New Art

There was a basket of fake fruit in my classroom. I didn't know what to do with it exactly. Montessori classrooms are supposed to have natural materials, but I need each activity to have a purpose. And aside from taking the fruit out and putting it back in ... I wasn't sure how to use the material.

SO.

I took pictures of the fruit, printed them out, cut them, laminated them with their names on back (banana, chili peppers, etc) and now its a 2D to 3D matching game.

Think it will work?

Pretty pics, either way.

I Don't Wanna Tweet

I signed up, tweeted a bit, but it's not for me.

It works if you are a celebrity and a lotta people wanna laugh with you you be random or witty.

I got facebook for that tho. Those people know me. Kinda. Mostly.

So, yeah.

But I'm gonna keep the account ... so I can keep MrsBRoth ... cuz people are dying to use that name, I just know it, but it's all mineminemine.


Ok. Now I wanna blog on polygamy.

Happy Dance.

I Feel So Safe

I haven't been keeping up with the news.

It's true. I have no idea whats going on in the world. I watched the news about a month ago because facebook status updates indicated something devastating had happened in Japan. I have no idea how much gang violence, how many home invasions, rapes, murders, car thefts or jackings, or bombs, or terrorist plots.

The Zombie walks are a little scary.

Friday night, driving around in the country's 14th largest city, I realized I was totally unconcerned about being raped, mugged, OR murdered.

Tho I have had TWO bikes stolen. I blame hobos, but they will probably take better care of them anyway. And it gave us the opportunity to teach the kids how important it is to take care of their stuff.

Stop watching the news. Life is so much better without it. Makes it so much easier to Love one another when you don't feel like everyone MIGHT be a scary rapist.

I really like living life without random constant fear.

Stop watching the news. Seriously. Give it up and your quality of life increases exponentially.

Gotta watch Tangled with my daughter now. Love this movie.

(Knock on wood, please, let's not have any random violence befall me or my loved ones. Knock knock knock. Not tempting Fate. I promise, Fate, I'd never never cross you.)

It Is Ok To Disagree. Probably.

"What do you wanna do?"

"Umm .. karaoke??"

"No, I kinda wanted to see Hanna."

"Blah, so uninterested in seeing that. Miniature golf? Darts? Billards?"

"No. And I don't wanna go to a bar. What do adults who don't drink do for fun anyway?"

"Capitol City Comedy Club?"

"Hmmmm. Ok."

Drive around Austin for a while, make a couple wrong turns, find an absolutely packed to capacity, unparkable parking lot.

"Grrrr."

"Well? Hanna starts in about an hour."

"Blah. We could take care of certain holiday related errands, then put the kids to bed."

"Ok."

Run to least favorite store, get lots of delicious poison, etc.

It's 8:36 p.m.

We don't wanna go home.

"Alright. Let's go to Hanna (grumble grumble, stupid Highness, Paul, stupid, stupid Sucker Punch, always go to your stupid movies, sure Source Code was good, Jake Gyllenhaal, yummy, grrr ... stupid, grrr).

Hanna was not a good movie. Eric Snider was wrong. It was dreadful. There were long drawn out parts with no musical score. It got boring. I didn't know whether to care or nap. There was senseless LSD-like techno driven scenes that through you out of suspended disbelief. The main character's first line was the same as her last. It was predictable and annoyed me.

I'm sure my impression of the *ahem* film (cough cough) was not at all swayed by the fact I didn't get to sing "Ain't No Mountain High Enough," slightly off-key for drunken strangers. We all have dreams ...

I Feel Like A Little Confession Today

I'm gonna confess the most random things I can think of, and I may have already told you, but hopefully you forgot.




* I ENJOY eating a number of non-edible things, including, but not limited to: straw wrappers, sugar packets, hot glue sticks, toys made out of soft plastic, toothpicks, the glue on some envelopes that is really stretchy, lickable stamps, and finger AND toe nails.

* I am crazy phobic of visiting, calling people and starting instant message conversations. BUT I can email or text with ease because I know the recipient is free to peruse and respond at will. If I could email the sisters I'm supposta visit teach, I'd be 100% every month. Calling and visiting strangers, especially when I have to pretend to be friends the moment I meet them, is vastly outside my comfort zone.

