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!)