I wish the cleanliness of my house (or lack there of) didn't make such a direct impact on my stress levels.
I wish I never got tired.
I wish my kids would grow up to be happy, stable, responsible contributing members of society who work hard and are able to create and maintain healthy, lasting relationships.
Not too much to ask, right?
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
It is what it is.
It makes you feel all sorts of warm and fuzzy when the therapist you call on referral tells you that "some people might think you nutty."
Gee, thanks. She doesn't know about the whole Mayor thing.
We have an attorney.
And now we have a therapist.
I got my nails did for The Wedding so if I could remember her name I could drop it in random conversations as "my nail gal" and feel all sorts of swanky. All I'm missing now is my masseuse and I'll be set to change my blog...The Real Housewife of Crazytown.
Alas, no masseuse. I will have to settle for the reflexology massage I got for $17.99 a couple weeks ago. It really deserves a post in itself, but the moral of the story is- do not judge a seedy massage parlor by it's outside.
Why am I writing? Just to let you know Crazytown continues to live up to it's name.
Where are your children? At the table eating salad for lunch, at their request.
I have an attorney, a therapist, one-time nail gal, no masseuse and weird kids who ask for salad for lunch.
(Actually they are fishing. We ran out of croutons so I dumped gold fish on last night's salad. I'm going to turn around to a pile of licked-off-the-Ranch lettuce and a couple of orange crumbs.)
Gee, thanks. She doesn't know about the whole Mayor thing.
We have an attorney.
And now we have a therapist.
I got my nails did for The Wedding so if I could remember her name I could drop it in random conversations as "my nail gal" and feel all sorts of swanky. All I'm missing now is my masseuse and I'll be set to change my blog...The Real Housewife of Crazytown.
Alas, no masseuse. I will have to settle for the reflexology massage I got for $17.99 a couple weeks ago. It really deserves a post in itself, but the moral of the story is- do not judge a seedy massage parlor by it's outside.
Why am I writing? Just to let you know Crazytown continues to live up to it's name.
Where are your children? At the table eating salad for lunch, at their request.
I have an attorney, a therapist, one-time nail gal, no masseuse and weird kids who ask for salad for lunch.
(Actually they are fishing. We ran out of croutons so I dumped gold fish on last night's salad. I'm going to turn around to a pile of licked-off-the-Ranch lettuce and a couple of orange crumbs.)
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Today was the Primary Program. (The one Sacrament meeting each year that is put on by all the kids in the Ward. They each have parts and sing, etc.)
I sat for a lot of it feeling sad, awkward, frustrated, and throwing a hell of a pity par-tay! for myself. Sitting next to me was Peter, an old friend of the girls. Then ManCub. And then the kids' Mom. And next to her, her friend. Somewhere I got this hair-brained idea that maybe she would like to come and watch the girl's in their first Primary Program. John, Juju, and Porkchop were left at home fighting off colds. With Scrunch up on the stand as well, I felt all by myself and outnumbered by the crazies.
A friend posted this link on her FB about The Invisible Mother. It served as a great backdrop for my pity party. For if you think Mothering is the hardest job in the world, try doing it for another woman's children. Because no matter how many nights I stay up sewing new skirts, they will be most excited to show them her. And even if I was the one who taught them how to knit, their first project will be a gift for her. But I will need to make sure it gets wrapped. I will cook, sew, clean, keep track of homework, get cashback for the Toothfairy, make sure they ate breakfast, Google how to curl hair with socks, and that they brush their teeth, but she gets to be Mom. It is the hardest, most awkward place, I never thought I'd find myself in. This sucks. Welcome to my party.
As the first verses of my favorite hymn began, I started to soften and I cried through How Great Though Art. It was a much needed blessing that the kids were on the stand and the really wiggly ones were at home. I was able to focus and pay attention and really think and feel without the constant distraction of wiping someones nose. Somewhere during the middle of the Sacrament I happened to glance to my side and see C sitting in her black tube top and white capris. A few minutes earlier I had harshly thought, "At least she has long hair. It helps to cover what her clothes don't and at least a couple of the tattoos."
From somewhere the thought popped into my mind, "This isn't easy for her either."
Though most of the situation is due to consequences of her own choices, it doesn't mean it's easy. They call her Mom, but it's me they'll be going home with. They are my words that she will hear repeated when Beezus tells Miss8 that she "can do hard things". It can't be easy to know that although she is their mother she will never be able to give them the kind of life that we can give them, are giving them. It can't be easy to have her son not cry when she leaves and reach for me when I go to pick him up.
By the end of the Sacrament and just as the kids were about to begin, I made a little bit more peace with the whole situation and my party came to an end. She and I share much of the same pain. I can do hard things.
