I'm a bad mom...or so I've been told...

It is very not like me to let others judgements hit so close to home and even less likely to discuss it outside of my close circle of friends and family, because let's face it I would discuss, but today I'm turning a new leaf, after all it's been bothering me for over a year.  I actually want to thank those who have been standing in judgement for  adamantly pointing out my downfalls as a parent.  For showing me the light of your wisdom and helping me to rethink and possibly even redirect my entire parenting methods.  I have been so blind and so ridiculously naive.  I'm so grateful to the moms that have a full understanding of everything my children are taught and how my household runs, or doesn't as I have recently learned (and by recently I mean at Christmas time for the last two years).  Even though they are strangers, they know me so well....or so they come across in their own blogs....  You see we have...wait for it (and feel free to gasp) an Elf on the Shelf!!!

It so crazy that I unknowingly let my house be run by fictional characters.  It's my parents' fault really.  They told me about Santa Clause when I was young (another gasp)!  I believed.  Oh, how I believed that this jolly man loved all the children so much that he wanted to see them be good and he rewarded them with presents.  In our house there were not a lot of presents, after all there were six kids, but I used to see my parents smile at the pure joy on all six of our faces on Christmas morning.  I remember them pulling out the camera to take a picture of us with this man who we anticipated seeing and prepared lists for and who we really loved.  We tried extra hard to be good because we knew he was always watching.  I couldn't see him all the time reminding me that I needed to be good, but I promise I heard the phrase "Santa's watching" more than one time in my life and from more people than just my messed up, horrible parents who had taught me about him in the first place!  Crazy thing is, knowing he was "watching" didn't creep me out at all!  I was so naive even as a child!  For all I knew there was some strange man looking through our windows or that had a magic ball and could spy on me any time.  Way less creepy concept than a toy elf sitting in your house as a physical reminder...

Before those of you anti-elf folks just write me off as someone with a grudge, take into account that I have read your blogs...all the way through, feeling as reprimanded as any parent who is just trying to do what is best for their own family shouldn't ever have to feel.  Keep reading if you will...

My parents were and are wonderful parents!  I just want to get that out right off the bat.  Yes, we believed in Santa as children.  I have one kid that still does, three that have outgrown it, and one that is too little to know anything about it (she hasn't even had a Christmas yet), but she will know all about him and his little helper elves.  Elves (as we know in our house) have many special jobs.  Some help make toys.  Some help watch out and remind those that get a little too excited that they might forget their manners.  Others look out for those who are not as blessed with worldly items by finding people who have a little extra to give.  These jobs are year-round jobs and are all very important!  Sometimes we even get to be helper elves ourselves!  We try to make this a yearlong effort too.  My children, who are apparently being raised by an elf, are not the misbehaved horrible people that those who are anti-elf seem to believe.  My six-year-old is the kind of kid that will trade a new toy with his cousin because he got the one his cousin wanted and it was more important that someone else was happy than he have the coveted toy.  I'm sure now there are going to be comments about coveting and how I promote that, but keep your panties on because it wasn't like that.  Our 16-year-old is the kind of kid who will set aside his own activities to help his younger brother with homework, or piano lessons, or to play a game with him. Our kids are the kind who have nearly (and sometimes all) straight A's...in advanced classes.  Our kids are the kind that will spend a Saturday shopping with their grandmother or raking leaves for their great grandparents.  Our kids are the type that will stop and help an elderly neighbor carry in her groceries. We are a family who believes that if we can help, we should. At this point, I am flabbergasted that others accept our help knowingly (and sometimes unknowingly).  I bet if they knew we had an elf in our house they would shun our friendship and run away to a non-elf family!  It's actually amazing that our children try to do this despite the elf that visits our house for 3-1/2 weeks.  I mean, after all that must be the only parenting they get, since I'm the type of mom who has an elf....

One of my favorite anti-elf arguments is that why would a busy mom do that to herself.  I am a busy mom. I work a full-time job and I parent (or thought I did) full time.  In my current situation, it is not feasible for me to be a stay-at-home, non-working mother.  I wish it was!  I wish I could dedicate my every waking moment to snuggling up my children.  To reading to them, to tickling and hearing their delighted laughter, to hang on to and cherish their every hope and dream, but I can't.  It is physically impossible and for those wise mothers that do, please know I hold you in the highest regard!  I am jealous of your chauffeur and housekeeper as well...

Just because I can't do that it doesn't mean I think the moments will last forever.  I know they are moving away from me too quickly.  I know there will be a day that I long to have one more moment of holding them on my lap, but I also know that to provide for them physically I have responsibilities.  I am one of those fortunate enough to be able to work from home.  I am lucky enough to be able to create a work schedule that works around school schedules, nap times,  and that my employers are flexible enough for me to attend every recital, doctor's appointment, school parade, etc.  There are mom's that are not that lucky.  They are still good moms who understand what time is...trust me, it doesn't get past them, and it has nothing to do with whether or not they have an elf....the elves don't come with watches....

Anyway, I'm busy.  My days start at 4:00 in the morning (really 3:46 is when my alarm goes off).  It's the sacrifice I choose to make for my kids.  So, if I am such a busy mom, why would I choose to have an elf in my house.  Why do some moms scrapbook, or sew, or bake, or paint, or draw, or write, or clean, or attend any activity that will take time away from their children?! It's because we have lives and responsibilities and hobbies.  By me attending meetings for church, school, scouts, whatever, I am away from my kids, but I don't love them less!  But there seem to be a few that think if I want to spend five minutes after they are asleep moving an elf to a new, possibly mischievous, place in my house, I do love them less?

I love my children with all that I have!!!!!  I love to see their smiling faces as they participate in our elf's adventures.  I love to watch my Fuss eagerly search for Patrick's (our elf) hiding place.  It's the best game of hide-n-seek because it lasts 25 days!!  I love that my son gets to play his favorite game for 25 days in a row!!  I love that Olie gets involved by trying to figure out where Patrick should be and what place will make his brother the most excited to find him.  I love that on the rare occasion Patrick does cause mischief (our elf has been pretty well behaved) Fuss has gently scolded him and told him that is not how to behave as he cleans up the mess.  I love to see happiness in my children's faces!  I know how quickly time will pass and the magic of make believe passes with it, which is why I embrace the sparkle of that magic in their eyes.  If that makes me a bad mom, so be it...I can take being a bad mom.

So there you have it, I have bought into the commercialism of the elf (actually, my mother-in-law did, but she is one of those horrible parents who let their children believe too...one of the reasons I love her so much!)  This may shock many anti-elf moms, but we do celebrate the birth of our Savior on Christmas as well.  Yep, even in an elf house we have the Bible.  We read the Christmas story.  We set up our nativity scene.  We visit Temple Square and see the beautiful lights!  We go to church and we talk about Jesus Christ, but then again we do that all year round. 

I guess I just have to live with being a bad mom, but if helping my children have a memorable childhood full of games and make believe is what it takes, I'll be the worst mom out there.  Problem is, I believe that if you are doing the best you can for your children, you are the best mom there is, elf or not...

The world makes me happy....

After a particularly frustrating day, I thought to myself, "I wish I had an outlet to just vent and get it all out without D giving me feedback!"  Then I remembered my long forgotten blog.  Oh, how I have missed writing!  Seriously, it's my therapy, much cheaper than an actual therapist, and the support of friends who comment.  I love it!!  So, rather than vent, I decided to count my blessings, internally and then share with whoever reads this, some of my favorite "worldly" things.  You should all know that I love my family, I love the Lord, I love my friends, and I am grateful for my numerous blessings, but this isn't testimony meeting and I do love some worldly things, so sue me....

Here goes:

10.  I love DVRs, Netflix, and all other forms of television technology.  I love that no matter how freaking busy I am or how many times I hear my name called, whichever name that might be, or how late dinner is, I NEVER have to miss my favorite shows.  Granted, it sometimes takes me weeks to get caught up on them, but I still love it!  I only get to watch two to three hours of TV a week, if I'm lucky, but sitting down with a bowl of popcorn and watching "Melissa & Joey", "Big Bang Theory," or "Castle" whenever I finally do have the time, no matter what time it is....I LOVE IT!!

