Be Kind

"I think probably kindness is my
number one attribute in a human
being. I'll put it before any of the
things like courage or bravery or
generosity or anything else.
If you're kind, that's it."

~ Roald Dahl

I finished reading The Magic Finger to Danny this past week. It's a short one, only 57 pages. His daddy read most of it to him but I got the pleasure of finishing it one night when Dan came home late. I'm glad I did because I found this quote on one of the pages in the back. 

I like it. Like a lot. And I totally agree.

After a few experiences at work this week and more than a few very frustrating moments with Cate before school (I swear if someone would just invent shirts, socks and pants without any seams whatsoever I'd buy them all!) I'm going to focus my all on being more kind. Because pretty much, that's it. Everything else is just gravy as long as you're kind. Maybe. We'll see. I like a good challenge at least. 

And it never hurts to be a good example to your kids right? I won't count because I think I'd be too depressed and I'm sure you'd never guess by looking at his sweet angel face BUT the #2 most frequently said words out of my mouth to my firstborn are "BE NICE TO YOUR SISTER!!" (the #1 being I LOVE YOU, of course...I hope). Please don't tell me stories of how your son is so kind and loving to his little sister because we are working on it and I already feel like a semi-failure. So yeah. 

Here's another quote from Mr. Dahl but I'm not sure I agree with this one half as much seeing as how I loathe summer.

"If I had my way, I would remove

January from the calendar altogether

and have an extra July instead."

Oh, the horrors.

happy fifteenth to my main squeeze

Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be,
The last of life, for which the first was made.
Our times are in his hand who saith,
"A whole I planned, youth shows but half;
Trust God: See all, nor be afraid!"

~Robert Browning

it all sounds better in my head

{this picture was taken last month, but it could've been this morning since it snowed last night}

I don't even know where to begin. I've tried 3 times and the delete button keeps winning. Blah.

I'm just going to go ahead with a rather disjointed post of stuff that's floating around in my head. I think I'll sleep better with it swimming around on the internet than cramped up inside my cranium.

I'm just going to pretend that I'm writing in my journal, not sharing my feeeeelings with the world (even though I haven't written in a journal since I was in college). You know what happens when you take lots of weeks off from blogging (besides having no online documentation that you and your kids did anything semi-interesting)? You stop wanting to blog. You wonder who cares anyway. Then you get all negative and doubting and worry that in the past you shared too much and maybe your enemies are reading this and you're letting them in on all your secrets and family happenings. Crazy stuff happens. See?

>>>

I don't think I am the same person in person as I am when I write crazy stuff like that last paragraph. I wander around this life of mine not saying stuff that I really want to say. Not hugging people because I worry that they don't want to be hugged and because if I hug them, they might hug back and then I'll cry. Just because hugging means you care and if I get the feeling that you care my floodgates will burst and there will be no stopping me. So I don't hug, even though I kind of want to want to. Does that make sense?

>>>

I look at this messy house of mine every morning and hope that if anyone comes over they'll know that's not who I am. I am not a mess. I spend a lot of my time putting things back where they belong, or throwing stuff away or organizing stuff so that there are more spaces for stuff to belong. But mostly, I just am amazed that I have lived in this house for over a decade and it's still not how I want it to be. I wash a lot of dishes. I fold a lot of clothes. I feed people all day long (it seems, but I'm sure that can't be true). I wipe things and scrub things and on the rare occasion I even iron things. And I look around and it's still a mess because the little people live here and they play with things and they use paper and markers and scissors and create things. I'm happy that they do because it would be a sad life for them if they didn't. But wow it's messy. And if you've been in my house and think it's not messy, that's because I spent the entire 2 hours while they were both at school at the same time straightening up and then I go to bed sad that I spent my only free time of the day cleaning stuff. Oy.

>>>

My computer broke this summer. It's not fixed yet. I haven't even taken it in to see what's wrong. I just use Dan's laptop from work in the evenings. I sometimes wonder if I'd be a better mommy blogger if I had computer access during the day. And then I relive the day and realize that there's pretty much no time that's quiet enough for me to collect my thoughts and blog anything coherent anyway. And then I wonder why I feel the need to have thoughtful blog posts. Pictures and captions just don't seem to do it anymore. I blame Instagram (which I totally love but I think it's killed my blog). 

>>>

I ran into one of my former students and her mom at Target a few weeks ago. She was in my special ed class when she was in 4th and 5th grade. Now she's 18, married and pregnant. Eek. They saw me first and said, "Mrs. Olds!" which was weird because people don't call me that anymore. (Danny's teacher even calls me Danny's Mom. So do the other kids in his class. "Danny's Mom, can you help me?" It's funny.) We had a little chit chat right there in the pajama department. She looks the same, just older. It was really weird to see her grown up. In my head all my former students are just frozen in time. Kids. The first class of second graders I ever taught should be graduating from college soon. Crazy. Anyway, we said our goodbyes and I walked away with tears in my eyes. Partly because I miss being a teacher and partly because how is she 18 and pregnant and I had to wait until I was 33 to be a mom? Things just seem really unfair sometimes but I know I'd much rather have my life than hers so I just wipe my tears and move on.

>>>

Danny likes to tickle people. I hate being tickled so I just try to pretend it doesn't tickle so he'll stop. He's figured out that I'm really only ticklish in my armpits. One morning he was doing his best to tickle me there and I was really resisting the urge to let it be ticklish. He finally gave up and upon inspecting my armpit, he decided that it wasn't working because of all those pokey things. Ha. Looks like my super power of resisting the tickles is due to my armpit hair stubble. 

