Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Christmas Eve, 5:00 AM

I'm up because I can't sleep.  I've been awake since 4:00AM.
Christmas Eve can be like that.

My mind is racing with so many things that need to be done TODAY.  Because, fyi, tomorrow is Christmas.

I feel like my son's ADHD has taken over my entire body. I can't sleep, but I really can't function either.

So, on what should be a day of reflecting on this special season has turned into a sleepless, anxiety filled, stress marathon of useless activity.

Granted, a lot of it is my own fault. I tend to procrastinate.

 I found these cool Minecraft shoes on Pinterest and thought, these would make a fabulous gift for child #3.  I bought all of the supplies, including the shoes back in October.  I even painted one of the shoes in November.  I didn't finish it, but it looked good sitting out, and child #3 could glace upon his Christmas gift and ask me if it would ever be finished.

Oh, I finished it all right. I finished them this morning at 5:30AM before anyone was out of bed.  And they didn't turn out good at all.  In fact, they look horrible. But they are done.  I'm just hoping they are dry before he wakes up.  I would love to have them wrapped and under the tree.  He may just forget about the shoes that have been half painted for over a month and be really surprised when he opens them. Probably not, but everyone can dream on Christmas.

And how many other things are going to be like this today?  Probably everything.  There is no meal planned for tomorrow.  The house isn't clean and I have no idea what the kids are going to wear to church tonight because laundry hasn't been done for over a week.

So, finally, in my angst filled early morning, I opened the Word and read about the birth of Christ.

And guess what? The world wasn't ready for the Christ child to arrive. I'm sure the cave where Mary gave birth wasn't clean and since they had been traveling for awhile, Mary probably hadn't done any laundry on the way to Bethlehem. Joseph certainly didn't put on a clean tunic just for the arrival of the baby Jesus.

In all of my preparations to get ready for the "day", I am causing my family to miss out on the JOY of the entire season.  While I want the focus to be on our Lord and Savior, it is my own attention to meaningless details that keep my mind from focusing on the true meaning of Christmas.

As I prayed and asked forgiveness for my selfishness, and also asked to change my focus to Him alone, I felt so much anger and frustration lifted from my shoulders.

Now with a new peace I will restart my day.

I wish you all His peace and joy this Christmas Season.

Monday, November 11, 2013

Well Played Mom, Well Played Indeed

I have a fourteen year old daughter.

She is smart, funny, beautiful, witty, kind, and talented. I love her more than I can even describe.
But, she IS fourteen.
Not a great age for girls.
Or their moms.

These teenage years bring lots of tears, anger, resentment, and  joy, quickly followed by more tears and "you just don't understand."

The past couple of weeks have been especially bad and it made me reminisce about my own teenage years.

They weren't pleasant.
They weren't pleasant for anyone, especially my mom.

There was lots of yelling and screaming matches.  Lots of rolling of eyes, slamming of doors, and sassy comebacks. There was also fighting with my dad, my brothers and my sister.  Telling my parents they were horrible and that I hated living at home.

When it was really bad my mom would just about break down and say, "I really hope you have a daughter just like you someday."  It's kind of a mom thing to say.

So, here I am. Riding the hormone rollercoaster and thinking, "Well played mom, well played indeed.

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

The Tooth Fairy Doesn't Live Here Anymore

I was cleaning the kitchen this weekend. I mean thoroughly cleaning.  Wiping down baseboards and windowsills, and such. The kind of cleaning you do when your in-laws are coming for a visit.

And I found a tooth.
Actually, I found two teeth in the kitchen. And one in our bedroom. So, three teeth in total.

Which lead me to ponder, how long have these teeth been laying around? Who did the teeth belong to?  And, most importantly, why did the tooth fairy not take care of this business.

Obviously the expectations of the tooth fairy at our home are very low. I'm pretty sure it started when our daughter lost her first tooth.

A friend and I had taken our six children to the beach for an overnight of fun mommy time. Except the road was closed due to a car fire and the detour took three hours.  Six kids, under the age of six, in the car, for four hours.

We were wise mommies at the time and decided to hit the grocery store for food before checking into our condo.

