C'mon Get Happy!

If you're half the nerd I am, you are totally singing Brady Bunch music after reading that title. If you're not...well, I choose to believe *you're* the one with issues. heh

On a totally random thought, completely unrelated to this post, where did my font options disappear to? I dislike serifs! Blogger you really tick me off sometimes! But alas, I cannot conquer you WordPress, so here we are.

So I haven't posted in several weeks, and I left things on a pretty dark and depressing note, but I am here to correct that! A wise old (ok not old at all) Adrian type person said I should have a blog, and how lame is it that I have one and just can't stay motivated to keep it up?

Now, let's bring this place back to the smurfy side with some totally random things that are making me happy at the moment.

Number one! In 5 days we will celebrate the first day of Christmas break. Sure, Christmas is exciting, but I am really celebrating the fact that I have two weeks wherein I don't have to get up at the (_|_)crack of dawn and get a kid to school when he'd rather stay in bed just like me.

Numero dos! On Friday, she of the Sparkly Britches will be leaving the land of the Tarheels and flying to Hokieloma to spend Christmas with her family. TEN days I say! Which means there is ample time to squeeze in one heaping basket of fried mushrooms at Eskimo Joe's and reminisce as we do *so* well.

Letter C! On Christmas Eve eve my sister and brother-in-law, with Corgie and Weiner dog in tow, will be driving down from Idaho to spend Christmas and New Years (read: Mom's birthday) with us. My kiddos are absolutely beside themselves with excitement, and that makes me happier than just about anything.

Section D, Part I! It's cold. It's really bloomin' cold outside and I LOVE IT!

Section D, Part II! Chili...and hot chocolate...and gingerbread cookies...and COLLEGE BOWL GAMES! That is all.

________

My desk is so cold I feel like an elf working at the North Pole, minus the chubby guy in the red fuzzy suit cracking his whip at me. But I will return to work now, so that I may finish in time to put up my Christmas tree tonight and no longer be counted among the Christmas slackers.

140 characters or less

Do you ever feel like you're just going through the motions? That's just...where I'm at right now. I've hit a low point and I've just been hanging out there for a while now. I don't really know how to put it into words. I put on a good bubbly happy show, but the truth is, I feel invisible. I feel as though I don't really fit in anywhere...even in the world of the internets that has always been my one place of comfort and acceptance. I've gone beyond the superficial stuff though. It doesn't really matter anymore that I'm fat and unattractive, that stuff I can hide online at least. No, now that I have taken the time to look deeper I realize that I have accomplished very little in my life that is of any worth. It's not a pity party, just a devastating realization at the age of 30, when perhaps I've already missed the opportunity to make a difference...in anything or anyone.

If I were to die today, my obituary could run on Twitter, in 140 characters or less, and sum up my contributions with characters to spare.

I don't like this place I'm in. But I wonder if there's a way out. Lord, I hope so...I pray I'll find it. My children deserve more than this. I'd like to think that maybe, just maybe, *I* deserve more than this too.

Survey says what??

Yesterday when I was going through Rogit's school papers I found a survey with a little note attached asking me to fill it out and return it. First time that has ever happened but okay, sure.

So I sat down last night to read this survey. It says it's for the improvements of our buildings and grounds. Okay, that's probably worth my time. Let's see what some of the questions are. (Not edited, minus the commentary of course, so that you can see it in it's original glory.)

1. Yes/No (apparently when you work with children you think every note you send home has to be in "check yes or no" format) the maintenance person should perform monthly checks and repairs on all playground equipment to ensure student safety. (uhhhh is this not already being done?? I'm hoping at this point that the questions get better from here)
2. Yes/No all sidewalks should be kept clear of ice and snow during School operating hours to ensure the safety of staff, students, and visitors. (This is the school who started locking the door we could park closest to when dropping off our kids. Now we have a good 50yds of sidewalk between us and the front door. Perhaps we should just strap on the ice skates this year.)
3. Yes/No should the outside gates on the south side of the elementary playground is locked to prevent students from leaving the playground undetected. (Yes you read that right! Our teachers on duty have an interesting habit of watching the kids from INSIDE the front door, especially if the wind might blow their hair or make their nose cold. So yes, a child sneaking away undetected is a very good possibility.)
4. Yes/No level sidewalk on south side of elementary so that rain and ice puddles do not accumulate for the safety of students and visitors. (The door we are required to pick our children up at has a regular lake in front of it when the slightest amount of water falls from the sky. Again, we may need ice skates when winter hits.)