9.  I love Facebook!  I really do.  As annoying and whiny it can get at times, I still love the drama of it all.  I love when people fight via Facebook.  I think it is better than any soap opera.  I find it absolutely hilarious.  I love knowing what is going on and seeing pictures of old friends' families that I otherwise would never have known.  I love that I can message my cousins across the country, all at once if I want to.  I love that friends that I lost contact with long ago are now found.  I love that I can see their faces and have floods of fantastic memories come back!  I love it!!

8.  I love blankets!  I love snuggly, warm, fluffy blankets!  I love to snuggle with my Fuss or D.  I love to wrap them up in a ball and use them as a pillow.  I love keeping my toes warm on a cold winter day!  I love that Fuss loves blankets as much as I do.  I love that the blanket my grandparents gave me as a graduation gift 19 years ago, is still my favorite comforter.  I love that Fuss calls it "Favorite Blanky."  I love thinking of my grandma smiling down on him from heaven and knowing that a piece of her is still in my home. 

7.  I love grass, as in lawn!  I love that after six years of living in a house with only weeds for a backyard we now have a small park for our children to play in!  I love that 10,000 sq. feet of grass later, we have a place to put a swingset and place to host a barbeque.  I love that we have a trampoline and that it is in the ground so that I can jump without my fat bouncing above the fence for all the neighbors to see.  I love having a yard, even with all the mowing, dry spots, morning glory, and dog duty.  I still love having a yard to hear my children laughing from!

6.  I love my iPad!  I love finding addictive games.  I love that no matter where I go, I can play them.  I love the convenience of it all.  I could love my iPhone in this same sentiment, which I really do.  I will love it even more when I get a new iPhone. :)  (Just in case D reads this!)

5.  I love capris and 3/4 length sleeve shirts.  I do!  Whoever invented these was the smartest person ever!  I love that at least some of my fat can be covered, while I can still enjoy the coolness of a bare ankle.  I love that no one has to look at my flappy arms, but I can still show off my chubby wrists.  Seriously, genius and I salute them!

4.  I love flip-flops!  After three foot surgeries, I am not supposed to wear flip-flops anymore, but come on!  How can a grown woman constantly wear tennis shoes and not feel like she should be in junior high?!  I do love my tennis shoes, but you can only wear them so much!  I wore them hiking, shopping, and I'll wear them at Disneyland, but that's about all I can handle.  I love flip-flops, which is really just a great excuse to get a pedicure and who doesn't love a pedicure?!

3.  I love Disneyland!  I am more excited than my kids to go to Disneyland.  I would be an annual passport holder if it was possible.  I love the whole atmosphere.  I love that when we go soon I will get to see the pure joy on our kids' faces as they experience all of it!  I love that Fuss is as excited to go as I am and he has never even been there!  I love rides, and chocolate covered bananas, and seeing the characters, and churros!  I love their churros!  I love it!!

2.  I love sweats!  If it were feasible, I would live in sweats.  I want to die in sweats.  I want to wear sweats at all times and in all places.  I want sweats to look cute enough to do that.  I want to look cute enough in them to do that.  I really love my capri sweats, for obvious reasons.  I love that they aren't binding, even on a bloaty day.  I love that they go great with flip-flops.  I love that you can be comfy snuggling up in a blanket while wearing sweats.  I love that I can pick up my Bountiful Basket while wearing my sweats.  I love that I can walk with my friends while wearing sweats and that it's okay to be out in the neighborhood wearing my pajamas because they are sweats!  I LOVE sweats!!

1.  I love Pepsi and ice cream!  Yes, I even love them together.  There was no way I could have chosen one over the other.  I have tried to give up Pepsi countless times in my life.  I am really good at it, temporarily.  However, I can't seem to do it permanently.  It's not because I'm addicted.  I don't have to have it.  I have proven that by going without for over a year.  It's because I want it.  I love the calmness of the caffeine, like taking my Ritalin all over again!  I love the burning of the carbonation in my throat.  I love the taste.  I love all of it.  I LOVE PEPSI!  I love the sweet coldness of ice cream sliding down my throat.  I love almost all flavors that do not contain cherries.  I love that no matter how full you are, you can always have ice cream because it melts and fills in the gaps between the other foods (there is no secret why weight is my biggest challenge!)!  I love that it was my grandpa's favorite treat.  I love it store bought, hard, soft, homemade, with hot fudge or caramel.  I LOVE ICE CREAM!!

So there you go...the little things that make me happy.  They are most definitely things I could live with out, but hope I don't ever have to.  I know they are based on true happiness, so don't judge me, cause really it's better than a whiny post! :)

The de-evolution of language...

When our kids start talking, we as moms get so excited with all the new words they learn. I admit that even now, at nearly 5 years old, I crack up when I hear Fuss say something that is grammatically correct, but just sounds to grownup for him to be saying. So, I wonder how our moms and English teachers feel knowing that all of the wonderful words and grammar and punctuation they taught us has been tossed out the window. Using myself as an example, when I was in my 20's, I know I would say such correct things as, "Excuse me. I need to use the restroom." That has now been exchanged in my everyday life for, "Seriously! Can I not even go potty in peace?!" Yes, I used to use the restroom. Now I go potty, just like when I was 5. I also used to drink chocolate milk, but now I occasionally have a glass of "choca mil." I used to take a bath, and now every once in a while I able to sneak away to have a "baffie." I know as a mother that I should be teaching Fuss to enunciate his letters and complete his words, but some of these things keep him small to me, and I like that. So I regress to hold onto the moment.

I kinda (yes, kinda...not kind of) think there is no point in teaching him correctly because network socializing has destroyed the English language as we used to know it. Warning: I am about to express my opinion, so please do not get offended. I am speaking in general and do have any one particular person in mind while writing this! With that said, it drives me crazy that spelling and grammar are completely ignored in this day and age. I have a really hard time with reading messages, or posts, or whatever written form of communication I find, from grown men and women who write phonetically placing several thoughts into one run-on sentence. It drives me even crazier when adults have replaced entire words with one letter or even a number. It drives me crazy when I see posts like "I git to C my friend 2nite. Its bin 4ever!" Really, has it "bin 4ever," has it, or has it "been forever?" I don't even know how to measure how long "ever" is, let alone four of them, or why you were ever in a bin together....seems like it would be a little cramped to me, unless it was a very large bin. I'll admit, I used to write that way too, but I was 13. I also have to admit that I wrote that way in college, but only to irritate another person (I know, I was as shallow then as I am now). We had a whiteboard in our apartment for phone messages, "meet on campus" messages, annoy the crap out of your roommate messages, you know the typical. One day someone, maybe me or not, I don't remember, wrote "M R Spiders. M R Not. S A R. C D E D B D I's. O My L, M R Spiders." on the board. The owner of the board was so mad that someone had written "L" on her board that she erased it and wrote a reprimanding note letting everyone know that such inappropriate words like "L" were not to be written on the board! As such, the letter "L" was never again written on the board. All messages that should have an "L" in them were left with just blanks, such as a message for someone named Jill to call someone name Alan, would have looked like this: "Ji , A an ca ed. P ease ca him back as soon as possib e." I thought it was funny, but never again did I use a letter in place of a word...

Now, I am not judging those who still do! Really, I'm not, because for all I know, these people may be trying to stay connected to their teenagers the same way I do with Fuss when I help him put his shoes on his "feeties."

There is just one more thing that really, truly, more than anything else, gets me about written language in texts or on the internet; it is the assumption that people can say whatever they want to anyone else...as long as it is followed by an emotioncon, lol, or haha. When I was a kid, I would never have dared to write my friend a note with negative comments about her personality, looks, intelligence, anything. It would have hurt her feelings and if I felt that way, why would I have been friends with her. Yet today, it is socially acceptable for kids to post things like, "U R so dum! Haha." or "U r a big fat witch! lol!" and it's okay because it is followed by "lol" and "haha" so no offense can be taken?! Sorry, but I think I would still take offense not only because I was called a fat witch, but also because they think its funny that I'm a fat witch, which no one would dare to say to my face, except my sister. We actually make fun of this concept, but only with each other, and only to each others' faces. She can tell me things like, "You're retarded! L-O-L!" or "You Wish you could be like me! Smiley face!" I may even be able to handle it written from her because least I know that if she would have written it out, she would have used actual words, not just letters. Honestly, I'm kind of afraid for English teachers of the future.

Now, I will hop off my soap box (which I really wish you could see the visual of me "hopping" off of anything cause you really would LOL)! Fuss is getting dressed and I'm going to go poke him in the "belly hole." That's right, no bellybuttons in this house...at least until he's older!