As soon as we opened the car doors, the kids went crazy.  They ran into the grocery store and ran through the store for over 15 minutes.  I. Am. Not. Kidding.  People were staring at us, the mommies, while our kids were rolling on the floors in the frozen food aisle.

We, the mommies, were buying wine.

After rounding up the children and attempting to pay for our food, I looked down at my sweaty, dirty, daughter and said, "What happened to your tooth?"

"What?", she said while sticking her tongue through the new opening in her mouth. "I think I lost it when I bit an apple."

"Where is the apple?" I asked.

"I don't know" she responded.

So, there it is.  First child to lose a tooth and we have no idea where it could even be hidden among the produce.

Back at the condo, no word is said about the tooth or tooth fairy and it was quickly forgotten.  Until the next morning, when one of the six children reminded her that the tooth fairy didn't come to give her money.

I assured her that the tooth fairy would come when we got back home and she seemed totally fine with this explanation.

Until the tooth fairy seemingly forgot. And forgot. And forgot.

And when the tooth fairy finally remembered and even left her a note explaining that she was late because she had tried to find the tooth, my daughter brought me the money the next morning and said, "I don't like the tooth fairy. She doesn't need to come here anymore."

And, so she doesn't.

Monday, October 21, 2013

What Really Happened in Vegas

I have this new job as Social Media Director for our business. I gave myself the title. I also gave myself the job. And the pay is super good, not really, but I'm pretending it is.

Anyway, as Social Media Director I get to blog for the business. Eyewear can be very exciting.

My first post was about our trip to Vegas for a vision convention.  My second post was about what happened while we were in Vegas.  Hubby wasn't very happy with my story for the business, so I had to tone it down a bit. 

Here's what really happened.

I had booked us on an early flight home. Really early. It was cheaper.
We, being old, didn't go out the night before our flight, we went to bed.
Our car went out. (The car did not go out alone, I'm just not naming the driver.)

The morning of the flight, at 5:30AM we were all ready to go to the airport, but our car didn't come home the night before.  We were a little concerned until the car called and said it was running approximately 15 minutes late. 

No problem, we still had plenty of time, not to worry. Until the car called again and needed about 15 more minutes.  Then we decided to take a cab and the car would get itself to the airport.

Walking out to get a cab we ran into our car and minutes later we were all off to the airport.


Until, we tried to return the car and there was a huge line.  We still had to take a shuttle to the airport.

We decided to leave the car (and driver) and hop on the shuttle.  We were able to check in, get through security, and even grab coffee before boarding the plane.  The car (driver) made it too!


Everyone was relaxing, sleeping, or drinking coffee and enjoying our flight.
The ride to Portland was super quick and we were ready to get our bags and head home.

Until, hubby reached into his bag and couldn't find his car keys.

It went down like this:

Hubby, searching his bag-"I don't have the keys."
Me- "Aren't they in your bag?"
Hubby, now taking things out of his bag- "No, didn't you check the nightstand?"
Me- "You mean, the nightstand on your side of the bed?"
Hubby, completely exasperated- "But you always check!"
Me-"I always check the kids rooms..."

And then we both burst out laughing.  I mean, full on belly laughs. We were laughing so loud and so hard that everyone around us started staring.

So, hubby being super resourceful, put us on MAX and we rode all the way home.

Here's the point: I am so very blessed to have a husband that deals with life well, because you just never know what is going to happen in life, so it's best to keep laughing.

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Homework and Zombie Strippers

We just came off a long weekend.  The kids had Friday off of school, so an extra day.  They even had half a day of school on Thursday, but half-school days just make me angry for a variety of reasons, mostly because what's the point of going to school for two hours.  It takes a ton of effort on my part to get my kids to school, so it had better be worth my time and two hours doesn't cut it.  This is a whole post on it's own...

Back to the long weekend, which was wonderful; beautiful weather, a birthday to celebrate, lots of family time.

Monday morning, everyone was up and dressed and eating breakfast and doing homework. 
What?! Homework?  Hello, didn't you finish your homework yesterday? 

Well, yes, you did finish some of it, but you kind of "forgot" about math, history, and science.

The kids are not happy.
Now Monday totally bites and it's only 7:45AM.

