One of those days...

Don't I start almost every post by saying I'm going to blog more? Yeah, I thought so.

I thought for sure I really would be blogging more right now, especially since I'm on a self-imposed Facebook break during Lent. The thing is, I've been so stinkin' busy lately, I haven't been much of anywhere. (Unless crazy is a place, in which case I have been living there.)

I thought I'd jump back in with a classic Never a Dull Moment kind of day. Nothing like a day full of chaos to get ya back in the bloggy mood, eh?

Currently, I am sitting at my kitchen table in half darkness. I am having a glass of wine. One kid is in bed, the other two are watching Wonder Pets. My husband is on his way home, and upon entry will find the following:

*five (yes, five) loads of clean laundry heaped on the couch waiting to be folded
*a sink full of dishes in soapy water
*a dishwasher waiting to be emptied
*gross kitchen/eating nook/family room floors
*the kitchen counter full of all of my work stuff

This is all before the poor guy goes upstairs. Yikes.

It has been, well...one of those days. No other way to put it. It was one of those days by 7:30 a.m. I know that if anyone still reads this thing, the majority of you (which probably means two out of three people - ha!) will be able to relate and I don't need to expand on that.

**Disclaimer: if you are lucky enough to be that one person who is thinking "What is this woman TALKING about?"... please count your blessings and move along. Take your clear mind and do *not* clutter it up with the mundane chaos that has somehow become my every day. You are more than welcome to read this blog, I'm just sayin' I will not be held responsible for the mucky brain syndrome that may come through osmosis.**

(Oh, and FYI - I still love my life, some days there is just a bit much of it for me.)

So...about today.

School dropoff. Got my first grader in the door just before the tardy bell rang. Accomplishing this meant asking my kids if they liked it when I yelled. (Yes, I really asked them that question and no, I wasn't kidding.) You see, this was the kind of morning where I started out as Patientloving Mom, asking the same things of the same kids - nicely, I might add - three times. Mount St. Crazymom erupted on request #4 -- and whaddya know? Instant performance by my little cherubs. Feels horrible to me and I know they can't stand it -- but there we were. All in a scruffy little whirpool of tension and yelling. No fun. (By the way, I do realize what a truly ridiculous question that was on my part. I absolutely know that they don't like it when I yell, but this morning -- I really was beginning to wonder. Again, I'm thinking 2 out of 3 of you feel me on this one.)

So, anyway - we got to gymnastics class. Late. By about 5 minutes, but miraculously, they were starting 5 minutes late so not a biggie today. UNTILLLLLL the door from the cubby room to the gym closed and Mason realized he was once again denied access to all of the fun stuff that taunts him from the other side of the big windows. It is pure torture for him to have to watch the kids run, jump, tumble, swing, hop, bounce, flip, climb and (just paused to yell again, fyi - the hits just keep on comin') skip. He wants SO badly to be in the middle of all of that fun, and yet he is stuck on the other side of the windows with all of the parents. Poor guy. Today, I took a bag full of toys and decided that I would not sit in the room with the big windows. Instead, I'd sit in the smaller, boring room of cubbies so that Mason could run and play. It meant not watching Georgia do her thing, but I thought it would be easier with Mr. FussyPants.

Wellllll, after first glaring at me as she stepped over Tantrum City on her way to the cubbies, another gymnastics mom then decided to camp out at the door of the cubby room with herself and her younger daughter. Did I mention that said camping was done with the door to the gym cracked open?? *sigh* REALLY?! Ugh. Sooooo...I pick up Tantrum City and come back for all of his toys and we move to the window room after all. So much for plans on that one! We survived the torturous hour of waiting and headed home.

As I was driving, I noticed the car pulling a bit to the right, but didn't think much of it since we just had our brakes replaced and they said that the shocks/struts are next and they might impact the alignment until then. (Good times.) After a few hours, some lunch, a whole bunch of laundry, etc. - it's time to go get Mitchell from school.

OF COURSE, both of the little ones are still asleep. (Yes, I sighed here, too.) Sooooo...I wake them both up, complete with two sets of sad little faces and matching tears. I was hoping that the sunshine (what?!), walk in the stroller and some playtime at the playground would cheer them up. Luckily, it did. When we got home, as I was breaking up fight #8943043 (this one about who would get the mail out of the mailbox), I noticed that the van looked like it was at like a 45 degree angle, sloping to the right in our garage. (Can you picture me standing on the sidewalk, tilting my head to the right to see if I'm nuts? It happened.)

I go look (after another giant sigh, of course) and sure enough, my right front tire is as FLAT as a pancake. Like, I've never seen a flatter tire in all of my life. (Granted, I don't have super extensive experience in this department, but still.)