So that's how it works....

I am a curious person by nature. I can't help it. I want to know everything about everyone and every situation. As an adult I can kind of keep my curiosity under control, and I am good at keeping confidences, but I'm still curious. When I was a kid my mom once told me that she had a teacher who had told her that there was no such thing as a stupid question, but she wanted to take me to meet him to prove that there was. That's how many questions I asked...

Now days, I just annoy D with my constant questions. I can't help it, really! I think of things that I think the rest of society just accepts, such as why does everyone who is homeless have access to cardboard and black Sharpies? I have asked some of my close friends this very question and no one has an answer! I mean no disrespect to homeless people anywhere, I just want to know if there is a secret supply house? Does U-haul donate? Can I donate? We just recycled a bunch of cardboard boxes that I could have donated to this cause, just like the clothes to a thrift store, not to mention the 13 million Sharpies that have come to reside in my house. I even have different colors if they wanted to mix it up a little from the black.

Because of my constant curiosity, I get to have interesting conversations with Fuss. I have learned so much about how a guy's mind works from him. It is just as I have always suspected, simplified and shallowish... Like at Christmas time, Fuss started to freak out because there was only one day of preschool left before Christmas break and he hadn't gotten a present for his "girlfriend," B. We didn't get her one because I don't want him to be the crazy stalker, overbearing freak at the age of 4, even though they have been "in love" for over a year. As B put it to her mom, "Fuss and I first fell in love at preschool." Thankfully, it is a mutual "love." Anyway, in his little freakout show, he declares to me, "I didn't get B a present yet!"
So, I calmly ask him, "What did you want to get her?"
"I really wanted to get her a La La Lutsy doll."
"Yeah?" (while thinking, "what in the crap is a La La Lutsy doll??" since they are La La Loopsy? I don't have girls!)
"Yeah, but I saw them when I was at Wal-Mart with Daddy and I hated them!"
"You hated them?" (Maybe they weren't cute dolls? Maybe they didn't have a good selection?)
"Yeah, they were like a hundred and thirty bucks!! And I don't have that kind of money! That is a lot of money!!"

So the value of love has a dollar sign?! I didn't know that was how it worked, especially since whatever the crap their name is dolls don't really cost that much...

Just a few minutes ago I was sitting at the computer in my bedroom, working, while Fuss was watching TV. A commercial for something to do with manicures and nail polish came on and in a panicked voice, Fuss says to me, "Mommy!? Mommy!!??" Concerned, I turned around and said, "What?" To which he responded, "Don't you want that?" I glanced at the TV and told him that it looked pretty nice and maybe I would like it. His response taught me a valuable lesson that needs to be quickly retaught, "Then why didn't you say you wanted it? That is how you get stuff! You have to say you want it when you see it!" Oh...that's how that works...poor kid, not anymore!

Yoga...not really for everyone...

I realize it has been a while, but at least it hasn't been two years! I am going to attempt to do better, but lets face it I'm not real great in the resolution department. As evident by my constant battle for determination to lose weight. It is this very battle that brings me here tonight...

For Christmas my sister-in-law, whom I adore and aspire to look like without having to do all the work, gave me a beginner's yoga kit. I had mentioned that I really wanted to get serious about losing weight, long term. She does yoga and looks like she does yoga, hence the aspiration to look like her. So it really was the perfect gift. As such, this morning (yes, only this morning) after nearly a month of staring at the lovely green box (green is my favorite color) I was lying in bed, hoping for a nap, and mentioned to Fuss that maybe we should do yoga together. You would have thought I asked him to go for a Pepsi and a caramel-cookie dough shake. He was so excited! I let his excitement brew for a bit and then like the good mom I am I tried to talk him out of it. I was really tired after all! That was not going to happen. It took mere minutes of his nonstop chatter, his changing into shorts without a shirt so he could look like the guy on the box, running upstairs to grab an extra yoga mat and block, and even finding his belt to use as a yoga strap, for me to realize the only way to make it stop was to indeed do the yoga.

So Fuss and I cleared a spot in my room to lay out our mats. He insisted that his be right next to mine, even though I insisted we needed some room. I found that arguing with a 4-year-old who keeps saying, "Yes, this will be so good! You will feel so good!" even though he has never even been exposed to yoga before is an act of futility. It's a good thing I was too tired to care. We started out doing a simple warmup. I can lie on my back and practice breathing and meditation with the best of them. Sometimes in this house you have to pretend to be nearly dead just to get some peace and quiet, even then it's questionable though! The further we got into the workout, I more I realized that the person I want to pretend I am no longer exists. It's really an eye opener when some random dude on your TV tells you to simply pull your knee to your chest and you think he's lucky you got it off the floor. Seriously, I know why fat people do not do yoga. It's because their stomach is between their knee and their chest and there is no getting around it, over it, or even beside it, which actually is easier than the other two options.

I do have to admit also that I loved watching Fuss follow all the moves and try so hard. Since he was so much better at it than I was, he gave me encouraging words like, "wrap your arm around your knee, Mommy" to which I responded, "I think my arms have shrunk while the rest of me has grown." Although I know that yoga is supposed to be relaxing and help you be focused and ready for the day, I think that day is a long way away. I really feel no more confident than I did staring at the pretty green box. In retrospect, I kind of wish I had a video camera to watch later for a good humiliating laugh, but overwhelming glad that I didn't at the same time. I know more than a few people who would love to hold that over my head.

As we were driving home from some errands this afternoon, Fuss asked me if we could do "our" yoga again tonight. I told him it might be possible. He also told me that we should take the yoga DVD to grandma's because "Grandma really loves yoga!" That surely must be where I got it from. I didn't know it was a genetic trait! All I can say is that I truly hope it does get better, easier, less humiliating, etc, because Fuss has announced to me that "we will do yoga everyday!!" Yay!!

For the love...

I do not love animals. I know that is not a very popular sentiment and that PETA should be knocking down my door, but it's still true! I am just not a pet person. So why, might you ask, do I have two dogs? Because my family loves them. D and I had only been married a couple of months when I brought him back a dog while working in Idaho. That little puppy, who I really didn't even love then, is now a huge dog in my backyard. His name is Scooby. The boys named him. He lives exclusively in my backyard, which is exactly where I like him to be. I do love that his bark is so deep that it would be terrifying to a prowler who may try to sneak in through my backdoor. I do love that his 40-foot chain allows him to protect our back steps from any daring intruder. I do love that he can jump high enough to see over our 6-foot fence, again warding off any possible intruders. I just don't love that he is a dog...

Last March, after trying for nearly four years, I was pregnant. I was unbelievably happy...for about a week. I had a miscarriage. My heart was broken and I didn't stop bawling for days. I still getting teary-eyed thinking about it. Before that moment I thought that a miscarriage was just something that a lot of women went through and it wasn't that big of a deal. Oh, how wrong I was! I loved that baby from the moment I knew of it and losing it, even at only seven weeks, was truly heartbreaking. Anyway, I had already told Fuss of his upcoming new sibling, so when that sibling was no more I had to break the news to him as well. In my angst, I sat my little son down and told him that we were no longer having a baby. He looked at me with his huge brown eyes, furrowing his brow in deep concern, tipped his head to the side, and in his most pleading voice said, "Please! I promise I will be a good big brother! Please, Mommy!" If I thought my heartbreak was complete before those words, I was wrong. I wanted to give him anything, anything at all, to ease his disappointment and my pain. So when I told him that I was sorry, but there was nothing I could do, and he replied with, "Can I have a puppy then?" What was I to do? I hesitated, repeated to myself that I had committed to never have a dog living in my home, and then told him we would call my sister to see if by chance she would be breeding her dog anytime soon. I actually told him that if she was I would let him have one of the puppies. I figured there was no chance that would happen, after all she had only bred her dog like twice before. I called her and told her of my conversation with Fuss. Being able to completely understand my pain, she happily announced to me that she had bred her dog just last week and that if it worked she would give Fuss one of the puppies rather than selling it. Oh goodie (ugh)!! We waited, anticipated, and panicked. Okay, mostly I panicked. D, not loving little dogs, assured me that this was my promise and I would have to deal with it. Needless to say, the puppies were born and we brought one home six weeks later. He named her Tilley. I don't know how he came up with the name, but it fits her. She was born on Fuss' fourth birthday. I'm not sure if it is a sign that they belong together since they share a birthday, but regardless it is obvious they love each other. I just spent the last several minutes watching Fuss lie on the kitchen floor while his 4-1/2-pound Yorkie Poo climbed all over him, licked him, and had him giggling nonstop. The moment was truly precious, but I still am not in love with her. I can't help it. She poops on my kitchen floor, even after she has been out to potty. She licks my toes! Why do dogs lick my toes?! That is probably the one thing that really turns me away from animals, the licking! She has to be taken outside several times a day. I have to keep a baby gate up to block off my kitchen because I can't stand the thought of an animal running around on my carpet and doing whatever else she may decide to do while exploring. I refuse to allow her on any furniture lest they smell like dog. The thought of laying down on a couch that a dog has been crawling all over is so not relaxing to me. Seriously, I don't love animals!