>>>

Dan's spring break is this week. Danny's is the next. I had this brilliant idea this morning that I should take the kids and fly to Alabama to visit my parents during Danny's spring break. He's got an entire week off. Dan might not even miss us. He'll have the cats to take care of so that should be enough to keep him happy. And then I had a big bummer moment when I figured that dream of spring break in Alabama should have been thought up months ago because do you know how much plane tickets cost when you look into it just a week in advance? Mucho dinero. I'm going to just not think about it and be happy that my parents will be moving here in the summer. Never mind that my kids and I will probably never be able to visit them in the house that I grew up in ever again. It's just a house. It's not important. The people who lived in it are. And soon they'll be here and I will have endless free babysitting!!

>>>

I stopped reading lots of blogs many months ago. It just got way too overwhelming for me. I'm really good at the whole compare yourself to others thing. I'm a pro at it indeed. So I figured I'd better just stop subjecting myself to the stuff that I was comparing myself to. Obviously I can't cut myself off from the world and just live in my happy little home with my happy little kids and my happy little husband doing our own happy little stuff, oblivious to what other moms and kids and husbands are doing better than me. Duh. So blogs of super hero moms who do super wonderful stuff with their super awesomely cute kids, I'm done with you. I'll catch you later when I don't feel so bad about my messy nondecorated house. It's me, not you. Really.

>>>

I gave up baked goodies for Lent. I'm not Catholic and I've never participated in Lent before but I figured I'd give it a try. I chose baked goodies instead of sugar because I'm a realist. No sugar for 40 days? Never going to happen. I don't drink or smoke or do drugs or any of that other consume it so you can relax or get high or forget your worries or just feel good stuff. So for me, it's chocolate. Just a handful of chocolate chips at the end of the day is all I need really. So I gave up baked goodies. Actually, I'm still giving them up since I've got another week to go. At first it was tough. But as the days went on, I realized that if I didn't bake the stuff, I wouldn't eat it. What a concept! I don't buy cookies or cupcakes at the store because I know I can make them yummier at home. Donuts do not tempt me in the least bit since I gained 20 pounds stuffing my face with them the summer after my senior year in high school. I think I've lost a pound and a half so that's good. I wasn't participating in Lent for the weight loss but I'll take it as a pleasant side effect. It's been good to give up something that I really love and gain a lot of self control. It's a nice feeling. But seriously, I haven't eaten a cookie since it started. Not even the Girl Scout cookies that got delivered to my house halfway through. I amaze myself sometimes.

>>>

And to end this post about nothing on a happy note, a little quote from my Catie Bug. She's awesome.

"You're the best mom ever. Daddy's the best dad ever. Know what's the best part about you and Daddy? The snugly part."

this picture has nothing to do with anything

It's late and I've been up since 4:00 this morning. Against my better judgement I'm just going to go ahead and write a little bloggy stuff anyway. I'll regret it and delete it in the morning but for now, here's a little taco soup regurgitation. Also, I just checked and someone googled "green booger 5 week old" and was led to this blog today. How could I not share that with you? This internet stuff is completely awesome.

I am tired. Not just now because it's late and I should go to sleep. Pretty much all the time. I don't sleep well. I have a hard time turning my brain off. I go to bed and try to sleep but all I do is listen to Dan's snoring and toss and turn and sometimes give him a gentle kick to make him stop. Then I keep checking the clock to see how much sleep I'll actually get if my kids don't wake up until 7:30. It's usually earlier than that. Then I get to thinking about all the things I need to do or want to do but can't do (because of time, money, sanity) and I more likely than not end up crying myself to sleep. I read about a Magic Blanket and I think I want one. Or maybe my mom could figure out how to make one for me. From looking at their chart, I need a twin size 16 pound blanket. It's supposed to help with depression, anxiety, OCD, PTSD, aggression and bipolar disorder. Pretty sure I've got a few of those. I think I need more serotonin in my life. Maybe a big heavy blanket could do the trick.

I don't get anything done. Ever. Not completely at least. I go to bed every night with dishes in the sink. And that's after I've already done dishes at least once earlier in the day. I live in an old house and there's no dishwasher. This hasn't always been a big deal and I've just lived with it but somehow now that my kids actually eat real food with real plates, bowls and utensils, there's a crap load of dishes to wash every day. I'm trying to not let it bother me too much but it does. I go to bed with laundry in the dryer and another pile somewhere in the house waiting to be folded. This bothers me very much but if it's not done in the morning, I just completely run out of steam. In my little brain I'm punching my time card at 7:00 every night and I cannot be expected to do any household chore related stuff after that. No way. Not going to happen. My brain is done.

I want to pay attention to those kids of mine in the morning before we have to get ready for school and preschool. I do pay attention to them of course. I don't ignore them. I just don't think they understand that I have stuff to do. Not fun stuff. Jobs. Dishes. Laundry. Clean the house a little. Danny just wants me to play all the time. He made up a new game this week. A card game. He sat at the table cutting out rectangles (and then I ended up helping him with my paper cutter but I was hoping the cutting would just take him forever and then I wouldn't have to play the game with him), putting stickers on them and assigning them point values. And then I had to play this totally made up game by his made up rules that I couldn't understand to save my life. I thought I would go crazy. I love that he's inventing stuff and using his imagination and writing and doing math stuff but my gosh. It's hard for me. 