Wellllll...isn't this a nice little insertion into the day?

It was 3:30 pm. Georgia had soccer practice at 5. The tire store closed at 6. I had to be at work, 45 minutes away from my house (and after dropping all 3 kids off at different places) at 8:30 am in the morning. NOT. A. GOOD. TIME. FOR. A. FLAT. TIRE!! On the plus side, it was in the garage and I wasn't on the side of the road somewhere. Also on the plus side, sunshine and no snow.

In the end, I called my dad. He got stuck in traffic, so the plan of him helping me take the tire off, loading everyone in his car, dropping me and the tire at the tire store and him taking the kids to G's soccer practice went by the wayside. (The tire store and soccer field for practice were about 1/2 mile apart.) What ended up happening was that the jack in my car was beyond irritating. After about an hour, my dad FINALLY got it to open up (it was stuck) but by then AAA was on the way. (He has a membership, I do not.) In that time, I'd strapped Mason into his carseat in the van, Georgia had the hazard lights going and Mitchell was playing "hockey" using a baseball bat and soccer ball in the front yard. Oh, and the lady coordinating Mason's upcoming speech evaluation called in the middle of all of this.

Might I add, I did make tacos and we all ate. So, ya know - my cape didn't COMPLETELY fall off.

As I finish this, it is now the next morning. I'm sitting by myself in Starbucks, sipping a latte and listening to some pretty relaxing music. I'm also the ONLY woman in here. What is that about?? Don't these men WORK?!

I ended up having to miss my first two appointments of the morning because the tire was beyond repair. I ended up getting four new tires, much to my husband's dismay. I also learned that they do not design tire store sales floors with 20 month old boys in mind. (Just in case you were wondering about that.)

Upon reflection of my day, I'm thankful for the following:
*a van to have flat tires on
*three kids to make me triply nutty
*a husband who loves me despite, well...everything you just read
*a daddy who still takes care of me, even though I am a *huge* pain
*sunny days
*the ability to pay for new tires
*food to eat
*clothes to wash
*a house to clean
*wine to drink (for real!)

Count your blessings, especially when they seem like anything but. Someone would LOVE to have your cruddy day because it would probably be the best one they'd had in a while.

I'll be back more often. I promise. :)

The opposite of music to my ears...

Misery loves company, which is why I have thoroughly enjoyed reading Janelle's blog lately.

Wait. That sounds wrong.

I'm not enjoying the fact that people are being rude to her in the last stretch of her pregnancy, it's just that I'm happy to have someone else in the club. Lately, I have also had at least one person every single day make some sort of bonehead or insensitive comment.

Yesterday, it was boys on the brink of puberty that got to me.

We had to get the oil changed in the van since we're taking a little road trip this weekend. There is a little park that the kids like not that far from the Grease Monkey, so I decided that was how we'd spend the 45 minutes. I had both kids loaded up in the stroller and was hoofin' it as quickly as I could. It was at least 80 degrees and let's face it, pushing two kids in the stroller on a hot day is not the same experience that it was a few months ago.

Anyway - the path to the park runs behind an elementary school. The kids just happened to be at recess on the playground that backs up to the path. (I'm sure you can see where this is going.) All is well, we're talking about all of the geese, ducks, and bugs that we are seeing as we walk when I start hearing older boys' voices (the school goes up to 8th grade) calling me from the playground:

Hey, you!
Lady - look over here!
Hey, you in the blue stripes! (In hindsight, they were horizontal stripes. Probably not a good move.)

Now see, I just wasn't in the mood. I guess maybe I should have played along and given the kids the benefit of the doubt to see what they wanted, but I had seen them on the play structure as we approached, and they were being pretty rowdy. I just didn't get a good feeling about what they wanted to show me. (I sensed a bare butt or two, if I'm honest here.) So, I just decided to ignore them and keep walking.

Well.

They didn't seem to care for my choice. Pretty soon the same voices were following me with:

Hey, fat lady pushing the stroller!

Hey, you - with the big, fat stomach!

Hey, fatty. Where ya goin'?

You'll be happy to know that I didn't even turn around...even though I was tempted to do many things, none of which would have been appropriate for my kids to hear or see me do.

I just kept on walking, and thankfully (or should I say mercifully?) Mitchell didn't seem to hear them either.

But UGH!!! I think I might have preferred to get mooned.

Ummm - definitely need some work.

Not really time for a big post, but as I previously mentioned -- I'm in the process of digging out in many areas of life. I've been trying to find time to put back into my time in the Word and in prayer. Well, yesterday I tried (not so bright of an idea in retrospect) to do my Bible study lesson while the kids were playing quietly.