At this point I'm speechless. Is my child's school really having to ASK me if these things need to be done?? It gets better. Read on.


Please rate the following items in the order of importance to you. L for least, M for medium, and H for high. (How exactly do you rate something in order but rate each one individually?)

Secure swing set into the ground at elementary (WHAT?? This swingset has been there for 10 years, has probably 10 swings and tire swings, and you know how an elementary kid can rock a swing. Seriously?? You have to ask if it should be secured into the ground?)

Replace missing boards on treehouse and remove all exposed nails at elementary (Wow. That is all.)

Repair locks and stall doors in bathrooms (These kids have enough trouble getting used to going to the bathroom alone, but maybe having that added threat of someone walking in on them at any time makes them go faster or something.)

Tighten loose baseboards in gym (I dunno, is it on the visitors side? Jeez.)

Fill in playground area with sand (Nah, they're tough. They'll probably only land on their heads or something when they fall off the monkey bars. Glass shards would probably be cheaper anyway.)

Repair broken water fountains (Who needs water? Certainly not children hard at play)

Repair gym bathrooms at high school (Those kids are old enough to pee outside behind a tree)

Put automatic deodorizers in bathrooms (Oh definitely! This obviously outranks everything on this list as priority number one! : .....)

Repair outside basketball goal at high school (Can't have them playing inside on that brand new gym floor the town paid for 10yrs ago only to have them use the elementary's gym)

Repair band room at high school (Considering part of that band room has the potential to allow something, or someone, to fall a good 10 feet if the floor collapses, I think we might put this on the list of definite maybes)


_____


I'm not feeling so confident in the people who are in charge of my kid from 8-3 five days a week right now.

the lazy blogger and her closet genius

Whole.E.Cow. I see that I haven't posted since the 22nd of October and remember how truly BAD I am at this whole blogging thing. Perhaps if I had a job, or ever got to leave my house, or had some adult friends to hang out with at least once every 6 months, I might have interesting things to say. Ah well. I'll keep posting when things come to me...and hope it's enough to hang onto my whopping TWO readers. heh

So anyway. I do have a story to tell!

If you know me at all you know about my Rogit. He's a whopping 6 years old now. A Kindergartener. Your typical kid, only not so typical at all. He's smart folks. He's amazingly smart. When he meets someone new it takes literally 2 minutes of conversation with him for them to look at me and say, wow, you've got a pretty amazing kid there. I swear I'm not biased. Okay so I am a little...but I'm not the type to brag on my kid, I'm not a competimommy. This kid is special.

For his birthday last month he asked for a microscope. He had found a hair from an animal and said he "desperately needed a microscope to get a closer look and see if it was a hair from a known species or if I've discovered a new species entirely." Not paraphrasing here. That's really how he talks. It doesn't stop there. Ask him about dinosaurs and he'll correct your pronunciation of their scientific names, tell you what period they lived in, what area of the world their fossils have been found in, and why that dinosaur with 3 toes is "obviously an Allosaurus and not a T-Rex because a T-rex only had 2 toes." Ask him about sharks and you'll leave knowing most every species and the identifying characteristics of each. It's amazing to watch.

He has been on the verge of reading for well over a year now. He writes cards and letters to us at home and we're easily able to tell what he's trying to say. I've noticed vast improvements in his spelling in the last couple of months. But when he brings home books from school he either has them memorized first or he gets frustrated with them and wants me to think he can't read them. I've run out of ideas on how to get him to try in front of me. Since he was a year old he has been the kid that has to perfect something before his mom sees him do it or hears him say it. So he learned a lot from television and his Memaw. At school they are still busy learning the things he knew when he was 2 years old so he's bored out of his mind and had actually been regressing in some areas.

Or so I thought.

He brought home a library book last night. Library books are fun because they don't have to have "Step 1 Reader" at the top of them, they don't have to have a reading level marked on them at all! Because they are intended to be books that we read to him. So at bed time last night we pulled his book from his bag, snuggled into bed, and I started to read. I got to read the first word. Then it was like a light bulb went on in his head and he took the book and read the entire thing to ME. I was speechless. He was beaming. Smiling like I have not seen him smile in a very long time. He was SO proud of himself, almost as proud as I was of him. The little rat has been figuring it all out when I wasn't looking and suddenly I have a closet reader.