* I let my children play violent video games (Halo, Explosion Man, Limbo, Paradise City) and I don't think it will harm them.

* I should probably start awarding peacemaker points to reinforce the good behavior I want tho, just in case I'm wrong.

* After we put the kids to bed, my husband asks me what I want to do, I always say Karaoke and I mean it, but he doesn't really want to know what I want to do, he wants to do what he wants to do, which usually involves the TV. He's a really good singer. It would be so fun if he would give up his self consciousness and PLAY with me.

*I love my (underpaid, unrespected) job. I really, really enjoy it, but sometimes, when I am the only teacher with 15-20, 18 mos - 5 year old children ... and that one kid keeps going, "Miss Braaaaaaaandeeeeeee, Canon touched my paaaaaaper," I get a little mean. Cuz if I don't "fix" things FOR this kid, he starts poking kids with pencils, vigilante like. And someone's elbow brushing your paper is not worthy of a stab in the arm. I get a little yankee. It's not just when he hurts my baby, he's sneaky mean to all the kids who bother him. And he is a very emotionally needy child, but demands the affection. "Huggeee! huuuggggeee! " It's creepy. I like most kids, but there are some kids that it's very, very hard to like.

* I really like leaving my kids at school when I get off at nap time. I highly recommend it.

* There are days when I would do just about anything to have a sushi friend.

This Will Be More Effective If You Are Naked

I married a guy who loves to lecture.

(And by lecture I mean everything he says boils down to this: "I know everything and my opinions are not opinions, they are RIGHT. If you disagree, well, you are clearly wrong.")

(He would argue with that assessment.)

(But it's true.)

SO. After THIR frikken TEEN years of marriage, when I hear that tone I tend to get a little defensive.

(And by defensive, I mean, like a rabid wolverine, I listen carefully to his argument, then BITE HIS DAMN HEAD OFF!)

This very morning, he wanted to have our favorite fight, Let's Discuss Distribution of Labor. But he was just about to get in the shower, and was thus appropriately undressed.
It is very hard to get angry with a naked man lecturing at you. Even when what he is saying filters through your brain as, "You are a lazy, messy, pig-wench. Get off you butt, stop blogging, and clean up this hole! The Landlord wants to inspect and everything smells of rotten fruit and hidden dirty diapers. I work full time, you, pshaw, whatever you do all day barely counts as work at all. You have to take care of everything."

(I don't know what he really said. Probably something like, "Um ... sweetie pie, the house smells weird and the land lord is coming over, how can I help?")

Anyway. I think if my husband wants me to listen and not get all crazy defensive, we should have all our discussions with him nekkid.

What to Eat?

Grrr.

I thought I had it all figured out.

Made a meal planning thing around the carbohydrates we love and everything. WROTE the meal plans on my frikkin' calendar.

Then I watched a documentary. And starting doing some research.

As it turns out, it seems that old food pyramid is not a good nutrition and dietary aid. They revamped it right:

But I don't really get it ... 6 oz of grains?? At first I thought it meant like 2/3 a cup. That's is? Per day? Then I started looking at my carb labels. They are mostly in grams (so convenient). Oatmeal is 40 g/serving which is 1.4 oz. Pretzels are 28 g/serving or .9 oz. Angel hair pasta: 56 g/serving = 1.9 oz. 100% whole grain whole wheat bread, 1 serving is one slice is 38 g or 1.3 oz. OR to make it easier, 6 ounces is about 170 grams.   OR to make is really easier, they recommend 3-6 servings (or the amount of pasta you get in one meal at Olive Garden). The old pyramid said SIX TO ELEVEN. Catch that? The previous MINIMUM is the current MAXIMUM. Weird huh. 

And then fruits vegetables and milk are measured in Cups ... and meat, 5.5 ounces ... how much is that?  A half a cup of peanut butter?

Are there still four food groups?

Also, can we JUST CONVERT TO THE METRIC SYSTEM ALREADY?! Gah! People!

Here's what I think: carbs are not our friends and refined sugar and high fructose corn syrup (HFCS) are bad. Worse than bad. They kill ya slowly. Like cigarettes. People are making TONS of money on soda and candy and sugar and HFCS and America is not a socialist country (maybe you've suspected as much). We are red blooded capitalists. Which means we ARE not our brothers keepers, by Jango, and if it makes money, shut up and let people choose how they die. IT'S OUR AMERICAN RIGHT.

