serious.

Manwich

Last night Cayden made a comment to me. He told me that I should go out more often so he could have Manwich and tater tots. Oh, wouldn't I just love to cook up a batch of "man" food (sloppy-joes, chili dogs...pretty much anything that comes from a can and has a red-face-staining color to it) and just leave a few sporks on the table and head out the door with my keys.

I would love to say that I've worked so very hard on making sure that my children get the proper nutrition that they need to stay healthy, but last night, it was my mental health that needed to be restored. As a result, the kids and hubby dined on an increased amount of saturated fat and enjoyed every bit of it (...and the can says that you get 2 servings of vegetables).

What is it about "man food"? I just don't get it, but maybe that is because I am a woman. Even if it is an easy meal, I just don't think that I could sit down and genuinely pray to God and "thank" him for this meal that has been prepared. Wow! That is pretty selfish of me....to not be thankful to God for Manwich. Next time I am complaining of my state of starvation, I am sure that He will send down the Manwich until it comes out of my nasal passages. Lesson learned. Amen.

So Long to Nap Time

I love naps. I love to take them. I loved to put my boys down for them. It was like my small piece of heaven wrapped up in a day full of chaos. When I took/take them, I wouldn't have to worry about the craziness around me which often consisted of some form of fighting or loud electronic entertainment. It's become white noise to me now. I can nap through it all. When I'd put the boys down, it was a few hours of peace and freedom to do mindless, non-thinking activities like watch t.v. or play on the internet. Maybe even catch a nap of my own. My youngest, Rylan, has so sadly outgrown his naps. For 4-and-almost-one-half years he took them and hardly ever put up a fuss. He still needs them (so I tell myself), but he's become too difficult to convince. He's seen through all of my hidden agendas. We tried "meditation" and we tried resting-with-our-eyes-closed-but-not-sleeping We've even tried sit-on-the-bed-and-read-until-I-say-you-can-come-out-and-hopefully-you-will-pass-out-first. They've all worked once, but he's one smart, stubborn cookie.

So comes the end of an era of raising children who nap. It's a benchmark in any parents' lives. Now I must entertain my child for 2-3 more hours of the day. Now I must find my "me" time somewhere else....to which there is no other place that it will fit unless I stay up longer, but that is a BAD idea. You see these bags under my eyes already?????

I actually caught myself reminiscing about the glorious napping days of all of my boys. They were always such "good" nappers. Bryson loved to nap all day and then he'd be up all night. Once we fixed that, he would nap every day after lunch until he started school. Cayden was like clockwork. From the time he was a baby, his mission in life was to play hard, eat, and sleep. I could time his naps on a watch and it would be like deja vu every day. He was the most consistent of all. He still needs that extra sleep, but because he's in 4th grade, I think a nap would be frowned upon by his peers. He just goes to bed much earlier than....any other kid that I know.

Now my "baby" is preparing to enter kindergarten this coming fall. His eyes still roll to the back of his head and his lids get heavy as he answers "NO!" when I ask him if he's tired after his morning at preschool. He still stares into space as I snap and clap in his face and ask him if he needs a nap. Once he enters the house and I say the magic words, "Go potty and take your shoes off", he just looses it. I consider myself to be a pretty consistent mom, but I've weighed the options of fighting the stubborness and holding him down on his bed until he's done kicking and screaming at me or just letting him have some "quiet time" and then putting him to bed earlier. It seems that the less agressive turns out to be the least stressful. I have less time to do my "work" but I do get time that is quiet and I get a happy boy.

I, too, have made some improvements on my napping routine. I have been taking fewer naps during my days and I miraculously get more acomplished aound the house and I have more time to do my running. On most days I get 6-8 miles in. Yay! I'm not going to say that I am in a better mood, or that I don't snore now at night, because I've been told that I have been more consistent with my log sawing.

But unlike most of my blogs, I will end on a positive and uplifting note. I will consider myself a good mother for getting my boys through their preschool days well-rested. I'd even go as far as saying that I've gotten my boys to "enjoy" napping beyond the age of an average child-napper. That happened to be one of two great goals of mine as far as longevity. The other was breastfeeding...and would it be too much to tell you that my 4-and-almost-one-half-year-old son still asks me questions like "Member yesterday when I use to eat from your boobies?" (He's still working on time lapse, obviously....)