It is hard for me to admit, though, that the benefit of these animals outweighs my distaste for them. I also have to admit that I would probably miss them if we were to no longer have them. I guess that protecting my home and bring pure joy to my child are reasons enough to tolerate them...maybe even like them a little, but I will never admit to loving them!

Where does the time go...

TWO YEARS!! Seriously, what is wrong with me?! I don't even know where to begin!

Fuss is definitely the joy and the bane of my existence. It is amazing you can the love the person that drives you insane so unconditionally. He is the most hilarious irritant in my life! At 4 years old, he thinks he knows everything. He is completely OCD and I now spend my days making sure that I do everything differently than I normally would just so that he can get the idea that there is more than one way to do things. Oh the tears that I cause with these tactics, but I am trying to convince myself that it is better he cry tears now than he become the crazy old guy that no one wants disrupt. He threw a fit, full blown defiance against me, the other day because I put milk in his cup, then put the milk away, then got out the Nesquik mix, when I usually just grab the mix from the pantry at the same time I grab the milk. It makes sense to do it that way considering my pantry is next to the fridge, but I didn't, so he wouldn't drink it. For three hours he whined to me that he was thirsty. For three hours I handed him his glass of milk. He refused to drink it because it "wasn't made right." I refused to allow him to have anything else because he got his stubbornness from me and I wanted to make sure he too was aware of that. This is the current story of my life...who can hold out longer. It's definitely me!

I do have to say, he's not always that way. Sometimes, I am thoroughly amazed at how much he is like me. He's funny, thoughtful, stubborn, lazy, clumsy, and so very, very attention deficit. One minute he has me cracking up, such as today when I handed him his towel after he got out of the tub, and he winked and me and said, "Thanks, Sis." It's the little moments that catch me off guard that get me through the moments that I want to...well, I'm sure you can guess!

I can't help but wonder sometimes how my Fuss might be different, maybe less demanding, if his entire world wouldn't have been turned upside down last year.

Last year...2010...so much has happened, but for me most of it was spent in my bed with my feet elevated on a stack of 10+ pillows. You see, I was born with flatfeet, a trait I inherited from my mother and she from her father. Sadly, Fuss has inherited them too. Anyway, because my feet are similar in structure to my chest...flat...I have had problems with my knees and back. So, I decided it was time to do something about it. In April, I had my left foot operated on. The doctor removed some extra bones, reattached the tendons that used to be attached to the no longer existent bones, put an implant in my foot to hold the bones up correctly, and put three holes in my Achilles tendon to lengthen the short little tendon to its correct length. In July, I found out that the implant had popped out of place and had to have surgery again to fix it. This is an issue that the doctor had only ever seen one time before, when he operated on my mom. By the middle of August I was done with casts, boots, and crutches. I was walking on my own. I was walking on the outside of my left foot, but still on the inside of my right. So, in September I underwent surgery on my right foot, repeating the same procedure. During this time frame (2010) Fuss had turned 3 years old, we were working on potty training, he started preschool, and Olie moved in with us. It went from him and me together always, just us, to Mom in bed, Fuss going away for two hours a day with a bunch of people he didn't know, and having to share his dad with his brother everyday! That's a lot of changes for a kid to have take place in just a few months. Since that time, he has been emotional, clinging, and downright defiant. Sometimes I can't help but to wonder if his OCD behaviors were enhanced by going through so many changes so quickly. He has to hold onto what he knows. He has to keep control of his life in some way. It's really hard to explain this theory to a 4 year old, almost as hard as it is to keep it in mind when I am losing my mind with the insanity of the OCD.

I think I just had a little bit of an epiphany... Now, I am trying to figure out why I haven't blogged. Blogging to me is like being my own psychiatrist. I put it out there. Let you read it. Hope someone out there can relate and then move on... I'm pretty sure I'll be back tomorrow. After all, I have a lot of issues that could use the therapy and my keyboard is way cheaper than a shrink!

Resolutions, what are those....

Well, I have definitely learned this about myself, even if I do make resolutions on paper (or computer) I really have no ambition to keep them... It actually took me looking at my friend's blog to come to the realization that I haven't been in blog-land for 5 very long months, which is sad because so much has happened and I am sure that I will not remember it all!

Fuss is getting so big and so sarcastic (I am really trying to figure out where he gets that from). My daily life with him now consists of actual conversations, kind of, that usually leave me laughing. There was the time I found him in my room with an empty package of E.L. Fudge cookies. He had one cookie in each hand and a face covered in chocolate from his nose to his chin. Knowing that D had just purchased the cookies last night, and realizing that he had not so wisely left them on his nightstand, I confronted my child...

Me: "Fussy, did you eat all of Daddy's cookies?" I stated sternly...
Him (quite seriously): "No."
Me: Glaring at him questioningly...
Him: (Matter-of-factly) "My mouth did."

It is really hard to get mad at your child when he speaks the truth so innocently, if only he really was innocent. I have also made comments that we needed to go shopping, to which he replied, "Yeah! I want a horse!" or that if he would take a nap I would take him to the dollar store to buy him a new car, to which he questioned, "...and some gas?" He is 2...and I am really afraid for his teenage years at this point.

We recently got rid of his binki, which he called his "meena." It has been a devastating 10 days for both of us. I had tried before, but to no avail. I had tried letting him have it only when he sleeps, but he always seemed to be able to find one somewhere during the day. So we went cold turkey....I took him to Toys R Us and let him choose a little teddy bear like the one we gave to my niece for her birthday. He had wanted it so badly and cried when I told him it wasn't for him. So I made him a deal, a bear for meena...which he excitedly handed over his meena for. I thought it would be so easy, but it wasn't. At the store I gathered the three different teddy bears, put them in the cart with him, and told him to choose one. He picked each one up, examined it carefully, then put it down and moved on to the next one. Once he had looked at all three of them through his thorough inspection, he handed me the dark brown one to put back on the shelf. He then reexamined the other two again before finally deciding that the stark white bear was to be his. He loved that bear all day long. It has a little bottle and he fed it and then brought me the bottle telling me that he needed more. So I pretended to refill the bottle, and gave it back to him. He fed the bear again. He even did airplane motions and noises as he brought the bottle to the bear's mouth. We had a little box, so I put a blanket inside of it, and he put the little bear down to bed telling me to be quiet "He sheeping, mommy!" It was so cute! We even named the bear meena so that when Fuss asked for his meena we gave him the bear. It was a good idea...in theory... he actually did okay for about the first week. Sure he cried for the first week, but seemed to get that he wasn't getting a binki, so he snuggled his bear and went to sleep. I learned much more about him, like he doesn't shut up for 5 seconds when there isn't something in his mouth. I also learned that this has been hard on me for two reasons, one he loved his meena so much that I felt like I was throwing out a part of him. His meena has been a part of his life since the day he was born, and to now deny him his greatest comfort is ripping my heart and soul! The other thing I learned is that I depended on his meena too, for some sanity! Now when he is upset or frustrated or just being two, I have to put up with it and deal with it and try to fix the situation instead of just handing him the binki...oh, how I miss the binki!

I do know that it is what is best for him on so many levels, but now he doesn't just whimper a little at bedtime he sobs. Now he gets angry and throws his bear off of his bed like he finally realizes the bear was a trick. Now I lie in bed and wish there was something I could do to comfort my son, but it is as though he realizes I was the one who took away his beloved meena and he doesn't really know why, even though I have diligently explained it to him several times, but he how do you explain orthodontia to a two-year-old...

He thinks...