So, kids go off to school and I started thinking about a homework solution.  Actually, I only started thinking after I was done ranting and swearing about what a pain my kids and homework are in my life.

I got over myself pretty quick and started gathering up remotes to all of the televisions in our home.  I had remembered that when my kids weren't doing homework they were watching TV.  Like, all weekend. All weekend the TV's  were on.  And to be fair, it wasn't all just the kids, their daddy was watching football which just happens to be on 24/7 during the weekend.

My thought in taking the remotes is, if I have all the remotes (there are 10, seriously 10 and I don't think I found them all) then that will make them do their homework. So, in my mind, no TV=homework done. My thinking may be flawed.

Monday afternoon/evening was great.  The kids were feeling the pain from the morning/homework finishing/mom getting super mad.  They came home, did homework, ate dinner and were even nice to each other.

Tuesday, they came home, snacked up, went to dance, came home, ate dinner, and I thought they were doing homework.

Turns out, one of them found a remote, and was watching Zombie Strippers. 


He found it on OnDemand, and luckily it was free. I would have been super mad if he was watching Zombie Strippers and then I had to pay for the movie. And, just in case you are wondering, we do have parental controls on everything. EVERYTHING. So, I'm not sure how he even found the movie.

Now, I am back at square one, trying to solve the homework problem while monitoring the televisions, the remotes, and free movies. 

And, someone is running around dressed as a zombie and we are out of toilet paper.

PS- Hubby just read this and informed me that zombies don't actually use toilet paper and that I was thinking of mummies.  So, there you go.  My zombie used all the toilet paper in the house.  I guess if you're undead it doesn't matter what you are wearing.

Friday, October 11, 2013

It's Not My Birthday

Here we are.  My beautiful daughter is 14 today.  Today is her birthday.  And she won't let us celebrate.

I really can't remember a year that she was excited about her birthday, maybe the first few.  I think, around 5-6 years old she decided that birthdays just weren't her "thing".

There is worry and anxiety weeks before the actual day.  She doesn't want any gifts, cards, or parties.  She doesn't want the day or the week acknowledged and has made this very clear to her friends and family. 

Part of this is just her personality.  She hates to be the center of attention.  Part of this is her age.  Everything at 14 is a HUGE deal.  And, part of this is because she is adopted.

To be fair, our boys, 11 and 12, also adopted, love their birthday.  They also, share many of the same issues as their sister around their special day.

There are tons of articles written about birthdays and adoptees, this is just our experience.

Birthdays bring a profound sense of sadness.  They were born to one mother and are celebrating this special day with another.  They have questions that I will never be able to answer.  They have feelings of loss.  They wonder, what if...

In our family we spend birthdays celebrating the individual, their life, and their birthmothers. What a wonderful day to remember the love of a woman who gave them birth.  It allows us to celebrate her, the birthmother, who sacrificed more then we will ever understand. 

Sunday, October 6, 2013

What I Learned From Outdoor School

This last week we sent our child with issues to Outdoor School (ODS).

It takes a lot of preparation to send a child with so many acronyms somewhere overnight.  ODS is two nights. Two whole days and nights.  That meant medications readied, paperwork filled out, and calls from the ODS nurse just to check in.

Now, we aren't the type of parents to never leave our children.  We leave them all the time.  In fact we went to Las Vegas while he was at ODS, but I digress.

Our children are used to staying at grandma and grandpa's while we are out of town.  But grandma and papa know this child and how to handle him.  He is also with his siblings and feels safe.

So, off he went, totally excited about this adventure.  He couldn't sleep the night before.  I know this, because he came into our room several times. He wouldn't say goodbye or even look at me.  Which is fine.  I think I may have gotten a little emotional if he had.

His teachers sent me messages throughout the day and evening.  "He's having a blast.  He's asking questions and participating in the field studies."  "He even ate his dinner.  He is loving this."  "He is helping with the tree planting!"

He came home. Grandma picked him up from school, made him shower, and take a nap.  He refused to talk with me when I called that evening, or the next morning, or the next evening.  That is actually a good sign.

Here is what I learned from this experience:

We've done a decent job raising this boy. After all of the long days and nights, doctor appointments, medicine trials, lots of tears and prayers, we are seeing the fruit of our labor of love.