Cate wanted to snuggle on the couch one day at 11:30. We leave to take her to preschool at noon. I told her ok but I could only give her 5 minutes of snuggle time. Boy, did I feel like a crappy mom as soon as those words came out. Sheesh. I read your blog. I see your instagram pictures of all the daily snuggles on the couch while you watch a boring kid show with your little darlings and I think to myself how on earth do you do it? does anything ever get done? you're reading stuff on your phone while you spend precious snuggle time on the couch right? that's how you have your phone handy to take the picture. Now I get it. 

Is it possible that all this was easier when my kids were babies? How is that even possible? That was so hard for me. This just feels even harder. Is it the fighting? They didn't fight when she was a baby and he wasn't even 2 years old. Sure, there were a lot of dirty diapers and naps to coordinate and bottles and all that other baby stuff but they didn't fight and get on each others nerves and start out tickling each other but end up with someone getting tripped and bonking their head and on and on and on.

The messes are huge now. Huge. Toys all over the house (and it's a small house so that's pretty much how it happens but still). Oh, sure. I'll miss it when they grow up and there's no toys. I get it. I just have a really hard time functioning with all the stuff all over. And we clean up. They help me. I do some when they're at school so I can do a little purging with no eyes watching me. But wow. I think all the time what if someone comes over? they'll see this mess. toys all over. And of course people don't come over (other than my sister) so what's the big deal anyway. I don't know.

Will I ever be able to do some of the home improvement/crafty/decorating ideas I keep pinning? Will I? I've got some grand ideas floating around in my noggin. I've done a few but how do I do the stuff I want to do when my days are consumed with the stuff I have to do? I really have no answer. It's just the stage of life I'm in? Is that it? This is what happens when you have 2 little kids who aren't in school all day? But surely there are people with more and littler kids than mine who do all the wonderful things they want. Right? It's just me. I could spend my 6 hours of kid-free time a week sitting at home doing crafty little projects but that means I'd have to go grocery shopping at night (after I go to the gym of course because when your husband leaves for work at 6:30 every morning and you have a really hard time falling asleep at night, going to the gym at 5:00 is not an option) or heaven forbid, take the kids with me. Oh, that is just not something I'm interested in. At all. I love them dearly but their grocery shopping days are coming to an end. 

You know what else, I hate talking about crappy mom feelings because I'm almost 40 and I should have this stuff figured out by now. I'd be allowed to be overwhelmed and frustrated if I was a young mom but an old lady like me should have her act together. I just don't feel like I do. And I have only 2 kids you know. Only. How can I be like this with only 2 kids? I don't even want to know how awesome you are and all the stuff you do every day with all your greater than 2 kids. I just can't handle it.

Here's the deal though. Yes, I know my house is a mess. I see all those blank walls and the boring decor. I know I haven't printed, framed and hung any recent family pictures in over a year and a half. Oh, yes. I see my unmade bed and I'm pretty sure I haven't actually seen Danny's floor for over a week because of all the Legos and little army guys strewn about. Vacuuming? What's that? Whatever.

I love my kids. I am thankful for them. I make sure I tell them these three things every day (very often many times every day but especially at bed time so it's the last thing they hear from me...and so maybe they forget about the crazy, frazzled, tired, overwhelmed lady they just spent the day with and remember this stuff instead): I love you. I'm proud of you. You're special. And most of the time I expound and give reasons and examples too because I think that's just as important. 

I know things will change. They already have. No diapers anymore! No baby food! No naps! (except I'd gladly add that one back in any day). I know they'll grow up and they won't feel like they need to be talking to me or touching me or within 3 feet of me every waking hour. I get it. I do. This mom stuff is just hard work. I wouldn't give it back or trade it but man, sometimes I just wish my freezer had a replenishing stock of chocolate ice cream.

Or serotonin popsicles. Ha. That would be awesome. Even more awesome than green booger 5 week old. Maybe.

p.s. And now all you lovely people who know me in real life know that I'm not the amazing, organized, fun loving mother that you thought I was. Or all your suspicions have now been confirmed. You pick.

sunday evening therapy session

I turned on Beauty and the Beast.
Cate got scared and came over to sit by me on the couch.
I turned off the movie and we practiced expressing our emotions for the camera instead.
She was mad about that first picture.

"I wasn't ready. I didn't have my look right."

She kills me.

*   *   *

I was watching a show on the Oprah network a few nights ago.
I don't usually watch anything on the Oprah network.
I blame the fact that we don't have Netflix and all my regular shows are done for the summer.
Bummer.

The show I watched was something about Help! My Mom is Obsessed.
Or some dumb title like that.
 Honestly, it was quite frightening.
Teenage girls with moms who are obsessed with stuff.
Weight lifting and body building.
Food.
Partying.
Being in control.

It was really quite disturbing but I couldn't stop watching.
Kind of like how I feel about Hoarders and The Bachelor.

These teenage girls with moms who just seem so horrible.
Spending no time with their kids.
Being so incredibly selfish with their time.
Not listening and pretty much not caring how their daughters feel.

It was bad.
I felt sad for those kids.
They weren't even little kids.
They were teenagers.
And they were hurting and sad and just wanted their moms to care about them.

For how hideous that show was, I think I might set the DVR to record it.
That way, when I'm feeling like a craptastic mom,
I can click it on and watch for a few minutes and realize that I'm not so bad after all.

I'm not saying I'm perfect.
Far from it.
I apologize to my kids for not being a good mommy.
Not every day but on the really hard ones when I just feel like I failed.
And you know what they say?

You are a good mommy! You're the best mommy I ever had!

(Really they just don't have anything to compare me to so their standards are just not very high.)