I understand now why he's so bored at school. And when I was in school here that wasn't a problem. The teachers I had were more than willing to challenge us, give me work from the grades ahead, push us so that we were constantly learning and never bored. But my goodness how this school system has changed. It's all about bringing everyone down to a level playing field now. So for now he sits and waits. Waits for them to let him read real books. Waits for the day when he can go to a science class...another 3 years away. Waits for school to be challenging and fun like everyone promised him it would be.

Time to look for other options? Perhaps. Let me know when you think of something, because I'm fresh out of ideas.

Wherein I admit that I don't have a clue

The topic of the week has been serving. What we are called to do, in what ways we serve, etc. I realized pretty quickly that I do nothing. Certainly not much of anything that I'm really passionate about. And that led me to the realization that I don't really know WHAT I'm passionate about, if anything. I think I've hit this point in my life where I've allowed myself to become numb to everything and just simply try to exist. I have the desire to do something, I want to find whatever it is that I am called to do, I want to find something that I'm really successful in doing. But what on earth could that be?

There are things I want to do. I want to do more design work, but I lack the creativity, the tools, and perhaps even the skill. I want to dive into my photography, but I lack the knowledge and the equipment to take it to the next level. I want to work more on jewelry, but I only enjoy it when I design it, it stresses me out to try to make something for someone, and I have no outlet so my stash of stuff is turning into a lot of wasted money. I want that career I always imagined I have, but I lack direction and don't seem to be good enough at anything in particular to be productive or successful with it.

I think I waited too long to decide what I want to be when I grow up and now I'm just not anything.

If you haven't heard about the crack smoking lesbian, you haven't really been to church

Change.

It's a scary word. It immediately brings negative thoughts to mind. Change is uncertain. Change is uncomfortable. The thought of change can motivate us to stay in our ruts, to be happy with the status quo.

But change can be good. Change can be exciting, refreshing. Change can motivate us to strive for something better.

No matter which way we look at it, change is necessary. The question is which attitude we will face it with.

I grew up in a small town Baptist church. We had 60 people on a good day, 100 for a special day like Easter or Christmas. It was comfortable, friendly. It was a place that encouraged learning, healthy relationships, and love. It's where I was saved, where I was baptized, where I grew in my faith. But as time passed, change was needed. The enthusiasm was gone, the purpose was lost, and it became routine instead of inspiring, worship no longer had meaning it was just "what we do on Sunday mornings."

I can count on one hand the number of people who tried to bring about change. Any change, no matter how small, that would rekindle the fire in that church. But those people were accepted about as well as their ideas and not one of them are left in that congregation. The church is dying, perhaps already dead, left with no one but those members who have just always been there and always will be until they pass away. All stemming from of a fear of change.

I'm guilty of it too. I normally fear change. But I had reached a point in my spiritual life where I craved it. So I stepped out of the box and started attending church online at Lifechurch.tv. Obviously the traditionalists at my old church don't see it as church at all. To them I have become the bad mother who has deserted her family on Sunday mornings, the incompetent parent who is providing a bad example for my children. But for me it's about being fed. It's being able to finally, after several years, hear from God again, know that he's in control, and listen to what he wants me to hear on a regular basis. There is no bickering, no politics, no distractions to keep me preoccupied, to hurt me, to make me angry. For that, I am a better mother, I am a better wife, and, most importantly, a better Christian. It hurts to know what they think of me, but I have to remind myself that I am where I feel God has led me and that my family is healthier because I have chosen to listen.

This weekend I had the pleasure of watching a message from Steven Furtick, lead pastor of Elevation Church in Charlotte, NC. He's young, he looks like a rock star, and he'd make the old church members in Mudhole, OK roll their eyes because he's not wearing a suit and tie while he preaches. When he mentioned the Karate Kid and a crack smoking lesbian in this week's sermon, those deacons up the hill would have been scrambling for a way to run him out of the pulpit before noon. And while they sat and thought about those things they would be missing inspiration from one of the most impressive young pastors I have ever heard. A truly passionate man of God.