Quietly lasted about 2.2 minutes.

I have to laugh this morning because looking back, the lesson I was in the middle of was about balancing priorities, making wise choices, and spending time with family. I was really enjoying what I was reading and learning and thinking about.

When quietly ended - so did my patience. I ended up getting pretty testy with the kids. Yes, right smack dab in the middle of my Bible study lesson.

What a nerd!!

So, yeah -- I've got my shovel out and I'm digging the best I can, but there is much work still to be done around here. (Oh, and by the way, I know that pobody's nerfect and all of that - it's just so humbling to think of the fabulous timing I have.)

Hope you're all well...I'll be checking in again soon. I promise! I will even try to get a picture of my ever-growing belly. It is starting to freak me out size-wise -- it's something to behold for me as I'm much bigger than I was with the other two at this point. (I know that's typical for a 3rd baby - but whoooeeee...a little intimidating to think that I still have 25 more weeks for it to grow!)

Toodles, my friends.

Easy Button, My Arse...

I just wanted to take a quick moment and say to the executives at Staples...

You suck.

As I was tediously wrapping "World's Best Teacher" mugs in newspaper last night, I thought about their stupid "Easy Button" commercial and how I would give my left boob for one. As in, my brain seems to think it really exists and now I'm bitter because I don't have one.

Oh, and I hope that the left boob shout out won't go unnoticed. *wink*

Old habits die hard...

I have really had a not good week as far as taking care of myself. The things I used to do (eating, exercise-wise) have again become the things I'm actually doing. It's all based on emotions and stress and I hate it. I know I'll get through it but DANG. It just sucks to work so hard to make things better only to have a few things thrown in your path and send you right back to square one. Just felt like whining.

And it's my blog. So I did.

Stumbling away...

My husband and I went to Las Vegas last week...on Valentine's Day, actually. Neither of us are big on that holiday, but our 5th anniversary was on the 9th and we waited until this weekend so that we could enjoy a LOOOONNNGGGGG weekend together, with President's Day being today.

As I was preparing to leave, Murphy's Law kicked into overdrive around here. (The whole if it can go wrong, it will go wrong deal.) My parents said that they would be over here by 5pm at the very latest so that I would have an hour and a half to do last minute things without the added bonus of trying to wrangle and feed my two little munchkins. Well, as luck would have it, there was just enough snow that day to make a mess of the roads, so my dad was late getting home from work, they were late leaving the house, and traffic pretty much sucked the big one. In addition, Chris was late leaving work and got to do his own traffic fighting stunt, completely crushing all hope in me that I would be able to actually focus on packing.

It might just be our little slice of crazy over here, but from 4-6pm is pretty much known as "the witching hours" in our house. Those two hours between Georgia's afternoon nap and dinner usually present the biggest challenge for me during any given day. The kids are restless, tired, somewhat bored, and so am I most days. There's also the whole dinner thing in there, too. I hadn't even thought about dinner Wednesday night because part of my mom's generous plan involved her bringing and feeding the kids for me. Clearly, that got blown out of the water.

I was trying to pack myself for 4 nights in Vegas -- attempting to account for unknown weather conditions, fancy dinners, casual dinners, and lounging by the pool attire. At the same time, I was trying to pack up two kids for 4 nights at their grandparents' house -- and trying to cover my bases with regards to having enough clothes, church clothes, pajamas, underwear, food, medicine, loveys, etc.

That's stressful enough in itself, right? Well, add to that the fact that my *ahem* well intentioned mother-in-law did my laundry on Tuesday. Most people would probably be exceptionally grateful and appreciative of another person doing laundry without being asked to, but for me -- it actually added to my stress level. The thing is, I am ultra anal about my laundry. Chris has tried three times to do laundry in our five years of marriage and I think he pretty much just gave up after that. (I wasn't very nice about it.) I don't mind doing laundry -- I really don't. I have a very specific organizational system for the whole process and usually plan it out. My MIL came over to watch the kids here on Tuesday afternoon while I saw a couple of clients. I hid the ironing from her because I knew if I didn't, that's all she'd do while she was there. I *thought* about asking her to PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE don't touch the laundry, but I bit my tongue as I left because I didn't want to be tacky. Well, that will teach me. I had three loads of laundry -- one in the dryer, one in the washer finishing up and one in the basket. When I walked in the door, the first thing she said to me was "I hope you don't mind, but I did the laundry." And there it was -- all three loads, piled up on the recliner and loveseat. As I tried not to roll my eyes in agitation and managed an "Oh, okay", she added that my bra was hanging on the rack in the laundry room.

