The Obligatory New Years Post

Today is the last day of 2010. As such, I feel that it is my duty to write something profound about the last year, and offer wonderful insights for the coming year. Isn't that what you're supposed to do? I don't want to break some unknown and unwritten blogging rule. So, here goes.

I am glad this year is over, and I hope like crazy that something awesomely wonderful happens in the new year. Or at least that nothing else that makes things crappy happens.

I am so wise, yes?

Truth be told, this year - and the few before it - have been tough. It seems like every time I turn around, something else happens. I would much prefer if that was not the way it will be next year.

Which leads me to ponder - don't we seem to put a lot of hope in the changing of a number or two? As if we will wake up on January 1 and be in a magical land filled with unicorns and rainbows. I've never been one to make New Years Resolutions or goals just because it's the changing of the year you put at the end of dates. I make goals and resolutions as I see fit and go from there.

So, there you have it. Do you feel wise and insighted yet? I hope so.

Happy End of 2010/Beginning of 2011 to you!

I Prefer Indoor Plumbing

Yesterday, the water heater ceased functioning properly.

I discovered this as I began the scouring of the kitchen for our annual New Years Party. (Note to self - hire a maid service next year.) Usually the water is hot by the time I rinse dishes and load them into the dishwasher. Then, wash all the stuff that didn't fit and can't go in. This time, the water just wasn't getting hot.

Turns out the pilot light went out. So, my dad came home and re-lit it. It went out again, and wouldn't light.

NO. HOT. WATER.

Six people.

Not happy.

So, out came our trusty friend, Pot. We filled him with water and boiled it. Kids got a sponge bath. By the time I had washed my hair with microwaved water and cleaned up with Mr. Pot, I realized how much I love modern conveniences.

My dad was able to fix it the next day with and $8 part. Thank goodness. I definitely am not cut out for frontier living!

the FCB

All women have one. ALL of them. I don't care who you are.

Little girls have them, too, but different ones.

What are they?

Fake Celebrity Boyfriends.

What is a Fake Celebrity Boyfriend? Exactly what it sounds like. Some famous person or character on a show or something similar that you think is absolutely the most gorgeous person ever, and you dream that you meet him and he totally thinks you're the best thing ever.

Let's clarify something - having a FCB and being stalker like are completely different.

You don't want to know all about the FCB. It will ruin the dream. You don't really care so much where he lives, and you have no desire to know if he's dating or married or gay. You know his name, and how hot he is, and the rest is mostly made up to fit your fantasy. You know you have a 99.99% chance that you will NOT ever meet him. If you think that you and your FCB have a "deep connection" and that you are or will be married, or anything like that, you are a stalker and need help.

I will admit that my current FCB is Alex O'Loughlin. He's dreamy. I know nothing about him. I refuse to check out his IMDB profile. The perfect FCB. My mom is all about Tom Selleck from the Magnum P.I. days. I believe my sister's #1 is Matt Bomer from White Collar. My aunt is predictable with Brad Pitt.

Who's your FCB?

Oldies, But (Mostly) Goodies

I bought Flight of the Navigator the other day. I LOVED that movie when I was a kid. So, my kids and I watched it and they loved it! We've all decided we want a space ship like that one.

Another one of my favorites was The NeverEnding Story. So, that one wasn't AS cool to me now, but the kids think it's awesome. Falkor the Luck Dragon is awesome. Atreyu! (I know all the girls made him their Fake Celebrity Boyfriend back then!) And, of course, Artax. Stupid horse.

My sister, for some reason I may never know, thinks Labyrinth is absolutely amazing. She's 20. Is it Davie Bowie and his Joe Dirt wig? The puppet sheepdog that turns into a real dog from distance shots that looks nothing like the puppet? Or is it David Bowie singing? (My cousin will hate me for saying all these things about David Bowie. Not sure about her, either. (Kidding!))

I don't remember if it's the first movie I saw in a theater, but it's the first one I remember. My aunt took me to see An American Tail on my 8th birthday. I think I cried. Or, maybe she took me to see The Great Mouse Detective. Or maybe both. That's what aunties do!

Nostalgia. Anyone else?

Land of the Lost

Do you ever feel lost?

Not lost as in you didn't want to actually ask for directions. Lost in your life.

I feel like that right now.

I fell like the road that I've been on for the past year or two isn't the right one. Maybe I made a wrong turn somewhere. Or maybe I am on the right road but I can't tell because nothing looks familiar.

I don't like being lost. When I'm in the car - no matter who's driving - and I even think we may be lost, I panic. My heart starts racing and I start to get a little freaked out. There have been a few times I've been lost by myself - really lost - and I have a full-blown freak-out with the crying and panic attack. I think being lost is one of my biggest fears.

So, when my life in general feels lost, I feel helpless and get nervous. As though I'm 5 months pregnant and in the ghetto in a new town I've never been in and I have no idea at all how to get back to where I'm staying. (True story. Not the best memory.)

We all want to be in control. I want to be in control. I want to know what's coming up, where I'm going, how I'm going to get there. Change directions? No problem, just tell me which way to go now. Right now, I don't know any of that.

This is the part where it's really, really, really hard to let go. To trust that God knows where He's taking me. HUGE struggle for me! It only makes sense to let him. I mean, I can't remember where I put my Chapstick half the time, so how can I trust myself with my life plan?

I still feel completely lost and confused and more than a little panicked. I'm just hoping for a glimpse of the map at this point.

Magical Food

Bacon.

Bacon is magical.

I just watched a special on the Travel Channel called Bacon Paradise. All about places that are known for bacon stuff. There is a bar in Baltimore that has a Bacon Happy Hour about once a month. Every table gets a huge bowl of bacon to start. Like chips at a Mexican restaurant, only way better. I want to go there.

I love bacon.

That's all.

I Win...

Yes.

I pretty much ruled at present giving this year.

Granted, I may have spent a teensy more than I was planning, but it's not really my fault.

I LOVE buying stuff for my family! I love getting something that I know they'll really like, and then watching them open it. I made my mom a little teary today, which was kind of my goal with one of her presents. I really love getting stuff for people. I was getting yelled at because I wasn't opening my presents fast enough. I just wanted to watch everyone else!

I am very blessed to be a part of such an awesome family. We had the best Christmas - just us at home all day, playing games and hanging out and, of course, eating, and then ending the night with the best Christmas movie (A Christmas Story - don't argue)!

Merry Christmas to everyone!

One Word...

DONE!!

After a long week and 412 trips to the stores and prepping like crazy, we're done!!

I love my job. I love working at my church. Christmas is hard.

It's raining today, and I had to go to Walmart, and I almost got ran over three times. People are jerks on Christmas Eve. I wasn't feeling very holy after that.

But now I'm home with my family and my kids and I can relax and enjoy this wonderful time.

So....

DONE!!

Are We There Yet?

I so feel like that this week.

I work at my church, and most people know that Christmas is kind of a big deal for churches. That and Easter. I happen to work in the Communications (video, graphics, web, anything that needs to be designed and printed for anything) AND Worship Departments (the obvious and lights/cameras/sound, etc...). To say we've been busy is kind of an understatement.

I spent the last four days decorating the stage. You wouldn't think that by looking at it. It's pretty, if I do say so myself, but the amount of work that goes into making it look pretty and simple is so not simple.

The amount of time and effort that everyone has put into making Christmas Eve special and inviting and great is crazy.

I love Christmas, and I love our Christmas Eve services, but I am ready for it to be over so I can sit down. And see my kids!