They wouldn't hear that because he represents change. The change they fear. The change that means there are rock songs replacing their old hymns, there are sermons being broadcast on a video screen, there are people in jeans and t-shirts in a house of God. But those changes are necessary. Those changes aren't compromising beliefs, they aren't polluting the message we're trying to get across. Those changes are what are reaching the generations who have felt uncomfortable and unwelcomed in the traditional church. Those changes are what are bringing people to Christ.

Change without compromise.
Stand firm in God's word, change the approach. It's what will save churches, it's what will save people.

That other turkey day

I want to wish my Canadian family and friends a happy thanksgiving today. Even though it's entirely the wrong month and still too warm for a hoodie...Canadians baffle me with their mixed up turkey day and their just-another-excuse-to-get-off-work monthly made up holidays. Gotta love 'em! Wish we had thought of that first.

I leave you with this! The best turkey picture on the internet.

Any turkey can tango, any turkey can dance, any turkey can tango, if they had a chance.

Words to live by I say.

Have a great Thanksgiving ya'll!

Mudhole Melodrama

I was talking to my sister on the phone yesterday, something I don't get to do often since she's halfway across the country, and someone kept beeping in on my cell phone. I hate call waiting. I really love the fact that I can tell when someone calls but I will not click over for you unless I think you have some mind-blowing emergency. I just won't. I hate it, I think it's rude, and I hate the beeping/cutting-out noise my Chuckberry makes when it happens.

So not the point of this post...
/tangent

So I look down at the screen to see that it's my friend beeping in. No problem, I'll call her back later. She beeps in again. I ignore it again. Then my home phone rings. (I would have ignored that one as well but Dexter has learned how to answer the phone and I haven't been able to get him to grasp the whole call screening thing. So he answers and asks who it is and throws me the phone, every.single.time it rings.)

WOW AJ stick to the point already!

So I say hello and my friend starts in on some story about a dog and her puppies that are loose across the street from the school. She's rambling about how there were three puppies that morning but when she came back at noon there were only two and they look like they're starving and they can't figure out who owns them and this lady from another town says she's going to take them to wamalart and find them a good home because obviously no one is taking care of them and oh my gosh this is inhumane and the owners aren't home at 12:30 in the afternoon so i better take the dogs because they're being neglected oh my goodness someone call animal control!!!!

*BREATHE*

I feel like this is a good time to remind everyone that there are at least 30 dogs wandering the streets of Mudhole at any given moment. If you've lived here long enough you've learned to ignore this and move on because we have no animal control. We have no law enforcement. We have a population of 300 (counting those dogs). But these two ladies aren't from around these parts. So stray puppies=sky falling.

What I say: It's no big deal, leave them alone, I'm sure they belong to so-and-so who lives in the blue single-wide.

What I am thinking: By the time I pick my kid up at 3pm the entire town will have heard about these dogs, and the old men at the coffee shop will have figured out who they belong to. You don't need to solve the mystery, Encylopedia Brown.

Back to my sister who has been waiting through this whole conversation. We talk for two minutes and the phone rings again.

Friend: Someone called the county sherriff and he's here going from door to door trying to find the owners. If he doesn't find them he's taking the puppies! Which house did you say you thought they belong to?? I'll go tell him!

What I say: Uhhh...please don't do that. Just leave it alone. It's none of our business.

What I am thinking: Umm yesterday someone went to that house looking for the parents of the kids who are outside playing 24/7 and found their crack pipe still sitting on the kitchen table from their last hit. Those kids just lost their father to cancer and if you send that sherriff to knock on their door they'll get ripped out of that house before the school bell rings today. Sure, that might be a good thing, but I am NOT going to be responsible for pushing that snowball down the hill.

Only in Mudhole could a puppy on the loose lead to DHS ripping some kids out of the newly discovered crack house. Film at eleven.

I'd like to thank the Academy...

...for recognizing my performance as the worst mother in the world.

Happy birthday Rogit! You're 6 today! And my gift to you is that one traumatic childhood experience that will stick with you for the rest of your life. I can hear it already, 30 years from now,

"Mom, remember that year I turned 6 and you didn't make me any cupcakes for school? That was the worst birthday ever."

Let the record show that I have offered for over a month to make the child cupcakes for school and he said he didn't want them. How was I supposed to know that 2 minutes before the bell rang he would panic because he didn't have anything to take and have a complete meltdown??

Let the record also show that I feel like a complete jerk anyway.