Perfect. Doesn't everyone want to be greeted by their MIL telling them that she has hung their underwear up for them? Seriously.

Anyway -- I'll just say that things were "folded" much differently than when I do it and our clothes were all together -- I sort them by family member as I fold, so I was just out of synch on that end, and those three loads were *of course* the stuff I really needed to pack for all of us.

Okay, so back to the chaotic pre-departure evening. As luck would have it, both kids were pretty wound up -- Mitchell was really excited to go to stay with my parents, and I think Georgia was just feeding off of both of us. I worked up a sweat running around and trying to do a million things at once, toting the kids from room to room to room with me. Finally, my parents arrived and I was able to bark orders at them and try to not leave absolutely everything at home. The plan was to leave the house at 6:30. My parents arrived around 6:20 and Chris got home at about 6:45.

We said goodbye to the kids, leaving me in tears. The funny thing is, neither my dad nor my husband really said anything about my crying. My dad asked if I was okay and Chris gave me that "You're going to be fine" look. I think they were afraid if they asked for details, I'd actually give them and no man wants that. We were all fine with them talking sports and me sniffling alone in the dark.

Our plane ended up being delayed for almost two hours, which just added to my sense of frustration. Hurry up and wait. Why I expected anything else is beyond me.

The good news is that my husband I enjoyed a wonderful, long weekend away. I knew we would, and really, it didn't matter *what* was in my suitcase. I don't know why I get so stressed out in situations like that -- I was doing the best I could with what I had to work with and I still got snippy and freakish.

Oh my goodness -- here comes that dreaded line -- I'm becoming my mother.

Snow

Anyone want some? Anyone? Anyone?

I'm over it. It's pretty to look at. The first time. Maybe even the second time. Now that it's (I think) the 5th snowstorm since Christmas week, the novelty has worn off. The road suck. The sidewalks suck. It's freezing.

The thing is, I was prepared to just enjoy this one. 1-3 inches, not so bad, right? Ha! I get up this morning (after my angel hubby let me sleep in, by the way) and looked outside to see that it was going to be MUCH more than that. He said "Yeah, they revised it to up to 6 inches." Now, I understand that this is a don't shoot the messenger thing, and that it's not the weather people's fault that it's snowing, but COME ON.

I'm just cranky and cabin fevered and ready for some warmer days and clear streets and sidewalks.

Okay, done complaining. For now. (It's still snowing really hard so I reserve the right to pick up where I left off if it gets on my nerves again.)

Being censored...

SUCKS.

When you have a lot (and I mean a truckload) of things you want to say to someone, that you REALLY feel like they need to hear, but someone else tells you not to say them, because in their opinion it would make a situation even worse...

That SUCKS.

Yes, I am being censored against my will. It is NOT easy and I also have to figure out how to not be a complete jerk to said people next time I'm in their company. Hmmmm. I'm guessing not talk at all -- which will still be me being a jerk, but at least I'll keep my trap shut.

Let's just say if I bit my tongue any harder, it would be in two pieces. You know when Yosemite Sam gets really mad and turns red and starts hopping around and steam comes out of his ears?

Yeah...it's like that.

I forgot...

How much I *hate* political campaign commercial season.

They are SOOOOOO annoying.

It totally irritates me that they spend more of their money telling you why you *shouldn't* vote for the other person than they do telling you why you *should* vote for them. What kind of sense does that make?

That would be like my husband asking me what was for dinner and me spending 5 minutes telling him all of the things that we're NOT having for dinner. Or if I went to a store and asked how much a jacket cost and they proceeded to tell me how much a pair of pants, shoes, shirt, etc. cost.

Tell us about yourselves, people!! But here's the catch -- these days in my state, it's dangerous to make a commercial about yourself because your opponent will surely use it, edit it, crop it, and use it AGAINST you in their mudslinging ad about why people shouldn't vote for you.

On the positive side, some of them have at least been slightly amusing this year. Hard to tell since I change the channel so quickly.

Yeah, so???

Why are people so defensive all of the time? I can only speak for myself, so I think I'll do that now. (Shocker!!) I get defensive for a few reasons -- would you like me to list them? Okay.

1. When I *know* I'm right and am being attacked. (Read: know = have factual proof)
2. When I have noted a previously established pattern of being attacked by the same person.
3. When there is a "Yo Momma" involved. (just kidding)
4. When I am tired, annoyed, and otherwise not in the mood to put up with ANYONE'S crap.
5. When I am shallow and self-centered enough to not see another person's point of view.
6. When I feel personally insulted and am unable to see the facts, and instead focus on emotions.
7. When I'm hungry. (Seriously -- if I'm REALLY hungry -- do not approach.)
8. When it is obvious to me that I am being disrespected unnecessarily.
9. When it is obvious to me that my point of view is not being taken into consideration at all.
10. When my feelings are invalidated and left on the side of the road.

