Just So You Know - Your Worst Fear, It's Already Too Late

This week's visit meter is kind of flipping me off.

You seem bored; have something to read:

One of the biggest reasons conservatives say they are against gay marriage, and even the normalization of homosexuality in general, is the worry that the gay life style and same-sex marriage will be taught in public schools and will sway confused children to experiment with immorality.

So much about this argument drives me beyond crazy. (and if you happen to be a conservative who would like to clarify or rephrase this stand feel free)

So, did you watch the video? The one that anonymous kindly suggested for you? About Robb and Robin who's little 2nd grader had to sit through a reading of King and King? And they sued? And lost?

Did you read the article? The one that called the mom "dutiful if somewhat dour" and the dad "handsome, bright, hard-working" and said my church's "real concern is preventing gay and lesbian people from accessing equal rights." Because Mormons are a bunch of bigots. (Thank Dan Aiello for that bit of unbiased journalism).

I dismiss both pieces of evidence. They are both full of lies, misrepresentations, and seek to further an agenda rather than expose truth. Hateful, ignorant lies, with a dash of truth to make it go down easier, but swallowing either of those whole will make you sick. (makes me sick anyway)

YOU silly people who think that legalizing gay marriage will mean that SUDDENLY your kids will be taught to accept and embrace the homosexual lifestyle: YOU ARE THE PARENTS. You are responsible to teach your children right from wrong, as best you can. If you're child comes home saying that the speed of light is 1,255,466 gazzillion bubillion miles an hour, you tell them, "No, no, sweetie, it's 299,792,458 m/s". And if they ask you to prove it? Then you have to go into how we just have faith and because that's what the scientists say is true.

And YOU silly people, on both sides, who CLEARLY have not been volunteering in elementary schools lately. They already know. The big brothers have been calling the little brothers "gay" every time they wanted to hug for their whole life. The problem is, just like all of us, for the most part, gay is used as an insult. Of course, so is being a girl. So is every other physical detail or behavior that fails to conform with whatever standard the childish think is right.

I volunteered on Friday to chaperon a walking field trip to the local grocery store. "Find a buddy," teacher yells. "Hold your buddy's hand and stick together!"

"EWWW! NO WAY! That's gay," says two boys in front of me. Then, they see two other boys complying with the teacher's orders and respond, "You guys are gay!" At which point these boys stop obeying teacher to maintain respect with peers.

Later that day, my 3 year old Canon got it in his head that he really, really wanted to kiss and hug on his big brother. A lot. He was being obnoxious and silly. "Canon, get off me, you're being gay."

They were tumbling just to the side of me (I'm almost always sitting on the floor - ring side seats, watch the action) and I said, in a completely casual, almost mocking tone, "Do you know what that means?" (he and I have discussed it once before, a bit, but he'd never used it as an adjective; he asked me if I knew what it meant, as if to educate me, in case I was out of the loop - yeah, he doesn't read the blog much).

Here's what 1st graders know: "It's when a boy and a boy wanna be all smoochy smoochy or a girl and a girl wanna be all smoochy smoochy. Or even if a husband and wife want to be smoochy smoochy with another boy or girl. That would be gay too, for one of them."

"Who told you that?"

"[My teacher?]"

"[Your teacher]? Why would she tell you that?"

"I don't know."

Me either. But I'm not offended. Maybe the kids in class kept calling each other gay inappropriately (as opposed to the appropriate usage examples they demonstrated when I was there). Maybe one of the students asked her, and, being a professional educator, she answered the question. When my kids ask me something, I try to give them the right, true answer.

Except for the polygamy confusion, he knows what it means. He just can't quite wrap his head around the concept that it's a sometimes accurate description of behavior, not an always accurate description. Boys can hold hands, hug, kiss and be totally not gay. Or they might be. 1st graders just aren't elegant thinkers.

That's all I wanted to say: Don't be so naive. It's being taught, they already know ... it's not a big deal. Go about your business of teaching your kid right from wrong, as you see fit. But just FYI, this is the real world and you should probably start talking to your kids NOW. Or yesterday. Tolerance is good; very, very good. Let's be tolerant.

The end.

A Desperate Plea For Wisdom And Insight Concerning Civil Unions

You know that sick feeling you get when you know damn well you are going to have to go up to the pulpit and bear your testimony and you're going to cry like a baby and no one will even be able to understand you, but there really is no other choice??

That's how I feel right now.

I broke one of the rules of bloggy etiquette yesterday and left links in a comment on Dad Gone Mad (and now I feel obligated to buy his book, and you should,too. It's just $10; he's funny.)

So today I've had over a hundred hits here, mostly to my Marriage Defined post of, wow, just 3 months ago, feels like longer.

It's a hot topic. It's an important topic. It has no effect on me and yet SO much effect on me.

Someone, any old one - I'm tired of the Why Are You For or Against Gay Marriage arguments.

Tell me, why not UNIVERSAL Federal Civil Unions? Not separate fountains or back doors, dammit. I mean sweeping changes and equality before the law. Why not?

We don't live in Utopia, ladies and gentlemen and we ALL know the problem lies with the interwoven connectedness between religion, marriage, and government. Most people would like to keep church and state out of the same bed, but in marriage ... the bed is the thing!!! I think you will never never get a majority to see marriage as not religious. So go the other way, take government out.

Why not? Why doesn't this work? Stick to the issue, not for or against gay marriage ... why not civil unions?

Devastation Averted - Free Smiles For Everyone

Crichton has been working on his struggles and showed some really good progress yesterday - I thought you might like to know.





Me: (meeting him at the corner as he's riding his bike home from school) Hi. How was school?

Crichton: Good.

Me: (shocked to hear a positive response) Good?

C: Yeah, Miss Ono (the Japanese exchange teacher) taught us how to make kites.

M: That's cool.

C: Mine broke, but it's okay, I think I can fix it.

M: (Shocked some more by a positive, solution oriented response to a negative experience) Alright.

*****

We arrived home, procured tape, fixed kite, and moved on. I know I shouldn't be shocked when he acts like a normal happy kid, and I think I hid my shock from him. But I'm very proud that he is making efforts to choose to be happy, to find solutions and ask for help. All very encouraging for his worry-wart mommy.

California Is a Silly Place, Legally Speaking

I don't watch the news, but I read on-line updates on issues I care about. I just learned that California upheld Prop 8, banning Gay Marriage AND decided to continue to recognize the 18,000 same-sex marriages entered into before hand.

So no one is happy.