Is 33 old?

I'm down to my final month of being 32. As I approach my "mid-thirties", I have been giving age a lot of thought. (Yes, I think a lot, and I think a lot about nonsense, but it's better than not thinking and just watching MTV...which I do sometimes too.) I think that I've gumbled through every birthday that I have had since I was 19. I guess it was just because I felt that is what most women do. Today I thought about the positive things about being ONLY 33. Here's my list:
1. I still look like I'm in my 20's. Some may even argue that I'm still in my teens. Yay!
2. I am Asian, therefore I have great age-defying skin. Yay!
3. I have a great son that will pick my white and grey hair for me.(Wierd, I know, but he does this so with much enthusiasm- It's like those chimps on the Discovery Channel) Yay!
4. I am still under the age limit of having a mamogram or a colonoscopy. Yay!
5. I don't get heartburn on a daily basis, unless I SHOVE my McMeal into my McFace. :(
6. I am the youngest lady in my Bunco group...unless someone is holding out their true age.
7. My husband still thinks that I'm "HOT!" (It's true, he said so just the other day)
8. I am young enough to know who Lady Gaga is. Yay!
9. I shop at Forever 21 and I don't think that anyone would think that I was out of place. Yay!
10. I have every right to act immature because I don't look like a grown-up yet. Yay!

So, lots of good reasons to enjoy being 33. For now, I don't mind getting older. I know that I will always be younger than my parents. Come on birthday, BRING IT ON!

The Pocket Knife Incident

How do you raise a boy in this overprotective and overly-cautious society? I often feel like I am doing a poor job. My sons were gifted pocket knives for Christmas. They are 12 and 9. They were appropriate gifts, but in the back of my mind, I had thoughts of "What if they accidently take it to school?" or "What if they accidently cut themselves, someone else, or something?" They're boys! They should do boy stuff. They should be carving wood and sharpening twigs.

And then it happens: A knife is accidently taken to school. The good thing is that my son took it immediately to the teacher. He wasn't suspended. So I become more cautious about the whereabouts of the knives, but when he asks a week later if he can open up a box of Capri Suns, I don't think to check on how he will open it. I just assume that he'll use his hands, like most humans, and rip the box open. Instead, I walk into the kitchen to see a wounded/stabbed juice pouch on the floor lying in a puddle of its own fluids. As I put the rest of the pouches away, I realize that 5 more tragedies have occurred...and I cannot find the pocket knife. I guess I WASN'T watching so closely. Oops!

So do I take the knives away? No. My boys have every right to learn how to use them properly as well as learn when it is appropriate to use them. I take comfort in the fact that we did talk to them when they got the knives about what to do if they accidently took them to school. We discussed with them what was appropriate/inappropriate: EX. using the pen to write, EX. not knife fighting (because I HAVE seen them do that when they were younger when "someone" thought that they were ready for BIG pocket knives....WRONG!)

I found the knife in the afternoon after the Capri Sun Massacre atop one of the other boxes. He told me that he put it down so he wouldn't forget to leave it at home. I realize now that I have been a good parent. We have thought ahead about the possibilities and have made our kids aware of what could happen and what they should do. I certainly counted my blessings on that pocket-knife-afternoon when I picked my son up from school.

So what lessons do I teach my sons about airguns, garden lizards, inappropriate web searching, basic daily hygiene, motivation to do well at school, proper eating habits, foul language, exercise, too much tv?...the list is infinite. The best parents are always thinking ahead so they are never caught off guard. I know that I've been caught off guard a few times and I feel like a terrible mother, but maybe that makes me a good mom because I beat myself up for my parental mistakes and look for ways to keep incidents (such as the renegade pocket-knife-incident) from occuring again.

Life

Do I have one? What does it mean to have a life? I have life. I live. It seems though, these days go by as a flash and I can't remember what happened. Did I enjoy yesterday? I don't know. I don't remember. I guess that means that I didn't dislike it, but it wasn't superior. The one thing that I do remember from every day of my life is that I go to bed exausted, and I wake up the following day in a blur because I am so dang tired.
In order to determine if I have a "life" I decided to log a typical day in my blog.