We have fabulous parents!  They are always willing to stay with their grandchildren so we can get a break.  They love on the kids and endure the yelling and fighting.

We have the best teachers ever! They told me last spring that they were taking this kid to ODS.  They watched over him the entire time.  They kept me informed and worry free.

So, thank you grandma and papa and my fabulous teachers.  We couldn't get through this childhood without your support.

Monday, September 23, 2013

Things I Don't Need to Know About in the Middle of the Night

I've been a mother for 14 years.  Which means, I haven't had an entire night's sleep for 14 years.

I'm super tired.  All the time.

Last night I had a child wake me up at 1:00 AM to tell me one of the brackets from his braces came off.
I'm not kidding.

This morning in my groggy stupor, while preparing breakfast and lunches, I started thinking, maybe I haven't been clear on what I don't want to know.  Things that could wait until morning.  Things not worth waking mommy up for.

So, I started to make a list.  This is how far I got:

1. Anything that has to do with your braces
2. The cat is throwing/threw up
3. You can't sleep
4. Somebody is snoring
5. There is a spider in the hallway
6. I don't feel good- cough, sore throat, headache
7. The music in _____ room is too loud
8. I think I hear someone in the house (While for many this would be a reason to wake mommy up, we have big dogs that will definitely let us know if someone is in the house.)
9. I had a bad dream

Then I realized that there are a lot of reasons to not wake me up.  Maybe I should focus on reasons to wake mommy, or preferably, daddy up in the middle of the night.

1.I don't feel good- I'm going to throw up
2. The house is on FIRE!

I'm pretty sure that covers it.

Monday, September 16, 2013

This One Time at Old Navy

All the mannequins were naked.
At least way too many of them were naked. And the ones who were dressed had their zippers undone and open. 

This isn't really a problem when you are in a store, like, say, Victoria's Secret. All of those mannequins are mostly naked anyway.  You don't go to Victoria's Secret to buy clothes.  You go to Victoria's Secret to buy things to wear under you clothes.

But Old Navy is a family store. The entire family, from infant to grandma, and they are pretty proud of that.  So, you would think they would keep their "people" dressed.  

This isn't the only example.  There were several mannequins which were undressed.  And by several I mean at least three and they were all female.  All of them. 

And isn't it strange that in the line up of mannequins the middle one is naked?  Front and center, not even wearing shoes.

I don't think I'm make too big of a deal about these mannequins.  Clearly, Old Navy is sending a message. 
I'm pretty sure that message is: you don't need to wear clothes, especially ours.

Wednesday, August 7, 2013


It's been a long time since I've written anything.  It's not that I am lacking for material, I am not.  It's because it's summer and I've been incredibly busy being a mom.

And not the "fun" summer mom.  I'm definitely more of the, "If you don't clean your room and get your schoolwork done, then you aren't going anywhere today" mom.  Except that my kids are more of the, "But it's only 10 AM and we haven't had breakfast yet and I can't find any of my clothes because they are all over the backyard" kind of kids.

Oh, and also, I have a teenage daughter.

The kind of daughter who is all, " I really hate living here.  I hate my life.  I wish I had a different life."  Followed quickly by, "Can you take _____ and me to the mall?" and "Could I have my allowance?"

And the middle boy, who for whatever reason, is the only one I signed up for summer activities.  He needs to be somewhere different everyday. 

And the youngest, the one with all the acronyms, he prefers to spend his days watching Sharknado.  He also has dug a hole so deep in the backyard that we had to put construction cones around it.  The dirt has gone to create several different habitats, including the "End of the Dinosaurs" and "Global Warming on Hoth".  (His names).

So between the emotional upheaval of being thirteen, the business of camps, and making sure that nobody breaks a leg in our backyard, I've had no time to write. 

Which is fine, because I can't imagine missing any of this.

Saturday, May 11, 2013

What I Really Want to do on Mother's Day

Before I even start writing I should be clear, I love my kids.  I really, really, love them. Truly.
I just don't want to spend Mother's Day with them. 

Mother's Day isn't about me, it's about my mom and my grandmother, who at 94 is still fabulous.  It's about both my hubby's mother and step-mother, because, well, they raised him and he's pretty fabulous.