Can you tell I was a little snarky at home this week and am trying to process it? A little disclaimer -- my husband is not guilty of all of these things -- not what I'm trying to imply. I'm thinking of family scenarios, other social situations, but yes -- maybe a little tiff here and there with the Cabana Boy.

By the way, if you're reading this, honey...might wanna print this off and go down the list next time I launch into "that girl" mode. Try feeding me, giving me a nap, a *cough* Starbucks, perhaps? Yes -- bribe me, essentially. It's that easy. Backrubs and ice cream -- two sure fire bribes. Diamond earrings -- whoa. I might never fight with you again. Okay - -for at least a week. Maybe two. Hey -- you clean up the next pruney diaper blowout and who knows -- I might actually TOUCH your feet.

Frustrating...

I'm kind of frustrated right now.

I'm frustrated at certain members of my family for not treating each other with more love and respect.

I'm frustrated at myself because when I'm tired and grumpy, I'm less patient with my own kids.

I'm frustrated with finances. All I want to say on that.

I'm frustrated with wanting more than I have because I really should be much more appreciative of what I already have instead of focusing on what I want and *think* we "need".

I'm frustrated with this world -- it's becoming more and more difficult to just live your own life with a smile every day. People are hateful and sick -- not all people, but enough of them to make you question many people who don't deserve it.

I'm frustrated in general. It will pass. I think this is a function of me being up since 2:30 this morning. A nap would likely help. A lot.

People really upset me...

Okay, fair warning -- I'm about to go off on a vent so skip it if that doesn't interest you.

WHY are people so rude?? Seriously.

This morning I had just dropped the kids off at my IL's house to go see a client and some idiot who was leaving a garage sale on their block pulls out and almost (I mean -- like inches) nails me right in the middle of my passenger door. Didn't even look! Just must have been thinking about what a TERRIFIC set of dishes they got for $2 or something, I guess. The thing is...

She honked AT ME!!!!

Excuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuse me???? I don't think so. Now -- two things stopped me, well 3, from getting out of my car and starting some crap. 1 -- I was in the 'hood. (Seriously, they live in a pretty sketchy neighborhood.) 2 -- I was late to see a client. 3 -- My kids need me alive.

Where does SHE get off honking AT ME??? I was just driving down the road (25 mph -- not like I was racing down the stree) minding my own business. SHE was parked on the side of the street, DIDN'T use a turn signal, and DIDN'T even THINK about looking in her mirror or over her shoulder before she came out into the road, but feels that I'M in the wrong??? Ohhhhh, no, no, no, no no. Pissed me right off.

Moving right along...

WHY are people so hateful???
This whole thing with the liquid bombs. COME ON...that is just some crazy crap. I cannot for the life of me imagine what it must be like inside of those people's heads to 1 -- think that crap up and 2 -- actually want to use it to kill innocent people. I mean, it's not like you're killing soldiers and politicians. Ugh. Hate. Sucks. Bad.

What kind of environment are these people raised in and breeding? You know -- I heard this morning that one of the people is a mother of a 6 month old child. Okay -- that hit home. THAT'S ME, for crying out loud. Can you even picture me leaving my home, my children, and saying -- okay, I'm off to blow up a plane of innocent people with something I'm masquerading as Powerade???

WHAT THE HECK, PEOPLE????!!!!!!

It just makes me so angry. And you know what else? It makes me really, really sad for my kids. Times like this are times that a part of me actually feels somewhat guilty for bringing them into a world where this is a reality. Someone is using Gatorade as a weapon, for all intents and purposes. That's super.

So, you know what I did last night? Mitchell and I made a cake. And we covered it with icing. And I drew a moon on it in yellow icing (he loves "Moonah"). And he covered it with sprinkles. And we laughed. And we had a "moon party" when Daddy got home. Just for fun. To remind me of WHY I have children and why it IS a good thing that I brought them into this world. My children will not be taught to HATE anyone.

Faaaarrrrrrr from perfect.

That would be me.I try so hard to set a good example for my kids, and heck -- just to do some clean livin' for myself, but it's a challenge. Here's an example...

Last Sunday I was cleaning the kitchen and listening to my favorite Christian radio station. My hubby calls it "God Rock" and teases me about it -- I don't really care. (So neener, neener to YOU, hubby!!) I love listening because the songs put me in a good mood and a good frame of mind.