Prop Eight-ers say it's a hallow victory. There are still 36,000 happily married gay people keeping their rings, holding hands, maybe even (gasp) kissing. A shame, for sure.

The LGBT Community must have had their signs made last night (well, the gay pessimists - which sounds like an oxymoron). They will be marching around all over. My favorite lesbians are, naturally, upset.

I hope there won't be protesters at the temple tomorrow, as I'd like to go without being accosted by people who make assumptions about me without taking the time to understand my reasons. I'm pretty sure the LDS church didn't bribe the California State Supreme Court. Relatively.

The point that keeps sticking in my proverbial craw is the argument that goes something like, "Why does the majority get to decide the rights of the minority?" First, do you understand that in a democracy the majority determines the rights of everyone, majority and minority alike? Second, it is a silly assumption that marriage is an unlimitable right.

You can own a gun, but there are limitations. You can have an abortion, but there are limitations. You can vote, but there are limitations. You can get married, but there are limitations.

Recently, I thought it would be very nice to have a second wife around the house. She would be in charge of the housework and cooking and I get to play with the kids and play Lexulous on Facebook (challenge me, I dare you). SURE, I could hire a maid, but who has money for that, we're in a recession here folks! Now look. I could get some girl to live here and I could share My Dear Old Greggy and divvy up the chores and the neighbors might talk, but they can't do crap about it. HOWEVER, I do not have the right to march Missy (that's going to be her name), Greg, and I down to the courthouse and have it made official. Even if we both love Missy a whole whole bunch (and if she did dishes and put away laundry, you better believe there would be some big love for Missy). Because you know why? The state law says one man and one woman. (Freaking stupid backwards thinking states, I know! Can you imagine how much better my blog would be if I didn't have housework looming over me ALL the time!!)

So, Boys and girls: we all endure the limitations to our rights. We continue to appeal to the courts to have our rights recognized and should there come a time when a majority of society is in agreement, we'll all have better blogs. Easy for me to say, I have a legal, lawful spouse. But some days I would so rather have a Missy than a Greg. Assuming the computer is working fine and the laundry needs to be done. And what I really want, is both.

Or a maid.

Two final notes. If you are a minority in any way, know that you represent your group. Be especially nice to children, the upcoming generation, because if you keep yelling at my kid to get off the sidewalk in front your house, he's going to make negative associations about minorities and someday he'll be called a bigot, but really, someone was a poor example and ruined it for everyone else. It's nice to be nice.

Second: not everyone thinks you are "pedophiliac, church-ruining, abominational second-class citizens", but if you walk around thinking everyone does, it's going to taint how you treat others and therefore, how you are treated in return. Choose to walk around thinking everyone loves you and supports you until they tell you differently, then just know, that guy's a jerk and jerks are the minority and minority opinion doesn't matter.

Motto for today:

"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." --Plato (and I could just kiss him for saying so!)

And to encourage:

"People are often unreasonable, illogical and self-centered;
Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;
Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some genuine enemies;
Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and sincere, people may deceive you;
Be honest and sincere anyway.

What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;
Build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous;
Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, will often be forgotten tomorrow;
Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;
Give the world your best anyway.

You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God;
It was never between you and them anyway.

— Mother Theresa

I am in love with everything and everyone today.
I love you!
Madly.

________________________

*Brilliant art from here.

Sealed

If you read my blog, you know my widowed mother lives in my basement and you know that I, her only surviving child, have a strained relationship with her - to put it lightly.

You can assume that I sometimes think very bad thoughts regarding my mother - thoughts that YOU would never indulge because you are a very good and mature person who loves your mother despite her quirks and foibles. Because I want to be a good person (or at least want to be thought of as a good person), I feel appropriate guilt for those very bad thoughts and have been trying to expunge them and forgive any and all of my mother's missteps, past and present.

It just isn't as easy as one might hope.

I have been reading Dr. Laura's Bad Childhood Good Life and attending LDS temple sessions twice a week for a lot of weeks now.

Through reading Dr. Laura's book, I have come to accept that my mother is not evil, just annoying. I have given up the hope that somehow, someday my mom will be the mother I want her to be. My childhood was what it was. If nothing else, it made me a strong, independent woman who can fend for herself when necessary, thankyouverymuch.

I had no respect for my mother, bitter, spiteful, little girl that I am. At the suggestion of the always brilliant Karen Miller, I don't call her Mom anymore. I just call her Grandma. She wears that title much better and I still have a modicum of respect for her as Grandma. No matter if it's for the title or the person: in my mind, if there is a drop of respect, love can grow.

While in the temple, meditating and praying and working through my business, I've been able to trudge through and turn over a lot of history and pain - I didn't feel like I needed to whine to a counselor for hours and dollars on end or have a grand confrontation and demand a half-assed apology to feel better. Forgiveness IS for myself; grudges are very heavy and putting them down frees up so much energy (though sometimes I am temped to pick it back up, I resist). The whole, let Jesus carry your troubles stuff kind of makes sense.

All of that garbage had to be sorted before Saturday because my mom wanted to have our family (my deceased father and brother, her and me) sealed in the temple for time and all eternity and I am not the kind of person who can fake her way through holy vows made before God. I had to be able to look my little mother in the eye at the alter of the temple and not ...

So we drove up to the tiny, but elegant Twin Falls, Idaho temple. My favorite Uncle Larry was able to stand (well, kneel) in as proxy for my father, my mom's younger brother was the proxy for my little brother. My little family, torn in half by death for the last 10 years, was reunited and sealed together that afternoon.

For a Mormon, being sealed to your family is the supreme ordinance necessary for exaltation. All other ordinances are done alone, but this one requires a man and woman, a creative unit, vowing to strive together for the rest of their existence, far beyond this life. I can't speak with any authority as to what happens to you when you die - if death is the end, so be it. But I hope it's not. Ultimately, the entire human race would be sealed together as one huge eternal family, fathers and mothers to each other and their children, children to their own spouses, on and on - the idea that all of us a part of One.

I miss my daddy and brother very much. In the temple, I felt, and continue to feel, closer to them now than at any point in my life. After much work in my brain, my heart has been softened towards my mom. Which is not to say everything is buttercups and unicorns ... but I have hope. I can persevere. I understand I have a lot to learn about loving my fellow beings and how forgiveness works and generally becoming the person God would have me be. But this was a good experience, a perfect day. And I will keep it in my heart forever.

364

My daughter is 364 days old today.

She's a fast crawler and a wobbly walker.


