Anyone know of any jobs that require constant travel to foreign countries??
Disclaimer: I'm in the US so by foreign I do not mean Canada or Mexico. I'm talking at least a 12 hour flight here.
Because I'm not going to lie to you here, I'm having a major fit of unrighteous jealousy this week. The King just got back from New York, and could not say enough about how much he loved the city. Before that he was in DC and spent two days "working" (cough, cough) a convention but mostly touring all the national monuments. Now, while these trips do sound fun, if I were in his place I'd finagle my way into visiting London, Paris, Vienna and Rome. I want to travel to these places so badly I can taste it. Hence my opening quandary. I need to find a job that needs me to travel to wonderful places where I can tour to my hearts delight. That kind of position has to exist somewhere, right???
Get on that for me please.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Oh, And Another Thing......
Does anyone else think that Facebook has just become a way for teenagers to say all the mean spirited, demeaning and abusive things they want to each other without having to face the repercussions (ie- fist in the face, or visit to the principal's office) of saying it to the other person's face?
Oh, but it's all okay. They put a "ha ha" before and/or after they said "ho, I'm gonna bust your face up".
What lovely little people we are raising. Cyber bullying is super courageous.
(I hope you could feel my eye roll from wherever you are reading this)
Oh, but it's all okay. They put a "ha ha" before and/or after they said "ho, I'm gonna bust your face up".
What lovely little people we are raising. Cyber bullying is super courageous.
(I hope you could feel my eye roll from wherever you are reading this)
Question......
Does anyone else think that Jonah Hill is an overweight Michael Cera???
I'm just saying........
I'm just saying........
Thursday, October 28, 2010
It's a Big Day, Nay, an EPIC Day For Me......
What would convince me to finally post something on this dumb blog in over a month?
Only something earth shattering and life changing.
Of course, in pure Loma style it happened this event actually happened 4 days ago but lets pretend that I ran home immediately after to record it for posterity while it was still fresh and new. And because we are already fudging the truth a little bit, don't be too surprised if my narrative is a little to flourished and grandious for the subject matter. Just go with it.
Before I begin, a bit of back story is necessary. In the world of Loma, there are two great rules: #1: why do today what you can put off till tomorrow?, and #2(and the point of this discussion): never, ever say "no" to anyone (except your own children of course and then it changes to never say "yes"). Don't say "no" to a parent when they call wanting to change piano lessons to 4 am, don't say "no" to the gynecologist when she asks if this hurts, and especially-almost critically- don't say "no" in church. With this philosophy in mind I accepted the worst calling of all time- Primary Chorister- and cried on my way to church every week and on my way home for an entire year. But I still did it up until the Sunday before I moved. I have played in hundreds of wards/stake conferences/ road shows/ musicals over the state if Utah and Idaho. Ususally those calls to perform came with 3 days notice and a brief glance at the music 15 minutes before the scheduled act. I am now the world's greatest sight reader (okay I exaggerate but you get the gist- I'm a "fly by the seat of my pants" expert).
I have never turned down an opportunity to "share my talents" without an absolutely concrete excuse such as debilitating illness or death (I've only used one of those cause I ahve to save the other. It's a one-time shot you know). But this past week I finally did whst I've been telling myself to do for 2 years: I said "NO!"
(I'll give you a moment to clap and cheer......)
......And we're back.
It hurt a lot to say it out loud. It hurt even more because I was saying no to a darling woman who has such a vivacity and passion for her calling, and truly loves the way music touches a congregation. About a month ago she approached my about having our Young Women sing a number in the Christmas concert and I readily agreed (and was glad to people, I'm not a total shrew), but as she gave me the music I happened to spy some of the other songs for the program. As soon as I saw "flute part" written on the top of several songs, I knew she'd be asking before too long.
Here's the thing. I have played the piano every day of my life, and have for 29 years, but more than that I understand the piano. It is my most comfortable and oldest friend. Every day I spend hours trying to explain to children and teenagers just how wonderful it is; how it will make them a more intelligent, cultured and well-rounded person, how it makes them more in tune with their emotions and is a healthy and expressive outlet for all their feelings, how it will bring them closer to the Spirit and is evidence of Heavenly Father's beauty and majesty. I have never, ever felt more closer to the Divine than when I have been playing the glorious chorales of Handle's Messiah, or the simple hymns or worship.
Although I have played the flute for over 20 years as well, I have never felt the attachment to it that I've felt with the piano. Over the years, my flute has spent most of it's time in a drawer, only to be pulled out when one of the last minute calls to perform is extended. My fingers still work, but my embouchure, timbre and tone have suffered from lack of exercise. Most people don't notice. Most are so kind and thoughtful and appreciative for a break from mid-meeting congregational hymns that you could play every other note wrong and they'd still tell you it was the best thing they've ever heard.
Aren't people wonderful? Seriously, there are angels among us.
But then there are the few, the "music snobs" as I like to call them, that feel the need to come up afterward and point out every single missed note, where you were out of tune, and best of all (and most appreciated) how you could be better in the future. I've handled this "constructive criticism" with as much grace as an opinionated, prideful gal such as myself can possibly muster for years, but in the last year I had 2 experiences that nailed the coffin on my flute performing days. I won't go into them, but needless to say they ended in tears and my almost going Puerto Rican all over the offending parties (and by going PR I mean your conscious mind goes completely away and is replaced by a white hot fire monster with a Latin accent that says things that the conscious mind would never have the, er..balls, to say out loud). Thankfully I was rational and didn't let the "natural man" take over, but I decided from that point on I would not play flute in a church setting anymore. My fragile ego cannot take it.