So maybe all those times I take the kids to the park,
or the dinosaur museum,
or the pool (which is by far the greatest sacrifice on my part EVER),
or the library,
or just outside to play
when what I really want to do is just lay down and sleep
or paint something that has been waiting to be painted for a month
and what I really need to do is fold laundry
or vacuum or clean pretty much everything...

Well, that makes it all worth it right?
They've got my time.
Some days they've got every last stinkin' minute of it.
And even though those are the hardest days for me
and I end up grouchy to them and everyone else in my path
and I feel like all I want to do is either run away from home until bed time
or just hide under the covers and cry
they were worth it.

I hope my kids never ever feel like they need to call the producers of the
Help! My Mom is Obsessed show on the Oprah network
and audition because their mom is so horrible.

I would die.

But I secretly wonder what they'd tell the show producers I'm obsessed with.

Eek. Never mind.
That's a scary thought.

halfway to twenty-eight

Yesterday was our anniversary.

Fourteen years.

I could write some ooey gooey mushy lovey dovey sappy post about how much I love my husband, the love of my life, my soul mate, my one and only.

But I won't. Not because I don't love him though. All that lovey dovey stuff is just totally not my style. Gag-o-rama. I don't like reading it on your blog and I certainly don't like writing it on mine.

I love him.

He loves me.

He makes me laugh.

I drive him crazy.



I'm thankful that I found a man who loves his mother-in-law...



as much as he loves his wife.

See?



Just kidding.

See.



Thanks for 14 years and 1 day, Dan.

You're the bestest husband I ever had!

making a fool of myself

So that whole 5k thing happened again. I'm in the big leagues now because it was my 3rd race in only a year and a half. I know. I'm practically a semi-pro at this 5k business. This race was raising money for the library. I'm happy to do that. It was also Dr. Seussy themed and I do love Dr. Seuss.

The flyer said to wear a costume and you might win a prize. I hesitated because I am not a fan of looking like a fool. I decided to just do it and boy am I glad I did. I got to look like a fool AND not win a prize. Woo hoo.

There were only 3 of us runners who dressed up. Maybe 4? I can't remember now. The guy who won was wearing a store bought Cat in the Hat costume. He put my pitiful homemade one to shame. At least I didn't make it special for the race. I wore it for Halloween when I taught preschool many years ago.



My running buddy Janell assured me that I didn't look like a fool but I know she was wrong. Just look at my shadow. I ran three point something miles with that dumb costume on. I got lots of smiles and waves from passing cars though. The problem came when I was the only runner on the block. None in front that I could see and none in back. Then the cars passing me just thought I was a big freak running around the neighborhood in a silly costume.

I felt like such a goober.



I ran that whole thing with that stupid black tail in my hand for crying out loud. Sheesh. That is not my time on the clock there. I finished in under 30 minutes (just barely but it still counts!). The guy that won it finished in under 17 minutes. I don't even know what to say. I am not a runner. I don't do this stuff for fun. I prefer to use exercise as a way of keeping myself from being a Fatty McFattington. It's not a hobby and it's not fun.

I can't even remember very many details from the race. It was on President's Day. Seems like forever ago. Obviously nobody forced me to run. It was my own crazy idea. I just wanted to see if I could do it and maybe improve my time since the last one. I did do it but I did not improve my time. Oh, well.

The whole time I was huffing and puffing along I wondered how on earth people do this for fun. How do they run marathons? Forget marathons, how do they run a 10K? I am baffled. My hat's off to you running enthusiasts.

I'll probably run again. Maybe when I'm 40. That way I'll be in the next age bracket and I stand a chance of winning a medal. At 38, I'm in the 18-39 category. How am I ever supposed to beat an 18-year-old? Totally not fair. Plus, people run 5K's for the t-shirts right? I enjoy a good t-shirt just like the next person.

Know what else I learned from that silly race? The real reason why I don't like dressing up for Halloween. I don't want people to look at me. I prefer to blend into the crowd. I'd live in a little cottage in the middle of the woods in the middle of nowhere if people would let me. Well, as long as there's electricity so I can watch my Lifetime television for women and my Real Housewives.

* * * *

After my pitifully shameful loss of the costume contest, we started to head home. That's when the little old lady (I think she works at the library) came over to me and gave me two passes to play laser tag at the bowling alley. She took pity on me and my shameful loss of the costume contest. I don't think I hid my disappointment very well and she saw me sitting there in the bleachers with a sad look on my face. That was very nice of her but I'm not sure what I'm going to do with laser tag coupons. I've got a 5-year-old and a 3-year-old. Can they even play laser tag? I gave the coupons to Aunt Judy.



And that's when Cate saw the bouncy house contraptions in the gym next door. She asked if we could go in and I told her it would cost extra money (mostly because I was really tired and kind of just wanted to go home and rest my aching bones). That kind old lady overheard me and said, "Oh, no! It's free! You can go in there!!" Yay. Thanks, Old Lady. So in we went.




The kids had fun. They bounced and jumped and had their faces painted (with marker, not paint...weird). We left after a bit. I rested. A celebratory lunch was eaten at Cocolito's where Danny asked me, "Why does salsa look gross but it's not gross?" That kid's a thinker, I tell you.

Back at home, Cate fell asleep for 3 hours and woke up at 7:00 pm. PM! I sure don't love it when that happens.

And to end the day, Danny climbed into my bed with me and told me that I'm the only girl he'll ever love.

the end.

not funny

A certain someone is still not asleep. His mother would like to go to sleep.

I sat in the bathroom with him as he washed his hands after emptying his bladder for the 3rd time since putting him to bed tonight.