I would like to profusely apologize to those that I have promised to write, I am a slacker!  Lately I feel as though life is slipping away too quickly!  This Friday my Fuss is going to be two! I can't believe it has now been two years since I first held that 6 pound 14 ounces, cone headed with hematomas on his head, double-chinned from the start, greatest blessing of my life in my arms for the first time! There is no way to describe the true joy that you feel and the feeling that you never thought you could love someone so much from the first second you saw them! 

Pretty much from the time he was born I knew that he was too smart for my own good.  He was only 2 days old when they brought the bilirubin lights to my house.  I don't know who invented this contraption, but seriously no brand new mother wants to put their tiniest treasure in a blue suitcase with patches over his eyes to keep him under lights.  Needless to say, I bawled for three days straight! I just wanted to hold him and comfort him. It was during those moments that I discovered just how in control my little man was.  Anyone could walk past my little guy, or stop and stare at how adorable he looked with the alien looking patches over his eyes, except me.  I don't know how he knew, but he did.  Even with his eyes covered and me being as quiet as possible, he knew every time I was near and he would reach his little hand up towards me and whimper...it broke my heart! Of course I picked him up and held him close to me...I was told he could be taken out of the lights to eat, so he ate a lot during those three days...

Now, here we are two years later and he still thinks he rules the roost around here.  The other day as I was trying to take a nap I felt a little finger ran across my eyelid. I opened my eyes to see my darling little boy sitting next to me with an eye shadow in his hands "doing my makeup."  When I asked him, "Does Mommy look pretty?"  He responded, "Hode on!" (hold on). He thinks he is the expert...

Last week he asked me for some "canny" (candy).  We had some jellybeans, so I told him he could have 3 of them.  Fuss can count to three (I think it is mostly because I always do when I want him to do something that he doesn't want to).  Anyway, as he lifted the jellybeans out by choosing his favorite colors first, he counted...one, one, one, one, one, one, one...I looked at him and he grinned his mischievous little grin and continued...two, two...I raised my eyebrows...He grinned and raised his then stated satisfactorily....three! He smiled and walked off with his treasure of "three" jellybeans. He thinks he is so smart...

Moments ago D was watching a movie on our bed while I sat in the recliner and Fuss played on the floor in front of me. D asked me to come lay by him and Fuss immediately ran over and climbed up on the bed. As I laid my head on D's chest, so did Fuss...until he pushed his way in between us declaring "my daddy!" So I raised my head and D put his arm around me.  Fuss immediately pushed him away from me declaring, "my mom!" He thinks he has to be the center of all our attention...

At this very moment I am typing with one hand as Fuss pulls on my other crying, "c'mon, c'mon, c'mom."  Normally at these moments I go with him to find out what he wants, but since I know he wants to go with his daddy into the office to play on the computer, I am not going.  He thinks he is in charge...sadly...he is!

Time passes by...

Okay, so I realize yesterday marked the one month anniversary of my last entry...what can I say, I have become awful at this, which is sad because I actually enjoy writing! Time passes so quickly that there never seems to be enough of it, and I wake up at 4:00 am! So, for those that have been missing my blog (Neyney) I am going to do a quick recounting of how my time has been spent over the last month (maybe just for a little justification of my slacking).  

Excuses:

1. I don't remember 90% of the last month, therefore cannot be held responsible!

2. Changing 8,692,478 diapers, many of which were really too dangerous to have to encounter, but I still braved them anyway.

3. Breaking up 6,139 fights (this would have been more if the older boys were here more than every other weekend).

4. Listened to 15,986,212,903 tantrums...oh, how the terrible twos are upon us!!!

5. Typed too many lines of medical transcription to count, but probably around the 15,000 range...it sure feels like that should be a higher number, probably because for half the time I am fighting off and trying to get Fuss to entertain himself or peacefully take a nap!

6. Called my mother crying because "I just can't take it anymore! He is awful!" and asking "Will he always be this disobedient!" (mostly meaning Fuss, but occasionally meaning D).

7. Attended 18 family parties/dinners.

8. Took the boys to Idaho for a sledding trip.

9. Done 693,412 loads of laundry.

10. Attempted to clean my house for hours on end...only to find as soon as I have a room cleaned satisfactorily and moved on to a new room, the clean one that I just left was redestroyed in seconds by Fuss and/or his brothers.

11. Relaxed in a comatose state (this I am guessing was about an hour or two a day, but am not really aware of it. I have just been told by D that I am there--I think it is really like 10 minutes a day.)

12. Leveled up 12 levels on Mob Wars on Facebook (stupid addictions)!

13. Attended one baby shower.

14. Ate dinner at Lucy's house (yes, I had dinner at the ex-wife's house when Olie was ordained to the office of a deacon...that should get us--me, D, his parents, and his sister and her family--all an award for keeping the peace and being polite under strenuously awkward circumstances.)

15. Had a completely (well 99.9%) green dinner at my parents' house in honor of today...St. Patrick's Day!

Last night my mom thought that it would be a fun idea to have a St. Patty's Day party.  We have never had one before and I don't know if we will again, but it sure was an adventure!! Each of us had an assignment to wear green and to bring one green pot luck item for our green dinner.  My mom made pasta with chicken alfredo sauce...green alfredo sauce.  My older brother brought green grapes, green apples, and green pears with Cool Whip mixed with green yogurt to dip them in.  I brought green frosted sugar cookies, because let's face it...I'm all about the sweets! Gillette brought a fantastic green spinach salad. Fluff made a green coffee cake, which under normal circumstances I would have been afraid to try, but it was actually quite delicious. Agee brought green cucumbers in vinegar (which is a family favorite for us). KM brought green honeydew melon. And my cousin brought green Jello (all Mormon stereotypes aside, it was delicious as well). My mom also provide regular colored rolls with green butter, which my brother and brother-in-law used to frost one of the cookies and trick my nephew into eating...so rude!  Martha Stewart, I am sure, would not have approved of our lack of color combinations or somewhat strange combinations of foods, but seriously what does she know about having fun and breaking rules! I have never before had an entirely green meal, nor did I think I would enjoy it, but boy was I wrong! There is something delicious about the creativity it takes to pull a meal like this one off, and I did learn that alfredo is good no matter what color it is (at least if it is that color intentionally)!  

My mom, being the great grandma that she is, also taught her grandchildren the story of a leprechaun who has to hide his gold.  She told them that on St. Patrick's Day Eve he looks for a leprechaun house that is nicely decorated, and if he finds one that he thinks is good enough, he will place his gold coins in it to hide them so they don't get stolen.  She then provided each child with small boxes, markers, and stickers to create and decorate houses for the leprechaun. She told each of them that they needed to place their leprechaun houses on their front porches to see if they were good enough to hide gold in. This morning 14 children were pleasantly surprised when they opened up those houses and found bags of gold (chocolate) coins inside.  I am sure their grandma must have told the leprechaun where the houses would be. So, as I make up excuses and justify my lack of commitment to my blog, my mom has planned ahead, gotten supplies, and provided each parent with the necessary items to fulfill the story that she told her grandchildren for a holiday that is not widely celebrated as a major holiday! Although I have never before celebrated St. Patrick's Day...I think this is a tradition that will carry on!  Time passes by too quickly! I find that for me it is time to relax and enjoy even the smallest things!! (and recommit to blogging--I hope!)

A new babysitter...

So obviously I am not good at keeping New Year's resolutions no matter when I set them...so far I am failing at all of them, not just the blog writing one...I am still working on it...and trying to do better!

Recently Fuss has begun to enjoy the television. This has both its good points and its bad. The good comes because when he wakes up at 5:00 or 6:00 am and D and I am working while D is still sleeping, we have found that Fuss will lie sideways in the recliner in our room with his blanket, binki, sippy, and remote and watch the Disney channel, which is our new built in babysitter. I realize that this does not make us parents of the year, but it does keep us sane at these early morning hours. I have also been known to lock him in our room with me for 20 minutes or so and allow him to watch TV while I get a desperately needed little power nap. The guilt I have from not spending "quality time" with my son is extensive, but not enough for me to not get the nap, which is only done on the most desperate of days. Another "good" is that Fuss really is learning things from "Little Einsteins" "Imagination Movers" and possibly even "Handy Manny" even though he has yet to start making repairs around the house in Spanish...I am still hopeful! 