Only 20 more hours and we'll be there - done!

Ranch is a Food Group

Went to lunch with my friend today. I haven't seen her in a while. She is one of those extra-gorgeous and uber-talented people who are also so sweet. It's kind of wrong, really, that one person should have all that.

We got chips and salsa today. And ranch. For the chips. Well, she got ranch. I just looked at her strangely. I know she's not the only one, but ranch on chips? With salsa? I don't understand.

I used to have a friend that put potato chips on her sandwiches. ON them. Nope, don't get that either.

Maybe I'm to boring with my food.

What strange food habits do you have?

IT'S CHRISTMAS!

It's 11:00 pm, and I had the longest day. 10 hours at work, and lots of stress surrounding me. And braving the traffic to go to about a zillion different stores to find stage decor. And all the other stuff.

So, I randomly yell, "IT'S CHRISTMAS!!"

It's a great reminder of why we're all working so hard at work, and it's a tension reliever. I also make others yell it, too. Cuz I'm great like that.

So, over the next few days, when the pressure mounts and you think that it won't all get done in time and you think that you're the only one stressing, stop for a second, take a deep breath, and yell.

IT'S CHRISTMAS!!!

(Even if it's almost 80 degrees outside and you've got the AC on!)

When Hope Doesn't Float

I have to admit something.

Today I don't really like hope.

Does anyone else feel that sometimes, or am I the only one?

And considering it's Christmas, and the Hope of the world is what we're celebrating, I feel pretty heathen-ish right about now.

I suppose it's because I get so tired of waiting and waiting and praying and, well, HOPING for things that never happen. They're not crazy things. I'm not hoping for a giant mansion or bazillions of dollars or fame or any other outlandish thing. (I don't consider hoping that Alex O'Loughlin and I meet and he falls in love with me outlandish. Just sayin')

The Bible says lots about hope and hope-like subjects. I have lots of them written down for quick reference. I read them a lot, just to remind myself that God promises that He won't fail those who's hope is in Him.

And yet today I feel a little failed.

Which, as a Christian, I know is not how I'm supposed to feel. Funny thing is, though, that I don't feel all that guilty about not feeling sunshine and rainbow hope.

Gasp.

Deep down, I know that I haven't been failed. I know that He hears me. It bugs me that He hasn't answered, but I know that He's ok with me being bugged. How can I say that? Because I believe that He is more interested in my honesty then with putting on a holy-show. I kind of figure that He knows what I'm really thinking anyway, so it doesn't do any good to act hope-filled and happy when I'm not.

So, right now, after years of hoping for certain things, and praying for them and still not seeing anything, I'm not feeling the hope-love right now. In fact, hope makes me a little angry.

I think of Proverbs 13:12 a lot - "Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life."

Today my heart is sick. Anyone else feel that way sometimes, or am I the only one?

Gealous of Genius

Yes, I spelled jealous with a 'G'. Isn't that the trendy thing to do now? You know, like the Kardashian sisters spell everything with a 'K'. I'm just trying to be cool.

Anyway, on to my real blog.

I was driving to school yesterday (last day of the semester - yay!!!) and was listening to the Sherlock Holmes soundtrack. (You know, the one with Robert Downey, Jr. that is AWESOME?) And, once again, was blown away by the genius of the music.

GENIUS.

The different ways the violin is played and the dynamics and everything is insane. Hans Zimmer is amazing. (Yes, John Williams is, too, but I'm not talking about him today, so get over it.) And the name 'Hans Zimmer' - say it all German-like and it makes it even cooler.

Have you seen his discography? The above mentioned Sherlock Holmes, Christopher Nolan's Batman movies, Transformers, Inception, Iron Man, Pirates of the Caribbean, Gladiator and about a million more of my faves. (Seriously, look at this list!)

Yes, I'm sort of like a commercial for Hans Zimmer today. I am just in awe of the mind of a musical genius, that's all. Listen to his stuff, and then try to argue.

Christmas Day Massacre

(Thanks to my uncle, R.G. Ryan, for giving me the thought for today's post!!)

You see them everywhere. You may like them, you may not. I, for one, see them as a lazy man's tacky way of "decorating" the yard.

I'm talking about Inflatable Christmas Decor.

They are huge, brightly colored plastic creatures lurking around the corner, wobbling in the wind every evening. From Santas of various sizes, to trains and elves. Have you seen the ginormous snowglobes? I even saw a nativity scene.

But what happens when the rows of light-up candy canes and seizure-inducing blinking lights go off? You go to bed with these pillowy giants waving at you and wake up to...








...carnage.

It sort of looks like Gnome Capone grabbed all the other legit lawn ornaments and was all, "Look at these fakers! They're nothing but a bunch of imposters! They can't even stand up on their own. The Christmas Lollipop Lights can't even be seen behind this bunch of hot air. I say we take 'em!"

And then all the legit lawn ornaments grab some light-up candy canes and attack the Inflatables with a vengeance, leaving behind a mass of deflated carnage in their wake, and the world wakes up with no idea of the gangster-style hit that took place in their own front yards.

Bet you'll never look at these the same. You're welcome.

When Noodles Attack

There's a B-horror movie in that title. Which brings this to mind - best B-horror movie premise ever. Or more like a C or D-movie. Night of the Lepus. Fluffy bunny's breed like crazy and then attack people. I should watch this. It's real - I'll wait while you look it up.

Back to the noodles.

I was making MB dinner the other night. We had some leftover stroganoff sauce, so I found some elbow macaroni in the cupboard and proceeded to cook them. After an appropriate amount of time had passed, I did the test-it-for-doneness thing. Took one out of the pot, shook the water off, waited a sec, then went to eat it.

I did not shake hard enough or wait long enough, as a very minuscule bit of water was still boiling inside the noodle, which dripped on my lip. Liquid hot molten lava temperature boiling water = instant blister + trying not to say bad things in front of my son.

It still hurts. I think I'll skip the elbow macaroni from now on.

Aliens Would Whoop Us

(Random Wednesdays have begun. I will give my thoughts on the most random topics I or a friend can think of. Suggestions welcome!)

It's Christmas-time. I love this time of year. People act nicer and there is pie. And other stuff. But there's one thing I can't seem to wrap my head around at the holidays.

The Christmas Sweater.

Really. Have you ever actually seen an attractive Christmas Sweater? If there really is intelligent life out there that wanted to take us down like War of the Worlds (not the Tom Cruise version) or Independence Day (before Will Smith whoops them), between Christmas Sweaters and the Antiques Roadshow camera lurkers, do you really think they would see us as a formidable opponent?

They are bulky and always some crazy red color, and they look like a first grader tried to knit it in the back of the Batman ride at Sea World. Hot glue some flannel graph-esque reindeer and Christmas trees on awkward places, and you've got fashion at it's finest!

I have been lucky enough to have avoided the Christmas Sweater Hall of Shame (or I've completely blocked it out of my memory). Have you?

Drowning in Cars

MB LOVES cars. He probably has at least 200 little Matchbox/Hot Wheels cars. Right now I am listening to him play with all of his cars.

I went in there a little bit ago and he had ALL of them lined up. They were going to do a race, but only a couple of them were actually racing. The rest were watching, but he didn't have enough cars. He couldn't change how they were lined up because they were making a house, and the chimney was broken.

I can hear him with some sort of fabulous story going on, and occasional car noises breaking through.

He is so cute.

Manic Monday - Worry Sucks

(I've decided to take Mondays and write about serious stuff going on in life. Serious stuff sometimes makes me a little manic-y, therefore it is Manic Mondays. Or MM, since that's shorter for title purposes.)