They told us it was high fat diets that caused heart disease. They were mistaken. Read the information. You eat too much sugar. Your body TRIES to compensate by producing insulin. But you eat too much damn sugar! Then your liver turns the sugar into super storable fat. But if your liver and other organs get all fatty, that's when you start having all kinds of problems ... heart disease is the number one killer in America. Interesting, if you read the nutrition part of that link ... doesn't say eat whole grains. Says cut back on fat 3 times before is says cut back sugar. I think their info is outdated. I think sugar. I would bet MONEY on sugar baby. That gritty white stuff is not natural. Not like salt. :)

I think cutting down sugar is the key, especially the refined sugars. I think recognizing how much of what you eat is essentially sugar in various costumes is vital to healthy living. You need carbs. If you are 5 years old and run around like a monkey all day, you can probably have all the carbs in the world. If you are 20+ and sit at a desk all day, carbs are turning into sugar, turning into fat, killing you softly. 

The only thing is, HOW DO I MAKE MEALS NOW? What do we eat? Will Chicken and broccoli fill them up?? Honestly, I can't fathom serving a meal without a carb. That's ok, right? They say 3-6, one per meal or so. Its ok, right? Can I trust them?

I bought trail mix (not the candy kind). And fruit leather (with NO HFCS). And fresh fruits. Applesauce, no sugar added. Vegetables. Lean meat, jerky (they ate that crap down fast!), ham, and turkey. We try to consume our carbs early in the day so they can be used as energy. My kids are super active (all fat kids should get a free trampoline), I'm not too worried about their weight, I just want to make sure they have healthy choices. I don't have any candy here (sad face) (but Easter is coming up).

In summary ... I guess? Grown-ups - eat less carbs, no sugar, smaller portions, etc? Kids - limit sugar, buy a trampoline, protein, fruits, veggies?

All I really need to know is, CAN I HAVE POTATO SALAD AT DINNER TONIGHT??  Cuz I really want potato salad.

Charity, Forgiveness, and Other Junk

I go to church.

It's always the same lessons, over and over. The only thing that changes is me. Where I am at that moment in life. What I struggle with and where I need to improve.

Last week was charity, this week forgiveness. These are huge, powerful concepts. And I struggle.

There is a hard, black, knot in my heart. I know it's there; God's knows all about it. I pray it go away, that my heart be softened, that I can be kind and loving, but it's wedged in awfully deep and gets deeper daily.

I can't remember when I gave up on my mom. Sometime during Sagan's life; I know I still cared and had hope when I told her to move in with us while I was pregnant, but somehow, with the intensity and constancy of life, I had to give up because every effort failed. I couldn't get her to care about how she looks or smells. Her teeth fell out and she wouldn't make a dental appointment. She makes sure every one knows she is diabetic, but she eat what she wants, sneaks things if we try to remind her to eat better. I tried to help her get involved in things she loves, but then it was all on me to get her there and back, and know where and when. I have my own life and my husband's and children's lives to mind. I couldn't take the energy to care more about her life than she does.

And to be honest, I am ugly about it. I know I am. There is no gratitude from her. Just entitlement and expectation. They say if you give service begrudgingly, you might as well not bother. They tell us we must forgive if we want to be forgiven.

What is it to forgive? We stupid humans can't forget things like God claims to. Every pain and wrong is cemented in my mind. I think we get to keep the memories to help us not inflict that pain on others. But I don't know how to let go. I don't know how to let go when she is always, every day, adding to it.

Her brothers and sisters hug me and thank me for taking care of their little sister. Bah. You take her for a while.

In church they talked about how sometimes you have to maintain a boundary to protect yourself from further abuse. While I think that helps, its more like, out of sight out of mind, not true forgiveness. I hide in my room because I have nothing but spite and bile for her.


I don't know that I can give forgiveness while we are both alive. And so I assume that means I can not expect it from God. I guess that is how it must be. I feel damned.That is my understanding of the atonement. I have faith ... I know the contingencies for salvation.