The girls rocked their parts. And I could hear them singing from where I sat. Their skirts looked cute, and the hair-curling with socks actually worked.
For the very last song we sang all my kids' favorite, I am a Child of God. And I cried again.
Lead me, guide me, walk beside me,
Help me find the way.
Teach me all that I must do
To live with him someday.
I sat for a lot of it feeling sad, awkward, frustrated, and throwing a hell of a pity par-tay! for myself. Sitting next to me was Peter, an old friend of the girls. Then ManCub. And then the kids' Mom. And next to her, her friend. Somewhere I got this hair-brained idea that maybe she would like to come and watch the girl's in their first Primary Program. John, Juju, and Porkchop were left at home fighting off colds. With Scrunch up on the stand as well, I felt all by myself and outnumbered by the crazies.
A friend posted this link on her FB about The Invisible Mother. It served as a great backdrop for my pity party. For if you think Mothering is the hardest job in the world, try doing it for another woman's children. Because no matter how many nights I stay up sewing new skirts, they will be most excited to show them her. And even if I was the one who taught them how to knit, their first project will be a gift for her. But I will need to make sure it gets wrapped. I will cook, sew, clean, keep track of homework, get cashback for the Toothfairy, make sure they ate breakfast, Google how to curl hair with socks, and that they brush their teeth, but she gets to be Mom. It is the hardest, most awkward place, I never thought I'd find myself in. This sucks. Welcome to my party.
As the first verses of my favorite hymn began, I started to soften and I cried through How Great Though Art. It was a much needed blessing that the kids were on the stand and the really wiggly ones were at home. I was able to focus and pay attention and really think and feel without the constant distraction of wiping someones nose. Somewhere during the middle of the Sacrament I happened to glance to my side and see C sitting in her black tube top and white capris. A few minutes earlier I had harshly thought, "At least she has long hair. It helps to cover what her clothes don't and at least a couple of the tattoos."
From somewhere the thought popped into my mind, "This isn't easy for her either."
Though most of the situation is due to consequences of her own choices, it doesn't mean it's easy. They call her Mom, but it's me they'll be going home with. They are my words that she will hear repeated when Beezus tells Miss8 that she "can do hard things". It can't be easy to know that although she is their mother she will never be able to give them the kind of life that we can give them, are giving them. It can't be easy to have her son not cry when she leaves and reach for me when I go to pick him up.
By the end of the Sacrament and just as the kids were about to begin, I made a little bit more peace with the whole situation and my party came to an end. She and I share much of the same pain. I can do hard things.
The girls rocked their parts. And I could hear them singing from where I sat. Their skirts looked cute, and the hair-curling with socks actually worked.
For the very last song we sang all my kids' favorite, I am a Child of God. And I cried again.
Lead me, guide me, walk beside me,
Help me find the way.
Teach me all that I must do
To live with him someday.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Monday, monday.
- I have to write or my head might explode, or I might forget.
- I'm totally bummed that I've had my new sewing machine and serger sitting in its box for over a week! Merry early Christmas from my Husband! I made a deal with myself that I wouldn't play until my CEUs were done. Blast being the responsible adult!
- I better finish my CEUs soon. We have the primary program and my sisters wedding coming up in the next couple of weeks, both of which will require new skirts for the girls.
- While it IS helpful that the girls are 9 and 8, they are still little girls with no experience living in a typical family that has chores, responsibilities, belongings, etc. It is normal, but this can a be huge source of frustration for me. The kind that leaves me wasted at the end of the week and in tears. I was rescued by a friend who put away my groceries and my husband bringing me a slice of tiramisu.
- I have a friend who does not wait for you to come up with ways she can help. I've never heard her say, "Let me know if there is something I can do to help." She just does things. And I've watched her do lots of things for lots of people. When I grow up, I want to be more like that.
- Today's FHE is on table manners. Basic, but it's something that is driving me CRAZY! I found this list that I liked. Since Miss8 is having her tooth extracted we needed something soft for dinner. Mashed potatoes and salmon. This should put "no complaints over what is served" to the test.
Table Manners
1. Eat with a fork unless the food is meant to be eaten
with fingers. Only babies eat with fingers.
2. Sit up and do not hunch over your plate; wrists or forearms can rest on the table, or hands on lap. You don't want to look like a Neanderthal.
3. Don't stuff your mouth full of food, it looks gross, and you could choke.
4. Chew with your mouth closed. No one wants to be grossed out seeing food being chewed up or hearing it being chomped on. This includes no talking with your mouth full.