Edited to add: I totally just flew to Wamalart and bought the kid some cupcakes. They'll be waiting for him at snack time when he wakes up from nap.

System overload

I have a problem. There is a word missing from my vocabulary. That word is no.

This weekend was a brutal reminder of what happens to me when I promise too many things to too many people. I was supposed to have Rogit's 6th birthday party on Saturday. We were going to do a big cake, he wanted a party at the bowling alley with our usual group of friends. Then my friend informed me that this would be the only possible weekend she could have her son's party. Well that presents a problem because we have the same group of friends. My mom goes on a trip the weekend after Rogit's birthday every year, so the weekend before is our only party option. We will have this conflict with these friends forever I suppose. I decided I could pull off the bowling party at noon and have it done before her party at 5.

Then the wedding reception I offered to do a cake for back in February gets scheduled for Saturday as well. That means I'm trying to make a wedding cake, a birthday cake, plan a party, and attend another party all on the same day.

Roenick's cake and party get crossed off the list first. I don't want him disappointed when nobody shows up for his party, and I can't possibly get both cakes done in the same weekend. So my own child gets the shaft.

The bride changes her design Friday afternoon around 3pm. The cake is due in exactly 24hrs. I planned to pull an all-nighter but at 9:30 I could no longer function. The nausea and the pain in my gut have risen to a level that I cannot tolerate and I drag myself home and into bed. I'm up again at 5:30 to get the cake done.

I get a phone call from the friend having the birthday party, it has been moved to 4pm. The wedding reception is at 6:30. Guess where I'll be at 4pm?? Setting up a cake.

I feel like an alien is trying to eat it's way out of my stomach, but I get the cake finished and delivered. I come home, pop a Zantac, and plop down on the couch. There is no way I'm making that party. My name will be mud for the next year because I didn't show up and allow them all to pretend they like me.

I have come to realize that I am allowing other people to make me miserable, to make me physically ill, and to make me an emotional wreck. I spend all my time saying yes to people in the hopes that I'll fit in, that they will accept me, that they might want to be my friend. And in the mean time I am falling apart. I am finally admitting that I have been in depression for over 2 years now. In that time I have gone from a happy, thin, outgoing person to a mopey, fat, reclusive blob all because I crave the acceptance of people so much that I am willing to let them destroy me.

No more.

Today I let my spiritual health take the forefront. Today my family and myself become my only other priorities. Everything and everyone else can wait.

I will not compromise for you.
I will not over commit myself for you.
I will not let you limit my success.
I will not let you destroy me.

Yes I know...

...that you bought the computer I've been needing for years, even though you spent a decade telling me how crappy Macs are.

...that you had to buy a $5000 camera because I was getting a new one and you had to outdo me.

...that your new ipod touch trumps my 1st gen Nano.

...that your new house is going to be so much bigger than mine and that you need to run every detail of your planning stages by me.

...that your husband just got his 50000th raise this year and you have more money than you know what to do with.

...that you are better friends with her and that you have some undeniable need to call and tell me everytime you are having a "girl's day out" because it's sooo nice to get out without the kids from time to time. No, REALLY?

...that you've lost another 5lbs and you aren't really even trying.

...that you're getting together yet again...across the street from me...so the kids can play and you can have some much needed adult conversation.

...that you are smarter, more talented, and just generally better than me.


BUT, thanks so much for reminding me....again.

Cheaters r dumb

This was one wonky weekend, internets! As you know, our weekend started Friday with a barfy kid. I had big plans to attend a national cake competition on Saturday and I wasn't sure that was going to happen. But Rogit was up and requesting spaghetti for dinner by Friday evening, so, other than worrying all day about whether I would start with the spontaneous puking, Saturday ended up being a great day.

Well, it was a great day if you don't let the fact that someone flat out stole the cake design Rogit did for his 4th birthday and entered it into the show as their own ruin your day. That's right...some twiznit copied my boy's ingenius idea and got a 2nd place ribbon out of the deal. I wanted to leave a picture of the original next to her cake with a little note to say "THIS is what it was SUPPOSED to look like!" Yeah, I know...bitter much? grrr Rogit was incredibly mad when he saw the pic of Copy McCheaterson's cake. He didn't understand why someone would steal his idea. Cheaters stink.