I'm a little older than most students, but circumstances got themselves (maybe with a little God-nudge) to where I could go to school. I started in July 2009. It's been great. Makes me super busy and sometimes I have a freak-out-attack (or more than sometimes), but it's worked out well. As a veteran, I get to use the GI Bill. As a single mom, I don't make a lot of money, so I get good grants to pay for school. It's a winning combo.

When I signed up for the Navy many moons ago, I was told that the GI Bill would cover all of my school as long as I start using it before I was out of the military for 10 years. It seems that either a) that was not true, or b) it's changed. Now I find out that it ends after 10 years - no matter what.

Hard to believe that I'm this old, but come February 22, 2011, I will have been out of the Navy for 10 years. And the VA won't extend my GI Bill, even when my Congressman requested it.

You see, there are four whole reasons they will accept to extend benefits. It seems that bankruptcy, divorce and struggling single-parenthood does not fall into one of their reasons. So, come February 22, 2011, 1/2 of my income is gone.

To say I'm stressed is a slight understatement.

As a Christian, I'm supposed to not worry, right? I'm sure that, if you know the Bible at all, you could come up with a few verses about not worrying or stressing or freaking out. In fact, I've thought of more than a few in the few seconds it's taken me to type this. And I read them almost every night, and I try to "let go and let God" (I hate Christian cliches).

But the fact remains that I'm worried.

I'm blessed much more than a lot of single moms. I live with my parents and have a fantastic support system. But, we're all just getting by right now. And I'm scared of what will happen in a couple of months when just rent and a (pretty small) car payment leave me in the hole.

So, here I am - a worried Christian. (Which is kind of like jumbo shrimp or pygmy mammoth (really - look it up).)

The nice thing? God totally understands, and will do what He does in spite of my manic-ness.

Can We Say, "TACK-Y?"

As mentioned yesterday, my sister and I went to Target. (And came home with a large, twinkly Christmas Flamingo lawn ornament. I mention it again only because it is AWESOME.)

We went because I needed to get an ornament (not the giant pink flamingo) for a party I am attending tonight. I, of course, can't just get one. I want to get a pretty one that whoever ends up with it will actually enjoy. BUT, I must ALSO up the tacky quotient in my gift bag. Therefore, we were on the hunt for an exceedingly ugly, "Why in the WORLD would anyone seriously buy this thing" ornament.

Oh. My. Gosh. I left Target with a new amazement at the stuff that is available, and even more amazed that marketing research showed that people would actually buy it. For SERIOUS. (I buy tacky thing purely for their tackiness, full well knowing that it will not actually be used. Unless, of course, it is a twinkly Christmas Flamingo. That is entirely different.)

We are searching through bins - yes, BINS - of plastic, glittery, neon and feathered ornaments. Some ornament possess all of those qualities in one. Like the limey-green carousel horse head with hot pink feathers sticking out of it's head, with a clip to stick in on the tree. Picture that, please.

We search, and are seeing some good ones. But nothing that really screams, "I am so tacky and ugly that I'm almost cute and you must buy me if only to see the look on the receivers face!" But then...

...we see it.

In all of it's crocheted or knitted or whatever glory. It was hiding behind other similarly hand-crafted-looking ugly, as if ashamed of it's existence. We had to take all the other uglies off the thing it was hanging on to get it off, and it was worth it.

I just hope that the recipient appreciates it as much as I do.

The Flamingo and the Gazelle

This is a story about a Christmas Flamingo and a Graceful Gazelle.

It all starts with a trip to Target with my sister. We want to by Inception (combo pack for cheap!) and I need an ornament for a party.

After way too long in the Wii game aisle, and another chunk of time spent being amazed at the awful ornaments being sold, we see it. It's beautiful, twinkly and pink.

The Christmas Flamingo lawn ornament.

My dad thinks pink flamingos are the tackiest and coolest things ever. This large ornament has been available for two years, and every time my mom, sister or I go to Target, we stare at it for a bit, pondering if we should just give in and get it. We never do.... Until today.

My sister and I bought it. We got home and while my all knowing mom is inside, we get it put together in the back of my car and set it up on the porch, right next to the tiny topiary. She didn't inspect the rustling, which is a first.

Obstacle two: The wild zoo animals that will be home any moment and will run in the house yelling about it. They saw it, and my sister intercepted them to swear them to secrecy, and then I distracted them with a new Wii game.

We get it all ready, and manually turn the lights on and IT TWINKLES!!!! Not that awful blinking, but just little twinkles. Even more awesome! And we wait. We can't see out the front door while standing up right now because of the wreaths, so we're kneeling there, peering through the window like kids in a candy store, SO excited for the parentals to come home and see it.

They drive up, the car slows, then stops, and I see my mom laughing, telling my dad to put his glasses on. They loved it! Success! My dad is quite excited. He wants to expand the collection and do a pink flamingo nativity scene. That may be going too far.

The Graceful Gazelle? That's my sister. She is quite clumsy, which can be very amusing. As the kids and I sit at the table eating, she's running back and forth making sure the lights are on so the parents will get the full effect of the awesomeness of the flamingo. She is finally successful, and as she comes "gliding" in to the kitchen, we hear, "I fixed the flaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa..." and see her head disappear. She is in socks, on tile, and is so enthusiastic that her feet get a little ahead of the rest of her body. She tries to grab the wall to no avail, and she's down. I hope she's not hurt, but the laughter is bubbling. She's laying there and says, "Oh, I didn't just die!" I wasn't sure what she would do, but by this point I'm laughing so hard I can't see through the tears, and she can't get up off the floor because she's laughing so hard. Those of you who are reading this and know my sister can picture this, yes?

So that is the story of the Flamingo and the Gazelle.

The Lion Sleeps...

Broke down and gave the boy a haircut. That kid has so much hair. He looks like a wild lion. So, to show you the amount of hair that came off of his head...




Now, the lion is gone and my son is back. For now...

Christmas is Carnage!

First, I've been the worst blogger. Ever. I acknowledge.

Moving on.

Last night we finally were all home and were going to "officially" start Christmas. That means light the fire, put the angel on the tree, turn on all the lights and dance around to Nat Kind Cole's "The Christmas Song" (best rendition ever, by the way).

It sounds so sweet.

HAHAHA!

So, we go to plug the iPod into the stereo, which is about 4-million years old so you can't ever tell if it's actually on or not. And it wasn't, and the cord was unhooked. My dad REALLY wanted it piped into the surround sound, so he's digging around in the cabinet insisting that he'll get it. My sister and I keep saying we can just get her little iPod stereo thing, but no. She finally goes up and gets it and starts the song, and at the same time my dad yells that he got it fixed. So, we now have surround sound Nat King Cole.

Then he wants to dance with my mom, and keeps telling us to be quiet because we're ruining Nat King Cole. And my kids are fighting over something on the couch, and my sister is trying to take the toy away they're fighting over, and my dad and mom are "dancing", and my dad is telling everyone to shut up, and I'm imagining someone watching this and laughed so hard I almost peed my pants.

Songs over, so time to put the angel on the tree (or put the tree up the angel's butt - whichever). It's MB's turn this year. My dad gets him up there and MB tries to get the angel on the tree. It, of course, isn't staying on, so me with my totally jacked up back is trying to hold it up while my sister jimmies some branches around. Angels up, so time to plug it in to light it.

Can't find the plug in the tree. My sister's digging around in the tree trying to find the plug. We finally find it and grab the angel cord and....