She likes to feed herself and knocks the spoon out of my hand if I try to feed her.



She has a wicked cute smile; she crinkles her nose.






(hold on, she's also the poopingest little thing ... doodie calls)




She's observant. She's happy and tough. She enjoys playing with her big brothers. She loves to look at books and be read to. And eat dirt. And splash in the bathtub. She's a calm, easy going sweet little creature. She's been sleeping through the night since she was a couple of months old (for the most part, there were a few hiccups). Balloons excite her. She's also big on destroying Canon's train tracks. It's fun to watch Canon The Annoyer find himself annoyed. She's finding her voice and what a loud piercing voice it seems to be!



I wanted this little girl so badly. Wanted a daughter, wanted an opportunity to have a great mother-daughter relationship. Sometimes, when we're smiling at our reflections in a mirror, I beg her to never hate me, to always like me. I feel more vulnerable and exposed to her than my boys or my husband. I need her - it's kind of like redemption I am looking for. Like if I can be a perfect mom to her, it will make up for my childhood. If I can have a brilliant relationship with her, I can erase my first mother-daughter relationship. I had very little control back then, and so much now. If I'm very careful - I can be there for her, listen to her, support her, provide boundaries, teach her how to set goals, pay bills, tell her the truth about guys, help her become the woman she is meant to be.


God gave me a daughter. A magical beautiful little daughter. If I believed in the zodiac, I might be concerned that we're both Geminis - seems like quadruple the trouble. But right now, I'm too busy watching her explore the world. She's very good at entertaining herself for long periods of time, but then she comes looking for me. She'll lean against me or crawl into my lap, lay her head on me, and pop her two little fingers in her mouth.

My sweet little Sagan. Love you baby girl.

Sometimes You Might Get Trapped in a Laundry Basket By Your Crazy Mother

Mrs. Roth, can you please explain again why you were holding your son hostage in a laundry basket?

Do you ever find yourself doing something that makes you wonder if maybe you've crossed the line as a parent?

Crichton is an intense kid. He's focused. He is very sensitive and tends to be overly emotional. Maybe it's normal, just new to me, but I worry.

(Oh how carefully I tip toe around the details)

He seems to evaluate every experience negatively.

How was school today?

Sad grumpy face - disturbing story of woe.

Every day.

What did you learn?

Nothing. It's SO boring. I already know everything the teacher says. And I have to wait for everybody else to finish everything. (Thanks, no child left behind!)

And everybody hates me. Sigh and roll eyes. Because they don't. Kids are always calling to play with Crichton. He has an awesome best good buddy. There are friends - he's not a lone wolf, but I think he'd like to be.

I'm a bad boy. He's so hard on himself. Sometimes I worry that we're too religious, too right and wrong, good and bad; that he is already feeling the pressure to be perfect - and guilt that he can't just be perfect. God loves you, baby, just the way you are. Mommy, too.

He has another friend, with older siblings, who often speaks in suicidal hyperbole: I'm going to kill myself. Crichton has picked up the habit. Hearing your child say those words ... Good God in Heaven ...

I spoke to the school psychologist about it all - he said to make Crichton counter those negative thoughts by saying positive things. Saying the truth. Repeatedly using positive neural pathways, rather then letting him continue to wear down the ruts he's created.

My mom loves me, my dad loves me, my grandmas love me, my grandpa loves me, my brother loves me, my sister loves me, Milo loves me, my teachers love me, my friends love me ... I am a good boy.

Still, he struggles with his attitude. Kids can be depressed, too. He used to complain about random body pain. That's one of the symptoms of childhood depression. He asked to take a break from Karate. No longer wanting to participate in activities you enjoy - that's another.

I watch him so very closely. I worry that I've done this to him, taught him how to be depressed. Hampered his happiness. I've been working on myself, trying to choose happiness, to CHOOSE to be happy. Or at the very least, stay on an even keel. Running has helped incredibly. Twice weekly temple sessions: I can't recommend it enough - especially for young mothers who aren't getting crap out of Sunday church meetings (as far as personal enrichment).

My brain is starting to get better. When I run, I chant positive affirmations: You can do it, Brandy. Just a little more, you can do it, I know you can. In the temple, I feel loved; I feel perfect. Rather than sitting around at home all the time, feeling overwhelmed, I am going places, doing things, communicating with people, building friendships, developing routines to keep my home cleaner (a little). I don't fly apart so much - I keep my ... self together.

Nature, nurture, whatever. I have to help Crichton see this Truth - that happiness is a choice and your attitude is all up to you.

SO.

Yesterday he got home from school, I asked him how his day went.

Bad.

Bad? Why? (I was folding laundry.)

Nobody wanted to play what I wanted to play. Everybody hates me. (He had crawled into the 3 foot tall empty basket.)

I kind of snapped.

I raised my voice, but wasn't angry. "YOU HAVE TO STOP BEING SO GRUMPY ALL THE TIME CRICHTON! YOU HAVE TO CHOOSE TO BE HAPPY. YOU HAVE TO!"

He was shocked to hear me yell, and he started crying and wanted to run away from me. But I wouldn't let him out of the basket. He was wedged in there, squirming and struggling and pushing with all his might, but he couldn't escape. He grunted and squalled and cried and got mad. I encouraged him to keep struggling, to let all those bad feelings out, but I wasn't going to let him out until he CHOSE to be happy instead.

He kept fighting me, crying, telling me I was making him feel worse. "I'm not making you feel anything, you choose how to feel Crichton. If you want out of here, choose to be happy."

He fought for several more minutes, then he went limp and reached up to hug me. I held him in my arms and spoke softly to him about how choice is God's greatest gift to us. We can't always control what happens to us in this life, we might get trapped in a laundry basket, but whatever happens, no one can make us feel bad, we have the power to choose to be happy. I loved on that kid and he started smiling.

I think he got it.

At dinner, I asked him what he learned today. He said, "I can choose to be happy." I think he was getting it (or was sufficiently afraid of being trapped in a laundry basket again). It takes practice, breaking the habit of self-destructive mental dialogue, but I know I have to give him some tools, some armor against the sadness that clings to him.

Choose to be happy.

I'm A Sucky Twit

At the request of a loyal reader, I registered and started doing the Twitter thing. That was 257 updates ago. I recently discovered that my brother-in-law sees my Twitter updates on his Google home page. Last weekend, I also learned that a friend has my Twitter updates sent via text message to her phone. It's all so weird because I'm not very good at [I don't even know the correct verb to use].