March 18, 2010
7:00 AM Alarm goes off (Uuuugh...It's the Bible CD set to John. Wierd! So I lay there hoping for inspiration from the Holy Spirit)
7:15 AM Wake up. Tired. Moody.
8:00 AM Get the kids to school
8:15 AM Clean dishes and "work" on the computer (Facebook, e-mail, surf the web.....very important and maybe the highlight of my day)
9:00 AM leave for work
9:20-9:45 AM Sit and stare at my desk
9:45-12:10 Work (try to teach a 6th grader the purpose of slope....my God!)
12:30-12:50PM Start a load of laundry, clear off the table
12:50 PM Pick up Cayden
1:00-1:30 PM Stand at Carl's Jr. waiting....waiting....waiting for chicken stars to feed my boys before a birthday party
1:30-3:30 PM Hang out at the bowling alley and secretly stress out because my son hasn't completed a huge book report that is due tomorrow.
4:00 PM Realize that I haven't had breakfast yet
4:00-8:00 PM help son complete a book report that needs to be completely redone. Get frustrated because he completed it days ago, but hubby and I never looked it over to make sure it was print-ready.
6:45 PM Drive oldest son to Bible study
7:00 PM More laundry
8:00 PM Drive to dad's house to print the book report. (We haven't had a working printer in 2 years.)
9:00 PM settle down and watch 2 episodes of CSI on the dvr with hubby instead of going to sleep
11:00ish PM Bed, Finally!

Somewhere in there Jerrod realized that I wasn't going to make dinner so he put together a pork chop dinner and met with the tile guy.

And the party wasn't typical, so if I were to substitute soccer practice in there instead, it would be a usual day. Oh yeah, and I usually cook a meal for dinner.

So, I know that that's a cake day for most parents. What's my problem? I think that I have actually come to the conclusion that I need purpose in my life. I need motivation to spice up my life. I need goals. Today I am making my goal to get through my average day AND watch CSI at it's normal air-time. I think I can do it, and it will make me happy.

This is what I call life.....and I remember now that there isn't a CSI on Friday. I've disappointed myself once again.

Consistency Sucks!

It's the key to discipline, I know....but sometimes it feels like I am the one receiving the punishment. 2 weeks ago when the decision was made regarding our oldest son's restrictions, I cringed in a major way. I was so proud of my husband for being stern and strong. I was even a little scared myself from the tone of his voice. So when he turned to me and said (asked), "You can make sure that he comes home right away and does his homework. No tv, games, friends, fun....." Well, there goes MY freedom. I can't use the tv as a babysitter or send him outside to play with the neighbor or even his brother. I have to make sure that my son is miserable.

OK. It's been easier than I thought. I believe that it's the teenage mentality, anyways. He's finally done better on his school work and is using his imagination more (to which he once claimed that he didn't have). We've found drips of paint on his carpet and all kinds of wierd concoctions in bowls left on the counter.

It did get worse though. The week before, he and his brother were left in the house as I went to run an errand with the little guy. I specifically told them NOT to play games and then as I slipped into my heaven (bed) that evening (ok, afternoon for my nap...it was suppose to be a short cat nap), I found a stylus (that pen-like thing for their hand-held games). I could no longer leave them alone because I couldn't trust them to obey what I asked of them. I take 3 boys with me everywhere now. It's not that I LOVE to go shopping with 3 boys who all want/don't want something to put into the shopping cart. Don't get me wrong. I LOVE the grumbling that comes when I say, "Trader Joes!!!!!!"

