Weather Men are Not Predictors of the Future; Just a Possible Future

We stayed here in AZ for an extra couple days so as not to be driving home in a storm. The storm slowed down and will probably be pounding on us as we cross the treacherous mountains. If you would like to continue reading my blog and not my obituary, please, just pray for us as we travel tomorrow and Monday ...

Crichton, my very sick 5 year old, has had a miraculous recovery (the doc diagnosed him with strep throat and an ear infection, lots of congestion, but no pneumonia). Yesterday he slept all day and hardly got out of bed or ate. At one point he said, "I think I am dying," I told him he wasn't going to die, he's sick, but he'll get better. He said, "Sometimes people get sick and they die." My eyes got watery. Later, I was feeling guilty for exposing him to too many germs and allowing him to be sick (cuz I should have done ... more!) - I told him how sorry I am that he's sick and that he's the best kid in the world (and he IS) and he says, "Well, the best kid in the world is sick!" Around midnight he got up, bright eyed and feverless. We watched a show together, daddy volunteered to sleep on the couch so Cri could snuggle his mommy; it might sound like a sacrifice, but I was up most of the night, feeling for fever, listening to coughs, choking myself, and hoping daddy would get the baby. This morning he's up, taking lunch orders on his Magna Doodle and preparing delicious Lego meals.

Oh and today (just so you know what a conscienceless sweetie I married) Greg is out to an IMAX movie (I Am Legend - Will Smith ... mmm). I was up most of the night, couldn't leave my sick kids with an auntie babysitter! And he HE is out to a movie. We haven't had much luck getting out on a date, despite all the babysitters available. Tonight's our last chance ... First I was sick, then the kids ... I'm on the 16th episode of Gilmore Girls. At least I got my Gilmore Girls ...

Typhoid Mary

I have infected everyone. Every time they cough, complain how it hurts to swallow, sniffle, wake up with a 102 fever, I am wracked with unbelievable guilt. I felt so miserable while I was sick, I laid in bed for most of 4 days, only getting up to criticize how my husband was caring for the children (it's 10:30, have the kids had breakfast? Yes? IN THEIR PAJAMAS?!" Poor husband - his vacation was taking over MY job AND he had to deal with a horrible supervisor (me), where as I have the same supervisor, but I tend to forgive and overlook my own short comings).

My 5 year old got up at 6 am with a cough and the same fever I put him down with (he's outgrown the infant fever reducer and I haven't had to buy big boy medicine .. until now). I've been up since then. He's so sweet and calm ... "are you comfortable?" "yes, mom." My baby is okay for now. I hope he stays that way, he tends to eat random "treats" he happens across, where e'er they may be ... germs are congregating everywhere ... stupid Christmas, with its hugs and kisses and sharing of food and houses. Stupid me, to bring a terrible batch of super germs and not behave more responsibly - full body suit, no hugs, face mask (the 3M heavy duty one) - or have the courage to stay home ... alas it is all too late, and everyone is suffering for my stupidity.

You could be next....

SORRY!!! From the bottom of my heart, sorry!! Gets lots of rest, drink lots of water ... I am so so so so sorry!

On a lighter note - I got to go to a real movie in a real theater - we saw Sweeny Todd. There was a lot of blood ... and bodies falling with realistic thudiness. That was good. And I would have liked it if I'd never seen the other version - Helena Bonham Carter (aka. Mrs. Director's Wife ... nepotism anyone?) is NO Angela Lansbury. She ruined the movie for me a bit. It's like she didn't get that she was the comic relief from all the serial killing and mass cannibalizing and unfortunate fate twisting. Oh how the audience tried to laugh at any little thing that may have been funny ... but she didn't give us enough. Plus, they cut all the chorus songs, so there was no "Attend the tale of Sweeny Todd" which I had been anticipating. Johnny Depp was great, Allan Rickman was gross, perfectly gross for the judge character. I'd give it a 7 ... sigh - save your pennies and rent both the original and this and tell me I'm not right ... on a darker note, we took my infected brother-in-law to share his germs which used to be my germs. More apologies.

And now my kid is with daddy on the way to the Urgent Care Clinic to see about something for that terrible rumbly raspy sound in his lungs ... poor poor sweet heart!

Modern Torture

I've been using my in-laws bathroom to get ready in - they go to work at some unthinkably early hours and it had a nice shower and lots of mirrors. One mirror in particular has me all self-conscious. It's one of those head sized, lighted, magnifying mirrors to "help" you apply make-up and such. It makes me see how monstrous I am. How my pores and skin and complexion are all wrong, all flawed ... my almost 30 year old skin has wrinkles, my forehead is a crumbly desert, my poor broken out chin ... sigh. It makes me want to reconsider that micro-derm-abrasion procedure I had been considering before I decided I was perfect.