The plug on the end of the angel cord is gone. There's just this weird little connector. Ten more minutes of digging through the tree and presents, and no cord. By this time the kids are out of control and it's way past their bedtime. So, off to bed they go, I get in the shower, my sister is mumbling in the tree, and we never did "officially" start Christmas.

I love family time!

The Big Day

So, yesterday was the day that MG got her tonsils and adenoids removed. We left the house just after 7:00 am, and I realized that we needed gas. That can be helpful to get places. So, after that, we got to the surgery center at about 7:45 am. It was really nice. Lots of places to sit and play and watch movies. We waited about 30 minutes or so, then were called back to the next waiting area.

There, MG got her weight and temperature and got to pick out a movie. Wallace and Grommit and rabbits. Anyway, she got on the little rolley bed, and they gave her some medicine to calm her (which is what caused the cute little boy across the hall to giggle forever!) and a warm blanket. They get to bring a lovey, so she had her beloved Pooh Bear clutched tightly!

The doctor came to see us, then the nurse and the anesthesiologist, then not too long after that they wheeled her away.

Yes, I realize it's not a crazy surgery, and it really only took about 10 minutes, but still. To watch your precious baby wheeled away to have things taken out of her is a little scary!

I was put in a tiny little waiting room, and called my mom to pass the time. Then about 15 minutes later the doctor came in and said everything went great and gave me a stack of prescriptions. Then he left and I waited some more. Soon, I kept hearing the nurse saying MG's name over and over and I could hear her crying (you know the sound of your baby's cry!) and that's when I got anxious. She needed her mommy! I guess they were calming her down as she was coming out of her sleep.

FINALLY, the nurse opened the door and we went to the recovery area. There were a lot of kids there! So many, in fact, that we got to go to one of the private "extended recovery" rooms. My poor baby was so uncomfortable and her head hurt really bad. They brought her some medicine and a Popsicle and a Gatorade. She finally calmed down and we eventually got to go home.

She's doing ok now. Really sluggish, but the constant influx of drugs are helping the pain a lot. She did throw up last night before bed, but I think she still had the sleepy drugs in her system and then ate too much. She'll be out of school for a week, then on no activity for another week, but she's a brave girl!

Now, to heal and breathe!

More Conversations

So, MG and I went to the store to stock up on surgery goodies. Being the wonderful mom I am, I let her get a mini Rainbow Sherbet for her brother.

I came home and was telling my sister about the gingerbread mix and other delicious things I had gotten for the grown-ups, and MB was sitting there.

Then I said, "And we got a little sherbet for [MB]."

He was staring at the TV on which my sister was playing a Wii game.

A few beats later he replied, "Sure but what?"

Silence.

Laughter.

Then his eyes lit up. "You mean ice cream?"

Heads shaking in hilarity.

"Oh, so I can have it for in case my tonsils get big and they need to go small again."

I love my son. He brightens my day.

Going Under..

MG is getting her tonsils and adenoids out tomorrow. The ENT said they couldn't rate her tonsils any higher because they are SO GINORMOUS. (He didn't say ginormous, but I think he would have if he was slightly cooler.)

So, we are going to the store tonight so she can pick out her ice cream and Gatorade and soup. I'm hoping for a quick recovery, but she's never had surgery before, so you never know. I had one friend tell me her son was running around and singing and stuff the same day. And another friend told me it took her daughter two weeks to recover. So, we'll see.

I'd post a picture of her adenoids, but that might gross you out. So, I'll just give an update tomorrow.

Today's Conversation

I actually had nothing to blog about today. But then Jesus blessed me with this wonderful conversation with my son.

It all starts with him leaping around in circles in the shower. When he was done, I pulled back the curtain and he told me that he was SO dizzy. ("When you hear my feet doing that, that means that I'm dizzy.") His head was bobbing quite close to the porcelain soap holder, so I informed him that he needs to not leap around in the bathtub because he could hit his head and then we'd have to go to the emergency room. I wish I could recall word for word, but this is close. And we enter the conversation:

"Do you want to go to the emergency room?"

"No."

{Pause}

"What's the emergency room?"

"It's the place at the hospital you go when you get hurt and have an emergency."

{Pause}

"So, it's a hospital for emergencies?"

"It's at the hospital. It's the part of the hospital you go when you need help right away."

"Oh, it's a hospital room. Hospitals have the rooms where you get the babies and stuff. And there are other rooms where you go when you get really, really hurt. Actually, they have four kinds of rooms. There’s rooms where you go when you get hurt by a car. And there’s rooms where you go when you get hurt on your bike. Like, really, really hurt. Well, actually, that’s the car room. And then the next one, that’s the fourth one is, um. Well, the one that you should never, ever do. You should never, ever jump out of a car.

"That’s the fourth room?"

"No [giggle], but I was just saying that."

(At this point I paused the conversation to to type this before I forgot.)

And, I'm back.

"Did you figure out what the fourth room is?"

"Ya, it’s the one when you get stanged [stung]."

"When you get stung?"

"Ya, or there’s electrocuted."

And he laughed and was done.

Bad Beans and Raw Fish

If this post title doesn't suck you in, nothing will!

Bad Beans:

So, I was getting ready for church on Sunday morning. (We were going to the kids Baptism class so they could learn all about it!) At least I think this happened Sunday morning. I could be wrong.

Anyway, I guess my mom decided to clean out the fridge. Soon I hear the garbage disposal. Then I hear sounds of serious dry heaving. And then the sounds of my mom laughing hysterically. And more heaving. And more laughing. I go down to see what's up, naturally. It seems there was a container of refried beans in the fridge from who knows when. She'd asked my dad to get rid of it. I'm assuming it was gross. (My dad has an excellent gag reflex.) And she couldn't contain her laughter as he tried his very hardest to not throw up. He continued gagging as he marched out of the house with the garbage and declared that he'll take the garbage out for her any day, but he would not be the one to throw out old beans. I almost peed my pants from laughing so hard. (I can laugh, because I did the same thing cleaning out the drain one time. My son kept asking why I sounded like I was puking as he stood in the bathtub naked. The tub wouldn't drain for his 'quick bath'!)

Raw Fish: Not really a story. I just really like sushi and I got to eat some tonight and it was delicious.

Moral of this post? Don't leave refried beans in the fridge too long.

I Need a Vat of Acid

So, yesterday was great. No, really. Great in a totally non-sarcastic manner. For the first time in ages we had a real family day.

My dad made pancakes, bacon and eggs. That's right. BACON. And the other stuff was good, too. The kids and I ran to Target and picked up MG's costume. Batgirl is in the house! My dad REALLY wanted a croquet set. I don't know why, but he wanted one. Of course, Target is lame in their outdoor sporty department, so we head over to the unfortunately named, yet awesome, Dick's Sporting Goods Store. (I should get some shilling money today.) Luckily, after 10 minutes, we finally found a person who worked there who found the last set in a random spot.

Then, on to the park for fishing and frolicking. Did I mention in was perfect weather? SO pretty! I don't even really like The Nature, and I enjoyed it. Then home for lunch and croquet! Fun, actually. It's like an obstacle course in our yard. We really need some nice English Nobleman Estate lawnage for this game, but it kept it interesting.

BBQ for dinner, and more croquet, then a fire in the fire pit. Perfect.

Then I woke up this morning and my legs were on fire and I wanted to scratch my flesh off. My dad says that I look like I have crack-addict legs. Awesome. I want to dip my legs in a vat of acid to sear the flesh off. I hate mosquitoes. HATE THEM. So, crappy outcome, but great day.