(sorry, I had to stop for a minute because that last line made me laugh out loud. I warned you that I would exaggerate).
My stance has not been tested until this last Sunday, and I'm proud to say I did it. I said "No"> I wasn't rude, but I also didn't back down or give made-up excuses. I simply said I wasn't comfortable playing. And the true test of my determination is that it's now 4 days later and I still don't feel badly about turning her down. I gave her the name of a much better player to ask, and I think she'll do a really good job. In my book, it's a win-win.
Now, lest you fear, this is not the beginning of a pattern. My "no saying" is limited to flute playing. I'll still take the piano lessons at all times of day and night calls, and accept all callings that don't involve being a chorister or scouting (yes, I know I'm making exceptions to the word "everything"- but you do want me sane right?). But it's a new day in Loma world, and it's looking like a good one.
Only something earth shattering and life changing.
Of course, in pure Loma style it happened this event actually happened 4 days ago but lets pretend that I ran home immediately after to record it for posterity while it was still fresh and new. And because we are already fudging the truth a little bit, don't be too surprised if my narrative is a little to flourished and grandious for the subject matter. Just go with it.
Before I begin, a bit of back story is necessary. In the world of Loma, there are two great rules: #1: why do today what you can put off till tomorrow?, and #2(and the point of this discussion): never, ever say "no" to anyone (except your own children of course and then it changes to never say "yes"). Don't say "no" to a parent when they call wanting to change piano lessons to 4 am, don't say "no" to the gynecologist when she asks if this hurts, and especially-almost critically- don't say "no" in church. With this philosophy in mind I accepted the worst calling of all time- Primary Chorister- and cried on my way to church every week and on my way home for an entire year. But I still did it up until the Sunday before I moved. I have played in hundreds of wards/stake conferences/ road shows/ musicals over the state if Utah and Idaho. Ususally those calls to perform came with 3 days notice and a brief glance at the music 15 minutes before the scheduled act. I am now the world's greatest sight reader (okay I exaggerate but you get the gist- I'm a "fly by the seat of my pants" expert).
I have never turned down an opportunity to "share my talents" without an absolutely concrete excuse such as debilitating illness or death (I've only used one of those cause I ahve to save the other. It's a one-time shot you know). But this past week I finally did whst I've been telling myself to do for 2 years: I said "NO!"
(I'll give you a moment to clap and cheer......)
......And we're back.
It hurt a lot to say it out loud. It hurt even more because I was saying no to a darling woman who has such a vivacity and passion for her calling, and truly loves the way music touches a congregation. About a month ago she approached my about having our Young Women sing a number in the Christmas concert and I readily agreed (and was glad to people, I'm not a total shrew), but as she gave me the music I happened to spy some of the other songs for the program. As soon as I saw "flute part" written on the top of several songs, I knew she'd be asking before too long.
Here's the thing. I have played the piano every day of my life, and have for 29 years, but more than that I understand the piano. It is my most comfortable and oldest friend. Every day I spend hours trying to explain to children and teenagers just how wonderful it is; how it will make them a more intelligent, cultured and well-rounded person, how it makes them more in tune with their emotions and is a healthy and expressive outlet for all their feelings, how it will bring them closer to the Spirit and is evidence of Heavenly Father's beauty and majesty. I have never, ever felt more closer to the Divine than when I have been playing the glorious chorales of Handle's Messiah, or the simple hymns or worship.
Although I have played the flute for over 20 years as well, I have never felt the attachment to it that I've felt with the piano. Over the years, my flute has spent most of it's time in a drawer, only to be pulled out when one of the last minute calls to perform is extended. My fingers still work, but my embouchure, timbre and tone have suffered from lack of exercise. Most people don't notice. Most are so kind and thoughtful and appreciative for a break from mid-meeting congregational hymns that you could play every other note wrong and they'd still tell you it was the best thing they've ever heard.
Aren't people wonderful? Seriously, there are angels among us.
But then there are the few, the "music snobs" as I like to call them, that feel the need to come up afterward and point out every single missed note, where you were out of tune, and best of all (and most appreciated) how you could be better in the future. I've handled this "constructive criticism" with as much grace as an opinionated, prideful gal such as myself can possibly muster for years, but in the last year I had 2 experiences that nailed the coffin on my flute performing days. I won't go into them, but needless to say they ended in tears and my almost going Puerto Rican all over the offending parties (and by going PR I mean your conscious mind goes completely away and is replaced by a white hot fire monster with a Latin accent that says things that the conscious mind would never have the, er..balls, to say out loud). Thankfully I was rational and didn't let the "natural man" take over, but I decided from that point on I would not play flute in a church setting anymore. My fragile ego cannot take it.
(sorry, I had to stop for a minute because that last line made me laugh out loud. I warned you that I would exaggerate).
My stance has not been tested until this last Sunday, and I'm proud to say I did it. I said "No"> I wasn't rude, but I also didn't back down or give made-up excuses. I simply said I wasn't comfortable playing. And the true test of my determination is that it's now 4 days later and I still don't feel badly about turning her down. I gave her the name of a much better player to ask, and I think she'll do a really good job. In my book, it's a win-win.