The fact that I have children doesn't matter.  My siblings (all childless) call me (because I'm the oldest) and ask, "What are we doing for Mom for Mother's Day?"

A few years ago I just decided I wasn't going to plan anything.  I mean, I'm a mom too.  And when I would ask my mom what she wanted to do, she always responded, "Oh, I don't really care.  Whatever you children plan is fine with me."

Because she thought her other children were in on the planning.

So that year, since I didn't plan anything, hubby didn't plan anything either. He thought I was planning my own Mother's Day event.  We ended up at Red Robin.  Yep, Red Robin.  With all of the other fathers who didn't plan ahead.  Nice.  We waited over an hour to eat all while crowded into a tiny booth and listening to screaming children.

I could have had this experience at home, for free.

And while I was sitting at that sticky table, wiping ketchup off one child and manhandling a second so he wouldn't crawl under the table, I thought to myself, "Hmmm, hubby goes golfing on Father's Day."

Wait a minute!

Hubby leaves his darling children on Father's Day to golf.

All. Day. Long. 

Nobody thinks daddy should be home or at a really loud family friendly restaurant.  Everyone is fine with daddy being gone for the day, because they are use to daddy being gone for the day. At work. 

So, this Mother's Day I want to leave my darling children all day.  I want to shop to my heart's content, see a movie, have lunch with a friend, or, maybe my own mom.  I want to come home late at night, after the children are asleep.  I want to come home to a tidy house, where the dishwasher is running, the clothes are folded and put away, and the stairs have been vacuumed. 

This would be the best Mother's Day gift. Ever.

Sunday, May 5, 2013

Happy Mother's Day to our Birth Moms!

Today is National Birth Mother's Day.

Because I have five adopted children this is an important day for our family, but I think we should all take a moment and reflect on the choices that these brave women have made.

Adoption isn't a decision a Birth Mother comes to overnight.  It is a long process, beginning with her choosing to give birth to this child instead of abortion.  (This is an entirely different blog post, but it needed to be said.)  Birth Mom's are choosing life for their unborn child even though they themselves are in turmoil over what their own future holds.

When a birth mother chooses to place her child for adoption, she is putting the welfare of that child above herself.  It is the ultimate sacrifice.  Nine months of carrying and caring for an unborn baby while wondering about the life she desires for her child.  She has hopes and dreams for her unborn baby, just like any mother does.  At some point she decided that she isn't going to be able to care/provide for this baby the way she wants. She wants more for this baby than she is prepared or able to give at this time in her life and she makes the decision to place the baby for adoption.

Is there a better example of complete and unselfish love? 
I think of the sacrifice when Jesus gave his life on the cross for each of us.  He gave his life.  He died in the most painful way, so we could have eternal life.

Birth mothers sacrifice themselves for nine months and then go through the painful process of giving birth, only to place their child/baby with a family that they are completely trusting to give that child a better life. 

What an honor for my children to be loved like that.  What an honor that I was entrusted with these children by their birth mothers. 

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to all birth moms.  Your example of unselfish love is the foundation for my child's life.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Pinterest or Into the Mind of a Teenage Girl

Ahh, Pinterest, just what has been missing from my life.

Here's the great thing about Pinterest: it shows you how much better your life could be, what you could be making for breakfast, lunch and dinner, how to lose all that baby weight, the perfect pair of shoes, the perfect dress, how to have the perfect child, and also really funny quotes.

Seriously. Pinterest does all of that.

What I personally appreciate the most about Pinterest, besides all of the above, is that I know what my teenage daughter is thinking about.  And it's not all about boys!

This is no small feat.  Teenage girls are not exactly an open book, and this glimpse into her daily thoughts is delightful.

She has suddenly become interested in fashion, (she won't admit this) but it is really exciting for me.  I know that this is true because of Pinterest.  She loves pretty clothes!  And jewelry!  And shoes!

She is also a huge geek, which I also love.  She pins Star Wars and comic books stuff, only Marvel, not DC (she doesn't like DC).  She pins lyrics to songs she likes and I know what she is listening to.  She pins all kinds of cute animal photos, dance photos, and pointe shoes. She pins all kinds of things about girlfriends and nothing about boys except pictures of One Direction.  This makes me happy and relieved.