I'm not sure if I should talk to people, like with the @ thing; it seems really ... public. And I don't know what RT means. And I don't feel comfortable using # for anything not related to weight or mass.

Nevertheless, I have three favorite [again, not sure what the noun would be ... Twitterers? Twits?]: johncmayer, EricDSnider, and Matt_Page. I just like non sequitors. If one is going to spew out random statements into the internets, it should be shocking or humorous or witty or something.

I'm not very good.

I began on January 29th, I believe, with this:

What a strange and silly place this is ... how did I get here?
9:11 PM Jan 29th from web

I posted once a day for a while then there was this:

I made potroast and homemade rolls. Husband working late ANYWAY! *grumble grumble grumble*
6:34 PM Feb 5th from web

Then I neglected my Twiitering. Posted nothing for over a month. Then this:

Strange, haven't been here for a while and it still looks the same. Hello World.
2:50 PM Mar 12th from web

Since then, I have posted once, twice, sometimes 6 times a day, strange random things that happen or pop into my head. Here are a few of my favorites (and by a few, I mean forty):

My husband just said "I like Daylight Saving." I died a little inside.
8:08 AM Mar 13th from web

FUN FUN FRIDAY!!! That's all I got.
4:58 PM Mar 20th from web

Have you had it with the drudgery of constantly scrubbing that dirty kitchen floor? Boo-freaking-hoo, Toots.
2:58 PM Mar 21st from web

Maybe Greg's right. Maybe I am a geek.
12:40 PM Mar 26th from web

Someone shut my cakehole. Please.
1:17 PM Mar 30th from web

Having cleaned the vomit out of baby's crib, I will pray that God will take away my headache. And by God, I mean Tylenol.
2:37 PM Mar 30th from web

My husband is not happy that he had to wash his own underwear. Why get married if you have to wash your own underwear? Honestly.
10:29 PM Mar 30th from web

Glory be, like the miracle of the fishes and loaves, everyone has clean pants and underwear today.
8:24 AM Apr 2nd from web

Canon kicked a ball at Sagan's head: "It's okay Sagan, it was the pink ball."
1:06 PM Apr 2nd from web

poop goes in the potty, not in your pants, FYI
5:04 PM Apr 2nd from web

So my superpower - indefatigable silliness. Yours?
11:57 PM Apr 2nd from web

I LOVE SCIENCE FRIDAY!!! Dark matter makes me crazy happy.
12:22 PM Apr 3rd from web

Canon asking everyone, "Did you wanna talk to the dirty noodle?"
6:59 PM Apr 5th from web

9 1/4 divided by 1/8 ... I get 74. Is that what you get?
6:00 PM Apr 6th from web

I hate doing hard things. Isn't that what husbands are for anyway. Stupid husband, always making me stretch and grow and crap.
12:07 PM Apr 11th from web

I have the poopingest kids in the world. So much pooooo, maybe I'm over feeding these guys.
3:39 PM Apr 13th from web

Ever feel like you've lost your freaking mind? Not "ha ha, she's crazy," but, "uh-oh, she's crazy" ... anyone wanna sit my kids and house?
9:49 AM Apr 14th from web

I am the mayor of Peanutopolis. Or so says my snickers wrapper. Fraking 280 calories. Seen Caprica? Boobs.
10:49 AM Apr 16th from web

Strange thing, MY Home Teacher is a stand-up comedian ... http://tinyurl.com/cyn6pq
7:12 PM Apr 19th from web

Today I did a 10 minute mile. Oh yes I did. In total, this morning I moved 2.5 miles in 33 minutes and 23 seconds, burning 330 calories.
9:15 AM Apr 20th from web

Which first - change the poopy diaper or take a caffeine vitamin with diet cherry pepsi? Fine, jerk. I'll change the diaper first.
11:08 AM Apr 21st from web

ALL POINTS BULLETIN: One naughty orange kitty (big fluffy tail) didn't come home last night. Answers to "Milo". If you see him, let me know.
10:21 PM Apr 23rd from web

Cancel the all points bulletin, naughty kitty has come home, I repeat, MILO is home! (note to self, put a collar on that boy!)
8:00 AM Apr 24th from web

I think Handy Manny and Kelly should hook up. When she says, "Day Nada, Manny," I hear, "I want to meet you behind the toolshed. No tools."
10:22 AM Apr 24th from web

HI, my name is Brandy and I have PICA! I just ATE my kid's Anakin Skywalker's light saber. Anyone know of a cure? A 5K or something?
11:46 AM Apr 24th from web

Dropped family off at church then snuck home to "get something". Put on a roast and started bread. House so quiet. I have to go back? *sigh*
11:12 AM Apr 26th from web

Hey! Don't put pizza on your sister's head!
2:19 PM May 2nd from web

We are ROCKING the pants off RUPERT, IDAHO!!!
5:10 PM May 3rd from web

(Hey, you know what?) We are obsessed with all things chicken butt today. (Chicken Butt!)
11:03 AM May 5th from web

Has anyone seen my (insert a lot of profanity) eye brow tweezer thing? I'm freaking Chewbakka here!
10:25 AM May 6th from web

Husband won't let me dress up to go to Star Trek. I promised to leave my phaser set to stun-ning!!!
7:16 PM May 7th from web

I can't say that I've RUN a 5K, but I've now DONE a 5K - 37:02!! Go Me!!!
8:59 AM May 9th from web

Ever since I completely abandoned all hope of being spiritually uplifted at church, things have been going so much better.
3:38 PM May 10th from web

Things might be a little out of control here ...
9:19 AM May 12th from web

What's that slime on the floor? Am I being haunted by a malevolent spirit? No. It's the gelatinous goo in baby meatsticks. Yummy. *slurp*
2:22 PM May 12th from web

I'm so tired of my life being centered around poop and my boobs, y'know? Yeah.
4:52 PM May 13th from web

I wish the maid would do her JOB while I sit and watch TV ...
9:36 PM May 14th from web

Three year old, with manual breast pump in hand, says, "I'm gonna SUCK you UP!"
9:30 AM May 15th from web

If I learned anything this weekend, it's that I like Cherry Coke Zero better than Wild Cherry Diet Pepsi. Yup, I'm a convert.
9:27 AM May 18th from web

DOES ANYONE ELSE HEAR BAGPIPES????
about 22 hours ago from web

You can follow me on Twitter. If you like. But I can't reccomend it.

Two Birds, One Stone - How To Potty Train and Get the Laundry Done

Hello. Is the lady-of-the-house/stay-at-home-dad available?