Now, lest you fear, this is not the beginning of a pattern. My "no saying" is limited to flute playing. I'll still take the piano lessons at all times of day and night calls, and accept all callings that don't involve being a chorister or scouting (yes, I know I'm making exceptions to the word "everything"- but you do want me sane right?). But it's a new day in Loma world, and it's looking like a good one.
Friday, October 1, 2010
So.......
That last post was kind of, sort of, okay well a lot snarky. I blame it on two things:
1) Since my "special surgery" I've been hitting the strength training pretty hard (the doc put the fear of muscle and bone loss pretty hard into my brain) and all that extra testosterone is making me a bit.....hostile? I think that's the word I want to use.
2) The football season will finally be over tomorrow so that I won't have to attend any more games looking like frumpy mom compared to the herd of glamed up rock star moms that attend. I show up looking like I could sub in for one of the kids should they go down; the other moms look like they are heading off to a movie screening at Sundance. And that's fine- to each their own I say. But it makes me feel a little better in my dark, wicked heart to mock them silently while I sit petulantly downing my 10th Diet Coke of the day.
Still love me even though I'm terrible??
I Would Be Cool If Only I'd.............
I'm coming out. It's time. I feel like I need to be truthful and that I'll never be really happy until I am honest with myself.
So here goes.
I, Loma, Am............
Not Cool.
I'll give you a moment to let it sink in. I'm sure the revelation has you reeling and questioning your very existence.
Okay, so I realize this "outing" in neither shocking or revealing in any way. Anyone who knows me, or has every had a conversation with, probably realized I wasn't cool within 30 seconds of meeting me. But I've always held this deep desire to be one of the "cool kids": to be a trendsetter, to coin catch phrases, to have people flock around me begging for a tenth of my attention.
Yeah, it will never happen. I like hoodies way too much and talking to people gives me anxiety attacks.
But as a "cool wannabe" I spent a good part of life observing those who manage to turn "wannabe" into "is", and the worshiping masses that follow their lead. I was surprised after high school and marriage to find out that the same social hierarchy of the teen years exists in adult social groups. There are the same rulers being worshiped by their adoring serf clones, and I still don't fit with their crowd.
My ego is big enough that I don't really care that I'm not cool enough to hang with the "popular kids", but should I wake up tomorrow with the world upside down and worshiping a new belief system based on People, Seventeen and Sassy Mormon Mom magazines, here's a list of what I'd need to do make the transformation from dull dreary housewife to uber chic, alpha mom:
1* Rework my wardrobe: Immediately start wearing my 13 year old daughter's clothing (doesn't matter that it's 3 size smaller than I wear as #3 will take care of that). Wear skinny jeans that cost a minimum of $120 and have gigantic white stitches on the seams and bedazzled butt pockets. Only purchase shirts that have a Fleur De Lis or rocker chick floral watermarks and are made of the most form fitting material. Buy those mid-thigh dresses and flirty skirts I always thought were inappropriately short because if you slap a pair of skin tight leggings on underneath it takes care of all those pesky modesty issues.
2* Focus on the total package: Go to hair and/or nail school so I can be perfectly coiffed every day. No more ponytails unless accompanied by a Bump-it. Hair must have a minimum of 3 colors of highlights at any time, and must at least reach mid back length. Make-up application classes wouldn't hurt either. It's hard to get that smoky hooker look without tutelage.
3* Three Words: Size Zero Baby. Eliminate carbs, sugar, saturated fats, unsaturated fats, meat and animal products, processed foods, cooked foods, dairy, caffeine, carbonation and starches. Actually, lumping it under " no more eating" would be easier.
4* Run. Run a lot. Wear the shortest, most inappropriate shorts I can find and under armour sports bras. Run in every marathon and iron man competition in a 3 state radius. Run in the snow, rain, and 100 degree weather. Run with a double stroller of crying children (I'll have to borrow a couple of toddlers for this one) but ignore them and blame it on the killer workout jams playing on my itouch.
5* Be tech savvy: Buy every product starting with an "i". itouch, ipad, iphone. Arrange my life so that I cannot possibly exist without any "i" product.
6* It's not just WHAT you wear but WHERE you get it: Only shop at stores that have names using words like "wet" and numbers such as "twenty-one", start with the letter "A" or "H", or have some reference to Bohemian culture.
7* Being trendy requires commitment: Get a gym membership. Join a drill camp class but then drop it 2 weeks later to take up spinning. Forget both for Zumba.
8* Accessories are just as important as the clothes: No look is completed without some bling and plastic. Bring on the giant beads. Put them in necklaces, bracelets and watches. Never, ever, ever wear fewer than 2 pieces at a time. Gold=time to buy your burial plot; Silver=young and relevant. Follow the "Quinn and Finn" rule: wear giant sunglasses all the time (if you have no idea what I'm referencing you probably haven't watched enough Glee. First, shame on you, and second, go buy season one. Right now- run don't walk).
9* Vampires are Hot: Hold Twilight theme parties for every book and movie release. Be at the theater 16 hours early to get the best seats (make sure you wear you "team Edward" or "team Jacob" shirt!). Have a not-at-all-creepy infatuation with a 17 year old actor who plays a werewolf.
10* Blog
I'm 1 for 10 so I guess I have my work cut out for me. If you see me out running at 5 am give me a shout out; you'll know me by my giant sunglasses and "I heart wolves" tank. I might not hear you because I'll have Justin Beiber running on a loop on my ipod, but know I'm not dissing you because I'm so much cooler than you are. I've just finally committed to becoming the best me I can be.