The "bad" part of his new TV addiction is that now when he wakes up the first thing he says after, "Ba! Mom, Ba!!" (meaning he wants a drink) is "On!" while pointing at the TV. Even though he rarely sits still and watches an entire show other than the early morning hours, it still has become a constant background noise in our house. I have to turn it off to get him to read stories or sing songs with me, which used to be his favorite pass time activity. The worst "bad" of all though is that I have to truly ask myself how it came about that these grown men are singing and dancing for my son. Why are these shows that drive me crazy with their cheesy songs and ridiculous scenes all performed by men? Is it that women have too much dignity to put on clown "pantaloons" and wait for another grown up to guess what they are dressed up as, or is it that no woman in their right mind would hang out in a warehouse with a mouse as a friend and so many rooms that you would never have time to clean them all? Either way, they drive me crazy. The sad reality of the whole thing is that my entire family is getting sucked into the Disney prison of no escape. It seems to be all we can do to change the channel to dramatic TV shows...Even I have traded in "Ellen" for "Hannah  Montana" and "Suite Life" is definitely better than watching the evening news. 

You're hot...

I wonder how it is that such small things can fascinate children.  Fuss has been obsessed with shoes pretty much since he could walk.  It can be my shoes, D's shoes, or any of his brothers' shoes, Fuss doesn't care. He loves shoes. He loves to wear them and attempt to wander through the house with gigantic feet. Even now he is wearing my black dress flats with his blue dinosaur pajamas and I am thinking that he really needs to learn that pajamas go with tennis shoes a little better than dress shoes.  It's not just shoes though; Fuss is also obsessed with batteries, remote controls, light switches, the buttons on our house alarm, small toys, pencils, lemonhead candies, blueberries, my jewelry, and the thermometer. When he was smaller if I wanted to take his temperature it was a fight. I would have to lay him on the bed and kneel over him to keep his arms out of the way, then hold his head with one hand while I held the thermometer in his ear with the other one. Now, every time the bathroom door is open Fuss runs in, opens the drawer, grabs the thermometer, and holds it in his ear.  He must take his temperature repeatedly before he is satisfied with the results, which really is fine since I know he can't get it in his ear too far, but still how quickly does he think he is going to develop a fever?  

His other most favorite obsession is my makeup, which goes better with the black flats. I can't get it out of his reach because he is a really good climber. Over the past couple of weeks, my eye shadow has been broken up and dumped on the floor, spread around and ground in to give my bathroom tile a nice shade of brown.  My eyeliners have been dipped in the lipsticks and used as applicators for putting lipstick on his cheeks and forehead. I now have no lipsticks, limited eye shadow, and I have had to wipe off all my eyeliners, but they still have a light pinkish residue on them. I never thought I would have to use makeup remover on my makeup, which by the way, is a little nerve wracking to do because what will happen to the makeup you want to keep that is under the makeup that you need to remove? At least I have an idea of what it might be like to have a little girl...

A day without a dad...

Ok, I realize that it is as late as it could possibly get and still be "this week," but it still is, so I am good on the resolution of once a week--by the way, once a week to me means one Sunday through Saturday, not necessarily 7 days.  Hey, I'm a work in progress.  

I have decided that I would be a horrible single mom.  D is out of town this weekend, and the last two days have been the longest of my life.  I didn't really notice it until 5:00 pm yesterday when I normally would have gotten a call from D to let me know he was on his way home.  I didn't hear from him until much later, nor did I hear from him most of the day, which is not normal for us.  It was at that point that I realized that is how I get Fuss settled from his afternoon fit.  I tell him, "Daddy is on his way!" and he gets excited and runs to the door as soon as he hears the key in it.  He really loves it when his daddy comes home, and frankly, so do I!  Last night my Fuss delved further into his terrible twos phase with nonstop tantrums ranging from what pajamas he wanted to wear, what he did not want to eat for dinner, and whether or not I am allowed to put things away that belong in the basement without hauling Fuss along for the 15 stairs up and down.  He did go to bed good, until 11:10 pm, at which time he decided he couldn't sleep unless I was holding him in my arms.  

The terrible twos continued for my not-quite-two-year-old this morning beginning at 4:05 am when he decided that he needed a "ba" and I had to go to the kitchen to get him a sippy of milk to stop the constant screeching "moooommmmm" (this must be said while imitating a dying, high-pitched parrot).  Then at 5:45 I was not allowed to use the restroom without sobbing and hollering of my name again, only this time it was just the saddest little cry you have ever heard, like he was afraid I was never coming back, which by this point I was considering.  I missed my D more than ever, keeping in mind that I am only relaying the major moments, about every 15 minutes we had some sort of a breakdown throughout the majority of the night.  

To enhance a wonderful weekend, I decided that it would be fun for Fuss and I to drive the 50 miles to my parents' house for a visit.  I strategically planned this so that Fuss would miss his nap.  Okay, I really thought that he would fall asleep in the car, which would give him an hour nap and that would get us through the majority of the day.  Of course, it didn't quite happen that way.  Fuss didn't fall asleep until the last 20 minutes of the drive, which does not constitute a long enough nap for a 20-month-old terror.  Fit after fit occurred, starting with suddenly being afraid of my parents' miniature poodle, one of the few dogs that no one should be afraid of, to fighting with me over whose Pepsi I brought back with me from picking up lunch, mine or his.  I think he won that one since he drank almost the entire thing while I was doing other things.

The clincher that made me know for sure that I could never be a single parent was when I agreed to a public exhibit of dining in a restaurant with several members of my family.  It started with Fuss' refusal to sit in a highchair.  This was followed by the climbing of the bench and glass that separated us from the people on the bench behind us.  He then slid to the floor under the table, made his way through the maze of legs, over the front bar of the highchair at the head of the table that he should have been sitting in, under the highchair, over the bar on the back, which was waist high to him, and off to wave to his new friends in person.  He walked down one row of tables making sure to touch the back of every chair he passed.  Then he walked through the main walkway of the restaurant stopping to wave to the people at each table.  When our food came and I forced him to sit down by me to eat, he broke into a sobbing fit!  You would have thought that I ordered him asparagus and spinach instead of grilled cheese and fries!  It was bad enough that I immediately asked for boxes and the check and took my terror home.

The hardest part of the day though, was when I was trying to get Fuss to extend his nap and took him into the extra bedroom at my parents' house to lay down and hopefully fall asleep.  He was whimpering and refused to settle in, so I suggested that we call daddy.  When D answered his phone, I put it on speaker phone.  As soon as Fuss heard his daddy's voice, he took the phone from my hand and started to kiss the screen.  He got a huge grin on his face, and kept smiling and kissing until D said goodbye.  At that point, Fuss took my cell phone and held it tightly to his chest in a hug.  He pulled it out every once in a while to look at the screen, and then hugged it to his chest again.  When I tried to take the phone away, he held it tighter and refused to let me have it.  He finally fell asleep holding onto his daddy's voice.  Good thing Daddy comes home tomorrow!

I resolve to...

Okay, so it has been brought to my attention that I am not very blog attentive lately, and it is true.  Even worse than writing, I have not read any of my friends' blogs since...I don't really know.  But, it is a new year and with a new year comes resolutions.  Usually my resolutions last until about January 15th, but since that is tomorrow I am hoping that I am turning over a new leaf.  And I figure is I don't actually write them until the 14th then they are bound to last longer than one day...I hope!  So, for your reading pleasure and my hoping that if others know them I will be more accountable to them...my new year's resolutions...

1. I resolve to be patient with my husband, children, extended family, other drivers, slow people at the grocery checkout using the self checkout but that don't really know how, the people that park their cars on the street when the road isn't wide enough to still be two lanes when they do, and those that allow their dogs to roam aimlessly and "do their duty" on my lawn so that I can't allow my one-year-old to play in his own yard without a quick "pick up" from mom--so gross!  I resolve to turn the other cheek and not focus on the stuff that I cannot do anything about or that is truly not important.  I will only be inpatient when we are truly going to be late or when I have already asked nicely 3 times or more. 

2. I resolve to finally fit into a size 10 again.  I would really like to fit into an 8 again, but I'm not pushing my luck.  That means that I resolve to workout for at least 8 hours each week, watch what I eat, and actually cook real meals with vegetables and everything.

3. I resolve to add to my blog at least once a week.  I resolve to not make my cousin, Neyney (and you know who you are even though you too get a fake name), to have to remind me how long it has been since I have last written. It is my responsibility and I resolve to resume it.