Yes, yes, maybe I will have my flaws sand-blasted off myself.

All this technology to make us more beautiful, temporarily. Can't we just be happy? Even my dear husband said the words, "if I could just [change my physical appearance], I'd be happy."

Why is it, with all the knowledge we have gained in past century, we're still not happy? How on earth can we think that superficial changes to our bodies will bring about real joy? Though, while a nice hair cut and some new make-up brings about some little gratification, it is fleeting. A boob job? You get a little happy, I assume, every time you get a moment of male attention, but what about when you want to be taken seriously, intelligently. Or when you're by yourself? External changes can't bring internal happiness. Or if they do, you must e a shallow person, I think.

Nevertheless, external stuff sure can make you feel icky when magnified 10 times and compared to airbrushed beauty.

The Dark Side of theYear

2007 is on its last legs, gasping for breath and 2008, with its fresh hope and new possibilities shines just ahead. But that's no reason not to make the most of our last few days together with 2007.

I'm feeling much better now thanks. Blessed be the scientists who toil away developing antibiotics to fight the super germs created by antibiotics (it's nice to have job security). I can almost breath through my nostrils, the green, thick, choking mucus is mostly gone, my eyes are bright, my brain is almost functioning at full capacity. Perhaps I won't have to rely on my pathetic extra strength Tylenol for an ounce of relief.

And I had a beautiful, happy, loud Christmas, just like I hoped for. Greg and I stayed up until 1 or 2 am working on a brilliant train table for the boys. Then Crichton woke up at 6, afraid that getting up to pee would spoil his chances with Santa. I told him to go potty and then come snuggle in with us, hoping he'd fall asleep. He crawled in held very still for 5 seconds, then said, "Did you hear that?" "No?" "I think it was a reindeer!" We spent the next 40 minutes hearing mysterious Santaesque sounds until I sicked the kid on daddy, telling him if we got daddy up we could all go check to see if Santa had come yet.

Oh the magic of the words," Santa came!" when spoken by a true believer. And Santa brought just what he said he would bring! The promise kept becoming next year's foundation of faith.

And I got a Shiatsu massager thing, so I'm pretty happy, too. And a shirt that reads, "huge tracts of land," from my ever amused husband. And my kids somehow raided their piggy banks and bought diamond jewelry (kids these day, but the do have adorable taste!). Oh, and the squealiest present, the compete Gilmore Girls show on DVD (got my in-laws to sit through 3 whole episodes!)! I also got all the Mission Impossible movies and no one would trade them for better junk and Greg quickly opened the packaging JUST so I couldn't return them ... Frisbee anyone?? Greg got a used bowling ball with Homer on it in retaliation. And an electric guitar to make him a rock star geek nerd.

I haven't had nearly enough time for all the board games I wanted to play, I didn't go swimming, but put my piggy toes in the pool for a minute. I think I am on the way to feeling recovered, but it's almost time to go back home again. Sigh. Back to the happy routines and cat and dog and church and maybe even treadmill.

2007 ... what a year! Culmination of 29 years of pain and joy and knowledge and foolishness. And I'll be off and running to turn 30, have my 3rd child, and celebrate my 10th anniversary all within the same 2 week period in 6 short months! Can't hardly wait for 2008 (my cheesy catch phrase/motto to use on New Year's Eve.)

12 Random Things About Christmas

This is the first time I've been tagged for a meme, now I feel like I have homework and better get it done; it's Christmas Eve. So here is my list of 12 Random Christmas things. Christmas makes me melancholy

1. My favorite Christmas was when I was 5. It was the year of the Great Cabbage Patch Kid rush and not only were the stores out, but craft fairs with homemades were running short. My family went to a craft fair and I saw a cute little brown haired cabbage patch girl (not the big Quasi Modo homemade type, but a cute, petite one) with a purple jazzercize/ballet outfit. I had to have her, I WAS IN BALLET TOO! My parents dragged me away from her and we looked and more tables full of toys, then it was time to go home. I wanted to say good bye to my little dolly friend on the way out, but when I got to the booth SHE WAS GONE! I was heart broken and cried all the way out to the car: someone else had MY doll! I was sobbing and inconsolable until my daddy open up the trunk of the car and showed me that HE was the one who had bought her. I had to wait until Christmas, but Mary Sue Anderson was mine.