She also pins about her faith.This shows me that we have done a good job and she is proud of her relationship with her Heavenly Father.  And this makes me the happiest of all.

French Model Doctor, Take 2

Yes, THE French Model Doctor (FMD).  I had another visit with him.   

I hurt my ribs.  I'm not really sure what I did to bruise my rib, but I think I can trace it back to date night when we were out with friends.  There was a story that involved a very large horse and a lot of laughing.  Pretty sure it was all the laughing because I remember a sudden pain in my side, that didn't go away.  And then, that night, I couldn't sleep because of the pain.  Next morning, excruciating pain whenever I moved or breathed.

I suffered through.  Poor me.  Actually, I thought it was just indegestion and would go away.  But it didn't.  And it got worse.  So I called in on Monday and was able to get in and see a different doctor.  Not FMD, but a kind doctor, who gently felt around my ribs and was fairly sure I had bruised or maybe cracked a rib so she ordered an x-ray. She told me to take large doses of ibuprofen and rest and it would heal.  It would take lots of time to heal, but if the pain was worse to come back.

I spent the next day on the couch watching Jason Statham movies.  Very relaxing.

Next morning, excruciating pain.  Excruciating.  I am suppose to be feeling better, not getting worse.
I called in and the only appointment I could get was with the French Model Doctor.


Now he is going to think I am completely crazy. 

The appointment starts with him saying, "Oh, it's good to see you again.  Where is your mom?  You didn't bring her this time?"

Again, great. I must have made an impression.

He asked how I was and what was going on.  I told him about the rib and how painful it was and how it wasn't getting better. He wanted to know how it happened and if I was resting.  I told him the horse story and about the Jason Statham movie marathon.

That led to a recitation of Statham movies and which ones are good. You know, Crank is really horrible, but The Transporter is the best movie ever.

Then he needed to feel the rib area.  The FMD is not so gentle. As he is feeling around and I am saying ow, ow, ow, he asks, "Have you been dreaming about dragons chasing you?"

Seriously.  I am not kidding. Dragons.

My first thought was, what the heck. And then I thought, he must watch Game of Thrones. He must think I look like Daenerys.  But I don't look anything like her, so I just looked at him really strangely and said, "No, I don't, OW, usually, OW, dream about dragons, OW, chasing me."

Then he asked what I was taking for the pain, and I told him lots of ibuprofen and he said, that's good.  Then he had to listen to my heart, because last time I saw him it was because I was having chest pains.  So, I asked him to change my medication dosage back to the original (the one that helps with my anxiety, see previous post). 

FMD-"Are you still having chest pain?"
Me- "No"
FMD- "Then it's working."
Me- "No, I never took the new dosage."
FMD- "What do you mean?"
Me- "I never took the new dosage because I didn't want to and I need it changed back to the original dosage."
FMD-"So you never took it?"
Me- "No."
FMD *sigh*
Me-"I get that a lot."

End of appointment.

Tuesday, March 12, 2013


So, daddy went golfing (see previous post) and all of the sudden my ADD totally kicked into 4th gear.

Daddy doesn't travel for his work, so he's rarely gone.  It's really nice, because our family functions best with both parents around all the time. 

But when he is gone, I get really restless.  I feel like we should all be doing something fun.  Getting the kids ready for school by myself is not fun.  Taking them to Disneyland is fun. So I started checking airline tickets.  It was really expensive.  No Disney.

Then I thought, I should pull the carpet off the stairs.  I've been wanting to take the carpet off the stairs for awhile, so if I got it off then daddy could take care of the stairs when he gets home from his golf trip.

Daddy really doesn't like to come home from his golf trip and find that I've created a huge job for him. Once when he was golfing I painted the fireplace.  Only I couldn't reach the top so when he got home he had to finish the paint job.  Another time, when he was golfing, I took down all of the kitchen cupboard doors and emptied all the cabinets so when he got back we could repaint the kitchen.

The carpet on the stairs would not come off.  Not even a corner. 

