A wise man passed along some words of wisdom through a friend.

"A woman has one of two problems in this life. She either has children, or she doesn't."

And Boy! Ain't that the truth!

In the same week that Porkchop had the stomach flu, an ear infection, and teething right into his cleft, I started working from home. Both a blessing and curse. I wanted to flip out. And blog. I could tell you a story or two about my vericose hooha veins and lack of sleep, but I also finished listening to The Dovekeepers that week and was reminded (as I folded my laundry while these women crossed the Dead Sea) that I could have it so much worse. That my life is easy.

I know I'm not the only mom among my friends who walks the line between "keeping it real" and constantly moaning and kavetching over the little realities of life. I am still baffled by the amount of my capacities that are consumed by cleaning up poop. Who knew there would be so much poop?!

Over the weekend I learned of the passing of two acquaintance's children, one at twenty weeks and the other four years old. I felt sick and wanted to cry. Both for their loss but also because I was a beast trying to get ready for church on Sunday morning to the extent that my sister reminded me it actually was a rarity for even tigers to eat their young. I cried for their loss, but also in guilt for my ingratitude.

As I sat in Relief Society I felt it hit home. The universal truth. This life is a preparatory state where we are called to endure trials at different times and of different magnitudes so that we may learn those things that will be essential to our salvation. Who knew that the summation of these trials as a woman would fall into one of two categories. You either have children, or you don't.  

I remember watching Barney as a kid. 

OK, I admit it. I watched part of it last week. 

And I still remember some of the songs!

"Sally, the camel, has two humps! And two chins!" "Sally, the camel, has two humps! And two chins!" "Sally, the camel, has two humps. And two chins!" "So ride, Sally. Ride. Boom, boom!"

 

Clarity

My prayers of late have been that my mind might be clear. That I might be able to focus.

(Yes, Annelle. I pray.)

The "no one is talking to me right now" "no one is crying" "no one is asking me why? or what will happen?" or "what's the guy in the check out lane's name?" moments are few. And when I get them I want to zone out and do something fun like Google Christmas present ideas and blog surf. Or do nothing.

Instead, I bargain with myself over my free time. If I work for an hour or read a chapter, then I can wishlist on Amazon. And I am very generous with myself. I even let myself eat too much Halloween candy for breakfast. Definitely too generous as I'm not as far along on my History class as I would like, but my Christmas shopping is almost done. It is easier (and more rewarding) to work and get paid for an hour than it is to write an essay on how Greek thought influenced our Puritan founders.

As the months get closer to my self-imposed deadlines, I am getting smarter. If it is quiet, get to work. This is how I learned my lesson...

As we drove to Church I thought I might write part of my essay in my head. Then Scrunch broke into my thoughts.

"Mom, are you pumping?"

"No. I'm not pumping."

"Why is it quiet then?"

"Mommy's thinking."

"How come you don't pump any more?"

"Uh. huh."

"Mom! Why don't you pump?"

"Porkchop doesn't need the milk from my body anymore."

"Oh. Cuz he drinks regular milk."

"Uh. huh."

"Yep. He drinks regular milk."

"Uh. huh."

"So, did the milk man's move out of your nipples?"

"Huh. What?"

"DID THE MILK MAN'S MOVE OUT OF YOUR NIPPLES?!?"

And so, you see, without my prayers I haven't got a snowballs chance in Hell in writing an intelligible essay.

Out and About

Sometimes we get dressed in something besides our paint scrubs and go places. I don't know what the point was. At least the paint scrubs are comfy.

Occasionally, we kick it up a notch and put on tights. I would have done my hair, but I worked that day. I don't get fancy for the sickos. Hair and tights are reserved for Sundays.

Scrunch's favorite outing was to see Beauty and the Beast. The look on her face while watching was the reason I wanted kids. She was just so happy.

"What did you do today?"

"I played, and played, and played, and went to a play."

Butcher Block Dreams

This one time, someone listened to me. 

And it totally worked!

Wait...

Hold that....

No. It not only worked, it looks awesome! 

A new dishwasher led to new countertops. New countertops to the backsplash (my idea), the new backsplash to painting the island. Ahem, my idea again. Painting the island to the butcherblock. What's that? Another one of my ideas? 

What I'm trying to figure out is why they are still giving me a hard time about re-hanging the wallpaper, finishing the living and dining room painting, and making two Craigslist pickups in a single weekend. Just because my version of simplifying my life includes working more hours, from home. I needed an office space. 

Sometimes, some of my half baked ideas work out. Obviously. I have a track record. There was that one time... butcher block was brilliant.

I don't have any pictures of my parent's update. But I liked it so well, it's what I'm hoping I get for my next birthday. That's why I suggested it. I wanted to see if it would work before I took a sledge hammer to my own kitchen island. My husband is very tolerant of my painting anything I want, but he is a little leery of me with a sledgehammer. And who can blame him, really?

Text

When my sister Erica got engaged last week, the text went out. "It's official. I've got a ring! And I texted you all at the same time."

Within two minutes I got a call from Jess. "Have you heard from Erica? She's not picking up."

"No. I just got her text. Have you talked to mom?"

"Yeah, but it's not her. I wonder where she is."

We chatted for a few minutes. "If you talk to her, call me."

"OK." and continued chatting.

"Oh, hey! I'ts Erica. I'll call you back."

So I called Mom.

Then I talked to Erica and got the story from her. She had been on the phone with Miqui.

Then I got the story again from Miqui, The Youngest.

The following morning I heard it again from Jess, just to make sure I'd talked to Erica.

And that's how we roll.

I hope Derrick knows what he's getting into.

Congratulations Aunt E and soon to be Uncle Possum!

You have some shoes to fill. My other brother in law lets me dress his son and Great Dane for Halloween.

The Aftermath

I have a love/hate relationship with Halloween.

I love it because...well, it's Halloween. You can decorate with purple glitter.

I hate it because...well, let's just say no Mother invented Trick or Treating.

Still, it has it's benefits. The high fructose corn syrup and artificial food coloring has done wonders for Porkchop's vocabulary. In the last week he's picked up "Pleeeeeease!" and "Tank-ou!" consistently, "Treat," and "Cupcake."

***
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles!


Heroes in a half shell. Turtle Power!