2. One year my mom got my dad this cool little lap harp thing he SAID he wanted. When he opened it, he got mad, saying we couldn't afford it, she shouldn't have gotten it, and they ended up taking it back.

3. My grandma gave me a pretty porcelain doll the last year she was alive for Christmas. I still have her, tucked away with the Christmas decorations I can't put up because I'm afraid my kids will break them.

4. I miss my grandma's Cathedral Cookies: they were chocolaty, multi-colored mini marshmallow things.

5. A couple years ago, my mom got all of my family random used thrift store gifts, no big deal, she didn't have much money. But then, in front of me, she gave her roommate a new Disney DVD of some random movie the roommate wanted.

6. New Pajamas - I love to buy my whole family new pajamas to open on Christmas Eve.

7. One year my husband got me the stupidest movie ever - Mission Impossible 2. And a puzzle ring which fell apart before I could even put it on my finger.

8. My husband always beats me at Christmas present buying: it's always a surprise, it's always too expensive and something I don't need. He rocks and I am a freak and so unsure about spending money. It's the hardest thing about Christmas the last 10 years in a row.

9. I'd love to go caroling ... my husband won't go with me. Sometimes I wonder why he just won't suck it up and do things to make me happy...

10. This week has kind of sucked. I have acute sinusitis and conjunctivitis. I am praying for a Christmas miracle and the headache I've had for 8 days will go away. I'm on antibiotics now ... maybe there is hope.

11. One year, my mother-in-law yelled at my father-in-law for washing the new Christmas towels in bleach. I said something like, "Isn't your marriage more important than the towels," She verbally attacked me and made me cry, a lot. I learned to stay the hell out of people's fights.

12. In my mind, Christmas is a happy, happy day: perfect and loud and glorious, things rarely meet my expectations. Perhaps if I could just eliminate those expectations, Christmas would be what I expect.

Sorry. See my dad always got depressed around Christmas. Always. He'd make us feel bad for wanting things that were too expensive, he'd be mad that he didn't get what he wanted. He'd make me feel bad for using my money to buy presents for friends and not bigger and better things for family. So ... there's this darkness that hangs over my heart at Christmas ... memories full of disappointment and now that he and my brother are gone, there's a sadness, too, the what if kind. And my mom; I'm all she has and I try to get her things to make up for the fact that it's just me, but that never works out either.

But I have kids now and I don't want to ruin their Christmas memories, don't want them tainted like mine are. Gotta give up the ghosts of Christmases past and make the future merry and bright.

Hope you can do the same. Just let the day unfold without imposing yourself upon it.

The Hopes and Fears

When there are situations, uncomfortable situations, that are pending in life, sometimes they wake you up at am 3:30 and make you throw up. Then you might lie awake for a couple hours running through scenarios on how to solve these unsolvable issues. Finally, you might start silently chanting "Be helpful, be loving, be sweet, be kind," and that might take you back to sleep.

Whatever the situation, use your good manners this Christmas Season. Don't use holiday gatherings as an opportunity to call someone out or belittle them. Don't allow offense or disappointment to register in any way. Just ... be nice.

PINK EYE!

Somehow, amidst the frenzy of shopping and running about, my 2 yr old came in contact with some icky bacteria, rubbed them in his eyes and POOF! Conjunctivitis. Knowing that Sharing is Caring, he gave it to his big brother also.

So off to the doctor, off to the pharmacy, eye drops eye drops eye drops, we're making progress. Highly Contagious, are the adjectives the doctor used. Fortunately mom and dad haven't caught it. Yet. And we're trying to get ready for the big excursion to AZ, watching out for bad weather patterns, washing laundry like a mad woman, dishes, clean the house, take out garbage. Wash hands, administer eye drops.

The thing is, this week at school, Crichton is supposed to be King of Kindergarten; it's a special spotlight thing they do. And we already disrupted it by being gone Thursday and Friday (The teacher said he could finish his reign the week school comes back, so that was solved) BUT now he has a little pink eye ... we prayed and prayed and this morning, his eyes looked ... fine? So I sent him in. Hopefully not to spread his germs to everyone. Which makes me the worse mom: ruining his King week or sending a possible contagious kid to school. The latter, huh. Crap. Crap, crap, crap. Well, crap. He was getting that scared almost about to cry look in his eyes as I was checking him out .. .I couldn't make him miss out on King Week, we made the big fancy poster and he's been looking forward to this forever!Arg!