By the time I made it home Saturday evening Dexter had started with the puking. But by Sunday morning he was fine. The Canadian started with the ralph-fest Sunday morning and I was feeling pretty gross. But I made it through the day without losing my beer battered cheese curds. I thought I had escaped it but wouldn't ya know it, today is worse than yesterday so I fear the worst may be yet to come.

I will not puke. I refuse to puke. I shall.not.puke. Oh please, pretty please, with sugar on top, don't let me puke.

Top 10 things to know about children and vomit

1. A child will appear completely healthy when they are asking if they can crawl into bed with you for a snuggle. All will be well until you fall asleep.

2. Vomit is attracted to emetophobes.

3. Vomit wakes you up quickly when it hits you at full force in the middle of the darkness.

4. Children only vomit on a day when the emetophobic parent is home alone with said children.

5. The sibling will soon follow...but only when you least expect it. No matter how many buckets you spread across the house.

6. You will be sick...but only from worrying about whether or not you will catch the bug.

7. 42" tall child will get the couch.

8. Sick child won't want to be alone...5'6" parent gets the loveseat.

9. Child will appear to have puked all they can puke...until you finally allow yourself to fall asleep.

10. Child will only request all the food and drinks that are worst for a sick tummy. You'll spend your day breaking hearts for keeping food from a child who looks like Starvin' Marvin.

____________

Trivia!
What's the worst possible thing that can happen to a child who has already lost 4lbs in the last 2 months?

Be the first to answer correctly and win!...(the satisfaction of being the first to answer correctly)

____________

Favorite quotes for the day:

"I feel as hot as the desert under this blanket."
"I hate being sick. I just wish it was a fun frolicking day."


Have a fun frolicking day internets! May your noodle soup not fly out of your nose. (Trust me on this one.)

M-O Elementary...producing eating disorders since 1984

Rogit has always been a picky eater. He has always been a skinny little guy, verging on something you might see in a commercial involving Sally Struthers. But his dad, The Canadian, was the same way. I mean the man had a 28" waist when we got married. It has taken me 10 years to put some meat on his bones. Rogit eats well at home, but has never eaten well in public. In restaurants he freezes up because he's afraid he'll gag, or something might not taste right. At the dreaded playdates he continues to play while the others eat so he won't have to eat food prepared by someone else. The child has issues, I know, but nothing he wouldn't grow out of if left to work through it in his own time. But this school doesn't believe in natural eating habits.

A little background. I attended the same school, started Kindergarten in 1983. Back before they invented Pre-K and decided our children shouldn't experience any childhood outside of school. But I digress. Our cafeteria food was horribly disgusting. I remember the boiled potatoes literally bouncing like a SuperBall if you "dropped" them hard enough. There was some nastiness they called burrocks that looked like they'd been stuffed with the lunch lady's dog's vomit. No matter what kind of horrid slop they served, we were expected to eat every single bite of it. Full? Who cares. We clean our plates here, and we do it in 10 minutes or less. (And we wonder why left there with horrible eating habits.) I remember my friend throwing up all over the lunch table in first grade, only to be forced to clean it up herself and get a fresh plate of food, which she was expected to eat before she could leave the room. I took my lunch every.single.day. I took my lunch so I had decent food, and because the teachers didn't inspect what I had eaten before I could go to recess.

So when Rogit started school last year I sent his lunch. I knew he wouldn't eat the school food, and I knew they'd force him to do it. And I was right, that policy hadn't changed a bit. But something had. Now they inspected the lunches brought from home. They told them what order they could eat their food in, and they weren't allowed to go outside until they cleaned their plate. There were tears in the lunchroom, tears at home, and my child who loved school changed into the child that screams and clings to his mother's leg, begging her not to leave him at that horrible place. We made it through the year but he suffered physically and emotionally. He was literally skin and bones by the end of the year. I had never been so glad to see Summer break arrive. As soon as school was out he started eating again. He ate like he hadn't eaten in...oh NINE months maybe?? He gained weight, he gained muscle back, he was vibrant and energetic, and closely resembled that bubbly little guy I had sent to school on the first day.