5. Don't make any rude comments about any food being served. It will hurt someone's feelings.
6. Always say thank you when served something. Shows appreciation.
7. If the meal is not buffet style, then wait until everyone is served before eating. It shows consideration.
8. Eat slowly and don't gobble up the food. Someone took a long time to prepare the food, enjoy it slowly. Slowly means to wait about 5 seconds after swallowing before getting another forkful.
9. When eating rolls, tear off a piece of bread before buttering. Eating a whole piece of bread looks tacky.
10. Don't reach over someone's plate for something. Politely ask that the item to be passed to you. Shows consideration.
11. Do not pick anything out of your teeth, it's gross. If it bothers you that bad, excuse yourself and go to the restroom to pick.
12. Always use a napkin to dab your mouth, which should be on your lap when not in use. Remember, dab your mouth only. Do not wipe your face or blow your nose with a napkin, both are gross. Excuse yourself from the table and go the restroom to do those things.
13. When eating at someone's home or a guest of someone at a restaurant, always thank the host and tell them how much you enjoyed it. At least say that you liked the dinner or mention a specific item that was particularly tasty, i.e. the dessert was great. Again, someone took time, energy, and expense to prepare the food, so show your appreciation.
2. Sit up and do not hunch over your plate; wrists or forearms can rest on the table, or hands on lap. You don't want to look like a Neanderthal.
3. Don't stuff your mouth full of food, it looks gross, and you could choke.
4. Chew with your mouth closed. No one wants to be grossed out seeing food being chewed up or hearing it being chomped on. This includes no talking with your mouth full.
5. Don't make any rude comments about any food being served. It will hurt someone's feelings.
6. Always say thank you when served something. Shows appreciation.
7. If the meal is not buffet style, then wait until everyone is served before eating. It shows consideration.
8. Eat slowly and don't gobble up the food. Someone took a long time to prepare the food, enjoy it slowly. Slowly means to wait about 5 seconds after swallowing before getting another forkful.
9. When eating rolls, tear off a piece of bread before buttering. Eating a whole piece of bread looks tacky.
10. Don't reach over someone's plate for something. Politely ask that the item to be passed to you. Shows consideration.
11. Do not pick anything out of your teeth, it's gross. If it bothers you that bad, excuse yourself and go to the restroom to pick.
12. Always use a napkin to dab your mouth, which should be on your lap when not in use. Remember, dab your mouth only. Do not wipe your face or blow your nose with a napkin, both are gross. Excuse yourself from the table and go the restroom to do those things.
13. When eating at someone's home or a guest of someone at a restaurant, always thank the host and tell them how much you enjoyed it. At least say that you liked the dinner or mention a specific item that was particularly tasty, i.e. the dessert was great. Again, someone took time, energy, and expense to prepare the food, so show your appreciation.
And I'm going to dig out some popsicle sticks for a manners game, and spray paint a little pig for our table so we can play this game for fun.
- I am still wanting to move the country and eat a lot of peaches. Some day.
- My days of room re-dos have come to a screeching halt, but I still need the outlet of doing something for my home. I am working on a list of things that will take me less than 30 minutes to complete but will give me a full day of happiness and self satisfaction.
- I am going to be making peace with the laundry. Audible is going to help. 2 loads folded and put away before noon is my new goal- starting tomorrow. What should I listen to first?
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Back to school
My midwife said that just when you get your kids trained up into such nice little people they're ready to send off for school to ruin. I am beginning to see how this is the case.
Scrunch doesn't care. She can't wait. She doesn't even flinch or hesitate to give me the thumbs up signal to hit the road. She says goodbye to me in the car because once inside it's like "Yeah, whatever. Catch ya later old lady."
Sniff.
With her gone to preschool now, I am officially outnumbered two afternoons per week. I am going to miss my little helper. She's become so silly and nice to have around. More than ever I have come to rely on and appreciate my "big girl".
P.S. Please tell me I'm not the only person who sings Billy Madison's 'Back to School' song every time you see someone's 'Back to School' post? Jr. High obviously left a deep and profound impression on me. Rest easy though. I have not taught my preschooler any of Adam Sandler's songs.
Scrunch doesn't care. She can't wait. She doesn't even flinch or hesitate to give me the thumbs up signal to hit the road. She says goodbye to me in the car because once inside it's like "Yeah, whatever. Catch ya later old lady."
Sniff.
With her gone to preschool now, I am officially outnumbered two afternoons per week. I am going to miss my little helper. She's become so silly and nice to have around. More than ever I have come to rely on and appreciate my "big girl".
P.S. Please tell me I'm not the only person who sings Billy Madison's 'Back to School' song every time you see someone's 'Back to School' post? Jr. High obviously left a deep and profound impression on me. Rest easy though. I have not taught my preschooler any of Adam Sandler's songs.
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