So here goes.
I, Loma, Am............
Not Cool.
I'll give you a moment to let it sink in. I'm sure the revelation has you reeling and questioning your very existence.
Okay, so I realize this "outing" in neither shocking or revealing in any way. Anyone who knows me, or has every had a conversation with, probably realized I wasn't cool within 30 seconds of meeting me. But I've always held this deep desire to be one of the "cool kids": to be a trendsetter, to coin catch phrases, to have people flock around me begging for a tenth of my attention.
Yeah, it will never happen. I like hoodies way too much and talking to people gives me anxiety attacks.
But as a "cool wannabe" I spent a good part of life observing those who manage to turn "wannabe" into "is", and the worshiping masses that follow their lead. I was surprised after high school and marriage to find out that the same social hierarchy of the teen years exists in adult social groups. There are the same rulers being worshiped by their adoring serf clones, and I still don't fit with their crowd.
My ego is big enough that I don't really care that I'm not cool enough to hang with the "popular kids", but should I wake up tomorrow with the world upside down and worshiping a new belief system based on People, Seventeen and Sassy Mormon Mom magazines, here's a list of what I'd need to do make the transformation from dull dreary housewife to uber chic, alpha mom:
1* Rework my wardrobe: Immediately start wearing my 13 year old daughter's clothing (doesn't matter that it's 3 size smaller than I wear as #3 will take care of that). Wear skinny jeans that cost a minimum of $120 and have gigantic white stitches on the seams and bedazzled butt pockets. Only purchase shirts that have a Fleur De Lis or rocker chick floral watermarks and are made of the most form fitting material. Buy those mid-thigh dresses and flirty skirts I always thought were inappropriately short because if you slap a pair of skin tight leggings on underneath it takes care of all those pesky modesty issues.
2* Focus on the total package: Go to hair and/or nail school so I can be perfectly coiffed every day. No more ponytails unless accompanied by a Bump-it. Hair must have a minimum of 3 colors of highlights at any time, and must at least reach mid back length. Make-up application classes wouldn't hurt either. It's hard to get that smoky hooker look without tutelage.
3* Three Words: Size Zero Baby. Eliminate carbs, sugar, saturated fats, unsaturated fats, meat and animal products, processed foods, cooked foods, dairy, caffeine, carbonation and starches. Actually, lumping it under " no more eating" would be easier.
4* Run. Run a lot. Wear the shortest, most inappropriate shorts I can find and under armour sports bras. Run in every marathon and iron man competition in a 3 state radius. Run in the snow, rain, and 100 degree weather. Run with a double stroller of crying children (I'll have to borrow a couple of toddlers for this one) but ignore them and blame it on the killer workout jams playing on my itouch.
5* Be tech savvy: Buy every product starting with an "i". itouch, ipad, iphone. Arrange my life so that I cannot possibly exist without any "i" product.
6* It's not just WHAT you wear but WHERE you get it: Only shop at stores that have names using words like "wet" and numbers such as "twenty-one", start with the letter "A" or "H", or have some reference to Bohemian culture.
7* Being trendy requires commitment: Get a gym membership. Join a drill camp class but then drop it 2 weeks later to take up spinning. Forget both for Zumba.
8* Accessories are just as important as the clothes: No look is completed without some bling and plastic. Bring on the giant beads. Put them in necklaces, bracelets and watches. Never, ever, ever wear fewer than 2 pieces at a time. Gold=time to buy your burial plot; Silver=young and relevant. Follow the "Quinn and Finn" rule: wear giant sunglasses all the time (if you have no idea what I'm referencing you probably haven't watched enough Glee. First, shame on you, and second, go buy season one. Right now- run don't walk).
9* Vampires are Hot: Hold Twilight theme parties for every book and movie release. Be at the theater 16 hours early to get the best seats (make sure you wear you "team Edward" or "team Jacob" shirt!). Have a not-at-all-creepy infatuation with a 17 year old actor who plays a werewolf.
10* Blog
I'm 1 for 10 so I guess I have my work cut out for me. If you see me out running at 5 am give me a shout out; you'll know me by my giant sunglasses and "I heart wolves" tank. I might not hear you because I'll have Justin Beiber running on a loop on my ipod, but know I'm not dissing you because I'm so much cooler than you are. I've just finally committed to becoming the best me I can be.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
And The World Is Right Again....
Primetime TV has finally returned. The planets have aligned and the tides have been quelled.
Loma is at peace.
I might just start blogging again.
Loma is at peace.
I might just start blogging again.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Kicking the Dog When It's Down....
So you know how I had my lady parts ripped out 3 weeks ago? Oh, and remember how I'm now really anemic as Lady Dr. clamped off my artery too hard and internal bleeding ensued?
Yeah, well, yesterday my tooth broke. So today I got to spend 4 hours at the dentist getting a root canal and a crown. The dentist was awesome as was his staff (hilarious actually. I laughed the whole time, and I didn't even have any laughing gas), and I could tell he/they really felt bad about putting me through that ordeal so soon after surgery. They handled me with some serious TLC, and have now completely changed my opinions of dental offices (meaning they are no longer the opening to the underworld). They offered me serious pain meds to get through the weekend, but I learned a long time ago that Lortab, Percocet and Morphine are not Loma's BFF's. Motrin will have to do.