Dress Up Time

So, we searched far and wide (mostly from a sitting position in front of the laptop) and finally found costumes for everyone.

MB wants to be a football player. I told my sister he was going to be a Cowboy and she was concerned. HA! I said that if I'm raising a football lover, I might as well raise him to be liked by everyone he will live around so that he has a chance in life. Besides, I don't want things thrown at him in protest on Halloween.

MG wanted to be a witch. Or a vampire. I thank her father for being such a fab influence. Anyhoo, I said no. "Why can't I be something I really want to be?" My answer? "When you can fork out $40 of your own money to buy your own costume, we'll revisit the subject." We looked at all 932 costumes on Target.com (and a few other sites). She really wanted to be Alice from the live-action Alice in Wonderland, but out of the 70 billion costumes available, none were the proper dress in her size. Yes, it had to be the specific blue dress. So, she settled on a black Batgirl costume.

I am also a little disappointed. I have always wanted to be Wonder Woman, but I do a fabulous White Queen impression. Alas, no White Queen costumes anywhere. (Well, we found one, but MG and I both took one look at it and nixed it. Not even close!) I do a mean Red Queen impression, too, but I don't want to be her. So, I'm probably going back to Wonder Woman. It's only appropriate as I am Amazonian compared to a large portion of my friends and family.

What are you going to be?

A Follow Up Rant

A few days ago, I wrote about the Facebook status of one of my friends. Read it HERE. (Really – this will make more sense if you do.)

What followed was a little shocking to me. There was a lot of response, but that’s to be expected. It was the type of responses that shocked me. Except for maybe two people (me being one of them), all of the responses were completely UNsupportive of my friend, and military wives/families in general!

It ticked me off a little bit. I refrained from commenting more just because I didn’t want my friends Facebook to become a hostile debate zone. But I’ve been thinking a lot about the response, and I’ve come to some [sad] conclusions.

First, I would like to remind everyone that WE ARE IN A WAR. No, this posting is not to talk about my feelings or your feelings or debate the war. But I mention that because no one seems to remember this fact. Although it’s taking place on another continent, and although the people we are [mostly] fighting for are not on American soil, we are still AT WAR.

Do me a favor and read that underlined part again. Does it sound familiar? If it doesn’t, obviously education doesn’t teach anyone anymore, so go Google “World War II”. Specifically the European Theatre. Or World War I, all of it. (My grandfather fought in WWII, was MIA, then POW – captured by the Germans. I’ll tell that story one day.)

Up until just the last few decades, whenever a country was at war, the citizens knew it. Both World Wars saw the taxes rise and the people SACRIFICE for the military and the war effort. (I made sacrifice big because I want you to pay attention to that word. It’s important for this post.) Everything that could be spared was funneled towards the troops. Food and goods were rationed. Everyone contributed what they could – time, talents – for the war effort. The country knew we were at war.

Let’s look at now. The fact is that a lot of people don’t even think about what’s going on in Afghanistan and Iraq. And if they do, they don’t think of it as a war. They think of it politically, and they all have their opinions, and a lot of outspoken people do stupid stuff that can get OUR MEN and WOMEN killed. (That is also a post for another day.)

Therefore, sacrifice is a foreign word. The people of this country have become spoiled and entitled. They don’t want to have to give up anything for anyone else. (I’ve been guilty of this thinking, too, so unbunch your panties.) So, when my friend states that she finds it hard to not give a rude retort to someone who “knows exactly what you’re going through cuz my husband had to go to London for three days last month,” of course people will rise up against her. Which, of course, makes me mad.

The responses ranged from, “it’s not fair that you say that because she misses her husband, too,” to “well, you knew what you were signing up for so you really can’t complain.”

First, no one said they don’t miss their husbands when they go to London. But, seriously? You want to compare a three-day trip to a London hotel to a 7-18+ month trip to a war zone in a hell hole in Iraq? Really? And then to have the audacity to tell the military wife they can’t complain because they knew what they were getting in for?

Who signs up to send their husband OFF TO WAR? And just because they learn to adjust doesn’t mean they’re totally cool with the fact that their husband may come back in a pine box.

Then I thought that civilian wives oftentimes have this reaction (not all of them – I know lots of civilian wives whose husbands travel a lot and they would NEVER say these things) because they have no clue what true sacrifice is.

The men and women of the military risk their lives for this country, and for people they’ve never met, and to save innocent people in other countries (which consequently helps to protect this country). And the families that stand behind them and stay behind when they leave sacrifice everything – sometimes the very life of the one they love.

I used to be a military wife, and not even I had to go through what so many of my friends are going through now. Think about it for half a second and you might, just might, realize that you have it easy.

Melting Brain

So, seriously. I'm majoring in Journalism. Public Relations, actually. With a minor in Communications.

That said, why am I being forced to melt my poor brain in this physics class?

I'm not a stupid person. I can grasp complex things. WHEN it's explained well. This teacher, while nice, is so scattered and frazzled (at least that's how he comes across) that I have no idea what the heck he's talking about most of the time. If you have to explain logarithms to 400 people, you should assume that at least some of them are not majoring in anything science/physics/math related and you should attempt to know what you are going to say!

I have very high ambitions for this class. I just want to pass!

A Rant

Recently, a good friend of mine posted on Facebook that (paraphrase) it really, really, really annoys her when civilian wives tell her they totally understand how she feels because their husbands go on business trips. She said she didn't really have a good response at that time. I commented that she should have laughed in their face. Rude? Maybe.

Now, I don't want to diminish the fact that all (well, most!) wives miss their husbands when they are away. I have another friend who's husband travels frequently on business. She has three young kids and I know they all miss him terribly when he's gone. But I also know that she would never tell a military wife that what she goes through is the same.

So, before you say you understand how a military wife feels because your husband travels on business, ask yourself a few questions: Will your husband be gone for six or more months? Will he be 'traveling' to an incredibly hostile country where the view is mostly dirt? Will his 'suitcase' consist of fatigues and steel-toed boots? Will the 'gift bags' he gets there contain an AK-47 and a flak jacket? Do you pray every night that he doesn't drive over a land mine? Do you pray that he just makes it home at all, let alone in one piece and without severe trauma?

It's never easy when a family is separated because of a job. But your husband going to San Diego for a few days can't be compared to another husband who might not come home from Afghanistan.

Think about it.

Weekly Recap

Monday: School, work, kids
Tuesday: Work, ENT appointment for Rebecca (surgery scheduled), work, kids
Wednesday, School (physics test, bleh), kids, work, worship practice
Thursday: Work, Kids, Homework
Friday: Work, Kids, Friends (skipped school)

WOW. That's lame. And every week. Something exciting should happen now. Although Friday did involve Sangria and brownies, so that's cool.

It Was Mauled By A Bear

Well, almost. If I was a bear.

We have this printer at work. This supposedly fabulous printer. Maybe it was fabulous at one time, but from what I've heard, not really.

So, it's a pretty big week for us, and we have this huge dinner tonight. And another even bigger event tomorrow. Name tags and handouts and other such things must be printed en masse. On this printer, since the other one is even older. I think someone named Grog invented it.

Anyways, lots of printing. I start on the name tags. And start again. There's only 36 sheets to be printed. That's all. After 40 minutes, I had 12 good sheets and about 15 crumpled, smeared, torn and all sorts of messed up sheets. It jammed at least 8 times.

I kicked it a few times, and decided that the only thing that would make it better is if it looked like a giant bear mauled the heck out of it with its giant bear-claws.