I whine about it too much. My husband can't bear to listen and I try to avoid it. A woman at work said, "She is still 'Mother.'" I agreed to be polite, but it is not so in my heart.


I'll pray more. maybe there is hope somewhere.

I Can't Blog Right This Second

It's 6:15 pm on a Saturday.

My kids will be getting hungry and feisty soon.

They are really good kids; you should be so lucky.

We are moving out of the making babies phase and into the raising children phase, I think. Three. I wanted five or six, but I'm not a very good (organized, patient, planny, follow thru-y, take them to the doctor for regular check-ups, but they don't seem sick, and such) mom. So, it is probably for the best. Babies are really really cute tho. But so much work. Being able to take my family to Sea World or even better, in my opinion, just to the ocean is good, too.

Canon drew on my white pants with pen while I was wearing them. Truly, I shouldn't dare own white pants. I called him a big jerk. I yelled, "YOU BIG JERK!" The internet said alcohol would help with the stain, but it did not. That little boy ... I love him so frikken much, he doesn't even know. I'd move heaven and earth to see him smile, but drawing on someone's white pants is awfully jerky.

I need to be a better mom. I wish I knew how much time I have. How much for my life, how much with Greg, with them. I had a moment of panic a few weeks ago thinking what if I die. Not that anything in the moment was risky, just a general, overwhelming, sudden fear. I used to think I wasn't afraid to die ... I just would prefer not dying for a while. Ok God, please? Gimme another decade or two please? I'll be better. Yeah, I really don't want to die. I like my life and the people in it. A lot. (mostly)

I think I'll make cantaloupe and boiled eggs for dinner. Something nice and cool and interesting. 

Graduation Party

I really did get all my crap done and earned my degree. I wasn't kidding. I did it.

But my school's way out in Utah and I am now in Texas and I'm not walking.

They keep emailing me like I'm gonna be there. The BYU President's party, the BGS luncheon, rent your caps and gowns, how the walking goes down, more lunches and dinners and parties ... Graduation is a big celebration, it seems. Fifteen years of effort, I'd like to be off celebrating. BUT, when you take 15 years to complete a 4 year degree, a lotta life fills in the gaps once available for partying.

And here I am, the new kid in town. I don't KNOW enough people WELL enough to WANT to party with them. No offense. It takes me 3-4 years to settle in and make friends. I have like one or 2 friends who might show up. Maybe.

My plan ... when I get that magical piece of paper in the mail, I'm gonna find a cap and gown. I'm gonna have Crichton be the Name-Reader-Thingie-Hander-Outer. I'll play Pomp and Circumstance very loud, march out, step up on the coffee table, shake hands, smile for the camera, and get my degree cover, but mine wont be empty. Then, we will BBQ dead cows and eat potato salad and chocolate cake and do Rock Band until we drop dead from exhaustion.

That's my party and you are all invited! Seriously. I'll let you know what time to show up. RSVP and stuff.

People Say I'm Caulky

Once upon a time, my beloved husband, who shall remain nameless, mistakenly used LIQUID NAILS rather than SILICON CAULK to seal our toilet and bathtub. Over time, the liquid nails turned uuuuuugly.

Really Ugly not-Caulk

It wasn't a big deal, because, heck, it was the "kids'" bathroom anyway. And sure, my mother-in-law had to use it when she visited, but I didn't have to look at it every day, so I "forgot" about it, mostly. But then, we decided to move to Austin and had to clean up our stupid house.

SO, I put on my safety goggles:

Gathered some tools:

 

 And worked really, really hard, until that turned into this:

Turned into this:

Nice right?

Yes Brandy, good work. *pat pat*

So. We've been in mold lovers land for about 8 months now. And who ever caulked my bathroom here thought the best plan was just to caulk over moldy caulk. If you can't see it, it's not mouldering. But, eventually, I grew tired of brown fuzzy shower, so I caulked again!

HOW TO CAULK LIKE A GIRL:

Get a razor blade, masking tape, the right kind of caulk (I do not recommend liquid nails!), a caulking gun, a spray bottle of water, and a rag you never wanna use again.