Fast forward 4 months and here we are again. My child has lost 4lbs since August 16th. FOUR pounds! He is 5 years old! There should be no talk of weight loss at this point. He's moody and exhausted and comes home each day to grab a snack and crash on the couch for several hours. It's infuriating. I have complained until I'm blue in the face, but it seems that decades old habits are hard to break. Especially when no one sees the need for the breaking. I am seriously at such a loss as to what my next step should be. I'm all ears if ANY of you have any suggestions. Until then, only 8 more months to go. I'm not sure what will be left of him by then.

too much cake, my kid sees bruce willis, and memories I never knew existed

Most of you know that I decorate cakes in my not-so-spare time. But I think it's time for a break. I know, I know...who needs a break from cake? But it is starting to affect my children. Rogit sees everything in cake, and he's a cake snob. No, Wamalart sheet cake will never be good enough for him again. And play-doh? Why make anything out of play-doh when you can make it out of fondant and put it on top of the fridge to harden and attract flies? His birthday is in a couple of weeks and he has changed his ideas for his cake, ohhh about 100 times, since January. Yeah that's right, I said JANUARY. The child is obsessed! I thought Dexter was immune to the insanity. He is, afterall, too busy throwing frogs and underwear on the roof, and sliding down the concrete storm shelter in his underwear. But yesterday, as he passed by me on his way to some unknown building project, he pulls from his pocket a key ring with a set of alan wrenches hanging from it and says, "MOM!!! I got it! We could use these for CAKE!!" It was like he had discovered fire. He'll never be the same again. Last night I found them both in my caking room stealing bits of fondant, Rogit making spiders and crabs, Dexter making Bigfoot footprints. My boys are cake nerds. What have I created.

Dexter, while he's not dealing with frogs and underwear and cake, is starting to freak me out a bit. My parents had a neighbor who had a sudden onset of health problems last week. Mom had called to tell me on Tuesday that his organs were failing and they didn't expect him to make it through the night. All of this occurred over the phone so Dexter couldn't have heard her end of the conversation, nor would he even know the man's name or where he lived even if he had heard it. Wednesday came and went, Thursday rolled around, and we still hadn't heard if he had passed yet. We were leaving my parents' house Thursday afternoon and as we drove by the neighbors' house Dexter said, "Someone died at that house today." Mom and I just looked at each other, I can't even pinpoint the emotions and the thoughts that all fired through my head at that moment. We asked why he thought that and his answer was, "Because the bad man came today." Creeped us right.the.heck.out. We tried to brush it off and mom dropped us off at home. She went back home and called an hour later to let me know that the neighbor had indeed passed away Thursday morning. I'm not sure what I believe when it comes to ghosts and such, but we at least know there are angels and demons, the scripture spells that out for us. And I've heard so many times that children see many things that we don't simply because of their innocence. So who knows what my little guy saw. Whatever it was was enough to let him know that someone had died, a concept he had not been able to grasp before that very instant. And apparently someone came for him...terrifying to say the least.

OK, let's lighten this up a bit. When I was little, my Grandpa Mc. was someone who was larger than life to me. He and my dad took me fishing, taught me how to shoot a gun, he showed me how to pour homemade sinker, all those things a Grandpa in Oklahoma should teach you, if you're lucky enough to have one like him. We lost my Grandpa Mc. way back in 1989. Back before every family had 3 cameras and a camcorder, before there were digital cameras that let us snap 200 pics at every family gathering. We have some pictures of him, one of which sits on my mom and dad's hall table, and my boys know who he is from that picture alone. Grandpa is one of those people that I sincerely regret my boys not being able to know and love. Last night, out of the blue, my dad shows up with a DVD of a home movie from a family BBQ with my Grandpa's sister and all of their relatives. I knew he was hoping Grandpa made it on there somewhere. I made a copy and sat down to make sure it worked on my television, and lo and behold, there was Grandpa Mc., talking and smiling, as if I could reach out and touch him. It really hit me kind of hard, I guess because I never knew any video existed of him, so I never thought I'd see him or hear his voice like that again. I will cherish those 2 minutes of video for many years to come.

The waiting...

When I was pregnant with Rogit I made the brilliant decision to ride in a cramped Jeep Cherokee from Oklahoma to central California. The nausea, the swelling, the high blood pressure, the everything...it all started on the way there in May and never looked back until October, when Rogit made his appearance a month early. My doctor gave me a good cussing and put me on bedrest pretty early on, so I was left with few choices to pass the long days while The Canadian was at work. I needed conversation, I needed interaction with people, but I needed it from my couch where I sat on my butt all day. (I'm convinced this is when said butt started to spread out of control, but that's another story). So I found all of those things, with the animated creatures in Anyaville, situated in a quaint little meadow somewhere inside my Nintendo Gamecube.