So, yeah, illness never comes at a convenient time, there is never a fine time to be sick. I hope it'll all be okay.

My computer is running like cold molasses. So this is all I can tolerate.

The End.

Bad Poetry

Yes, I am full of judgment this week as my email box keeps filling up with obnoxious forwards that just make me want to .... well ... blog. I know you get these things too and you are probably smart enough to delete them (not me) and forget them OR you forward them to me because you think it's funny to annoy me OR you agree with them and want to share this point of view. Here's a poem I keep getting in my box .. a really bad poem:

YOU CAN'T STEAL MY CHRISTMAS

Poem by Sharon Steege

I don't know who they are
Saying I can't greet the crowd
The way that I want to
Can't say CHRISTMAS out loud.

I walk into a business place
See things that I rather not see
But dare I not say CHRISTMAS
And ask for a "holiday" tree.

What happened to freedom of speech
And living in the land of the free
How can they take my CHRISTMAS money
But can't say MERRY CHRISTMAS to me.

Men and women have given their lives
So we could still go free
I wonder how they would feel
At saying "HOLIDAY" TREE.

Come on AMERICA let's wake up
Don't let our freedom escape
If they get by with doing this
What else will they take.

This is starting to get out of hand,
And I've begun to keep track
Well I've just about had enough
I'M TAKING CHRISTMAS BACK.

So MERRY CHRISTMAS AMERICA
I hope this gets all over the net
If we all stand united and take freedom back
'Twill be our best CHRISTMAS YET!

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY!

I will be making a conscious effort to wish everyone a Merry Christmas . My way of saying that I am celebrating the birth Of Jesus Christ...

Maybe if we all do that, we can prevent one more American tradition from being lost in the sea of "Political Correctness".

The blatant stupidity of this trite BS floors me. I don't feel this way; I don't know people who are afraid of offending people when they say "Merry Christmas" and I don't know anyone offended by the sentiment.

However, did you read this story? Allow me to briefly summarize: 4 Jews are on the subway, a bunch get on and shout "Merry Christmas" to the folks on the subway. One of the Jews shout back, "And a Happy Hanukkah." That upsets the Merry Christmasers, who were offended by the history that the Jews crucified Jesus (but I think it was the Romans who actually carried it out, wasn't it?), and a group of about 14 decided to make these people pay for it. A fight ensued. A nice Muslim fellow jumped to the aid of the Jews.

Don't send me anymore forwards suggesting that Christians are being denied free speech when THIS story is in the news. Don't whine to me about religious intolerance by the liberal media or the government when religious folks don't even allow it to other religious folks. And if your a Christian, make sure your kids understand that there would be no Christmas if Christ had not died and risen again from the dead. The virgin birth was miraculous, the angels, and the star, but it all would have been for nothing without His death and resurrection. I never understand why so many Christian religions focus so much attention on Christ hanging on the cross, or even us the cross as a symbol of Christ - focusing on the torture of our Savior and his agony. The good part of the story, the part that gives us hope and ought to be remembered most is the resurrection, the "and He lives happily ever after."

All this hubbub by Christians at Christmas - most biblical scholars agree his birth was likely in the spring anyway, just convenient for the conversion and integration of pagans to Christianity oh those many dark years ago, or so my Wiccan father informed me.

Wish people Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Cool Yule, what have you. Take their warm wishes graciously. Don't be afraid of offending someone. No one cares, except the media on a slow news day. Teach your kids to do what is right - and that means tolerance, not persecution, got it?! Ok.

Merry Christmas.

Judging A Book

Alright then.

I am on several "church lady" type email lists and have gotten the dire warning about The Golden Compass movie and books about half a dozen times now. My husband went out and bought the book the day I got the first one; and a book that gets people riled up is the kind of thing I like to read (if only there wasn't a stack of books already in the queue)!

Now I am in a conundrum of sorts: I read the first page or so and wasn't drawn in, but I've wanted to blog about this topic, but I wanted to be informed before I blogged, so I wanted to read it first, but I'm really enjoying the other two books I'm reading, but if I don't blog on it I'll, forget all about it.

So, ignorant hypocrite that I am, here I am to blog about a book I haven't read and to tell people not to pass emails around about books they haven't read (I'm curious, has ANYONE REALLY read this book??)

"Don't see the movie, don't read the books, the author is a militant atheist out to convince your children that God does not exist." Because, despite all the time you spend in church, despite all the family prayers and religious discussions you've had with your kids, despite their own budding ideas about their relationship to God, THIS book will destroy their souls.