Do you have a 3.3 year old child whom you should have potty trained a year ago, but didn't because you were 8 months pregnant/had a hernia?

Do you have a giant mountain of laundry that never seems to diminish despite your daily diligence?

I have the solution to both.

I do.

"Impossible!" I hear you muttering, but, it is true.

Just follow these simple steps and I guarantee results*!!!

1. Buy the child some real underwear. Stop using diapers and Pull-Ups. If you're nervous about nighttime, fine, use them at night. But no more diapers during the day. Big kid underwear.

2. Put a load of laundry in the washer. Whites. Or Towels.

3. Use the most human-looking toy you can find to demonstrate for the child how he/she will be sitting on the big potty to poop and pee from now on (See, Superman sits on the potty to go pee-pee). Then have the child use the toy to show you how to do it (NO! Superman never swims in the potty!). Do this at the beginning of the day for a few days in a row.

4. Have the child sit on the big potty and try to poop and/or pee. Feel free to reward the child for successful deposits (candy, stickers, money - whatever motivates your kid).

5. Switch the laundry over to the dryer and start washing another load. Set a timer to go off in 1 hour.

6. Every time the timer goes off, put your kid on the potty and switch over the laundry.

Soon**, your two biggest issues will be simultaneously solved.

Additional Notes:

• Make sure to keep the batches small enough so they will certainly get dry.
• Do not skip sitting on the potty, consistency is vital.
• Make sure to keep the kid drinking; a gun with no ammo cannot shoot.
• If your kid has an accident in their pants, don't get mad, just put them on the potty and remind them that poop and pee goes in the potty.
• If your kid refuses to poop and seems constipated, you can either put them in a diaper and let them poop in it OR take them to a restaurant with underwear on. Poop will happen.

Honestly, I don't KNOW that this method will work for the potty training - we've been doing it for 8 days now and, while Canon almost always pees when prompted, he has yet to take himself to the potty. And he keeps pooping in his pants! But the laundry is getting done.

Do I just need to keep on keeping on or do you have any suggestions to hurry things up and get the poop in the potty? Freaking three years of diapers, enough is enough!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*I guarantee that if you keep the laundry going every hour, you will get laundry done; You and I both hope the potty training part will be work.

**Where "soon" = an indefinite and undetermined amount of time, greater than one day and probably less than infinity.

***footnotes bug me.

What Time Is It?

Hey, remember that clock I said I really wanted and had hoped my husband might choose to get me for my birthday or anniversary? Let me refresh your memory:

That's the one.

Well.

FOR NO GOOD REASON!

I got another package from Our Name Is Mud. I mean, I was thrilled beyond imagination when I got two coffee mugs (which I now use as often as I can, they are my favorite things to drink out of, make everything taste better) AND a fancy platter, which tonight will be used to carry Pizza Puffs to my table (Pillsbury crescents rolled with peperoni and mozzarella, dippable).

BUT, By Golly Miss Molly - a second package.

This is my new favorite clock, as scene on my very own kitchen counter:

I am so happy! It's even more amazing in real life

My logical, analytical, and mostly reasonable oldest son just didn't quite get it:

Crichton: This "Whatever Clock"? How are we supposed to know what time it is?

Me: That's the point. You think, "What time is it?" You look at the clock. "Whatever." Because it doesn't really matter.

C: We could put stickers on it...

M: That would defeat the purpose of my clock.

He takes it to the table to examine it further.

C: Well, when it's pointing at the "t" it's twelve o'clock and when it's pointing at the 6 it's kind of six o'clock.

M: Yeah, you just have to kind of guess the time. That's why it's so cool.

Continues evaluating the usefulness of a clock that makes it hard to tell time.

C: "Why can't we put some stickers on it?!"

Maybe someday he'll understand. I can't decide if I want to put the clock in my bedroom, as originally planned, or out in a main room so everyone can see my passion for randominity.

I have 14 clocks in my 11 room home, but only one is my favorite. Sorry melty clock, you've been replaced in my heart (and for the record, melty clock SUCKED at keeping time!)

I would not tell you to buy junk from people if I didn't love the junk they sent me for free. And y'know, I used to think not the nicest of thoughts about certain incredibly popular bloggers who always get free stuff and blog about how great it is, but I take those mean thoughts back.

Almost nothing in the whole universe is better than getting a package in the mail.

Thank you Lorrie Veasey!

Mr. Righty - posting past exhaustion

I'd like to write for you a glorious post about how much fun I am having (and I am having oodles of it) but I didn't finish weaning my daughter before this weekend. Not completely. So every other thought I have is, "Wow, my right breast hurts. Maybe I have a few blocked ducts."

I'll be the first one to jump up and say how amazing the female body is - bringing forth life and nourishing it, but there are a few things I'd like to complain to God about. Maybe He didn't think it through all the way. But, by Jango, there are quite a few things I'd like to FIX. For example:

Menstrual Periods. In general, I hate it. First, you get jerky without really understanding why. Then your face breaks out. You feel bloated and repugnant and eat junk food. Then, the whole blood. I mean why? Really! WHY? How was that ever a good idea, evolutionarily? I mean, couldn't the dinosaurs smell out and devour cave women? Birds don't have it? Why couldn't I lay my eggs? I guess it could be worse, with the swollen baboon behind. That would suck.

So, yeah, first thing I would do is fix that.

OK. Then next, breastfeeding. It hurts so crazy much when you start that you don't think you can possibly do it for a whole year. Like every time your baby squalls for food, you cringe, you pop that stiff, overinflated thing out, you grit your teeth, and do what must be done. SURE after that first couple of weeks you get used to it. Or quit. But why not make it nice and easy and painless, for crying out loud?

Then, when it's time to stop, which is where I am, more pain. You know, so far, I have spent 3 full years, one tenth of my life, breast feeding my children. Mr. Righty is hard as a rock and just ... it's not fair. I've done my part. I nourished every cell in those kids body. Not fair.

Ow. Mr. Righty hurts.

Little Boys, Death, and Destruction

Here: I have a minute to blog before I go pack for my Great Escape. Crichton (7), his best friend Cody (7), and Canon-my-Canon (3) are playing Lego Star Wars (Phantom Menace level), where no one really dies, just falls apart all lego-y and regenerates whole. Let me transcribe for you parts of their dialogue.

Kill them.

Why are these guys trying to kill us? We're one of them.

They're trying to run from us. They'll lead a droid army!

Turn into a droid hurry!