4. I resolve to have a cleaner home.  I resolve to mop my floors at least once a month (I almost wrote once a week, but I have to be realistic).  I resolve to even mop behind the toilet.  I resolve to wash the baseboards and the walls at least 3 times in the year.  I resolve to deep clean the closest and the storage room downstairs where I don't like to go...

5. I have resolved to my sister that if I do not have another baby by the end of 2009, then I will run/walk a 1/2 marathon with her by August 2010, which means I resolve to take up running in 2009 to train for it.

6. I resolve to follow the basic principles that my mom taught me from the day she brought me home: to be the best me I can be, to treat others as I would want to be treated, to be an example of my Savior and live so that He can be with me always.  I also resolve to teach my children these same principles.

Happy 2009!!! 

Family Christmas Letter

I have not posted anything for a few weeks due to an increasingly busy schedule.  My life now consists of working from 4 am to 7:30 am and then again from 11:30 am to 3:00 pm five days a week.  Needless to say, I am very tired!  I apologize for not keeping up on my blogging responsibilities!  With that said,  please read on for the Christmas letter I would have sent out if I were the type of person to send Christmas letters out...

Our Dearest Family and Friends,

This year has been quite an interesting, educational, and humbling year for us.  The boys are getting so old and are learning new skills such as different ways to express their utter disgust at the uncoolness of their parents, such as several styles of eye rolling, pouting, yelling, and verbal expressions.  It has been fun to see the creativity of each of our children from Olie down to Fuss. They have each grown so deeply in this area throughout the year, which truly makes parenting a joy.  

Olie is still into computers, reading, and anything educational (except homework). He is in the 6th grade and loving riding the bus every morning.  He has recently started his own website with help from D and has set up the entire family on it so that we can instant message with him while he is at his mom's house.  He is getting smarter every day!

Skater is more and more interested in skateboarding, his ripstick, and scaring me to death with his tricks.  He loves snowboarding and is very excited for this winter season.  He is in 4th grade, but thinks he should be in high school.  His best friends here at our house are in Jr. High, so that only adds to his teenage attitude, which we are learning to appreciate as much as we despise it.

Moo is in 2nd grade and feeling left behind.  He wants to be as old as his brothers and feels left out when they do things he is not quite old enough for.  He was very excited that he was able to ride all the rides at Lagoon this summer, even if it was only because we had him wear really tall shoes.  He is looking forward to being baptized this coming year.  He loves sleeping in, singing in the bathtub, and ham, cheese, and mustard sandwiches.

Fuss has been the greatest challenge for me this year.  He is now 19-months old, but thinks he is much older too.  This year he has learned to walk, run, and climb.  He has learned to talk and express himself through gestures and facial expressions that he has learned from observing his brothers.  He is into everything and thinks that he rules the roost.  He has an adventurous personality, but approaches things with caution.  He is full of life and energy and determination and stubbornness and perseverance.  

D is still loving his job as a network engineer.  He misses the boys and loves his time with Fuss, who has become his little shadow.  He stresses about everything, but is still willing to offer a helping hand wherever he sees a need.  He is the first to be willing to offer his knowledge or skills to our family, friends, and neighbors.  He is a wonderful father, supportive husband, and a great example to our children.  I learn more each day how much I appreciate and lean on him.  I feel very fortunate to have such a wonderful man in my life.  He is also pretty good at laundry, getting better at vacuuming, and this coming year we will be working on dishes and cooking!

As for me, this has been quite a year of learning and growth.  I was let go from my job in April and discovered that putting off the medical transcription course I had purchased a year and a half earlier was not the best decision that I had ever made.  As soon as I was jobless, I worked on the course diligently and am now working as a medical transcriptionist for a company in Arkansas.  It is great because it allows me to work from home and still be the primary care giver for Fuss.  I have loved being with my little man all day every day and have learned so much about curiosity, patience, and love from being with him.  I have also learned how much I cherish adult conversation.  I too miss the older boys when they are not with us, but sometimes miss the peace and quiet when they are here.  I hope for the day that they will live with us full time and that missing out on each day of their lives will be a thing of the past.  

This year we have learned that we can try to live off half of our previous income, but don't do very well at it.  We appreciate unemployment programs more than we had thought possible.  We have also learned that Clomid may work for 90% of couples struggling to have babies, but that we are in the 10% in doesn't work for.  I have learned that wishing to be thin does not make you thin and that the work must be more than just the thought of it.  This year has actually brought more trials than any year in our marriage (all 3 1/2 of them), and through it all we have learned that the Lord is by our side.  He has seen us through each and every trial we have faced this year and opened new doors of opportunity, love, support, and friendship.  Each time that I have felt like we have hit the bottom, we have been lifted up in miraculous ways.  

This Christmas season, as we celebrate the birth of our beloved Savior, our family will truly celebrate His love for each of us.  We have felt it so strongly this year and know that He is always by our side.  He is with us each step of the way and holds us up when we feel we are falling.  I pray for the peace and happiness of each of our friends and family members this year.  We are truly blessed through each of you.  You have also sustained us throughout this and previous years.  We are blessed by the even the limited contact we have with so many of you.  My life may not be what I thought it would be, but I am not giving up hope yet...or probably ever!  

Love and Peace to All,

D, Annie, Olie, Skater, Moo, and Fuss

Walking contradiction...

I am turning 33 this week (Thursday to be exact), and in considering the fact that I am getting older, I decided to reflect a bit. As I have reflected, I have seen myself as a walking contradiction. I know that it sounds a bit crazy, but when I explain I think you may agree with me. For starters, I have an honest and true desire to get back to my pre-wedding weight. Yet, I don't have the desire to work out for hours each day like I did when I was at my pre-wedding weight. When I get upset, I have a horrible tendency to eat. Yet, after I have eaten away my depression I feel even more upset. I love having a clean house, but I don't love cleaning it. Actually, I don't mind straightening, but I absolutely hate doing the details, like washing the walls and baseboards, mopping the tile, cleaning the toilets and tubs and shower, vacuuming, folding the laundry...the details. 

The thing that really got me thinking about this was last Friday. Fuss had been eating some mini Oreos that I had purchased for him in one of those little "to go" containers (like a normal package can't "go" with you anywhere), and I decided that I wished I had some Oreos too. So, later that afternoon when we went to the store, I bought some Double Stuffs (because if you are going to have Oreos there is no point in eating the single stuffed cookies). Once we returned home, I started cooking dinner. And as our frozen pizza was warming up in the oven, I opened my Double Stuffs as an appetizer, poured myself a glass of milk, and started to enjoy....and think. I wondered if it was an oxymoron for me to be dunking my beautifully delicious Double Stuff Oreo cookies into skim milk? On Sunday, as I was making dessert for my family, I pulled out a can of sweet and condensed milk to make some hot fudge (the best hot fudge you'll ever have)! As I poured the chocolate into the hot fudge, I wondered how many calories I was actually saving them by using light margarine and fat free sweet and condensed milk. I figured that it was worth the effort, but then I used a spoon to eat some of the extra hot fudge by itself later...not really saving the calories then. 

So, I have decided that my desires don't outweigh my actions. My mind contradicts my body. And I am in the middle of a two-way battle with myself, that either way I will lose...

Oh, the drama...

I thought that with having all boys I may be free from some of the drama that girls bring with them. I thought wrong. With the constant mishaps from the older boys, like Skater trying to climb out of the window during church last Sunday, my house is basically a broadway drama. I am just waiting to see who gets the Emmy. I am thinking it may be Moo with his dramatic way of throwing himself into a pouting fit and yelling things like, "You guys are horrible parents!" I think that if our 7-year-old thinks that we are "horrible parents" that we must be doing something right. It gets better though, after this particular scream I asked Moo what it was that made D and I such "horrible parents." He told me that he didn't know, but that his brothers are always mean to him. Then came my favorite (least favorite) dramatic monologue, "When we are at my mom's house, they tell me _____" (fill in the blank with whatever dramatic thought or action you can think of because it is different every time he is upset. I then have to break into my spill about how I have absolutely no control over what goes on at his mom's house, but that he knows that that behavior (or speaking) is not allowed at our house. And then continue with how we have to treat each other with respect. Sunday, after a particularly dramatic day, when Moo told me how "horrible" I was, instead of trying to find out the root of the problem, I just turned to him and said, "Really, cause you are absolutely wonderful right now!" in my most sarcastic voice. Sometimes you just have to be honest (honestly sarcastic). 