Well, I am cleaning away and he comes in to eat his breakfast. He chooses a bowl of cereal and eats it leaning against the counter while he talks to me. This song comes on that I just love and I say, "Hey -- listen to this song. It always makes me cry. I love it." He says, "Why do you love a song that makes you cry?" Of COURSE, I shush him loudly and tell him to just listen. He listens. Then he says "This SERIOUSLY makes you cry??" and rolls his eyes. He puts his dish in the sink and comes behind me to do a little snuggle and ear kissing. Okay -- TOTALLY not in the mood for that as I am trying to listen to my heart-string-tugging song. He thinks he's just too funny, so I turn around and tell him to quit being such an A-hole.

Yes, that's right. In the middle of a Christian song about flying to Jesus, I cuss at my husband.He starts cracking up and says something about "Only you would do that".

Yikes.

I think he may be right. I apologize to The Big Fella immediately and am just mortified. Know the scary thing? I probably wouldn't have even put it together if he hadn't pointed it out. Luckily G was asleep and M was in train hog heaven in his room, but STILL. Sheesh.He's right -- who DOES that sort of thing? I mean, besides me.

So...clearly, there's room for a little personal growth in my life. (I'm sure that's shocking to you, isn't it?)

As long as I'm on the subject of great Christian music that I love -- here is a new song that I really, really love. It makes me think of not only myself with some different things, but so many people in my life that are struggling with so many different things -- yet it fits us all.

It's by a band called Casting Crowns.

Praise You In This Storm
I was sure by now
That You would have reached down
And wiped our tears away
Stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say “Amen”,
and it’s still raining

As the thunder rolls
I barely hear
You whisper through the rain
“I’m with you”
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away

I’ll praise You in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
Every tear I’ve cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm

I remember when
I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry
You raised me up again
My strength is almost gone
How can I carry on
If I can’t find You

As the thunder rolls
I barely hear
You whisper through the rain
“I’m with you”
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away

I lift my eyes unto the hills
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord
The Maker of Heaven and Earth

I am my own worst enemy...

I am a procrastinator -- I make myself late.

When I am late, I am cranky.

When I am cranky, my children are cranky.

That makes us even later because it's harder to get a little cooperation going.

When we're late other people get cranky.

All because I'm a procrastinator.

***********************************************************************

I would love to lose weight.

That would mean not loving food.

--Let me clarify--

That would not mean loving:
*ice cream
*wine
*french fries
*ice cream
*chocolate
*macaroni and cheese
*ice cream
*pretty much anything you're not SUPPOSED to eat a lot of
*Annnnnddd...ice cream

It would also help if I liked to work out.

*************************************************************

I love having my house clean, yet I am a lazy housekeeper.

Huh?

I love my house to be clean but I want someone else to do it.

Yes, I'm aware it doesn't work that way. I don't have to like it.

I just have to do it.

Someday I will.

**************************************************************

I love having down time.

I schedule myself out the wazoo with everything you can think of.

I complain because I never have any time to myself and am always on the go.

It is my handwriting with a pen that I hold in my hand that makes all of those plans.

***************************************************************

Know what I've done good?

Picked me a mighty fine husband who loves all of this crap.

Well, maybe not all of this crap, but he loves me and it comes with.

And we make some mighty fine children, too.

That's all that really matters, right??

Why is it...

That every time I feel like I've got everything under control -- two seconds later that is just a thought drifting away again??

I work my arse off to get this house clean -- two seconds later, there's nothing to show for it. The toilet's been peed on AGAIN, there is a huge pile of dirty laundry AGAIN, there is crap all over the floor AGAIN, etc. I know, I know -- that's what happens when people (namely a man and some children) actually live in a house and do things there. I get that -- it doesn't mean I have to like it.

I think what I'd like to do is that the next time I get my whole house clean, I will rope off each room, ship my family out for a few days, and sell tickets. Yes!! Come see the amazingly clean home -- it may never be this way again. I tell ya who would come -- people like ME. Women who work their butts off to get it that way WITHOUT a housekeeper or a nanny. Not that I'm bitter about those who do have those luxuries.

Okay, yes, I am. Very bitter. Extremely bitter. I want a housekeeper!! (Not a nanny though. Except maybe when I need to clean.) Are you seeing how those go together yet, by the way?

I guess maybe I'm just sick of feeling like a hamster on a wheel. Except instead of a hamster going around and around it's rubber gloves (latex free, please) and dirty socks. And Wiggles undies. And burp rags. And nasty toilet seats.

If I could make my own bumper sticker today, it would read "I'd rather be drunk in Hawaii."

**I needed to edit and add that Chris DOES help around here. He's more a part of the solution than the problem, but you know -- feeling sorry for myself and all that. Lumped him in. He'll live.