I asked him why he still wasn't asleep. He said it was because of the funny day.

Apparently today was a funny day and the lingering after effects are just keeping him awake. All that funny residue is just floating around in his body and he can't find the time to just go to sleep.

I asked him what was so funny about today, mostly because I was with him for almost the whole thing and I don't remember a lot of funny stuff. Speech class, picking up Cate at Judy's house, the dinosaur museum, playing with Jarrett, picking up pizza for dinner, iPad games with Daddy, bed. Am I missing something? Some fun stuff but funny? Maybe he's just confused.

According to him, it was Jarrett, Ray Ray, Cate, and Daddy that made today so funny. Oh, all those people who spent so much time with him today. Hey, um, I think you forgot someone.

So I said, "Hey, what about me? I'm funny right?"

He told me no. I'm crushed. I'm not funny.

"I'm not funny? What am I then?"

"You're Mommy!"

"But I'm a funny mommy, right?"

"No! You're just Mommy!" He says this with a smile on his face and a little giggle at the end.

Ouch.

And then one last thing as I walked him back to his room.

"Don't forget the 5-year-old. Me! I'm totally 5!"

I guess he's totally funny too.

Then he blahblahblahed about some game he played with Jarrett today and I put the blankets on him again and walked out of the room, not quite sure who I am anymore.

I always knew I wasn't the fun mom. I'm no dummy. It's painfully clear.

Now I'm not the funny mom either.

ha. ha ha.

meeting a movie star

That's me.

With my arm around a movie star.

And lookee there.

He's got his arm around me too. (I'm never going to wash that shoulder again.)

I apologize for the cruddy cell phone picture. I don't have an iPhone.

His name (in case you don't recognize him) is Jasen Wade.

I got his autograph too.




He plays Levi Savage in the movie 17 Miracles.

The movie is very touching. It's about the Willie Handcart Company of Mormon pioneers and their journey to the Salt Lake Valley.

My grandma was a card carrying member of the Daughters of the Utah Pioneers. I guess that makes me one too (although I don't have a membership card).

I've always been interested in hearing and reading stories of the pioneers. I'm grateful that they made the sacrifices they did so that I can have what I do today.

(And they make yummy cookies and candy too. I've already got my Pioneer Day recipe picked out for this summer. It's a good one.)

If you haven't seen the movie yet, you should.

And try not to be too jealous that I got to meet a movie star.

thoughts on cuddling

my cuddly baby, 17 days old

Danny came into my bed this morning whilst I was taking a break from washing dishes and picking up toys and scrubbing the kitchen floor (only because the young women were meeting at my house in a few hours and I hadn't scrubbed the floor in a very long time). He wanted to play a Lego game on my computer. I told him he could but he had to cuddle with me for a minute first.

He scooted over to me and wiggled his face into my chest area (mostly the vast open space between my you-know-what's). If I was a busty woman it would have been really awkward but since I'm not, I'm pretty sure he just got a face full of my ribs and sternum (I remember that from 4th grade when we had to name all 206 bones on a science test).

I backed away a little and asked him what he was doing (since that's not really what I have in mind when I think of cuddling). He told me that was cuddling. Huh? I have no idea where on earth he got that idea from. He's a crazy kid sometimes.

I instantly had a kind of flash forward to him sitting on the couch with his girlfriend (I don't like to think about such things but I know it might happen some day so I'm just trying to be prepared) and the movie starts and she tells him she wants to cuddle. I think I had better be teaching him proper cuddling form before that dreadful day or he's going to be in big trouble.

* * * * *

When I look at that picture up there I get all teary. I remember that day. I remember sitting in that big chair in the front room for what seemed like hour after hour after hour. Feed the baby, he falls asleep, be afraid to burp him because then he might wake up. I hardly ever burped him. I feel badly about that now but I guess I really should get over it already. Keep sitting there because if I get up and try to lay him down somewhere he'll probably wake up. If he wakes up he won't be sleeping anymore and then what will I do? Feed him? Burp him? I've got a burp rag on my shoulder so I guess I burped him and that's why his eyes are open.

I remember Dan taking that picture. I leaned my head back because I thought I looked fat and gross. I only wanted Danny in the picture because he was the cute one. I wish I hadn't leaned back now. I probably said something like, "Quick, Dan. Get the camera. Look how cute he's laying his face on his arm. But don't get me in the picture. I'm gross." I even remember that zit on my chin. It was there forever.

I remember that pillow with the reindeer pillowcase that Grandma gave me. I used that pillow instead of the silly Boppy pillow. I never did figure out how to use that Boppy when I was feeding him. It was great for helping him learn to sit up all by himself but lousy for everything else.

I was a mess. I'm glad Danny turned out as well as he did.

Even with his wonky ideas about cuddling.

five on his fifth

1. I've never loved another boy as much as I love this one. It's true. I'll probably never have another boy to love so it'll stay true forever. He'll never love another mom as much as he loves me. I know it because he tells me almost every other day that he loves me six billion million trillion thousand billion trillion zillion billion thousand...and five. He's good at that. Just telling me out of the blue that he loves me. I love that about him. He can sense when I really need to hear it and he just tells me.

I'm thankful for all the love.


2. I love his eyes. When he was a baby they seemed so big and blue. Those eyelashes. They seemed to just go on and on. I'm sometimes jealous of his eyelashes. And then there's the eyebrows. I remember when they turned dark. He was about 3 months old. I love the way they curve up in the middle. He's a handsome boy. Some lucky lady is going to fall in love with his eyes some day.

I'm thankful he inherited some of his daddy's best features.