I think TQ knew I was just about on the brink of a physical/mental/emotional break down after this last kick in the you-know-where. I walked in the house to a sparkling clean kitchen, a cleaned and organized playroom in the basement, and all the laundry folded. She is truly an angel. For her reward, I got her a Diet Coke from McDonalds and her Itouch was paroled to her a week early.
If your going to have crisis after crisis, I recommend getting a teenage daughter first. You can't have mine though.
Yeah, well, yesterday my tooth broke. So today I got to spend 4 hours at the dentist getting a root canal and a crown. The dentist was awesome as was his staff (hilarious actually. I laughed the whole time, and I didn't even have any laughing gas), and I could tell he/they really felt bad about putting me through that ordeal so soon after surgery. They handled me with some serious TLC, and have now completely changed my opinions of dental offices (meaning they are no longer the opening to the underworld). They offered me serious pain meds to get through the weekend, but I learned a long time ago that Lortab, Percocet and Morphine are not Loma's BFF's. Motrin will have to do.
I think TQ knew I was just about on the brink of a physical/mental/emotional break down after this last kick in the you-know-where. I walked in the house to a sparkling clean kitchen, a cleaned and organized playroom in the basement, and all the laundry folded. She is truly an angel. For her reward, I got her a Diet Coke from McDonalds and her Itouch was paroled to her a week early.
If your going to have crisis after crisis, I recommend getting a teenage daughter first. You can't have mine though.
Monday, August 16, 2010
What Is Wrong With Me?????
I can't stop watching old episodes of The Real Housewives of New Jersey. TQ says it's like watching old women pretend they are in high school. Maybe that's the appeal- that you get to vicariously live in the chaos of petty intrigues, cat fights, vain, selfish impulses and gawdy "new money" displays of wealth without having to actually participate in the soap opera-esque life. But no matter the "why" this I know for sure- should I ever travel to New Jersey I'm first frying then dying my hair until it can stand 6 inches above my head on its own without the aid of product; second, locating a tanning salon that specializes in the "extreme jaundice glow"; and lastly, buying every skin tight animal print and metallic shirt/tube top/skirt/dress/leggings in the greater Salt Lake area. I may be just a hick Mormon girl from Utah but I'm pretty sure I can pull off the native look. Speaking like them? Well, that's a whole other problem.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Birthday Wishes to My Sister.....
(Loma dancing with Princess Manda, circa nineteen eighty-something)
Dear my favorite Manda,
I am so so glad that 25 years, 6 hours and 2 minutes ago our muther birthed you out of her canal. I am glad you came out well and that the epidural- her first- worked. She might have sent you back had it not. Thank you for your first 5 years of life, for being my real-life barbie and dress up doll, and letting me poof your hair to unholy heights and give you layer upon layer of bangs. Thank you for willing wearing countless articles of 80's master neon clothing that I picked out for you. Even after you decided to take you fashion future into your own hands, you still agreed to wear my super ugly forest green, drop waist bridesmaid dress when I got married. For that I am indebted to you forever, and vow to wear any hideous dress or pantsuit of your choice when you get hitched. You also have the distinction of giving me the best wedding shower advice of all time, that I "shouldn't take any of his crap". Your relationship started kind of rocky, as you despised him with the hate of a thousand fiery demons for taking your sister away, but I think that over the past 14 years The King has grown on you, kind of like a rash that annoyed you at first but you've scratched so much that it doesn't really itch so much anymore. You are now and have always been the bestest aunt Manda-Fancy-La La-Single O-Amanda in the whole world, and I hope I can live the rest of my days in such as way that I am worthy so that we can build our next-door mansions in heaven. But until then, you complete me, and the eggs from my single ovary are incubating somewhere in my belly just waiting to be called on should you need them. Oh, and go UTES!!!!!!!!!!
Love, Loma
(TQ, Loma and Manda today- Sisters, BF's and Q-P's forever. Yes, she is taller than me. 5'11.5" to my 5'9.5". I'm not bitter. Well, not much)
(Note to reader- yes I understand that "muther" is not a real word. It's a Quarter-puertor thing. As is "bestest", "la la" and "single O". I'd let you in on the secret, but you'd have to have a DNA test first to prove your heritage. If you are skittish around needles there's a multiple choice "can you use duct tape to fix ________?" test you can take that involves no blood drawing. Sorry, it's how we Q-P's roll gringos.)
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Bribery...
Man Child just told me that I am his best friend all because I (A) didn't make him finish his lunch and (B)let him put off his "rest time" for an hour to finish watching "Madagascar 2" with his brother.
You know that fine line between "gifting" and "bribery"? I'm not above straddling it.
You know that fine line between "gifting" and "bribery"? I'm not above straddling it.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Guess What Fantastic Items Arrived Today In.......
My mailbox:
(Yeah baby, those are our Utah Football Season Tickets. GO UTES!!!!!!)
And in my Inbox:
Sorry Max Hall- it was too good to pass up :)
(Yeah baby, those are our Utah Football Season Tickets. GO UTES!!!!!!)
And in my Inbox:
Sorry Max Hall- it was too good to pass up :)
Can You Tell What Kind of Day I'm Having?
I'm going to write a book titled "What I Learned About Being a Parent While Messing Up my Kids' Lives".
Here are a few chapter's I've come up with:
Fiscal Responsibility: Why refusing to take your kids to library because of their massive accumulated fines is better than encouraging their love of reading.
You Have Free Agency- You Just Have To Get My Approval Of It First.