Not a fan...

of being sick. Seriously -- it just sucks. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm keeping my perspective. I don't have a serious illness, it's not life threatening...it's just a cold. But it sucks.

It's the kind of cold where your throat is raw, you have back of the throat drainage, a cough that uses your entire chest and body/head aches. Doesn't that sound FANTASTIC???

I think the hardest part is to not lose my patience at home. I find myself being snippy faster -- I've apologized my fair share of times to Mitchell today. I think I'm just so ready to be laid out on the couch instead of chasing him around and everything that comes with a 3 month old girl. (How did THAT happen, by the way???)

Anyway - -I'm off to couch land. Just had to whine first. I hate being sick. I wished it hated me enough to leave me alone!!

Ups and Downs...

I think that grandparents have selective memories. I can't believe that I was a perfectly well behaved 3 year old all the time. Not with the stories I've repeatedly heard about myself. Sometimes I will vent about M's behavior to my mom and she says "He's three." Well, DUH, I know that. I don't expect him to be perfect all of the time, but I do expect him to listen to me and be good MOST of the time. I think lowering your expectations and standards with behavior only leads to one thing -- worse behavior because there's nothing to reign them in.

I was talking to her the other day on the phone while I was filling the tub for him and was telling her about him having a COMPLETE meltdown leaving the park, dumping (not spilling) his milk all over the kitchen table, turning the sprinkler on FULL blast in the back yard, running down the sidewalk from dh (thinking it was a fun game) -- all that day. Oh -- I forgot -- that was also the day that he asked for a drink of water while I was making dinner (fish). I filled up his glass at the sink and when I turned around, he had the trash can lid open, a horribly pained look on his face, and was spitting something weird looking into the trash. When I was filling up his water glass, my child had reached up on the counter and taken a bite of RAW TILAPIA!!!! Are you kidding me?? In the 3-4 min. I was on the phone with my mom and filling the tub and gathering his pj's, he managed to turn on the tub in MY bathroom full blast, climb on his sister's crib, and pull the "screeching streaker" move. Gee -- wonder why I was frustrated with him that day?

I don't want to make him sound like a brat -- he's not. He's a really good boy, but that day is a good example of a day where they ONLY times he'd do what he was told were when we'd raise our voices or take toys away from him for the day. That makes me sad because those are the days where I feel like all I do is say "No", "Quit it", "Please stop", "Put that down", "Get back here", "Calm down", "Get off of there", "Don't touch that", etc. It's exhausting and just doesn't feel good in general.

What's the alternative? Let him go, touch, play with, climb on, throw, eat whatever he wants, whenever he wants, and for however long he wants. I don't think so.

Most days are NOT like that, but the days that are give me grey hairs and it seems like he just laughs all day long because he's just getting a kick out of pushing Mommy's buttons or something.

Okay -- as I type this -- he took a break from dancing with The Wiggles to come over and tell me "Mommy, I love you. Let's have hugs." **melt** See, not all days are like that! (Thankfully, or I'd be writing this on a coconut shell from Hawaii.)

This sucks...

Okay, so EVERYTHING has annoyed me today. Mitchell woke up in a cranky, sassy mood and that pretty much put me in the same frame of mind, unfortunately. It's just hard not to start off on the wrong foot when you have a whiney, sassy kid following you around being mouthy at 6:30 a.m. Poor Chris -- I think he just really tried to stay out of my way today, which was probably smart. He took Mitchell to run some errands after lunch and they showed up at home with some ice cream -- even smarter move. :)

I don't know...I just felt sort of "on edge" today. Not mad, not upset, just very irritable. Mitchell didn't take a nap today so we're getting ready to head up to the bathtub and then bedtime early tonight. He's so cute...he's sitting there reading books to himself right now. I asked him if he wanted me to read to him and he said "No, mommy...I'm reading by myself." It's so cute to hear them read the stories in their own words. His favorite book right now is "The New Baby" by Mercer Mayer. He reads it probably 5 times a day. Hope that's a good sign.

We decided that Chris will go back to work tomorrow and Friday so that he can take 2 more days off next week and not go back to work until the 13th. That would be great if it works out like that...we'll just see.

I've had lots more contractions yesterday and today...when I have them now, it's strange. It's almost like it frames Georgia -- like I have a cinder block in there -- gets all boxy. They're definitely stronger and more obvious, but not hurting and not regular...yet. We'll see. Chris did leave to go coach his mock trial team...maybe that's all it will take!! Him leaving for that and threatening to go back to work and we'll trick her out! :)

Anyway...at least we'll come home to a clean, much more organized house. We got a LOT of stuff done today...sorted through the toys in the living room, moved some up to Mitchell's room, moved books/office stuff out of the other half of Mitchell's closet, etc. I also did the floors again, dusted, and cleared out the junk mail. I think I'll throw a load of laundry in tonight after I put him to bed and then I'll call it a day myself.