Pshaw.

And what's so bad about atheism anyway? You've never doubted, never questioned, ever? Always with the blind faith? No, you've doubted, and either did the work to find your Truth, or gave up and took up the ultra super duper religious flag of FAITH and now go about using it to strangle those who disagree with you. As a former proclaimed agnostic, it's hard work to bend your mind around a universe with no purpose. Maybe religiosity is the easy road; for me, it's Occam's Blvd!

Take a jigsaw puzzle in a box. It has all the potential to be something logical, to make something. Now drop the pieces out on the floor in such a way as that they form the picture - with no guiding hand, no intelligent design. Just drop the pieces and make it work. Yeah. That's why I think there is a God; I can't see all that happens in the universe, in the world, in my family, in my life as pure chance, coincidence, and evolution. Things just don't fall in place the way that they have with out a reason; a Cause and an Effect.

Hypothetically, if a kid came up to your kid and told him not to like another kid because (if your in Utah) he wasn't Mormon, what do you do? Take the opinion of the first kid and advise your kid to stay away? Do you Google this kid and verify the facts, then tell your kid to stay away? Do you tell your kid to be nice to the kid no matter what? What if the kid's parents were militant atheists who might try to convert your kid? Do you tell your kid to be careful and make up his own mind, talk to you if he has any questions?

I am of the belief that every book (and every person, for that matter) has some value. I am not saying all books are appropriate for children. But, honestly, have you no faith in your faith? Do you not believe, "^aTrain up a ^bchild in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it." (Proverbs 22:6). And if your worst nightmare came true and your child was an atheist, what then? You withhold your love? Nah, you just deal with it and feel awkward and preachy when the subject of religion comes up.

Shielding your children from everything that might corrupt them, in hopes that you can keep them pure, is a recipe for parental failure. The world has dark and wicked places, dark and wicked people. You can't hide it from your kids - it seeps in. So, you need to get them dressed for battle as soon as you can. If you don't provide opportunities for them to effectively learn how to use the tools they will need (faith, prayer, integrity, charity, fasting, tithing, obedience, etc.), then you are dangling them naked over the jaws of evil.

If you don't have the confidence in your faith to confront a fantasy children's novel yourself and see if it has the powers others claim, maybe it's because you have doubts and fear that the doubt will destroy your facade. No one, and you know this, no being has the power to destroy God. Not a book, not a person, not Satan himself. Protect your children with KNOWLEDGE, not IGNORANCE.

And that is all I'd like to say. Thanks for your time and, as always, your opinions are always welcome.

Routine in Place; Day One Down

So amazingly, yesterday, we followed routine and the house got clean enough that my husband commented, the dishes got done done and I even exercised and showered before my kids got up. Yes, I think this routine thing is an answer.

And I'm turning back to my better eating plan, the hyper Mormon, Word of Wisdom/Zen Buddhist diet thing ... fresh fruits or veggies with every meal, lots of water, very little meat (but because I'm trying to grow a whole new person inside me, I feel like I need to eat more protein than I would otherwise like) - then the usual no alcohol, tobacco, drugs and such, coupled with a brisk walk on the old treadmill.

Routine + Healthy Lifestyle = :)

I have - oh, 9 days now until all my routines will be for naught, as I spend the holidays away ... maybe I can stick to a few.

I wanted to quote a scripture that has been in my head since Sunday: It's Matthew 5:48
^aBe ye therefore ^bperfect, even as your ^cFather which is in heaven is ^dperfect.

Jesus didn't say work towards perfection, always striving but never quite achieving, he said just be perfect, just like God. I'm doing the best I can and I think it's perfect.

I now must vacuum my perfect carpet and sweep my perfect floor, then I will put my perfect 2 yr old into his perfect bed for a perfect nap. My perfect 5 yr old and his perfect friend will play together perfectly this afternoon and when my husband comes home to his perfect home and perfect wife, we'll have the perfect dinner and eventually everyone will have a perfectly good night's sleep.

My perfect computer is malfunctioning perfectly .... good day to you all.

Two Minutes To Blog

So I've had that drowning in tar feeling lately. And rather than go the way of my dinosaur friends, I am implementing a solution which I hope will make life easier and happier. The solution I have come to is: Get on a Routine (though I'm not sure if that would have helped the dinosaurs much ...).

Part of the problem is there are too many curs'ed trees in this forest I call my life and as I try to care for all of them I am overwhelmed and end up watching TV instead, making myself sick, or focusing on minutia that in no way contributes to the health and general welfare of my forest.