3. He likes to help, but it's got to be his idea. Requests to clean up toys are usually met with groans and moans and "I don't want to." We're working on that one. Nobody's perfect. I love that he sometimes comes into the kitchen, grabs a wipe out of the drawer and just starts scrubbing the floor or the wall or the fridge. He just gets the urge to clean I guess. I'm glad I keep the house just a titch on the grungy grimy side so he can have something to do when that urge hits. It's the least I can do.

I love having my very own mini maid.



4. He's funny. He has a sense of humor and he gets my sense of humor. Sometimes I feel like a lot of people don't (ok, a lot of the time I'm just not funny at all so maybe that's the problem). I think being funny is way better than being boring. He's a funny kid. I tease him and he just gets it. He teases me right back. And he's got a great laugh if you can get him to genuinely laugh about something. Like a really good belly laugh. I love it.

I'm thankful for his silly giggles and his lame knock-knock jokes.


5. He made me a mom. For all the years he made me wait for him and all the pain he caused on the way out (holy moly, that hurt like nothing else!), he was worth it. He's the one that helped me feel like I really earned that silly tomato plant they pass out at church on Mother's Day. Really, he saved me from the gloom, despair and agony of that Sunday in May. I find it very fitting that he was born so close to a holiday all about gratitude and counting blessings. We brought him home from the hospital the night before Thanksgiving.

I'm thankful for perfect timing and reminders of what's important.




As I tucked him into bed last night, I reminded him that when he woke up he'd be 5. Then I asked him how he felt about that. He said, "Good! How do you feel about it?" I told him that if he feels good about it then so do I.

And it's true.

I loved Baby Danny. I love that he taught me how important sleep is (and how frustrating it can be to not get enough of it thanks to such a tiny little person).

I loved Toddler Danny. I love that he made me so proud when he took his first steps and learned his abc's (and how fun it was to be the only person who really understood everything he said).

I'm really loving Big Kid Danny too. I love his imagination and his unwavering admiration of all things Star Wars (going on 2 years now and I don't see it fading any time soon).


Happy 5th birthday to my Danny Boy (or as Grandpa says, Danny Doodle).

We're lucky to have you in our family.


*all photos by the amazingly talented Christie

a big pain in the paronychia

You know, sometimes I feel like my life is just boring. Same ol' same ol' day after day. Every day is different, yet every day is the same. Wake up. Clean stuff (including kids). Feed people. Clean more stuff. Entertain people. Feed the people again. Maybe go somewhere. Entertain the people some more. Feed them more. Bath. Books. Bed.

Over and over. Then there's Saturday and maybe we do something different (mostly not). Danny told me that Saturday is his least favorite day. He's 4 and Saturday is his least favorite day! I asked him why and he said it's because the next day is Sunday and that means church. It takes soooooo looooooong. Poor kid.

So I've got this blog here where I write about stuff in my life. My boring life (just sometimes). I wish I had something great and exciting to share.

A baby's on the way!

New job!

Cute new winter boots!

Going to Paris!

Won the lottery!

None of that stuff is happening around here. Not even the boots.

But on Sunday something exciting finally happened to me. Brace yourselves.


Paronychia. (Go ahead and click it.)


Oh, yes. Isn't that amazing?

Wanna see it before it got lanced and drained? Lancing and draining! That's exciting stuff.

I'll leave some whiteness in case you don't want to see it. Just close your eyes and scroll down until you think the words should start up again. Or just look at it. Your choice.


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I thank my lovely sister and her husband for tending my kids so I could have my paronychia attended to at the clinic Monday morning. It had grown to a monstrous size and I was pretty sure it was going to kill me. I could feel my heart beating on my finger. Weird stuff.

Know what I don't like about the doctor's office? Being weighed when I'm only there to have my paronychia fixed. I even took off my shoes and put down my purse before I got on the scale. Now I know for sure that my clothes weigh 3 pounds. I wanted to tell the nurse to just go ahead and subtract those 3 before writing on her little chart. I didn't though. My finger hurt too badly.

She prescribed an antibiotic and told me I wasn't allowed to wash dishes for 5 days. She even said she could write a prescription for that in case I have an evil husband who would be mad that I was letting dirty dishes pile up in the sink. How does she know I don't have a dishwasher? That's what I want to know.

I told her the prescription for no washing dishes wasn't necessary because my husband is kind and gentle and loving and he wouldn't care at all. Plus, I knew darn well that I'd be washing dishes with one hand for the next 5 days. I've done it before. I had two babies who wouldn't let me put them down for months on end. She told me vacuuming was ok but no cleaning where I have to put my hand into a bucket of dirty water. Um, I can't think of a time I clean anything where I put my hand into a bucket of dirty water.



After the lancing and draining, I drove to Target to pick up my prescription, all the while flipping off my fellow drivers. Did I mention that it's painful to bend my finger all the way? And forget about straightening it. Ouch.



I picked up the kids and we headed to the dino museum. Two hours later and we were headed home.

And then I washed the dishes. I told you I would. I kept my paronychia behind my back so I wouldn't be tempted to plunge it into the dirty water.

I'm trying to take it easy today so my finger can heal. I've stayed clear of cleaning the bathrooms. I think raking leaves is out of the question (especially since I broke the rake). I did some laundry but it kind of hurt to take the stuff out of the dryer so I just left it there.

If you're concerned about me, don't be. I'm sure I'll be fine. The paronychia is still tender, red and warm when I touch it but I know that whatever doesn't kill me will only make me stronger. Or my finger will have to be amputated and I won't be able to play my flute on Sunday during the Primary program.