DIE! DIE!

Don't let any clones pass!

CLONE PASSING! CLONE PASSING!

Why do those clones want to kill me?

They're passing!!

KILL THEM!!!

DIE CLONES!

YEAH DIE!

Distract them so they can't come!

NOOO!!!

Come on we have keep ... [momentarily distracted by killing] ... killing!

HURRY THEY'RE COMING IN!

I CAN'T FIND THEM!

There by me, can you see me?

I can't get over there!

Come on, let's get in, it's the only way we can protect ourselves.

I think they were helping us, it usually takes longer to kill that guy [on of those big AT-AT Walker things].

COME ON!

Did you see that?

No.

There it is again.

What is that?

HEY! WHY ARE YOU KILLING US?

We have to die, it's our only chance.

Wait, no, we can go there.

OK, let's go!

This isn't going to hurt me; IT HURT YOU THOUGH!

Did you know they made Lego Star Wars and it's really people playing with these guys.

Yeah, did you know my dad, well, not my dad, but people are controling us and helping us move around and stuff?

YAY MONEY! (that was Canon)

Kill as much as you can! Kill everything! Kill the TV. I get the TV if it's the last thing I do? Hey, did you get the R6?

There is no R6.

Oh.

[end scene]
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now I have to go pack my crap.

If I have WiFi, I'll try to blog. Must charge everything. Must hope baby girl will be ok. Must be off. - Hey, does WiFI stand for wireless free internet? I think it does.

This doesn't count as high quality content, does it?

Caged Bird Planning an Escape

I'm breaking out of this joint.

Starting tomorrow evening and going through to Sunday, disguised as a "chaperon", I will fly the coup and entertain myself with Shakespeare, Amusement Parks, just-slightly-less-than-fine dining, and the most amazing choir in the world (though I may be a little biased). And, assuming I'm not too homesick/engorged, I'll stay in a hotel.

I need to get my benefactor a gift ... something that says, "thanks for saving my sanity."

Any suggestions?

I know ... I think I'll give her my copy of one of my favorite books so I can have an excuse to buy another copy, directly from the author and get it scribbled in. I am so smart. (don't peek Ana)

If I'm a good blogger, I'll write some brilliant posts and set them up to appear by magic (and it's not as if I won't have my Little Red with me - most hotels have wifi now, right?)

CRAP! CRAP CRAP CRAP. Anyone wanna take my Sunbeam class? They're AWESOME kids, I swear.

I'm gonna have to charge my phone now.

Also, I am mourning the loss of one of my followers. Sigh. I thought I'd have 30 soon, but it seems I have peaked and am on the decline. Alas, we all knew it was too good to last.

Stupid Randomity

I was trying to write a musical parody for you, set to the tune of My Favorite Things, but my attention span and dedication aren't what they used to be (ever were). Here's what I got:

Convincing dear Canon to poop in the potty,
Wishing his aim was a little less spotty,
Praying that Sagan is ready to wean,
These are a few of my favorite things.

When your boobs leak
beak ... creek ... meek

effit.

They're not my favorite things ... and I couldn't think of an appropriate adjective to describe how frustrated and tedious these two tasks are.

Sure, sure, I don't HAVE to do them in the same week, but what else am I gonna do? I ran out of bon bons and all my shows are reruns.

Engorged.

And whatever you call it after your PMSy.

Being a woman is messy business; motherhood, exponentially so.

I think I'm taking the weekend off. Like way off. Like hang out in a hotel with not-my-husband and go to various places not-with-children (not my own anyway). How's this for random? I may be going to a nearby big city to "help" an friend I met in jr. high who, after smooching my gay high school boyfriend, became, thereafter, my arch enemy/rival (in my mind), but, who(m?) I remet on facebook, and who now seems like a kindred spirit (completely in that Anne of Green Gables way). Help her chaperon her choir group's field trip/concert tour. Help by going to lovely restaurants and theatrical performances and Mo Tab. It would be nice to leave daddy with a weaned 358 day old baby and two boys perfectly able to defecate without much supervision. Then I wouldn't worry so...

While I am on this random train of thought, how about P!NK: The Musical? About a famous party girl (I'm Coming Up) who has a bad break-up (So What), gets depressed (Please Don't Leave Me) goes to rehab (Sober) and lives happily ever after or commits suicide (Lady Marmalade). I only have 5 pink songs on my songbird - so I'm not sure how to work that last in - maybe she becomes an Avon Lady.

It's a cereal for dinner kind of evening, except I'm doing the no-carb/anorexia/KFC for lunch diet. So ... I guess I'll be having that leftover grilled chicken and .... water?

I'm bored, you must be too. Let's be off now.

Inappropriate Dinosaur Toy: The Movie

Crichton got this toy for Christmas about 4 years ago from my adorable in-laws. I dedicate this film to them for always inspiring me.

Also, to LiteralDan, who told me to.

And to my darling husband, who didn't say "NO!"

If I could just freaking learn how to spell...

But, still funny, huh?! In a really icky way.

Send the link everywhere ... I think the world needs to know about this toy.

(stupid stupid freaking learn how to spell .. arggg)

Monologue

Crichton needed a break from Karate. So we dropped it for the summer and have plans to take swimming lessons and audition for a couple of plays.

Cheaper By The Dozen at the Terrace Plaza Playhouse. I think I'll try out, too. I like auditioning, even if I don't get it, it's fun.

So I'm working on one minute monologue. Here's the one I like so far:

Mary: (on a boat on the ocean, to John) We weren't put on this planet to be happy, you know. We were put here to BE here. John...I ate my family. My mother. She died first. We all...partook. My brother, next. Then my father. He had me...cut his throat right before he died...so I could drink his blood. It was awful. It was awful in a way that saying "It was awful" can NEVER communicate. It was like being torn open. Eating another person is like being torn open YOURSELF. And the only way I got through it was by believing that at the end of the nightmare, that there would be some life to go on to that would make sense of what I had done; what I had forced myself to do to survive. But that life never came. I never got rescued. I met some GUY...who made me a lot of promises and then broke them, left me for a mermaid WHO DOESN'T EVEN EXIST.

And here I am.

But the POINT is, when I die, like, later today...and I go wherever dead people go, I'll have to tell my mother and my brother and my father..."Sorry, I guess it turns out I survived for nothing...FOLKS...and...that you all died for nothing...FOLKS...and all that horribleness...and REAL HUMAN CHARITY, I mean, genuine moment of INVOLVEMENT...with human beings...it was ALSO all for absolutely nothing, it was just a dream in our heads, it was just a big...fat...joke. But thanks anyway, really, maybe next time...oh yeah, I forgot, you only get one life."