SO. There will be A laundry day, A Shopping day, A major cooking day (I hope), and A bathroom day. Every meal will end with putting away food, clearing the table, and wiping things down, sweeping if necessary. Every day will start will mommy on the treadmill before any monkeys even start thinking about swinging from the trees (except papa monkey, of course). Beds will be made by the monkeys who sleep in them. Before mom sits down to relax for the night, the sinks will be emptied and the floors will be swept. Clothes will be laid out the night before and ever day, mom WILL take 15 minutes to straighten and 15 minutes to vacuum (because we have a husky, it must be done everyday). I think that will do it. But don't think just me is going to do everything. My monkey crew will help ... they will ... you'll see!

Oh, and I think I broke my pinkie toe today, ow. Stupid big heavy measuring tape ... stupid not wearing shoes in the stupid garage.

And, the presents are gathering under the tree, so now the family room is OFF LIMITS to certain small and curious and sometimes destructive members of the family.

Oh, and dad, your present is a little sticky cuz Canon was eating a candy cane and INSISTED on helping me wrap it. I highly recommend NOT wrapping ANYTHING in the presence of a two year old, FYI.

Our Christmas Tree And Some Random Pictures To Make My Husband *Sigh*

I thought, since we're going to AZ for Christmas, getting a live tree (well, slowly, painfully dying tree) might not be necessary this year; also, I'm the Scrooge McTightwad of the family. So I bought a $10 4' fake tree and my family voted me off Christmas Island (like Easter Island but no giant masks). We went to a nursery to see about getting a plantable, real, live tree, but there were issues about where to plant it and how far apart from our current tree and it became a "thing" so we ended up on a tree lot at sunset and found this little 7' guy.

Canon watch daddy put on his black gloves and take the pruner to the bottem branches, so he grabbed some black gloves and the pruner and tried to go to work. Mommy grabbed the camers; daddy put away the pruners.

After hours of decorating, 5 strands of lights, all the ornaments we had hooks for, there is what we came up with. Since then, however, Canan has systematically removed all ornaments within his reach. Some of them met an unfortunate fate, as they didn't bounce on the coffee table, but rather smashed into many little sharp pieces. RIP little ornaments.

And if you drive by, and see this sight, that's us.


And This is Greg making a funny face for the amazing Crichton, photographer extrodinaire.


And here's the faces we make when daddy makes his funny faces.

The Snow Melted, But The Memory of Snow Goes On

Ah, the excitement of snow. Mom and Dad just want to stay cozy up in bed, but the kids can't wait to get out there. So much lovely snow.


Crichton got all dressed up like Santa and played outside with Juna while Canon took his nap.


Later we tried putting Juna's harness leash on her and got her to drag the little plastic circle of plastic they call a sled around for a while. Crichton loved it; Juna, not so much. We'll wait for more snow and perfect the sled dog idea for all parties.

Longfellow

Be still sad heart and cease repining;
Behind the clouds the sun is shining,
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life a little rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

Amazing how external influences can impact own's outlook. Psychology calls it and external locus of control and it's the "bad" one. Well, I'm not sure if I can really attribute yesterday's rain with external stuff ... there was a heap of internal stuff, but I didn't have control over it: very little sleep, sad, sad hormones, worry for band concert, mucus ... so much mucus (internal becoming external). And there was some official external stuff: gloomy cold weather, messy, messy house. But it's not what's going on, it's how you deal with it all. And yesterday, I dealt poorly.

BUT sadness is not a sickness. And Emotions ARE temporary. Ride it through and the joy will come again. It never really left. I just got distracted and embraced gloom for a while. The very act of forcing yourself to smile can improve your mood. Did I bother to go outside and play for a while? No. Did I put in a funny movie or listen to hap-hap-happy music? No. I watched The Price Is Right and cried when people won. I ate sausage and cheese and drank caffeine. I practiced the flute and that helped, but I was tired. And, what, you may ask, was the "high" light of the day?

Canon wakes from his nap. I put the boys in the toy room to play, put on a story CD for them. I lay down to rest in my bed, just across the hallway, just until daddy comes home. I doze, all snugly warm. Next thing I know, the story is over and Canon is banging on a door, screaming for help. He got into the bathroom! I open the door and am overpowered by the smell of Vicks Vapo-rub. My little monkey boy has put the whole jar in his hair. And pooped in his pants. And spilt the mostly empty bottle of kid's sticky allergy medicine on the floor (good for nothing child proof caps!). I clean the poo first then throw him in the bathtub, hoping a good shampoo will solve all my problems. It doesn't. Should you ever be involved with a Vick Vapo-rub accident, don't waste your time with shampoo; there is NO solution, except, like so much else, Time. The internet said "try corn starch," but corn starch wasn't helpful.