This afternoon was THE BEST! I picked each kid up on my way to the doctor a half an hour away. The first complained that it would be "so boring" and the second was just whining about a hurt toe or something (self-inflicted bike injury caused by trying to stop the wheel with one's toe....duh!) The 3rd, well, he was great. He fell asleep with his head dangling to one side like he was going to choke himself and drool dripping down the side of his cheek. As if things couldn't get any more complicated, the doctor's office greeted my children with lemon water and cookies. That wouldn't be so bad, but one son can't eat butter cookies due to allergies so I hesitated, but the other 2 gave me those "I'm soooo hungry eyes and if you don't let me have just ONE cookie, I am going to complain until you say the words I know you REALLY want to say." We settled on a cookie each and the other had a piece of candy from their lovely cavity jar. The water was another mistake because the little guy took his cup and happily skipped to the beautiful, maroon, suede chair and even more happily, spilled the water into the back crease of the cushion. Now as I cleaned that up there was the issue with the bathroom, but if I keep going, you are going to think that I am incompetent and cannot control 3 boys at once. Well, it's the truth, but I've seen worse.....almost every day!

What a day! It's just not what I've gotten use to in the last year. My trips to the grocery store or the doctor's have become a mini vacation and in one month I've been reminded that in the world of parenting, there is no such thing as vacation. BooHoo!

What Am I? Your Maid?

I am a maid. I am my own maid. I do a crummy job, but I try to clean up after myself. I am not, though, my kids' maid. But for so long I have been acting like it and not treating messes as their responsiblity. So today I snapped...not like yelled and ripped my hair out, found lying on my floor in the fetal position with an empty bottle of wine on the counter....that was a different issue. Today it came more as a lightbulb switch...then in military-like style, came the orders. "Bryson: book, jacket, backpack. Cayden: chip bag, homework, socks.... Rylan: hamper top?" Whatever. He understood. As I spent 1:45 (1 hour: forty-five minutes) cleaning the gum stuck to the clothes dryer drum, I thought that this is TOTALLY unfair. I have my own mess to clean up, and now I'm cleaning this up and I didn't even cause it. I didn't leave the gum in my pockets and I wasn't the one who washed that particular load of laundry....because I'd check the pockets, but I'm just saying, not blaming. I am a parent. I am a mother and I should be respected as a mother. The kids never really complain about picking up their stuff, so why don't I tell them to just do it all the time? Good question. Well, maybe I'm a giver, but I don't think that I am. I don't like to clean up their stuff just for the "fun" of it or because I love them. I'd love them even if I didn't pick up their stuff. I've just become lazy and inconsistent with my discipline. So ask me how it's going in a week and I'll probably tell you that I am so sick of picking their stuff up. But ask me tomorrow and I'll tell you that it's the greatest thing, I tell them to clean up their stuff and they do it. It's like magic! I've learned....that "I am the mom and I lay down the law and for today, I want you to clean up all of your mess so I can do more important things like write about you on my blog".

Abandoned!

Yesterday: I remembered where my hidden box of truffles was, I got the kids to school on time, work wasn't too bad, Rylan went down for a nap without complaining, I squeezed in 6 miles on the tread, I successfully contacted 2 parents about their child's poor grades, I forgot to pick up my son at school....WHAT?!!! That doesn't fit! So, um, yeah, I forgot to pick him up....well, I didn't forget to, I was just 10 minutes late. It was obviously enough time for him to believe that I had abandoned him. I do feel terrible. I looked up at the microwave clock and realized that I was late. I grabbed Rylan and left the house without shoes and sweaty from my run. We drove up to the office and he came running out with tears in his eyes. He sadly mumbled, "You forgot about me." I started to cry and I had to pull the car over to give him a hug. Although he is in 4th grade, he is so small and helpless when it comes to emotional incidents like this. Am I the worst mom ever? I believe so. At least for yesterday. We got home and then he told me that he forgave me. Not that it made me feel any better, but I knew that he had recovered. That is when I started thinking about just how embarrassed I was. Not to him, but to the office staff at the school. I don't have a very good record with the office staff. Jerrod says it's no big deal, but I've gotten caught trying to smuggle my lil guy into the classroom to volunteer in Cayden's room. I knew that I wasn't allowed to, but tried to anyway. I upset the secretary when I came storming in after picking Cayden up as he was having an asthma attack. I wanted answers, but instead made a personal attack. That whole day is still a blur and I am still not so happy with the outcome, but I have learned to better prepare my son so he can take care of himself when others can't. It just seems that every time I enter that office, I "break the law". I don't intend to, but I do. Again, Jerrod says it's all in my mind, but I've worked in a public school and I know THE TRUTH!
But back to the issue at hand. I know that my son's feelings are important. I should make a better effort to be prompt so he will know that he is loved and cared for. I will be there on time today. I will not dwell on what I think the office staff thinks of me because, in the end, it's unimportant. So I am crazy...I already know that. There really is no use in trying to hide that fact. Good moms make mistakes....or in my case bad moms make bad mistakes.