I spent many MANY hours with this game. We played until our town was as big as it could get, we had upgraded our house and the local store, we caught all the bugs, we caught all the fish, we stocked the museum, we had some serious fun. Then Rogit came along and required our undivided attention, as babies tend to do, and the wee folk in Anyaville were neglected, some even moved away as the weeds began taking over the town. When we finally hit our parenting groove we started playing again, but we had done pretty much all we could do with it. Then the rumors began swirling...could it be? Animal Crossing 2??

Yes! But only in Japan.

We were crushed. It went into the box and never saw the light of day again.

Fast forward to 2007. One day Rogit spots the Animal Crossing case in the game cabinet, asks to play, and it starts all over again. Now he's just as in love with Anyaville as The Canadian and I. It's so much fun to watch him play, but The Canadian and I, as 30 as we are, still wish for a new game.

It only took 6 years. But would ya take a look at this!

We're so excited it's embarassing! We've waited this long, so November 16th seems right around the corner. Don't disturb this family over Thanksgiving break. We'll be sending our kids to Memaw and Poppa's house so we can get our game on.

Er...we'll be having family game week! Yeah.

I am so ashamed.

For his 4th birthday...an anatomy book perhaps?

Dexter walked into the kitchen this evening, crying big crocodile tears and rubbing his elbow. He looks at me with those big blue eyes and says...

"Momma...my nuts hurt."

I think we have some work ahead of us with this one.

Sucking too hard on your lollipop

So I think I may be the only person in the world who hasn't heard that song, or even that expression, before today. I don't really hear any music that doesn't come directly from Noggin or Disney anymore so I shouldn't be surprised. When I first read it I thought, ohhh that can't mean anything nice...I mean when 50 Cent references lollipops in his music it's nothing I'd want my kids understanding, if ya catch my drift. But I'm a sucker (jeez...no pun intended) so I looked it up. Here's what good ol' UrbanDictionary.com had to say:

sucking too hard on your lollipop - 1. dwelling overly long on a subject to the point of being obsessive.
Example: Woman: "It's been a week since my date and that guy hasn't called me back yet!" Friend: "You're sucking too hard on your lollipop, girl. Let it go already!"

Well wouldn't ya know it? Not only is it not dirty, but it's 100% me. The perfect description of what it is that brings me down, makes me depressed, and keeps me from enjoying life. I can't let things go. I don't hold grudges so much as I dwell on people and things that have hurt me, things that worry me, and most of all, what people think of me. Yep! There it is again...evidence that I have the disease to please...I'm a people pleaser in it's ugliest form. Somehow that keeps getting thrown in my face this week. I think perhaps I better take it to heart and start doing something about it.

And maybe I'll just go out and buy me a bag of DumDums. Appropriately named I do believe. Only dumdums waste precious time sucking too hard on their lollipop.

All about me, in 150 words or less.

Born and raised in Oklahoma. Daughter of a Baptist preacher and awesome mom. Town of less than 300. Class of 20 something. Valedictorian (life peaked here apparently) in 1996. College at Oklahoma State University. Met The Canadian online. Long drawn out INS visa process. Married August 1, 1998. Right papers not signed. Annulled marriage. Remarried on August 23, 1998. Apartment burns September 1998. Move in with parents. Tornado destroys house May 3rd, 1999. Move to new apartment. New apartment floods. Move to new apartment. New apartment has gas leak, we nearly die. Move to new apartment (losing count at this point). Degree in English/Technical Writing, December 2000. Job search for a year in lousy economy. Start a family instead. Rogit is born October 2002. Build a house, move again, October 2003, hopefully for the last time. Dexter comes along November 2004. Thank God everything has settled down. Life is good.

Back in the blogosphere

I realized today that it has been almost 2 years since I last wrote a blog post. I also realize that nobody has missed it but me, but here I am anyway. It isn't that my life has gotten any more interesting, and it isn't that I have more intelligent things to talk about. It's just about me missing this outlet, for all the random things that go through my mind on any given day.

I've met a lot of really awesome people over the last year, the majority of whom I know only through the internet. They don't know a lot about me or how I ended up where I am today, so I'm going to devote the next day or two to a little History of Me, if you will. So stick around, ya might learn something about me, whether you want to or not.