Put your faith in Time.

So I have a greasy haired monkey, but God be praised (and I have several times already) he slept through the night last night ... so today I will look for joy and embrace it and let the rain fall outside, but not (get ready for cheese) in my heart.

And, it's FRIDAY!

...A Time to Cry

(A pathetic entry that ought not be read by the general public. You have been warned!)


I accept that my hormones have been hijacked by the sweet parasite growing inside me. Fine, sometimes I feel so angry and hateful for no logical reason. Sometimes I'm giddy happy (not so often as I'd like). And today, like so many days lately, everything makes me cry. I started this crying jag around 4 am and it hasn't really let up.

That's reality right now.

Yesterday was a mostly grumpy day. I took a phone call and afterwards my observant 5 yr old asked how come I was so happy on the phone. I interpret this to mean, "Mom, why are you such a jerk to us, so mean and impatient, paying so little attention and sleeping so much, but as soon as someone needs you on the phone you are kind and nice? Why can't you be nice to us, too?" And I was so tired this morning. I made him breakfast to eat in the car, but he wouldn't eat it and went to school with nothing. Are tears bad for the laptop? I can't blame my husband for not wanting to talk to me, to have conversation. I'm just a mess. A big mean, sleepy, snotty mess.

And this blog, this journal, this outlet is my replacement for going out and finding a human being to confide in, someone who will listen and care. Why trouble a real person, when you have the ever present loving internet. Though the laptop is warm, it's not much to cuddle.

So I'll continue to cry at every thing, every thought, every regret, everything, I guess, until the flood of sad hormones taper off.

Days like this, I just want to curl up in a dark room and let the world spin without me. As if it needs me to spin...

Maybe I need to do something: drink water, exercise, get over my head cold, fake it, take a break from being mom or mom-on-call. Maybe I just need a hug and someone to say it'll be okay ...

SO pathetic ... so sorry ...

Prayer In School

Someone recently asked my opinion about some petition going around the intertubes trying to reestablish prayer in school.

Mind you: I am a highly religious, conservative liberal, lover of free speech, patriot.

I think reestablishing prayer in Public schools is a terrible idea. In a Private school, funded by some church, sure, go forth and pray in school all you want. In a school funded by the US Government, no. No.

First of all, the government can't hold one religion preferred above another, which means all would have to have equal opportunities to pray. And how to you pick and order it. Do you spend an hour each day letting the kids alternate between Christina, Muslim, Jewish, Hindu, Satanic, etc prayer? Some schools offer the "moment of silence" option. Pray, kids, pray in this moment of silence. The problem is, kids kind of suck at being silent. There's like a 5 second window before some thought pops in their head and flies out the mouth. It's a waste of time.

Public School is not the place, not the time. Parents should be the guiding force for religious indoctrination. I think it's more important for kids to understand there is no need for a grand, public display to connect with God. It can happen in your mind any time, and where. Sure, perhaps you can argue with me that there is power behind a multitude praying together, and I'd agree with you. I just don't think public school is the right venue. And maybe you'll go on to say how it would bring a positive spirit into the school, how when there was prayer in school, there weren't school shootings. To that I will say: parents need to do the work at home. I would say the removal of prayer in school is not the source of the problem. I would say 2 working parent families, full time day care, divorce parents with neglected kids; ignorant, neglectful, lenient, parenting, and treating children as though they are entitled royalty, drowning them in stuff, while starving them of love is the source of the problem.

SO that's my thing. I'd sign a petition to say the pledge to the flag every day(let the "under God" part be optional, if you must), but I'd never sign a petition supporting prayer in public schools. Prayer is a personal expression, a sacred conversation ... some forced public event invoking God, proclaiming gratitude, and demanding blessings is not prayer so much as vanity.

Other opinions?

When No One Else Had Posted...

There are not that many Blogs I check daily, but no one had a new post up yet, SO I'll post something. So what if I have to take the kid to school in 15 minutes? So what if we've been out of milk for 2 days now? So what if our new furniture arrangement is an half unstraightenable disaster? I blog.