Rennovation

3 days: 3 months:3 years: It's all the same in this house, as I am sure in many other homes. Remodeling is messy. It is stressful. It is full of anticipation and hopes of greatest desires fulfilled. It started with the cute, little, yellow Swiss-chalet house that was PERFECT. Eventually, it became, not so perfect. Mold in the walls, a slab leak in the kitchen, a crack in the shower.....Room by room we went, replacing walls and floors, carpet and cabinets. We are finally down to the last living space (unless you consider the bathroom a comfy place to spend time). Every one of our remodels started as a 3-day/week project. Many of our projects still remain unfinished. It is a way of life here in this household. Unfinished...but I'm okay with that. My home will never look like Martha Stewart's. I'll never be asked to have my home photographed for Better Homes and Gardens. I do though, take great pride in the fact that Jerrod and I have designed every remodel on our own and we have been pleased. I look forward to what will come of our living space. I look forward to the day when I can look from my living room sliding doors into my backyard and enjoy something other than dirt. We have great plans for this home. Besides, the kids get a kick out of seeing all of the destruction and chaos.

More Discipline

I had a terrorizing thought this morning as I sat at my desk at work e-mailing my dad on my phone during a break. I haven't taken my job seriously in a long time (3 years +) and have just done what I needed to do to keep my position. On occasion, I would go beyond my "call of duty" and tutor during lunch (which required me to stay beyond my paid hours) or have fun activities for the students. Now, it's just a job where efficiency is the bottom line.

My thought was so scary because last evening Jerrod and I had a long discussion with Bryson about school work. It isn't that he's failing or that he is even causing trouble. We have noticed that his priorities are not in the correct order and his grades are beginning to show it. Certainly a "B" on a report card would be considered above average for most, but when you know your son could do so much better if he just put a little more effort in, a "B" doesn't look so good....And with missing assignments in tow....GOOD GRIEF!

So comes the time when a spanking or time out will not do the trick. He is 12 years old. A little adult. He thinks like us. He rationalizes like us. He is even scarcastic like us. Stubborn, moody, easily influenced by his peers.... IT has become a preteen monster. How do you tame the monster? You can't. You have to teach IT to be respectful of the rules of the house and to the parents that provide a loving home for IT. Jerrod and I see our not-so-little-guy gaining his independence and stretching out his wings. We want to give him space and we want him to experience being a boy, but we also want to make sure that he has the proper skills to be successful in school and college (if he goes) without us yelling and screaming at him to do his homework.

So today marks the beginning of a fresh start for parents and son. Son will be respectful of parents requests because they are not just mindless requests to make life unbearable. Parents will show thoughtfulness in rewarding son with honest-positive-feedback and some freedoms, if deserved. It's called RESPECT. It's called love. It's called good parenting. It's a new committment to consistency.

So, I go back to where I was in my classroom....I can't be the teacher I am now. If I want my son to change, I need to also. I need to be a good role model for him. I need to put full effort into my work, just as I have asked of him. We will both be greatly rewarded. He will come home at the end of the quarter knowing that every time he cracked open a book to study, he made his parents proud. I will be rewarded with....uh,...not having to work next year. Yeah, but that's another lesson for another day.

Rain, Rain, Go Away

It's been raining....in southern California. I was recently in Oregon for a family visit and it rained (very typical winter weather), but then I returned home to tornado warnings and thunder storms. Good Grief! As much as I love a little drip drop, I do miss my sunshine. I don't force my kids to play outside enough, but with this rain, I wish sometimes I could push them outside so they would give ME a break. I am sure that they would enjoy nature's teardrops.