If you want to be concerned anyway, in lieu of flowers, send chocolate.

And come wash the dishes after dinner tonight.

keep on the sunny side

I'm pretty good at lots of things.

You already know I'm a pro at washing dishes and cleaning up after my children.

Wiping bums, warming up chicken nuggets and avoiding the ironing pile? Yep. I'm an expert.

Lately I've realized I'm super good at a few more things.

Feeling overwhelmed, discouraged, frazzled, unsatisfied, inadequate, frustrated, unhappy? Oh, yes. I've got those covered too.

In an effort to get out of the funk and get over to the sunny side (I really wish I would just stay there all the time but dang, it's hard sometimes), I've been trying to really take note of all the little (and biggish) things that make me happy. I've got 5 index cards full of notes I've been jotting down so I won't forget.

From the top:

Cate and her daddy having a tea party. That girl loves a tea party. She's quite the hostess. She was tickled pink that Dan was playing along with her. I was tickled pink that he didn't break that yellow chair.

Vintage Halloween decor. I brought in this spider that my grandpa macramed many years ago. It's been hanging in the back garage. Spooky, huh? I'm thinking it would look pretty cool spray painted black.

The cold front blew in. I'm happy to be wearing my clogs again. I feel like that picture makes my legs look weird and my feet look really small. Oh, well. The clogs are back. I like them.

That goofy kid. I really have no idea what he was thinking. This picture was taken before the cold front blew in though. He's just a silly boy. And now the neighbors all know it since we were in the front yard.

My new favorite treat. I've tried honey blueberry, honey strawberry and honey flavored. I love them all. I have to restrain myself though since it's not fat free and holy cow that stuff's not low calorie. It satisfies my sweet tooth (sometimes) and I figure it's a little healthier than stuffing my face with chocolate.

Fancy dollar store Halloween decor. The skeleton, that is. The spider. We made them. Actually, I made them. The kids watched impatiently. And that poor spider is hung where it's hung because there was already a nail in the wall.

A package from a kind soul. Cate saw it and said, "Oh, that's for meeeeee!"

Turning 5. He's happy about it so I'm happy about it. Not sure why I shouldn't be. Am I supposed to be saying stuff about boo hoo I can't believe my baby is growing up so fast? Well, I'm not saying that stuff. I like it when kids grow. They're more fun that way. I liked him when he was a baby and I like him even more now. The end.

A budding make-up artist. Cate's been wearing that princess dress almost every day for weeks. It makes me happy because, well, it makes her happy. She saw me putting on my make-up and wanted some of her own. That other stuff I made her isn't cutting it anymore. I gave her some blue eyeshadow I bought at the dollar store. The picture doesn't do it justice. It was spectacular. On her nose and her mustache? Priceless.


OTHER HAPPY STUFF NOT PICTURED:

Cate and I were out driving one day. She pointed ahead and yelled, "Look at the mountains, Mom! There's snow on them!" I said, "I know. Aren't they beautiful?" She sat back in her seat and started singing God Bless America. She didn't get very far because she doesn't know all the words yet (like her brother does) but that's ok. It made me happy that she was inspired by those snowy mountains.

Danny said, "I can't decide what I want to be when I grow up. A police officer or a doctor or a hospitaler or a dad." I guess he could choose dad and one other. But I'm not really sure what a hospitaler does so maybe he could pick dad plus two of the others.

Halloween hand soap in a black dispenser with a spider on the front that Grandma gave us. Smells like marshmallows. A certain little boy came into the room making spitting sounds because he "accidentally" got some of the soap on his tongue. I can't blame him though. It does smell quite tasty.

Danny thinks my blueberry oatmeal smells yucky. He tells me to eat it in another room. He tells me this when I'm standing in the kitchen. I'm not sure what other room he'd like me to eat it in. It doesn't make me happy that he thinks my oatmeal stinks. It makes me chuckle which is a form of laughing and that's what you do when you're happy so close enough.

He asks for Fruit Hoops every morning for breakfast since it's his favorite cereal. It makes me happy that he'll actually eat breakfast nowadays. For a while there he just ate bread.

My favorite video came on the tv today (ahem, for that extremely brief moment that it was on) and the kids yelled at me to come watch because they know it's my favorite. I did lots of dancing and singing along in the 4 times I made us watch it. Rewinding live tv on the DVR makes me happy.

Cate was drawing with her Smarties candies this afternoon. The ones she got from her preschool Halloween party. She was sitting on my bedroom floor while I was getting dressed. She arranged the little candies in some kind of pattern and said, "Two little boobies and a belly button. Done. It's you, Mama!" I'm not happy about the little boobies. I am happy that she can see art in a bunch of Smarties candies.

Cate was watching Despicable Me (for the eight millionth time) in the front room. When it was done she yelled, "Hey, guys! There's a dance party in here!" We like to dance to the music at the end of movies. They call it a dance party. Tangled is another good one to dance to during the closing credits.

Kids who use the toilet ALL BY THEMSELVES. Oh, I never thought this time would come. It's here and I'm happy about it.



More happy stuff:

Look at those cute kids of mine. Good gravy. They're adorable. Thanks to the preschool party, I've got cute pictures of them in their Halloween costumes during the day in good lighting with smiles on their faces. Now the pressure's off to get a good picture on Halloween night. Phew.

I asked Danny what he thought his teacher would be dressed like. His answer: a weed.