Did I mention I'm ready for her to come out? I am...very ready. Sigh.

Forget it...

I'm done trying to be happy and cheerful the whole time. I want my baby and I want her now!! I know in the grand scheme of things, a week is only a matter of 7 days. I know this...I'm a logical, rational, thinking person. I'm aware that a week's time is nothing. But you know what, when you've spent the last 40 weeks with this date firmly cemented in your family's future history -- a week beyond it DOES seem like a long time.

I mean, what if you had your dream vacation planned for the 20th and the 20th gets here, your bags are packed, the house is clean, everyone (and I mean the entire free world) knows you're "leaving", you get to the airport and find out your plane is delayed. Delayed? For how long? Well, not sure. It COULD be that things could go into motion on their own and your plane could leave anytime now -- go home and wait to see if that happens. If nothing happens before the 27th, then call us at 7:30 p.m. on the 27th and we'll tell you if THAT flight to Hawaii has room for you. If not, then we'll certainly get you in as soon as possible.

NOW does it seem like a long time, people????????? Because it sure does to me!!!!!! I think the thing that's also complicating things is that Chris had to schedule his paternity leave WAAAYYY ahead of time. I guess we should have anticipated this (hindsight-right?) and had it start NEXT Monday? But you know, then she would have been early.

Anyway... I know people just try to make you feel better, but in the moment, a week feels like an eternity to me.

Just another Thursday...

Well, technically it's our anniversary, but in reality it's just another Thursday. Mitchell has school, I have a doctor appointment, Chris has to work, I have swim class tonight. Yep, just the regular Thursday routine. His parents are going to keep Mitchell for us tomorrow night while we go to dinner, but nothing major and very close to home. I swear, with all that has gone on, it feels like we've been married for 14 years, not 4.

I think there's a plus side and a down side to not having anything on the calendar these next couple of weeks. I think I thought I was doing myself and Mitchell a favor by staying here, resting, not planning anything so close to my due date, but now I think we might get bored. I think we'll still make daily trips somewhere...Walmart for a 99 cent treat, the library, etc. Sitting around and waiting...not sure I can do that for 2 more weeks. My dad offered to come out here 2 days next week to help me "chase Mitchell". I gladly accepted since getting on the floor and playing is not exactly a good time for me anymore. Mitchell has been pretty patient for the most part and a very good boy, but bath time sucks and so does picking up toys at night. (I used to do it before nap time too, but now we just do it at night because it's a big ol' chore for me and this belly.) Yesterday we went to pick up my thyroid meds at the pharmacy and I told him if he was really good, I'd let him pick out a treat before we left. He was good...for the first 13 minutes of our 15 minute visit to the store. Then he started jogging in front of me (I had to get some bagels/cream cheese for MOPS tomorrow and some sprinkles for his Valentine's party at school on Tuesday) while I was shopping and wouldn't stop. I just get REALLY paranoid about someone grabbing him because I know that stores are prime places for that type of thing and I'm not exactly agile.

Soooo...I had to grab him by the shoulder of his coat when I got close enough and pull him to the front of the store, plop the stuff I was carrying around in a basket by the door and wrestle him (screaming) into a cart. Picked up my stuff out of the basket, threw it into the cart and tried to make the quickest exit possible. Of course he was in full on tantrum mode at that point, but *patting myself on the back*, I kept my cool. I was PISSED but just calmly told him how his behavior was unacceptable, I was very sad he was acting that way, and no treat for him. He was of course crying and screaming...thought about biting me and got a look at my face and thought twice (smart move)...but calmed down about 2 minutes into it when he figured out he wasn't going to get out or get a reaction out of me.

Nice, huh? Of course, by the time we get to the checkout lane he's quiet, wiping his eyes, and trying to apologize. I thanked him for his apology and let him know that he did indeed blow it with regard to his treat. I knew the next battle would be for control of the music in the car, so I politely informed him that we'd be listening to mommy's music in the car because he made such bad choices in the store. That started a mini-wave of tears, but he recovered pretty quickly and apologized again (without solicitation from me, I might add). 3 years old is proving to be an interesting phase...more of a sense of entitlement on his part that I think, is driven by independence. That seems to lead to pretty intense, though much shorter tantrums, followed by remorse and apologies that I usually don't even have to coach him through. He's turning into a little man, I tell ya!!

The cycle is a bit exhausting for me at this point, but then again, so is putting on my socks.