Sadly, the drama has not skipped Fuss. Last week D was chasing Fuss around, catching him, then tickling him. Fuss was laughing hysterically throughout the house. I was calmly taking a break from being mommy when Fuss ran into my room with his arms outstretched screaming, "MOM! Say me" (which is "save me" in Fussinese). He ran to my arms and laughed as I wrapped my daddy protecting arms around him. I loved that I was his protector, until the next day. Fuss brought me a barrette that he wanted me to put in his hair. I attempted to explain to him that his hair was too short and that barrettes are for girls. He got upset and started to throw a tantrum. I picked him up and started to get him dressed for the day (bad idea in the midst of a tantrum).  As he wiggled away from me, he grabbed my phone. He slid the phone open, pushed a few buttons, and put it up to his ear. He paused for just a moment then started a pretend conversation, "Gama! HEPPP!" (translation: Grandma! Helpppp!).  

Bathroom humor is not funny...

Fuss' fascination with the bathroom makes me suspect that he may be ready to start potty training. I am not sure why the interest in the toilet comes and goes every couple of months, but i am sad to announce that after a short absence of toilet bowl playing the interest is back. Just yesterday I was in my room and Fuss was playing in my closet when I had a feeling that I should to see what he was up to. I quickly turned around to see Fuss leaning over the toilet with the lid and seat lifted in one hand and his head and other hand well into the bowl. I screamed (and I do mean screamed) at him to get up. As he lifted his head I was overcome with relief that it was not wet--not even a drop! In my "I am upset" voice I asked him, "Just what do you think you are doing?!" His expression turned to one of intrigue as he lifted his hand out of the toilet with his wet binki in it and said, "Uh oh." Uh oh is right!! I have considered getting some of those safety locks for the toilet so that Fuss can't open it, but I am afraid that I will have some sort of emergency and not be able to open the toilet in time for myself. I mean, I do drink a lot of water and I no longer have a gallbladder (for those of you that don't have a gallbladder you know what I mean, and for those of you that still have yours be grateful and hope you never have to find out what I mean)...

Today, Fuss' potty playtime continued. However, he was more fascinated with flushing the toilet than actually putting things (like his head) inside of it. I would much rather he play with the flushing handle than any other part of the throne. The only problem is that the plunger is sitting in the corner behind the toilet (for easy emergency access) and the cleaning brush is hanging from the tank on the same side. These items seem to be too hard to resist for little hands, and I am frequently washing Fuss' hands after I pull them off the plunger. I keep thinking that I should just Lysol the plunger, but who Lysols their plunger so that their kid can play with it??

I did have one more bathroom episode this morning regarding my little man that is totally appropriate to share considering the topic of this post... I was sitting in my recliner, checking my email, totally minding my own business when Fuss ran up to me to be picked up to my lap, which of course I happily did. During the lifting process, my nose got a little too close to his bottom and I knew that he had created a mess for me to clean up. I told him, "You stink! We need to change your bum and get you a new diaper." I didn't know that my almost 18-month old was going to take me literally and take it upon himself to do the job. He climbed off the chair, and I really didn't think much about it because he rarely sits still for long anyway. The next thing I knew (and it is kind of a blur because of my franticness) I heard the sound of velcro diaper tabs being pulled from their secure spot on my sons abdomen. I turned around just in time to see the dirty diaper drop to the floor. In one swift movement I put my laptop down and was out of the chair and running toward the bathroom (at least it was on the tile) in a motion so fast I don't really remember the individual movements. As I was rushing to the bathroom, Fuss' little poop covered bum was running away from me. He giggled as if this were a really fun game for both of us. He stopped at the toilet, but by this point the toilet was truly pointless. I grabbed the wipes, cleaned him up, and told him that I don't know why he was running away. In this circumstance it wasn't like I was about to spank him by any means! 

I'm so popular...

I totally got tagged again. (Sorry Missy I know it was a couple of weeks ago, but I kinda got behind on my reading). Anyway, I am supposed to list 6 quirky things about myself....only six!

1. I am a little obsessive compulsive about a few things: Making sure that the doors are locked and tightly shut all the time. Making sure our alarm is set all the time. Checking on Fuss while he is sleeping. D giving me a kiss when he leaves in the morning, comes home at night, and before we go to bed. Laundry being put in the hamper when it is dirty. Washing hands constantly and consistently throughout the day--and making sure that the boys do too. Straightening the knick knacks and picture frames in my house. Just to name a couple...

2. When D and I have differing opinions and I really feel strongly about wanting mine to be the one we follow, I pout to get my own way. I know I sound like a 2 year old, but he knows that it is not real and still gives into me...can that really be called my fault? It works, and Fuss knows it so I am reaping the consequences of it. I still plan on using it though. 

3. Like Missy, If I am eating candy that has some sort of variety to the mix, I separate it by color or flavor. I then eat the random extras so that all the piles are the same size. Then I eat them one by one in a circle starting with my least favorite working my way up to my very favorite. If it is something like Skittles, I eat my favorite flavor (lemon) last, but if it is something like M&Ms, I eat my favorite color (green) last. I even do this with the little mini Hershey's bars. Plain Hersheys, Special Dark, Krackle, and then Mr. Goodbar. It is a sad reality, but you have to save the best for last.

4. I have to know what everyone else at the table is ordering in a restaurant before I can decide what I am getting. I especially have to know what D is getting, and I never get the same thing as him. If he wants what I want I either change my mind or talk him into something else, because that way we can share and try two different things. It is so bad that one time I ordered an entree that had mushrooms in it (which I love), and D turned to me and said, "You know I don't like mushrooms." 

5.  After I shower, I have to put my terry cloth robe on and I leave it on until I am done with my makeup and my hair is dry. I can't stand putting clothes on if I am even slightly damp. I have to be entirely dry...entirely! I have to put deodorant on as soon as I take my robe off, but before I put anything else on. 

6. I am a competitive person except about things that I should be competitive with. When I play games, whether it be card games, board games, or kickball, I prefer to lose instead of win. I mean, I do love winning, but if I lose it is not a big deal to me at all. I feel like there is way less pressure to do good or "hold on to the title" if you lose than if you win. When it comes to something intellectual though, or something that I think I should be really good at, which are usually things that you never know how you rank, I like to be the best. I actually get a bit of anxiety about it when I don't know how I rank. 

So, there you go...I am OCD, 2 years old, a save the best for last, more OCD, loser...and I am happy with no plans on changing. If D can live with my quirks then so can the rest of you!

Now, I tag Theresa, KD, Rebecca, Eskimo Bob, Julie, and Kimberli.

They're listening...

I know Fuss listens to me, because as I have mentioned he copies me and makes me all too aware of what I say and do. I also know that he is not the only child that does this to his parents. Children grow up way too fast and start to say things that make you have to take a double take to make sure it is still a toddler that you are talking to. 

For instance, in an attempt to teach Fuss what different objects in the world are, I often tell him things like, "That is a door. Can you shut the door?" to over emphasize what "the door" is. He is totally catching on, and let's face it he would have to be a pretty deaf little boy to not catch on to what I tell him over and over and over again. I love it when I get the chance to enjoy hearing his understanding. Like last week when he was playing in his room. I was in my room making the bed when I heard Fuss' bedroom door slam shut. 

Since shutting doors is the recent favorite activity in our house lately, I knew that Fuss was now trapped in his room. He can reach the doorknobs now, but he isn't quite tall enough to turn them. A few seconds later I heard Fuss yelling from his room...

"Moooooom"

"What, Fussy?"

"Da door!"

"Ok, I'm coming." When I got to his door, I decided to knock on it because Fuss also enjoys knocking on people's doors when we visit. 

He immediately responded with, "Is it?" I can totally understand this question considering he was trapped in his room and he wouldn't have known if someone else besides he and I were here. 

As I was telling this story to my I cousin who has two children, ages 4 and almost 2, we were discussing how fun it isn't that our children imitating us. During this conversation she was explaining that she was concerned that her 4 year old had recently began worrying about his weight declaring that he was "getting fat." As she expressed her concern to her husband, he expressed his thought that their son had gotten that habit from copying his mom. Shananigan immediately contradicted her husband with, "I don't say that I am getting fat! I say that I am already fat! There is a difference!" I agree with Shananigan, we mothers can't be held responsible for everything our children say, sometimes they must hear it somewhere else!