We've watched a lot of t.v. and we've promptly done our homework. We've even managed to keep our house cleaner than usual because I keep yelling at them to clean their rooms. (What else is there to do with soccer practice cancelled and streets too deep to ride over to friends' homes?)

Jerrod called yesterday to notify me of the tornado warning. He told me to get under a doorway if something happens, but I am unclear if he just got his natural disasters mixed-up or if he's really praying that I'd end up like the Wicked Witch of the East. (She was the one with the striped socks and the original wearer of the ruby slippers, right?)

So, I wake up in the morning to the pitter-patter of rain and thank God for rainy day schedule that allows me to leave work 10 minutes early. I thank God for the work that we did on the house 2 years back that now allows us to view our "lake" (seriously, the back yard reminds me of Poltergeist, the movie) from inside our home instead of from the middle of it. I thank God for a husband who worked tiredlessly this last weekend while I "vacationed" (any trip without kids is considered a vacation) to plug up holes and water-proof the attic and garage. We may get cabin fever, but come on, we live in southern CA. The sun will eventually come out. Silver Lining: We live close enough to Target that we really could kayak over for emergency tp or soy milk.

Money Issues...Life Issues

With the passing of Christmas, came the gifting of money. Cash was abound in the kids wallets, in my wallet, in envelopes, on the floor, in pockets...... As a ritual, we, meaning the kids, go to the bank and deposit some of their booty into their savings accounts. It was a practice of my parents and I thought that it was worth the effort to continue it with my own kids. We haven't made it to the bank yet which leaves us with many problems. First: It is MAD MONEY burning holes in our wallets (not mine anymore. I spent my wad of cash) and the kids want to spend it left-and-right on nonsense like party ballons to make balloon animals with, games to rot their minds, skinny jeans, or even an occasional hamburger from Carl's Jr. Second: I am tempted more and more to just "borrow" from the kids instead of going all the way to the bank to take out my own (ok, Jerrod's hard earned cash). Third: These boys are not the most responsible with their "important" items. We've lost a wallet with $40 in it only to find it a year later.

They ask me what we are saving "our" money for when we go to the bank and I always reply, "It's for college." A few hundred bucks isn't gonna get them very far college-wise, but maybe they could buy books for a semester. But then I get questions like, "Well, what if I don't go to college?" or "Why do you get to tell us how to use our money when it's ours?" I guess I am hopeful in my thinking that I am teaching them a valuable lesson in money.

I was surprised to hear yesterday, through the garage door, my oldest chatting with his friend about the money he had in the bank. I was obviously a mean witch for not letting him touch it and then I found out that he may not go to college. "Yeah...I might not even go to college so then what happens to my money?" I have never told my kids that college is a priority, but I sure hope that he knows that he must continue his education somewhere...at least if he wants to touch the money. A trade school or a junior college....something that will give him opportunities to be successful beyond high school.

So it is clear to me that I don't have a money issue, I have a life issue. These kids are growing up so fast and it's already time to talk to them about goals for their futures as adults. Not only money, but education, occupations, what kind of person they want to grow up to be. What they do at school, church, at their friend's homes, in my home...they all matter so much more now. It's time for me to step up my game.

Don't You Wish your Husband Would do That?

I cannot express my deepest appreciation for the effort that my husband put into cleaning and organizing the house this weekend. I guess it was sort of a New Year's resolution for him to get more organized, but the entire family can benefit from his hard work. He spent hours upon hours in the kitchen (in his pj's: too cute!) organizing our cluttered pantry drawers, dish cabinets, fridge, and silverware drawers. He's a bare-minimum guy when it comes to decoration so our kitchen echoes as I type this entry. I don't like it so much, but I do like that I can find the cornstarch without having to rummage through each shelf. He found many treasures like Christmas candy from years ago and half empty bags of pretzels and crackers that were opened over the summer. He even wiped the Taco Bell hot sauce off of the plastic liners. I guess they got smashed as we hurriedly threw our mess back into the pantry in days past.
I have always said that he would make a better "housewife" than me. He's proven it over and over. What a great guy!
But he says his next resolution is to eat healthier...I know what that really entails. It entails ME cooking healthier meals for him and the kids and not buying the crap that finds its way into my shopping cart. Boo hoo!