It's a good monologue, no? I like it.

Canon the Photographer

Ever wonder what goes through your kid's head? Wonder how the world looks to them? Canon keeps grabbing my beloved digital camera and taking dozens of seemingly random pictures throughout the house. Here are a some examples:



Unless I set my alarm and really mean it, Canon is the first one up in the morning. Here, mommy and Sagan are pretending to still be asleep (mommy is anyway) while daddy is peeking up to see what that funny sound is. Please ignore the mountain of laundry on the floor, I had to get it off the bed or we'd have had nowhere to sleep. (I kind of suck at putting away laundry)


Don't we look cute? Happy sleepy - like a couple of little dwarfs. Dwarves. Whatever. Also, I sewed that green pillow all by myself.

A self-portrait.

Here's some art we have hanging in the TV room. We got it for our wedding from a brilliant artist - it's gonna be worth millions someday. But we'll never never sell it.

Here's Canon's feet.

Laundry baskets.

Sleepy sister Sagan. (such a lazy baby)

There's me shipping off our last GameFly selection (good bye Left 4 Dead - sorry we can't kill anymore zombies for you, but we have bills to pay). I keep getting in the way during Charlie and Lola (which is MY favorite and my best Disney Cartoon - though I hear Phineas and Ferb is good)

So, there you go, a little peak into Canon's world.

You've Got It All Wrong

People from church have been talking about me, saying things behind my back, to my husband. Some are so bold as to say things to my face. All kinds of nice crap about how good I am with those wacky Sunbeams. How patient I am. A saint (*she snorts*).

It's my calling: Sunbeams. Once a week, I am responsible for the religious instruction of 6-8 three-turning-four-year-olds.

My co-teacher has fribromyalgia and is often in so much pain, she can't make it. I'm cool with that; pain sucks. Church is 3 hours long on Sunday: 80 minutes of congregation all togetherness, 40 minutes of just the kids togetherness, and 40 minutes trapped in a small room with little people of debatable bladder control. If Co-teacher isn't up to it, the Primary Presidency usually digs up someone to watch me struggle to maintain a semblance of decorum help. I kind of like this set up because I'm in charge, I always get to do things my way, have my routine. Kids like routines. I don't mind at all (unless I need a sub).

A few weeks ago, I had a really hard Sunday - this was before I knew about my co-teacher's medical condition. It was her turn to teach the lesson (I am Thankful for Water), but she was in a lot of pain and had to go home after Sacrament Meeting, so I "got to" teach the class with NOTHING prepared. I tried to do the previous week's lesson (Easter Sunday) but without my props. I was a disastrous failure with witnesses: a member of the presidency, a former Sunbeam teacher, and one of the kids' parents. All there to witness my complete Sunbeam teacher suckfest. I couldn't keep the kids' attention for more than 60 seconds, then I'd spend 3 minutes trying to get kids out from under the table and chairs and stop punching or licking each other.

Alright, my friends, let's calm down, how about we sing a reverent song: I am a child of HEY! WE DON'T HIT OUR FRIENDS and He has sent me PLEASE SIT DOWN. Has given me DON'T PUT THAT IN YOUR MOUTH! With parents kind and STAY IN YOUR OWN CHAIR! Lead me, guide me, walk beside LEAVE TEACHER'S BAG ALONE! Help me find PLEASE DON'T TAKE YOUR SHOES OFF. Teach me all that I'M SORRY SHE HIT YOU, ARE YOU OK? Someday.

I cried that week. I was embarrassed that so many had seen me have no control over my class. I made the Primary President tell me I'm not a bad teacher. And she did. I remember my predecessor, Sister Willey ... she seemed to have things way more under control.

I suck.

I can't get those kids to stay in their seats.

BUT there is one thing that keeps me from resigning myself to utter failure. I have this trick: All I do is force myself to love them unconditionally for 2 hours once a week. Whatever they do, whether they sit and listen or not, whether they make themselves burp for 20 minutes straight, whether they tell me about how their shoe is bugging them 500 times, or if they can't stop kicking their neighbor, or giggling or sharing every last thought that pops into their head. I spend just 2 hours a week doing my best to treat those little munchkins like Jesus would. I am firm, but kind and I hold them and try to help them do what they should. Amazingly, there is not a moment when my temper comes up (not yet anyway). I'm not sure how it works; I wish I could get myself to do it at home, with my own kids and husband ... but somehow, there's a miracle of fish and loaves with my love and patience and there is plenty for the Sunbeam class.

There is really a bigger trick I am becoming aware of. You can do anything. You tell yourself you will run 5K or be kind for 2 hours or, as I often tell myself, you can do anything for a minute - then another and another. You set the limit and your mind and body accept that limit, but it's all up to you. I probably could treat everyone in my life with perfect kindness and patience, but I tell myself I'm going crazy. I could keep a perfectly clean house, but I tell myself it's boring and tedious and I don't want to do it. I'm starting to see how I do control my own happiness, my own energy level. It's too much to believe all at once, but I'm starting to think, it's all a matter of choice.

But, to get back on topic. I'm not a saintly Sunbeam teacher. Those kids are crazy and it takes everything I have to do my thing for those two hours of church. I work up a sweat, smile sweetly, hug, hold, encourage, and participate my butt off. But I had to make my husband drop out of ward choir because I couldn't handle fixing my own kids' lunch after church. It was too overwhelming. I set my limit and give all and have no more for a while. Pathetic. Mean. That's what you would say if you heard me with my own hungry children after church.

I'm working on the limit idea, on pushing the limit, on that age old positive thinking thing. I abandoned the idea that I go to church to be spiritually fed or uplifted or enlightened. It might happen, a moment when the children are singing, "God gave us families to help us become we He wants us to be," at the top of their lungs might catch my heart by surprise and bring a tear to my eye. But I'm not going to church for myself anymore. Not at all. I go to help my children establish a habit I think is very good for them and I am going to serve my brothers and sisters, my three-turning four year old brothers and sisters, right now. I'm getting the hang of it, little by little.

That's all.

My First 5K - Today

I know, I should wait and put up pictures of the whole thing, not sure I'll have pictures though. Just wanted to say - either I've decided or my default choice is to run a 5K today (feels like an active use of agency, not what I would normally or easily choose).

This morning.

In about an hour.