I couldn't find a bear on such short notice, so I did the next best thing. Took it across the street and paid someone else to do it all!

Classic DB

I don't have any idea what I was going to write about yesterday, because I didn't have time. So, instead, I bring you this gem.

Driving to school is fun. At least 30 minutes in the car, surrounded by lots of people who's time is obviously much more valuable than yours. So, there I am, in my cute little Kia (which I just bought this summer - YAY!), jamming to some awesome music. Seabird, I believe. The highway narrows to two lanes after awhile, and there are lots of, you know, cars. There's this person in a nice black car behind me. He tries to get over, but then gets back behind me, then does it a few more times. Pretty soon he is about 1 inch from my bumper. And he stays there. Dude, I'm already going 75 in a 60. I realize that I should slow down to a more reasonable speed limit. Mr. Fancy Car doesn't like that.

My favorite part is when he finally gets a chance to pass me. He actually turns his head to glare at me as hard as he can. He looked like one of those creepy stalker types - beady eyes and icky face. And then, he gets in front of me and can't go any further. All of that for one whole car length.

It's true that Texans are the nicest people, until they start driving.

Gentle Toes

So, a few weeks ago, my dad re-tiled my bathroom floor. (After he had to rip out part of the shower to re-plumb it and then re-tile that, but that's for another day.) In doing so, the door had to come off and the toilet had to relocate to the bathtub.

Of course, the toilet being in the bathtub was just the most interesting thing, but not quite as interesting as the hole in the floor that the toilet usually sits on. ("Where the heck does 'Gentle Toes' come into this story?" you may be asking. Did I forget to mention this involves MB?) The zoo animals were instructed to NOT GO IN THE BATHROOM ON THREAT OF CERTAIN DEATH. That translates to, "Hover at the entrance as close as humanly possible without actually stepping into the bathroom, unless my feet accidentally, maybe slip over the edge and sort of but not really touch the bathroom floor."

MB was, as most boys are, even more fascinated with the whole toilet-in-the-tub, hole-in-the-ground scenario than MG.

Soon, my mom tells me of a conversation that goes something like this:

"Geemaw, when you go to the bathroom and then flush, the poop goes like this [hands swooping one way], and the pee goes like this [hands swooping another way]."

"Really?"

"Ya."

"Did you go in the bathroom?"

Silence.

Slight look of guilt.

"Bapa just put the tile on the floor, and we can't step on it when it's not dry. When you step on it you can accidentally move the new tile and ruin the floor."

Silence.

"Well, it's ok because I only stepped on it with my gentle toes, and they don't weigh any pounds."

And, end.

All-American Sport Day

I live in Texas. And, as such, I suppose I should be completely obsessed with football. (Technically, American Football. And, on another note, why football? There isn't a whole lot of foot-on-ball action. But I digress.) As I was saying, I should be obsessed with football. (And, if the fervor of the church crowd is any indication, I should be obsessed specifically with the Cowboys.)

Now, I'm not against football. I like a game now and then. And I watch the Super Bowl every year. (Used to be just for the commercials, but they have been failing me lately. When Budweiser got rid of the frogs, it sort of went down hill from there.) But, I just really don't understand this crazed obsession that they seem to hold here in the Big T. Granted, I grew up in Las Vegas. We didn't have professional sports. We had dirt. And some rocks. And mostly dirt. So, I was never really exposed.

Why are people so obsessed with it? I guess what disturbs me the most is the parents who are like crazed jackals, pushing their kids into sports (mostly football) and losing their mind at every event. I mean, have you read the stories on the assaults and murders all over some sport?

I like sports. And if my kids want to play, I will totally support them in a very non-crazed jackal way.

Now, I should go check on my mother, who is glued to the current Cowboys game - just to make sure she is still coherent.

Where Have All the Ears Gone?

I KNOW I'm not the only parent with this problem, but I will lament anyway.

What is UP with kid's ears? They work when they're born, but right about the time they start gaining mobility, they have a sudden loss of hearing. It starts out as a faint glimmer, then progresses until they are seemingly completely deaf by the time they are old enough to have to start being helpful.

And when their hearing sporadically returns long enough to hear you speak, they immediately have a meltdown. As though you asking them to put their own clean clothes away is going to cause them to shrivel and die. Or having to help unload the dishwasher is the latest form of torture, not too far from water boarding.

Then, of course, they wonder why they don't get to do fun things. Thank goodness most of them have a miraculous hearing restoration about the time they graduate high school. (MOST. You do have the 35 year old 'children' that wonder why their life sucks. But that is a whole other story!)

So, parents of the world, we are not alone and, one day, our children will be healed! :)

Busy-ness

Yes, it's been ages since I've blogged. I have a good reason, though!!

Although my kiddos were gone for an entire month (TOO long), and you would thing that I would have somuch time on my hands, that was not the case.

I am a "real" college student now! I transferred into UNT in July, and between work and school and, now that they're back, kids, I seem to have not a whole lot of time. So, I promise to TRY and blog more! I know my life is incredibly interesting and you are always sitting at the edge of your seat waiting for me to post!

Happy reading!

A Birth Day Story

My little mister turned six last week. SIX. Oh, my gosh. I bought him a Nintendo DS for his birthday. His sister has one, and he always wants to play it and it, of course, causes many fights. So, he finally got his own.



Nope, not at all excited. HA! Isn't he just the most handsome boy EVER?

I always, always, always remember when he was born. I remember when MG was born, too, duh, but MB's birth was different.

I had him a week early. He was already almost 8lbs (geh), so we induced. I had him on May 18, 2004. We took him home about a week later, and only because I fought to take him home. Why?

I saw him for about two-seconds after he was born before they whisked him off to the NICU. You see, my little baby would stop breathing and then not start again without some prompting. They think the little esophagus flap was weak, and he got acid reflux a lot. So, the acid reflux would get into his throat and babies don't know how to deal with it. You would see him arch way back to try and get away from it, and then he would just not breath because he didn't know what else to do. Um, it's pretty scary to see your brand-new little baby turn blue.

They had him hooked up to oxygen and an oxygen and heart-rate monitor. Whenever he would stop breathing, his oxygen levels would drop and the alarm would go off and you'd have to blow in his face to shock him into taking a breath. I can't tell you how awful it was to see my otherwise healthy little boy laying in the little bed with wires stuck to him and the oxygen tubes up his tiny little nose.

I think for me it was worse because it wasn't expected. I would look around the nursery and see the tiniest little babies in incubators, fighting to live, and then look at my 7lb 9 oz, 21" long son and think that he looks fine. He was born on time and shouldn't be there!

They wanted to keep him longer. I was on the verge of a nervous-breakdown at that point. My marriage was pretty much over, I was recovering from giving birth, taking care of an almost four yr old, living with my parents while MB was still in the hospital, driving myself over there six times a day to feed and hold him. I told them no. They didn't like it, but I wanted my son home.

So, they finally said ok. But we had a huge oxygen tank in the living room for a month, plus an oxygen monitor that I had to hook him up to every time he would sleep. And the little portable oxygen tanks. He was on it for a month, plus this nasty looking medicine to help keep the reflux down. After a month, I had pretty much had it. I pulled myself and my parents together and prayed healing. Then I took the oxygen tubes out of his nose, took him off the monitor and left it in God's hands.

Obviously, the story ends happily because my baby is six now and has never had any issues. Thank God!!

So, Happy Birthday to my handsome little man.