If I Say You Rolled Your Eyes You Did: Mom Is Never Wrong.
It's Okay To Be A Non-Conformist: It Doesn't Really Mean You Are Lazy If You're Not Dressed by Noon.
They'll Never Know What To Expect: How Using the time honored tradition of " you have to the count of 3 to....." but disciplining on count 2, or starting on 3 and getting it over with immediately keeps them on their toes.
From Teenager to Toddler: Why Allowing the Middle Child a Day to Boss and Torment the Oldest for 24 hours is a Great Way to Fix Out Of Balance Sibling Relationships
Reverse Psychology: Me No!
Child Yes!
Me No!
Child Yes!
Me No!
Child Yes!
Me Yes!
Child No!
Gotcha!
Putting it Back in Their Face: How playing the "Mom, Stop Copying Me Game" to Demonstrate how Annoying and Irritating their Constant Whining Is. How Long Can They Handle Hearing You Repeat Everything They Say?
Keeping it Simple: How to Answer the Most Annoying Repetitive Question with One Word Answers. We'll look at approaches to-
What's for dinner? (Food)
Why do I have to go? (Because)
When are we leaving? (Later)
Train Them Early: The Younger They Are The More Gullible They Are.
That's all I have for now. Any suggestions?
Here are a few chapter's I've come up with:
Fiscal Responsibility: Why refusing to take your kids to library because of their massive accumulated fines is better than encouraging their love of reading.
You Have Free Agency- You Just Have To Get My Approval Of It First.
If I Say You Rolled Your Eyes You Did: Mom Is Never Wrong.
It's Okay To Be A Non-Conformist: It Doesn't Really Mean You Are Lazy If You're Not Dressed by Noon.
They'll Never Know What To Expect: How Using the time honored tradition of " you have to the count of 3 to....." but disciplining on count 2, or starting on 3 and getting it over with immediately keeps them on their toes.
From Teenager to Toddler: Why Allowing the Middle Child a Day to Boss and Torment the Oldest for 24 hours is a Great Way to Fix Out Of Balance Sibling Relationships
Reverse Psychology: Me No!
Child Yes!
Me No!
Child Yes!
Me No!
Child Yes!
Me Yes!
Child No!
Gotcha!
Putting it Back in Their Face: How playing the "Mom, Stop Copying Me Game" to Demonstrate how Annoying and Irritating their Constant Whining Is. How Long Can They Handle Hearing You Repeat Everything They Say?
Keeping it Simple: How to Answer the Most Annoying Repetitive Question with One Word Answers. We'll look at approaches to-
What's for dinner? (Food)
Why do I have to go? (Because)
When are we leaving? (Later)
Train Them Early: The Younger They Are The More Gullible They Are.
That's all I have for now. Any suggestions?
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Julia and Julia? I Think Not!
I just managed to burn No-Bake cookies.
It takes a special kind of special to ruin a recipe that most 7th grade Home Ec. students master on their first day being allowed in the kitchen. I wish there was a remedial Home Ec. class offered to adults. Maybe I should look into one of those "get your high school diploma at night" programs. You had to take a certain number of "artsy fartsy" credits to graduate, right? As a band nerd I never had to grace the walls of the art department (and I'm sure the teachers sighed a big 'whew' in relief for that one), and now I see that my home skill training was definitely lacking. Don't even ask about sewing. When we made pajama pants for a YW activity a year ago, the 14 year old girls had to teach me how to use my sewing machine (a kind yet cruel Christmas present from my parents. I can't decide if they were saying "you need to be domestic" or "you really need to be domestic").
So Suzy Homemaker I am not. I wish I felt badly about it, but I don't. I even scooped up the smoking remains of the cookies, rolled (okay forced) them into balls and threw them in the refrigerator. Cooling them down will make it all better I'm sure. If not, I'll just slap some ice cream on top and chocolate sauce and no one will be the wiser.
Until they read this.....hopefully after they've digested for a while....
It takes a special kind of special to ruin a recipe that most 7th grade Home Ec. students master on their first day being allowed in the kitchen. I wish there was a remedial Home Ec. class offered to adults. Maybe I should look into one of those "get your high school diploma at night" programs. You had to take a certain number of "artsy fartsy" credits to graduate, right? As a band nerd I never had to grace the walls of the art department (and I'm sure the teachers sighed a big 'whew' in relief for that one), and now I see that my home skill training was definitely lacking. Don't even ask about sewing. When we made pajama pants for a YW activity a year ago, the 14 year old girls had to teach me how to use my sewing machine (a kind yet cruel Christmas present from my parents. I can't decide if they were saying "you need to be domestic" or "you really need to be domestic").
So Suzy Homemaker I am not. I wish I felt badly about it, but I don't. I even scooped up the smoking remains of the cookies, rolled (okay forced) them into balls and threw them in the refrigerator. Cooling them down will make it all better I'm sure. If not, I'll just slap some ice cream on top and chocolate sauce and no one will be the wiser.
Until they read this.....hopefully after they've digested for a while....
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Guys Just Don't Understand...
The King just called the hysterectomy post my "vagina monologue".
If only he knew......
Day Three of Football Conditioning.....
Fox got drafted today.
From his father's reaction, you'd think it was into the NFL, not the WFFL 15 and under league. Apparently he made it on the "best" team with the "greatest" coaches. The whole concept of a draft for 9/10 year olds is confusing to me. How do they know discover the future Chad OchoCinco or Peyton Manning after watching 70 boys run in circles, most of them unable to move under the weight of their helmet?