How could seeing this kid all decked out in almost every piece of princess gear that fits her (plus fairy wings) not make me happy? Oh, I know how. When she gets out of bed at night, turns on the light and puts it all on instead of going to sleep. That's how. Otherwise, nothing but happy. The fact that she put all that gear on all by herself and then came to me to show off, pure happy.



This one's a big happy:

Hard Puppy has been found! Danny's slept with that mangy mutt his whole life. It's filthy and floppy and smells kinda funky. He won't let me wash it. It was missing for 3 nights. He slept anyway but I was worried. I could tell he was a little worried too. Then friends came over to play one morning and got out the big trucks. There was Hard Puppy, shoved in the back of the plastic garbage truck. Danny likes to hide him from me so I won't wash him. He must have shoved him in there and then forgot about it. Very happy about finding that guy.

See, there's lots of happy stuff all around. I guess I just have to carry around a little yellow index card with me wherever I go so I can jot it all down. That way I won't forget.

back in the saddle again

Oh, hello there.

Did you miss us?

Don't answer that unless it's with a resounding YES! because I don't think my fragile ego can handle any other answer.

You know how when you stop exercising it becomes easier and easier to not exercise?

Same goes for blogging (at least for me). That same rule, however, does not apply to eating chocolate. That never gets easy to not do.

I'd like to say we've been so busy soaking up the last warm rays of summer-like sunshine that I haven't had time to take pictures and share all our comings and goings and deep thoughts about life with you.

But that's not true.

And it's not my style to talk about soaking up sun or savoring the warmth or sharing deep thoughts.

Truth is this we do stuff and sometimes I take pictures. Most days nobody naps. Some days the kids go to preschool and instead of coming home and sitting around blogging and uploading pictures, I go to the store. Alone. All by myself. And I buy stuff without anyone asking me for cookies or powdered donuts or purple sugary juice. It's lovely (the solo grocery store trips, not the juice).

Other days I do church stuff or clean stuff or bake stuff (because that's what I like to do and if I don't do something that I like to do once in a while I go crazy). So yeah. This old blog hasn't been numero uno lately. I kind of feel badly about it.

You know what else, the only soaking up I did last week was while I cleaned Danny's puke off his bedroom carpet. Oh, that was fun. He puked some time during the night but didn't say a word to us about it.

Do you mind if I share a funny thing he said about his diarrhea? (I haven't talked about puke and poop for a while on here so I think I'm long overdue.) He made it to the toilet just in time. When the deed was done he said, "Whoa! That was like a volcano!" Pretty disgusting but I just had to chuckle. I love that kid. He's the most pleasant sick kid. His sister on the other hand, yikes.

So that's it. We're still here. Doing stuff. Getting sick. Feeling better.

And having play dates with Olivia the pirate, the button-eyed girl and their giant pink pumpkin.

So fun.

going on a cruise

Did you know I'm going on a cruise next week?

Well, I am.

To the Redneck Riviera.

I'm getting ready today.



Ray Ray just stares at me with the face that says, "What on earth is that crazy lady doing?"



And Cate took one puzzled look and said, "What's in your mouth, Mommy? Is it yucky or good?"

I'd say good.

Speaking of rednecks, did you know the toothbrush was invented in Alabama?

Yep. It was.



If it had been invented anywhere else it would have been called a teethbrush.

heehee

Or maybe I should say hee haw.

I'm done, y'all.

speaking of popsicles...

Watermelon popsicles!

Yum. We love watermelon around here. I'll be sad when it's no longer in season (although I'll get over it quickly because that means that summer is over and done with too).

I didn't leave these in the freezer very long. Just enough time to make them not slip off the sticks and harden up a bit. The kids loved them anyway.



I'd have to say the biggest fan was this little guy, Mr. Snotty Booger Nose.



He scarfed down his popsicle and the remnants of Cate's too.

Man, he was a mess when he was all done. Good thing we had filled up the kiddie pool earlier. I just dipped him in and called it good.

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Other items worth mentioning today:


This kid loves Legos.

And this kid loves olives.



Pains me to see her love them so much. They're pretty gross. I try not to let on that I find them so disgusting though. I mean, I am the one who buys them for her so it's not really her fault.

I just don't know how she can stuff them into her mouth like she does when they smell so awful.

Kids do funny things.



Cate made her first trip to the dentist (as an official patient, that is) yesterday. She was an angel. I don't think there's been a cuter kid in that dentist's chair ever. Adorable.

She seemed to particularly enjoy it when the assistant used the suctioning tool.

Danny had a turn in the chair too.



No need for him to write an apology note to the dentist like last time.

What better way to reward such a stellar trip to the dentist than an icee and popcorn at Target on the way home.

I'm not sure the dentist would agree though.



Speaking of firsts, Cate learned how to pedal all by herself for the first time on Sunday.

That's something her big brother still doesn't know how to do.

Now I just have to teach her how to get herself onto the swing, start it moving all by herself and then pump, pump, pump. Oh, I'll be so happy when she learns how to pump.



And I went to the gym for the first time in a week (it was closed for cleaning, I'm not just lazy). It was good to be back. I'm out of shape. Well, I'm in a certain shape that I'm not very happy about. I'm also not very happy about the lack of good tv programming during the summer. It makes enduring the torture of the Stairmaster even more torturous. I can't wait for fall shows to start.

Then I came home to find this waiting for me:



And I rewarded myself for going to the gym with a cookie (or two or three or whatever).

Don't you love it when you're feeling blah and yuck and kind of crappy about how you're doing with stuff in your life (like church responsibilities that you had just complained about the day before and thought maybe you're not cut out for it and somebody else could do a way better job) and you get a note like that?

Me too.