1. Use a razor blade and lottsa random stuff to scrape away all the old caulk and get it all nice and smooth and clean.

1.5 Makes sure everything is perfectly dry.

2. Use masking tape to frame out the area to be caulked. It just needs to be kindof a thinish space, I say 1/2 to maybe 3/4 of an inch, total.

3. Load your caulk gun AFTER you snip the end of the tub and puncture the seal if necessary. Otherwise you can load the gun, try to caulk, unload the gun, snip the end, load the gun, try to caulk, unload the gun, puncture the seal, load the gun, caulk.

4. Sometimes the stupid caulking gun is really feisty and the trigger hard, but man up and squeeze a stripe (they call it is bead, but its a freakin' long bead!) of caulk right into the seam/crack. I do a yard or so section at a time.

5. Spray the water along the bead and on your finger. The caulk won't stick where there is water; I'm a very messy girl, so this helps.

6. Use your finger to smooth the caulk along the seam and wipe excess on rag. This will totally ruin your manicure, I would imagine.

7. Remove tape.

7.5 Sometimes I go over it once more with my finger if it doesn't quite look right.

8. Clean up your crap, throw away the tape and old caulk, put the tools away and do a happy dance because you are an awesome woman!

9. Let it dry for however long it says; they mean what they say!

10. Also, just in case I'm wrong, watch this DIY video:

Stuck in My Head

I love this song. It's my current favorite. It's stuck so deep in my head ... and you can whistle along.

Wanna hear it?



Thought you might :)

I Am a Garbage Digger

I love raspberries. They have replaced watermelon in my heart. There is still room for watermelon on my plate, but let me publicly declare:

I, BRANDY NICHOLE ROTH, LOVE RASPBERRIES ABOVE ALL OTHER FOOD.

While at the great money sucking store I call Costco, I saw a largish package of elegant, fragile, succulent raspberries, and though I'd already chosen pears and bananas and baby oranges, I wanted those raspberries for myself. Mmmmmm. 

When I got home, I allowed myself two, unwashed even, then I put them on the very top shelf of the fridge, that my evil, ever-hungry children would not devour them before I could savor their sweet-sweet loveliness. My raspberries.

Then I recaulked the master shower. I hate showering with blackish brown fuzz. And I like to caulk. Perhaps tomorrow I shall share my master caulking techniques, which makes the job so easy, even a girl can do it.

I was called to a attend delightful dinner of glorious ravioli, marinara sauce, spinach salad. "Oh," thought I, "Some raspberries would be a delightful accompaniment to this feast."

But when I looked in the fridge, MY BERRIES WERE GONE!!!!

"WHERE ARE MY RASPBERRIES?!" I demanded of my husband.

"They are gone."

"WHAT?? I just got them, they are NOT gone!"

"They fell on the floor."

"SO?!!! You wash them off and they are fine, what did you do with my raspberries, Greg." 

"I threw them away."

"WHAT?! NO! HOW COULD YOU... WHY?! NO!!!"

"They're still in the box."

Then there was some altercation between our children, my husband and myself, which resulted in a temporary schism where I made my husband mad and he went upstairs instead of eating. I was a jerk. But dangit ... HE THREW AWAY MY RASPBERRIES!!!!!!

I reached my hand into the garbage. Under a paper towel and some ravioli bits was my raspberry box, still nearly full. Giddy, I dragged them out, poured them in a colander, and rinsed them. Thoroughly.

They were fine. I shall eat them, every one. A gift from God. 

I love raspberries.

THOSE DIRTY LIARS

I love documentaries. It's because I am so gullible. They always sound so smart and snarky and I walk away feeling like I've been deprogrammed because now I truly see that McDonald's is bad/Guns are bad/Jesus camps are bad/Government is bad/Iraq is bad/ America is bad/Dogs and dolphins are cute and SO smart.

Today, Sagan and I watched Tom Naughton's Fat Head. It was a response documentary to Spurlock's Supersize Me. Sagan chose it because the cover looked like the guy had a lot of taquitos crammed in his mouth, but it was baloney.

The main thing I got from this movie is your brain loves fat and needs it to function. Also, sugar is not good for you and carbs are sugar. And cholesterol doesn't give you heart attacks.