Nicknames

I was thinking about nicknames the other day as I was talking to the kids. I started going through all of the things I call them instead of their names. (Unless, of course, they're in trouble. Then you have name stages. 1st name firmly, then first and middle names extra firmly. Then the entire name with veins bulging out of your neck. But that's for another blog.)

It really starts when you are still growing them in the womb. MG was nicknamed 'peanut' because at the first ultrasound, she looked like a little tiny shelled peanut hopping around. Her favorite stuffed animal is her Pooh Bear. So I'll call her Pooh or Pooh Bear or Pooh Head, which flows into Poopy, Poopy Pants, Poopy Head. Then we have Princess, Princess Face and Princess Head. Somehow Poodle comes into the mix, followed by Poodle Brain. (It seems she has a 'P' pattern going.) Since I also feel like I am a zookeeper, Monkey is also prevalent.

Which, of course, is what MB is. HIS favorite animal is a little blue monkey. So, therefore, he is my monkey. And you have to have Monkey Face and Crazy Monkey Head and Monkey Brain. Somehow Mr. Face and Mr. Head came in at some point. Then there's Buddy, Bubs and Bubsters. And throw in Nugget and Mr. Nugget Head.

So, ya. And this is just what I can think of right now. I KNOW that I'm not alone in this.

Lazy Pants Friday

I did pretty much nothing today.

I watched a few episodes of Fringe, The Mentalist and channel flipped. Played Wii Mario Kart. Played some stupid game on my computer. Played the piano. Wandered around the house. I did brush my teeth this morning, and eventually got out of my pajama's.

Nope, no laundry, cleaning or any labor of any kind. I DID take pre-assessment to see if I will pass my next test, but that only took about 10 minutes.

Conclusion? I'm kind of bored and have realized why I don't do this very often.

I'm NOT Old!

So, the other day I was filling out the enrollment packets for the kids for next year. I came to the part where we put how old they will be when school starts.

MG - 10

MB - 6

At that moment, I suddenly felt old.

No, I'm not really old. And, thank great genes, I don't look my age. (I don't always act my age, either.) BUT, still, I am going to have a 10 year old. And my baby boy isn't even close to being a baby anymore.

When I turned 30, it wasn't so bad. It was 31 that got me. That was horrid. I found myself IN my 30's. And nowhere near where I thought I would be. Another birthday is looming, and while I still LOVE birthday's (extraspecially mine!), each one that passes is one less year to get to my dream life.

I can see why women date younger men now. LOL!

Who Am I?

Of course, The Who song is now going through my head. But, I digress before I even start.

I had a long conversation with one of my favorite people tonight. And what it boiled down to is that, while I know who I am, I don't know who I am.

What?

I dream big, big dreams. Lots of them. But I haven't been able to figure out how that translates into real life. So, I have this gut-and-soul feeling that I'm meant for something big. What is it? And how do I get there? I can't even describe what I mean without sounding shallow and self-seeking, which is NOT me. (I may not totally know who I am, but I do know what I'm not!)

I know, I know. EVERYone says that they could do whatever and they could be big. What's so special about me?

Maybe nothing. EXCEPT that, unlike most people, I choose to figure out a way to make my dreams reality. I don't know exactly what that means. How can I when I'm not even sure what the reality would be? But, I refuse to sit back and let life pass me by without even trying to figure it out.

The one of my favorite people told me that some people dream big but never do anything about it, and some people aren't dreamers but can do lots of thing. I want to be in the middle - the person that dreams and does.

Who Am I?

FV Going Home

Let me tell you about the trip home.

And the stupid driving from Texans.

And on the Interstate north of Waco, not in any town, surrounded by lots of grassy-like stuff and the occasional run-down trailer with yards full of stuff,

Parking lot.

Oh, yes, parking lot. We sat there on the interstate on a Sunday afternoon and went about 2-3 miles in an hour or so.

My son lost his mind. My sister lost use of her phalanges. It was great.

FV Day 3

Day 3 was great! We visited the Natural Bridge Caverns, and, wow. If you are ever in San Antonio, you HAVE to go! We ended up 180' under ground in the most spectacular caverns full of awesome formations of all shapes and sizes. It was absolutely awesome.

Then we went to the Alamo. A tiny little building in the middle of town. MG was excited because they were just learning about it in school.

Then we walked to the Riverwalk. It was crowded but really cool. We had dinch at Joe's Crabshack and sat watching the boats go by. We wandered down the walk and tried to take a boatride, but they were booked solid and we would have had to wait almost 2 hours. So, we wandered back and ate ice cream instead.

I have two very tired kids. MB looks completely wiped! They are both laying quietly watching a movie now. Tomorrow morning we head home. It was a fun trip and it was so great to share it with my family!

FV Days 1 & 2

Ok, so quick recap of day 1.

Wake up, finish laundry, pack (yes, all packing - procrastination much?), drive. And drive. And drive. (I made one of my best purchases - car dvd players. The noise level was almost non-existent from the back seat!) The hotel was nice. We had a little 2 bed/2 bath condo with a full kitchen. Ate dinner in, went to sleep. Blah.

DAY 2 - SEAWORLD!!

Guess what time MB woke up? That's right, 6:00. He stayed pretty quiet until 6:30. Then was still sort of quiet until 7:00 when MG woke up. That was it.

Breakfast in. (Kitchens are awesome! Way cheaper). Then, a full, full day.

First was the sea lion show. The kids thought it was ok - they really liked the little otter. We also saw the Shamu show, "Believe." A little dissappointed. Not a whole lot of whale action. They tried WAY to hard to make it this super inspirational show about becoming one with nature. Yes, nature will become one with you - after it eats you. Then we saw their new show, Azul, at the end of the day. That one was really cool. They had divers, synchronized swimmer, acrobats, beluga wales, dolphins and birds. The kids enjoyed it immensly!

I hit the roller coasters with my dad. The Steel Eel was HUGE and up and down (repeat 8000 times). Not so much into that one. Then the Great White - one of those inverted ones that twists you around. That was fun and we did it twice. MG, of all people, went on a water ride with Bapa. I was really surprised she did it cuz of the big drop. She was quite freaked out. They, along with Deda and MB, went on the log ride and the rapids.

We saw alligators and turtles. There were at least 20 alligators, all laying like logs in the sun. The kids and I fed the dolphins! That was cool. We saw about 10 species of sharks, some stingrays and the tiniest and most brightly colored and super poisonous frogs! And some cool little moon jellyfish. And penguins. And birds in random cages around the park. And the largest clam ever. That thing was HUGE.

The kids were soaked from the rides, tired feet and sweaty, sweaty! They got some little stuffed shamu's, and we left when it closed. I'm hoping it will be at least 7:30 before the shamu saga's begin in the morning!

Where Were You?

Yes, Yes. I realize it's been quite a while since I've blogged. Can we say busy? (Now I have the Veggie Tales song running through my head - nice.)

So, just got back from Vegas, and I will now regale you with stories:

Elevator Story 1: Group of probably 40-something guys pile into the elevator. A and I are, at this point, in full laugh-at-stupid-people mode, and sort of squashed in the back corner so as not to accidentely touch said drunkards. The last guy gets on the elevator as he is in the story-telling mode. AND, he does not stop telling his story even though he sees us - two much classier and unknown-to-him women. The story goes something like this:

"So, we're in LA and we meet some guy and we're thinking it would be funny to mess with him, so we make him think we're all pounding down vodka when we're really just drinking water, and getting him totally wasted on tequila. Then we all get in the limo and then we dress the guy in a diaper and throw him out at LAX and leave him."