Then I thought, we should get a mini-horse.  They are really cute and somebody in the neighborhood has one and walks it around.  The kids would love a mini-horse.  They live outside and make good pets. (I read all about it on the Internet)  Mini-horses are really expensive, just FYI, unless you find one on Craigslist, but those people want to trade their mini-horses for other livestock, of which I have none.

The mini-horse was looking like my best option for the weekend, until Daddy called and said "no way" to the mini-horse, leaving his children very sad. 

So, no stairs, no mini-horse, no trip to Disney. 
Instead, I organized the refrigerator, freezer, hall closet, garage, and bedroom.  And we saw the movie OZ. 

Next golf trip I'm looking into teacup piglets.


"What the fudge mom!" spoke my darling 11 year old as we were leaving the school one afternoon.
Fighting back the urge to backhand him, I turned around and said, "what did you just say?"

"I said what the fudge.  Fudge, mom, Fudge.  It's okay because it's not the f-word. Fudge starts with "F", but it's not THE f-word, so it's ok.  Jeez mom."

Me, "Um, no, it's not okay to say that, ever.  I mean it, don't talk like that."

Child, "Jeez mom, I was just mad.  It's not a big deal."

This is what is says to me.  It's totally different with his dad.

"Dad, dad, do you remember that one time in the car when you said, What the F... and then you said the F-word.  Do you remember dad?  It was so bad."

Now, daddy is very calm in situations such as these.  While the rest of us were laughing, daddy went on to say, "I told you I was sorry.  I told you I was sorry that I said a bad word, and you should never talk like that.  Remember how we talked about it?"

And then I thought, wow, what a great example.  Daddy immediately apologized and said he was wrong to his child.  His child saw a daddy be completely human, make a mistake, and then apologize for the mistake. 

I think I need to take some lessons from daddy.

Evidently I Have Anxiety

Evidently I have anxiety.  I know this because a doctor told me.  He told my I was completely healthy and therefore the pain on the left side of my chest was from my anxiety. 

I was having a lot of pain in my chest.  On the left side (that's the bad side to have pain). It was a stabbing pain that would come and go, and I wasn't too worried about it because I am very healthy.

But it the pain kept coming back.  The stabbing pain and then just a dull achy feeling. 

My husband thought I was totally fine, while my mom said I should probably go see the doctor since it been hurting for three days.  My mom is a nurse, so I went with her opinion.

The doctor's office got me in right away.  They do that if you have chest pain around your heart area.  I had to go in early for an EKG so they could make sure my heart was still beating.

Then I had to wait to see the doctor.  I had to wait because they couldn't get me in to see my doctor because she was super busy and booked all day, so I would see some other doctor who I didn't know.

Whatever, I'm really healthy, so no big deal.

And here's where it gets interesting.  The doctor I saw was totally tall, dark, and hansome and I was thinking, hmmm, I don't really want him to be my doctor, because there is no way I am getting undressed for this man.

And then he went over my EKG and said it was fine.  And all of my tests show I'm really healthy, and I don't have any history of heart disease.  And that I have anxiety. 

I said "really?"
He said, "yes, you have a history of depression and anxiety, is anything new happening right now?"
And then my mom pipes up, (yes my mother was there, she's a nurse) "well, hubby did just leave to go golfing, it could be related."

Doctor says "golfing, hmmm". Only he said it really dreamy like he would rather be golfing.
I said, "yes he went golfing and left me with his children."
Doctor said, "where did he go golfing?"

Really?  Is that important?

So I said, "I think it's my thyroid."
Doctor, "You want your thyroid checked?"
Me, "Yes, I want a thyroid test.  The real thyroid test."
Doctor,"Ok, I'll make sure they don't give you the fake thyroid test."
Me, "I want the Oprah thyroid test."
Doctor, "You want the OTT?  Got it."

Then I said something about my thyroid being screwed up and I read all about it on WebMD.
Doctor, "You can't believe everything you read on the Internet."  Then he got all smug and said, "I'm a french model.  Bonjour."
And then my mom started cracking up. 
And I was ready to go.

Me, "So I'm totally healthy?"
Doctor, "Yes, except for your anxiety.  You can increase your meds and see if it helps."
Me, "So when my chest keeps hurting my anti-depressants are going to help?"
Doctor, "If your chest keeps hurting, then you need to come back."