When we give our children Marshmallow Mateys with 1% milk, we are denying their cute developing brains the fat they really need. Plus, the food we give them pumps them full of sugar and makes it hard to concentrate, so then we give them ADD drugs to compensate.

In the last 50 years, we have all gotten fat and our hearts are failing us. In the last 50 years our government has told us to eat low fat diets and 6-11 servings of carbohydrates. They told us to stop using bacon fat and to use corn or canola oil. They said meat was bad and wheat bread would save us.

When you look at it, they are telling us to eat the stuff we feed cows and pigs to make em fat.

Plus, they define fat and obese in terms of height and weight, rather than body fat.

Contrary to my previous beliefs, biology and weight loss are more complicated than if you eat less and burn more calories, you lose weight. The interaction between insulin and sugar and fat cells is more complicated. The KIND of foods you eat matter. It is hard for the body to produce enough insulin to process lottsa sugar. So it turns the sugar into fat. And your body can store a lot of fat.

I lost most of my weight when I ate very few carbs. I've kept it off by eating limited amounts of carbs.

STUDIES DO NOT SHOW THAT HIGH FAT AND/OR HIGH CHOLESTEROL DIETS CAUSE HEART DISEASE! Unless those studies that were funded by soy bean/corn manufactures. Beans and corn don't even HAVE oil unless you process then A LOT! Just fry your eggs in the bacon grease, you know you wanna. I tell you: it's ok. And buy the 2% milk. It will make you happier. I promise! I have been a 1% for years ... but no more.

I think maybe we should eat like our hunter-gatherer grandparents. Nuts, berries, fruits, root vegetables, meat sometimes. Eggs are fine, salty, fatty, yummy, yummers. I think its fine. Less processed. Old farm. I think bread it ok too tho. But just once or twice a day, not 6-11. Unless you wanna fatten up.

 

Ok. Now I have some chicken in the crock pot and I entered myself in a cornbread cook-off later this month, so I've got a recipe I'm trying. Then, some leafy greens and some garbage raspberries, I'll tell you about them tomorrow.

This Is What My College Education Looks Like

BYU has goals for itself. Aims even. A BYU education aims to be:

(1) spiritually strengthening,

(2) intellectually enlarging, and

(3) character building, leading to

(4) lifelong learning and service.

I don't think you have to take Student Development 490 when you get a degree from BYU the normal way. I think once you take the 14 hours of religion credits and all the core classes and all your major requirements, they hand you a diploma and ask for a donation to BYU as you walk off stage.

BUT with the Bachelor of General Studies, finish at home what you started at BYU, you have to take a couple extra classes to PROVE you REALLY want the degree.

So, after all those wacky classes, I had one more class where I had to write about AAAAALLLLLLLL the classes I took. One big research paper, Two previously submitted papers from old classes, One chart where I had to evaluate each class I took and fit it into one of the 33 (!) BYU Aims and sub-aims, One paper on how all the courses together fulfilled the BYU aims, and one paper about this course of all those papers. Was a lot of work for me. I made a mess.

 I had this one big Tupperware box. When I finished a class, I'd gather all the paperwork and notes and pile it in the box.Kind of like how I used to keep all my bills in a shoebox. Once I put something inside, I forgot it existed.

There was a lotta soda I drunked. And snacks. I have a hard time focusing unless my mouth is engaged in eating or chewing. In the old school days, I'd chew up my pens. In the computer age, I gotta eat. And towards the end, it got really junky. Costco sized bags of chips and an entire cheesecake. Mmmm.

I sold back most of my books when I finished a class because I always needed the money to buy the next class's book. So I had to purchase THIS little thing to cite some basic definitions and remember Erik Erikson's name. It was Erik. This book was totally in my research paper's bibliography.

When I got desperate, 5 hour energy kept me awake, but not focused. It is nasty nasty stuff. But it does give you a good 5 hours. To waste blogging. As you run outta time to finish papers because you can't remember how to make yourself sit still and write papers.

But eventually and before time ran out, I wrote all those papers.

And when I was finally done, I was finish-your-first-5-K-then-give-birth happy!! Which is to say crazy happy emotional crying and I patted myself on the back. Cuz I was alone at that moment. And it was a huge moment for me.

Got my grades for that class today:

This was Sagan ... I was awfully happy that day, too.