I'm still reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, from here on out to be referred to as ZMM. It is a very unusual, incredibly stimulating, and just plain hard but interesting book. It's like it was written by a professor of philosophy or something (I think that is the case). I've reached the post half way point now though, so I'm on the downhill side of the mountain. I read it so slowly, trying to absorb as much as I can. He's taking about Quality now. How he refuses to define Quality, but acknowledges that everyone can recognize it when one sees it. Without it, art and music cease to be relevant. Even sports and movies and dance and everything except logic, math, and hard science: the things that don't bother to ask "is this good," things just are. My husband was trying to sleep in uncomfortable pajamas so out of consideration, I turned off the light and was forced to ponder this things in the dark without the narrators wise voice to guide me.

And in the light of day, though I had many thoughts that were intriguing to me at the time, I can't remember where they took me, except I dreamed of mountain climbing, of course. I dreamed I was trying to hard to notice everything about the hike, the feel of the ground, the smells, the mist in the air. But I was trying to hard to make specific note and wasn't able to also appreciate the big picture, the gestalt, how it all fit together. There is a careful balance, I think, between being overwhelmed in the details or the big picture.

As a mom, as I get caught up in one or the other, the tiny details of housework or teaching a bright 5 yr old how to read OR trying to provide a stimulating environment for my children, trying to have a good and happy marriage ... both, too much attention on big picture or tiny details, are frustrating. Somewhere there is a balance, where you whittle life down to what has real Quality, what will improve your quality of life. At least that's is my hope. That as I get more experienced at looking, at seeing, at being, I will be more in tune to what is Quality and let other things slide out of mind.

Crichton is an expert at this already. On Sunday,we built a snowman. He thanked me and told me it was fun. I thanked him for getting me out there to do it, because it WAS fun. Before we could snap a picture though, the snowman had collapsed into a pile. I thought, "some jerk has knocked over my kids snowman, arg." Crichton just went out and picked up the snowman parts, brought them inside and asked when it would snow again.

How much greater would our appreciation for life be if we could be as little children...

Also, he talk (back to ZZM) about teaching and learning and such; writing, specifically. He addresses how the "classical" method to teach writing is to teach the rules, the definitions, show examples of greats, then students try to imitate this. Students have to mimic the structure, but try to be creative at the same time. I know I have been frustrated by this educational method (is pedigogy the right word here?) Sometimes inspiration strikes and I write something golden and I recognize it is good (not often, mind you), but for the life of me I couldn't tell you how I did it. Anyone who has had to read student writing in any quantity knows that this method, this system fails most people most of the time. The writing is terrible, bland, overwritten. Any ounce of life that once was there is peer-reviewed and instructor-commented out. So my ZMM guy withholds grades. Gives comments and such, but no one knows how they are really doing. At the end of the term, the breakdown is predictable, the A kids get A's, B-C kids get B-C's, the F kids get their F's. BUT in the course comments, the A kids liked the no grades thing 2:1 ... it makes you stop trying to learn what the teacher wants you to copy, you give that up because you never KNOW, so then you start learning for the sake of learning the material. And that is what education should be. It's not what it is ... in my experience anyway: you go, you imitate (and I am good at spewing what the teacher wants), you leave with an A and forget most everything. BUT education should be real learning. There are a few (very very few) classes I still think back to and really learned stuff in. Where the teacher or prof stepped back and made it possible for me to be educated.

If I could be an English teacher like that, I would. Anyway ... I guess I should go do something.

Monday Monday Monday

Why is it always Monday around here?

Must be quick tonight. I went to the chiropractor tonight and he fixed me up. I can't quick account for the how, but my doc really did cure my headaches and I'm gonna see how he does with pregnant back aches over the next few months. Is it the faith that it'll work or is there really something to aligning the vertebra ... I'm not convinced either way, despite my proof. I'm of the belief if you take care of your body it heals itself pretty fabulously. But way back when the migraines were kicking my butt at least once a week ... well, I'm happy to say life is much better without migraines and not having to take drugs for the pain is nice, too, as I'm am pretty sure every drug has some side effects.

That's' really all I have time for right now, some errands to run before kids go off to bed, but I have some great pictures of the blizzard we just had and Crichton trying to use Juna for a sled dog. Lovely snow. Good reason to buy boots. I got 2, one sturdy for playing out with the kids and one cute for making me feel tall and sexy. I wore the sturdy ones to church though .... didn't wanna fall more than I wanted to look cute. I did get up and bear my testimony. I've been wanting to for months and months. People forgive the pregnant girl sniffling her gratitude at the pulpit ... I'd would have been crying whatever the hormonal status.

Gotta go, baby screaming, no daddy in sight ...