So we left.  And my mom was laughing and laughing and I finally asked her what was so funny.
Mom, "I just don't think that doctor knew what to do with you."

FYI- my thyroid is just fine and my chest still hurts and I'm pretty sure I have ADD.

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Christmas Break, Take 1

When the kids are on school break, summer, Christmas, or spring, I do this really cute thing where I count down the days on Facebook.  It's probably not that cute at all, but I do it because it keeps me focused on the now instead of the tomorrow or next week.  That is one of my goals this year (2013), to stay focused on the now.  But, this post is about what happened over Christmas break.

My first facebook post for break was: Christmas Break Day 1- Kids have eaten candy canes and Sprite for breakfast.  Should be a good day.

Really they did.  They ate candy canes for breakfast and I didn't care because everyone had slept in and I didn't have to get up early and get them out the door.  If you've read previous blog posts you will remember that getting my kids out the door on time is not one of my strengths.

So, I didn't care, I thought it was funny, but I should have cared a bit more because my second post of day 1 was:
Christmas Break Day 1, part b- Assigned all the kids jobs.  Boys are wrestling upstairs and girl is nowhere to be found.

I had assigned the kids jobs because they were already fighting and complaining of being bored.  I also assigned them jobs so we could do something fun that evening when daddy got home. Didn't quite work.

What I did learn is the best way for my boys to play together is give them jobs to complete.  It worked everytime I needed the upstairs or their bedrooms cleaned.  So my house was a mess all break, but my boys made some great memories with each other, and that is what is most important.

Christmas Break, Take 2

As most families, we have some pretty funny Christmas stories.  Every year brings at least one new memory for the books.

 There was the year that one child opened all the presents two weeks before Christmas.  All of them.  He did try to rewrap them, but he was maybe five and it didn't work out in his favor.  It was very obvious that someone had gotten into the gifts and it wasn't the dog. 

And, this year, when the same child drew inappropriate pictures on the gift tags.  I didn't realize he had done this until he gave his sister his present and pointed out the gift tag by saying, "Look, look at the tag.  It's two balls."  Then I had to check all the tags on all the gifts and redo tags.  So glad I caught that before all the gifts went out.

But our favorite so far, and the Christmas story that all others are measured by, was the year that the same child caught his hair on fire during the Christmas Eve candlelight service at church.

Now, as a mom, I'm reluctant to give any young child fire, but they were handing out the candles to everyone as we walked into the sanctuary. I mean everyone, toddlers were carrying candles.  I wasn't too worried because I was pretty sure he would break the candle before it was lit.

You should know that said child was seven and he had a huge afro. He was very proud of his hair, he had been growing it for months and for the Christmas Eve service he had actually let me comb through his hair and it was pretty poofy. (His words.)

The candles are lit at the very end of the service and he was pretty restless, all the kids were restless.  The flames was being passed row by row successfully and our children managed to light their candles while daddy and I watched intently.  Everything was going fine.  I was actually more worried about the wax that was dripping onto the coat that belonged to he woman sitting in front of us.  I was secretly wondering if the church covered the drycleaning for the wax clean up on all of the damaged clothing.  While I was comtemplating wax removal, the boy blew out his candle (because that is the best part of having a candle, extinguishing it) and sprayed wax everywhere.  At least, fire was no longer an issue.

Until he tried to relight his candle with his brother's candle.  Daddy told him "no" and the boys seemed fine with smelling the smoking wick.  But with the candle out daddy and I stopped watching and focused on the singing.  That was a mistake, because a smoking wick can be dangerous. We found this out when the lady behind us started whispering, really loud, so it may have been more of her just talking, "His hair is smoking, his hair is smoking."

And it was smoking.  Right on the top of his head, right at his hairline, smoke circling around off of his forehead.  Daddy was so quick.  He had that smoke out before we could blink and also thanked the lady for letting us know.  Whew, disaster averted.

Until we got home, and looked closely at the damage. 
Burnt hair smells really bad.  And there was quite a bit of singed hair.  So much that someone needed a haircut. On Christmas Eve. At midnight. It didn't happen. And that Christmas we suffered with  the stench of burnt hair, but rejoiced in the child.