Fox has never eaten as much or relished dinner more than he has the last 3 days. He is a never ending pit of hunger. At dinner tonight, after shoveling in 2 chicken quesadillas in record speed, he still looked over at my plate with greedy eyes and asked "are you eating that?" Being the kind, generous to a fault mom that I am I offered my dinner, but his dad decided to distract him from foraging by discussing the "motivation" Fox could use to be very aggressive on the field. (Warning- Dr. Phil or any other tv psychology whores would not approve of the following philosophy). According to dad, the greatest part of football is that you can take all of the anger and built up hostility you've held in for 9 months of the year- such as every time you've wanted to pile drive your sister for being bossy or punch a bully in the nose at school- and channel it into pushing the crap out of and totally dominating your opponent on the field.
I sat pretty quietly during this conversation listing to the angel/devil conflict going on in my head (no I'm not crazy- going inside my head and blocking out the rest of the world is my happy place). The devil voice agreed with The King. Fox is very easy going but he allows all his negative energy to build up and build up until he explodes. He rarely gets mad but when he does, holy crap watch out. Three months of hurt feelings, broken promises and little annoyances will come out. Football will be a great way for him to channel all that energy. My father, who played for the University of Utah in the late 60's (did you know the Utes are in the Pac10 now? Oh you did? No, BYU wasn't invited. Sorry- but not really) always said that the freedom to go on the field and just push someone around at will is the best feeling in the world. And even though he was a pad wearing hulk/machine of destruction for many years, he's been a totally productive member of society as long as I've know him. Well, there was that one time when he stopped at a red light and almost grabbed the man who had just cut us off out his driver's side window. But just as his eyes were turning green and his shirt started to tear around his biceps, he settled down and returned to our car and 4 bewildered and semi-terrified faces. Oh, I bet he never wanted me to share that. Whoops.
On the other hand, my angel voice was screaming "no, this is your sweet, sensitive little boy. The kid that tells his overwhelming sister daily that she is his best friend. He is like the Pied Piper to all children under 5; they flock to him as if he were Santa. He gives the greatest hugs in the world". I love him just the way he is; I don't want him to change into a fighting machine. But to be successful I know he has to aggressive and dominate, not be dominated.
I think it's best that I take the back seat on this one and let his dad be the driver. It's so cool watching them "talk shop" and work on drills (except when they take place in my living room and involve pushing couches around on my carpet). I'll stay away from the practices- I'd be too tempted to chew out the coach for making him do push-ups for taking off his helmet, and just cheer my heart out for him at the games. I can be a good football mom. I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.......
Fox just asked why you have to use your brain in football. Don't you just get mad and hit people?
I think he's going to do well in this sport.
Question....
Am I a bad mother because I actually LIKE it when the Man Child is sick? He's so quiet and complacent and snuggly. I almost forget that he's a 40+ pound wrecking ball of energy the rest of the time.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
We're Going Well Into 'Too Much Information' Land........
I bet you've been wondering where I've been.
Alright, so you probably didn't care, or even noticed how long it's been since I posted anything beyond Fox's "quote of the day", but I think I'll explain anyway. It's therapeutic to get things out in the open, right?
Oh, I should probably warn anyone reading with who has a Y chromosome this is going to "no man land". Literally.
Where to begin? About 3 weeks ago I finally made an appointment to see my fav Ob/Gyn. She's my favorite because #1: she's a she and I've never been comfortable with Dr. Dude looking at my lady parts, and #2: we have this great relationship where she doesn't call me or bug me, or care how long it's been since I've seen her (unlike a certain dentist I won't "out". Stupid tooth scraper!). But since we're coming up on the Man CHild's 4th birthday, which coincidentally marks the 4th anniversary of the LAST time I visited her, I figured I'd had sufficient healing time to go again (aka. block out the memory/pretending it never happened.
I just realized that there is a #3 to my list: my Dr. works that speculum with the speed and accuracy of Edward Scissor hands. The entire exam experience would have been 10 minutes start to finish had she not found a "problem". She explained it in very complicated and technical terms (with diagrams and illustrations no less! BTW, there is nothing sexier than a drawing of the female reproductive system. If we really want to cure the world of the scourge of porn, I say we take the skin off the ladies and let the gents see what we look like underneath. I'm just saying.), but in simple man terms I guess in the last 4 years my uterus had decided to fall out.
Did you even know a uterus could fall out? One day I could have been walking into church and all of a sudden birthed a lumpy, pear shaped baby bag in the middle of Sunday school. Now that I think of it, it might of been a good way to get out of the lesson. My timing sucks.
Anyway, Lady Dr. told me I needed to get that puppy out and quick (again, a rough translation). So fast forward to last Monday and wham, bam, thank you mam- I am now fruitless and barren. Luckily my hubby will still keep me.
I'd recommend a hysterectomy to every one- well, maybe not to you men. I know castratos were valued for their operatic voices and as "safe" eunichs in royal courts, but that was so 300 years ago. You go ahead and keep your stuff, unless you are Hugh Heffner and then I say man it's time to retire. Oh, Mel Gibson and Larry King- you too. But we ladies are not as enamored with our lady tubes. Outside of bringing the joy of motherhood, they are basically just a bane on our existence. An iron ball and chain on our happiness. So begone foul matter I say!