A and I glanced at each other and I had to then look at the floor as the same thought of, "Wow, classy", pops into our heads. Then he proceeds to say us, LOUDLY, as if we are deaf, "I bet you have friends like us! HAHA!" Classy AND witty.

Um, ya.

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Elevator Story 2: A and I are getting onto an (astonishingly already open) elevator, and a much older guy is already on there and has pushed the button to floor 34. (Yes, important.) He was dressed very touristy - khaki shorts, ugly shirt, HUGE backpack, beer, terrible feet in flipflops. Asks what floor so he can be nice and push the button. We are on 36. He has already pushed 34. Do the math, please, then come back. Got it? After several seconds of him not being able to find the button, and several seconds after we realize he's 'slightly' inebriated, I reach over and push it and say, very nicely (ha), "I've got it."

Now, of course, we are using all will-power we can possibly muster to not burst into laughter. So, as we had just bought some gifts for people, I yank open my bag and practically stick my face in it and declare, loudly, "Do you think so-and-so will like this?" A answers, just as loud, "Yes, it's really cute." After what seems like an eternity, the elevator finally reaches floor 34 and the guy gets off. Oh, but we're not done.

THEN, he proceeds to walk in about 2.5 circles as he tries to figure out which way to go. The best part is that going right would have ran him into a wall. I guess he really had to weigh the options, "Hmm, let's see. Walk down the hall, or run directly into a very solid wall. Man, this is hard." I don't know, maybe the mirror hanging on the wall confused him. Of course, the elevator doors stay open for WAY too long, and just as we could no longer contain ourselves and started laughing hysterically, the doors shut. We both barely made it to the bathroom after that.

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REALLY, REALLY Inebriated Person Story: I was really lucky to get to go to dinner with some wonderful friends that I hadn't seen in ages. As we stood outside waiting for our table, it was like the whole sidewalk stopped. Before I continue, please note that it is only about 7:15 and still very light outside.

Ok, so there is a commotion and out comes four people from somewhere. One of them, even with the help of her THREE friends, can not walk. Can not hardly be dragged down the sidewalk. We commented that, wow, the moon isn't even out yet. Then, as we all watched and snickered, J commented that, nope, the moons rising now. Yes, uber-drunk chick was having some wardrobe malfunctions. She sort of fixed her shirt and pants, they dragged her a little farther, she fell, they hauled her up, and so on. I think every person on the strip hoped she would just pass out. I'm sorry, but if you get that bad that early, you sort of deserve some laughter going your way. Immediately following is

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REALLY Inebriated People Story 2: Still standing outside waiting. PF Chang's in Planet Hollywood is REALLY busy, just in case you need to know. So, like I said, still waiting. And the door opens and two older but trying to be sort-of-young-still ladies come roaring out of the restaurant. Maybe one ran into the door or something, but we all just glanced and chuckled, and somehow, something we did (not) do prompted them to trip over and start talking, LOUDLY, to us. I looked over at M and she was making the most wonderful "I'm trying not to laugh" face, so I had to just, once again, put my head down. One of the ladies got right in between A and I and bathed A's arm in spittle. (I carry sanitizing wipes. See how handy they are?) We must have been rousing conversationalist because they talked for several minutes. The only thing is, our side of the conversation consisted of, well, nothing. Just a few eyebrow-raised "nods."

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There you have it. I hope you enjoyed! :)

QotW

MB: "Does heat defeat cold?"

Deda: "Um, yep."

MB: "And water defeats fire. But hot lava and fire are not the same. If you got in fire you would just get really burned. If you got in hot lava, you would, um, die."

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MG: "I was laughing so hard my shoulders hurt."

MB: "I was laughing so hard that my brain covered my ears."

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Set-up: The other day, Deda bought MB a giant monster truck. (He's really into monster trucks right now.) She put it in the middle of his room before he got home from school. When he saw it, he almost peed his pants with excitement. The next day, when he came home from school, he suddenly exclaimed, "Oh, man! I forgot I had this!" and ran around with it. Then, he proceeded to tell Geemaw this little story...

MB: "So, maybe one day when I come home from... what's that place called that we go that mommy works?"

Geemaw: "Church?"

MB: "Ya, church. So maybe one day I come home from church, or maybe school or a restaurant or something. And then I come upstairs and go in my room and maybe SOMEBODY put a surprise, like another giant monster truck, in my room and I don't know. And then I come home from church or school or wherever and I run upstairs and I open my door and I see it. Somebody could do that for me."

Crossing to the dArk Side

Yes, I did it. I crossed over. After years of resisting the forces that tried so hard to convert me, I gave in. Why? Circumstances made it wise to do so for various reasons. Now I'm slightly addicted, but not too bad. No more than I was before.

I bought

an



iPhone.

QotW

(Listening to 'All The Right Moves' by OneRepublic in the car and talking to MG)

"This song makes me happier. This song makes me tougher. When I listen to it, when you beat me up I can beat you up. When you beat me up I won't cry."

More Awesomness...

If you will recall, I lost my job at the end of last May. I went through all of the steps to file for unemployment, and filed a few claims in June-July. Every notification I got after a claim filing showed how much I could get and then that I actually got - nothing. After a few filings I started getting my GI Bill, and so stopped filing claims. Didn't need it and didn't want to have to pretend to look for a job. :)

This week I got a stack of mail and most of it was junk, so I tossed it in a corner and finally got to it this morning. There was an envelope from the Texas unemployment people, and I glanced at it and then tore it up and tossed it. Then I stopped and had to dig it back out of the garbage to look at it again. (Luckily my garbage is all paper!) It was the form that told how much my compensation was and that they reported it to the IRS, etc..

What? This is weird because I never got any money! So, I went onto the website and finally found where I can go into my account. It showed that I got paid back in July. Um, no I didn't.

Then I found a number for the Chase Bank division that handles the accounts. I called and the lovely lady (she really was nice) looked up my info and, lo and behold, I really did get paid in July 2009! There has been several hundred bucks sitting in an account with my name on it for seven months that I knew nothing about! The bank lady is sending me a new card so I can get to it.

How awesome is that? Thank you, Jesus!

QotW 2

As MB was looking at a big dinosaur book and pointing at the pictures:

"This is the dinosaur earth and this is our earth. Because Jesus killed all the dinosaurs. But maybe some are still alive. Like the T-Rex, but the T-Rex can never die."

Quote of the Week

As MB sits on the bathroom floor putting on his jammies and chattering away about random things...

"Mommy, is poop clean?"

Um...

"Poop is shiny when it comes out of your butt, but it's not shiny when it's in the toilet."

Thank you, son, for that wonderful revelation on pooping.

Misery to Come

I WAS going to post a funny story about MB, but instead...

Got another call from the Asst Principal at the school. Once again, my children were misbehaving on the bus. The list is:

Running in the aisles
Climbing over the seats
Shoving other children
Taking water bottles from other children as they are drinking from them
Taking backpacks and other things from other children
Obviously not listening to the bus driver

WELL, THIS morning, after listing all of these things, Mr. AP got to the fun part. It seems MB and MG decided to have an all-out brawl with each other. Fists flying and so on. Now, they are suspended from riding the bus for TWO WEEKS.

Tonight they are obviously going to get in trouble - yet another talk, spankings and early bed. They are also going to have their first groundings - no TV (they don't watch too much), no video games (or even watching others play - this will be the hard one for them), no playing with friends, no treats. They will be reminded EVERY time they ask and don't get something why.

Oh, yes. Bring the misery.