Hope I get a shirt still - only the first 250 get one. Maybe I should leave now.

It's going to be a beautiful day, ladies and gentlemen. Mark my word.

**UPDATE I can't say that I've RUN a 5K, but I have DONE a 5K - lucky number 478 (that's me) finished in 37:02 (my personal best) and there were HILLS. Oh, the hilliness of it all.

Hey, look at me, I'm a 5K runner. Think I can do a 10K by the end of the summer?????

I Luv Mud and Duckies and Tungsten

Sometimes you think all the blogging you do, all the comments you leave, all the faithful replies to comments left are the sum total of the worth of blogging as a whole. It's cheap, cheap therapy, a nice way to keep "in touch" with old chums, an interesting way to make new "imaginary" friends.

But then, one glorious day you get an email that says: Send me your mailing address. It's so amazingly gloriously fabulously thrilling.

For my blogging efforts I have earned:

1. Rubber Ducky Dental Floss Dispenser (all credit to Canon) (and all thanks to Karen and Georgia).

2. A Tungsten Band (thanks to some guy who randomly and without reason made me an offer I couldn't refuse. Or just didn't feel like refusing)

3. 2 Coffee Cups AND a Lovely Platter Plate Thing from the once-disappointed-in-me Lorrie Veasey.

I don't have pictures of #1. (hangs head in shame) Because Canon pulled all the floss out. And the duck sits on top of my fridge. With the other naughty things - silver paint, red sharpie, bubble wand, bunny basket (it makes a noise).

Wait, he's not there anymore? Where the quack did that guy go?

Oh, that makes sense, in the tub toy basket. (Those foam letter things: AWESOME! Best $3 investment into my children's education EVER!)

But he's not a tubby toy. See that sharp edge. Useful for cutting dental floss. Or the mouths of small people in the Oral Stage of development.

Better put him someplace secret. Some Place safe.
Moving on to the second tangible gift for blogging - I got a random email from the guys at Superior Wedding Rings offering me my choice of any of their fine tungsten bands in exchange for a link on my highly reputable blog. I said sure, why not. The thing is, I told them a size 7.5, but I've lost some weight and now I need a 7 and tungsten is unresizable (being the hardest element in the universe, but it keeps it's shine) and they offered to exchange it, but ask Megan how fast I am about putting crap in the mail. It fits on my middle finger though.

Here's my wedding band history in picture. The fancy expensive one - the one I lost, then bought an identical one, then lost it, too - it's still lost. Husband has no plans on buying me anything. SO - I like buy cheap and groovy things to wear about and proclaim my indentured servitude status. (love you honey!)

AND FINALLY, where we were going. I Love Mud.
For no good reason, other than maybe my dedication to ending Daylight Saving Time, Lorrie asked for my address and sent me a package!

I was hoping for this. Husband: you could still get it for me, y'know. We've been saying we'd like a clock in the bedroom!
But was blown away by this:



Here's Canon pondering the meaning and purpose of these gifts while sitting in the box of packing peanuts, which later were dumped out of the box and crunching into tiny bits of sticky Styrofoam.


Here's me filling the coffee cup with Brandy Coffee (i.e. Wild Cherry Diet Pepsi). The cup makes it taste even better!

And here's me trying to pose with my cute baby.

A word of advice, when trying to photograph stuff you got for blogging on your blog, maybe wait until someone not 3 can help with pictures? And don't do it when baby wants to lay down for a nap.

ALRIGHT. Now, go support my favorite working mom (right, you're a working mom?) and ceramic artist! Her stuff is so funny and great. It would make a perfect presents for Mother's Day, uh, belated Mother's Day - way better than the card you thought would be enough this year.

Thank you, you generous eBFFs. AND y'know, all of you out there, feel free to send me more free stuff, I will eventually get around to blogging about them and sending between 5 dozen and 1,600 readers your website.

Mother's Day is Stupid

I can take a day off ... but not really. It's not like anyone's going to do the work for me; it'll be there plus a little on Monday.

Who the blazes taught my daughter to squeal constantly for no reason?

When I was 20 I told my husband I didn't like getting flowers and I've changed my mind, but now I realize why I changed my mind: at 20, money for something that would wilt and be thrown out was truly a waste. At 30, I'm starting to see how everything wilts and gets thrown away. Flowers are really beautiful, even if just for a few days (or 7 days guaranteed, depending on where you buy them). It's nice to have something extraordinarily lovely to look at for a while; everything is temporary.

I'd rather get the garden roto-tilled ... by someone not me. We better hurry or all hopes of a garden will be vain ... again.

So, I was trying to help my husband find a great deal on flowers for his mom, my mom, and me ... even though flowers are nice, maybe I'd rather go see the new Star Trek movie and call it good. A night off ... that's probably all I can hope for.

We're off to the zoo this lovely day. Going to see the bird show and the feeding of the penguins. My favorite gorilla died. But that baby orangutan must be getting big now.

I still have to get my Sunbeam lesson ready. Oh, and call the Cathedral of the Madeline for a friend ( a friend who has offered to take me away for a few days ... I'm all kinds of looking forward to it and ready to politely say, "that's okay," when it falls through. Thanks mom and dad for all that practice in disappointment when I was a kid. Really comes in handy, never letting yourself give your heart 100% to anything.

I've never been to California...

And I need to straighten the house, continue laundry, pack snacks, so there you go, my stream of conscious post for Thursday, May whatever it is. 2009.

A New Emerging Artist

Ladies and Gentlemen, it is my distinguished honor to present to you Utah's most recently discovered artistic genius:

Canon Elijah Roth

With his debut breakthrough piece, a triptych plus one entitled


I Feeling A Little Sick Today

Here on my blog, I've regularly shown you examples of my son Crichton's art work, while I mostly just complain about the messes Canon makes. But today, as I walked into the front room and saw the carefully designed arrangement of Halls cough drops and wrappers, it suddenly hit me that perhaps Canon is every bit as artistic as Crichton, but chooses to express himself with less conventional mediums (flour, popcorn kernels, sugar, play dough, sand, salt, Rice Krispies, Mary Kay Foundation, etc). The achievement of such remarkable beauty demonstrates a skill level and dedication to art far exceeding the naughtiness of opening all but three cough drops from a whole bag.


I would have loved to keep this masterpiece intact and undisturbed for generations to enjoy, but we live with Princess Beautiful and she has her own her artistic tastes.


Feel free to upload the art and have it professionally printed and framed. Send donations for new carpet to my email account. Thanks, in advance, for your support.