I should warn you ladies that the post-surgery recovery is harder and more painful than the blogs and med sites will admit. It felt a lot like my post C-Section, except that the hyster aches radiate like an equator around your entire lower abdomen. I'm a week and 2 days post surgery, and I'm almost back to normal. Had I not had some complications and internal bleeding during the procedure I think I would have been up and running late last week. Oh, it was nothing life threatening luckily- Lady Dr. just clamped one ovary off too tightly and it wouldn't stop bleeding. After trying for 30 minutes to get it to stop, she finally just removed the ovary all together. Which brings up an interesting point. She was able to keep my other ovary. But as it is attached to nothing, is it just floating around in my belly? Can I pass it back and forth like a ping pong ball by pushing on my tummy? Will it migrate north for the winter and hide behind my appendix and try to mate with it, making a ovendix? Or a gallvary? Hmmm....things to things about.
So now if anyone were to ask me if a hysterectomy is a good choice- knowing expense and pain involved- I'd say all in all, totally worth it. I was one of the "fortunate" few whose procedure was a medical necessity so my insurance covered it (for many women it's considered an elective procedure so not covered). I know this will make me feel better. I worry a little about the hormone situation-especially with only 1 ovary instead of 2- but they have come so far in the last decade with hormone therapy that I'm sure it will be alright.
Oh, and just so you're aware so you can plan ahead, I have officially deemed July 26th as "Free From Periods Forever" Day. I'm not sure how long it will take to make it a federal holiday, but when you get the day off with holiday pay you can thank me. I like all things chocolate and carb-loaded. And Diet Coke. But that goes without saying.
Alright, so you probably didn't care, or even noticed how long it's been since I posted anything beyond Fox's "quote of the day", but I think I'll explain anyway. It's therapeutic to get things out in the open, right?
Oh, I should probably warn anyone reading with who has a Y chromosome this is going to "no man land". Literally.
Where to begin? About 3 weeks ago I finally made an appointment to see my fav Ob/Gyn. She's my favorite because #1: she's a she and I've never been comfortable with Dr. Dude looking at my lady parts, and #2: we have this great relationship where she doesn't call me or bug me, or care how long it's been since I've seen her (unlike a certain dentist I won't "out". Stupid tooth scraper!). But since we're coming up on the Man CHild's 4th birthday, which coincidentally marks the 4th anniversary of the LAST time I visited her, I figured I'd had sufficient healing time to go again (aka. block out the memory/pretending it never happened.
I just realized that there is a #3 to my list: my Dr. works that speculum with the speed and accuracy of Edward Scissor hands. The entire exam experience would have been 10 minutes start to finish had she not found a "problem". She explained it in very complicated and technical terms (with diagrams and illustrations no less! BTW, there is nothing sexier than a drawing of the female reproductive system. If we really want to cure the world of the scourge of porn, I say we take the skin off the ladies and let the gents see what we look like underneath. I'm just saying.), but in simple man terms I guess in the last 4 years my uterus had decided to fall out.
Did you even know a uterus could fall out? One day I could have been walking into church and all of a sudden birthed a lumpy, pear shaped baby bag in the middle of Sunday school. Now that I think of it, it might of been a good way to get out of the lesson. My timing sucks.
Anyway, Lady Dr. told me I needed to get that puppy out and quick (again, a rough translation). So fast forward to last Monday and wham, bam, thank you mam- I am now fruitless and barren. Luckily my hubby will still keep me.
I'd recommend a hysterectomy to every one- well, maybe not to you men. I know castratos were valued for their operatic voices and as "safe" eunichs in royal courts, but that was so 300 years ago. You go ahead and keep your stuff, unless you are Hugh Heffner and then I say man it's time to retire. Oh, Mel Gibson and Larry King- you too. But we ladies are not as enamored with our lady tubes. Outside of bringing the joy of motherhood, they are basically just a bane on our existence. An iron ball and chain on our happiness. So begone foul matter I say!
I should warn you ladies that the post-surgery recovery is harder and more painful than the blogs and med sites will admit. It felt a lot like my post C-Section, except that the hyster aches radiate like an equator around your entire lower abdomen. I'm a week and 2 days post surgery, and I'm almost back to normal. Had I not had some complications and internal bleeding during the procedure I think I would have been up and running late last week. Oh, it was nothing life threatening luckily- Lady Dr. just clamped one ovary off too tightly and it wouldn't stop bleeding. After trying for 30 minutes to get it to stop, she finally just removed the ovary all together. Which brings up an interesting point. She was able to keep my other ovary. But as it is attached to nothing, is it just floating around in my belly? Can I pass it back and forth like a ping pong ball by pushing on my tummy? Will it migrate north for the winter and hide behind my appendix and try to mate with it, making a ovendix? Or a gallvary? Hmmm....things to things about.
So now if anyone were to ask me if a hysterectomy is a good choice- knowing expense and pain involved- I'd say all in all, totally worth it. I was one of the "fortunate" few whose procedure was a medical necessity so my insurance covered it (for many women it's considered an elective procedure so not covered). I know this will make me feel better. I worry a little about the hormone situation-especially with only 1 ovary instead of 2- but they have come so far in the last decade with hormone therapy that I'm sure it will be alright.
Oh, and just so you're aware so you can plan ahead, I have officially deemed July 26th as "Free From Periods Forever" Day. I'm not sure how long it will take to make it a federal holiday, but when you get the day off with holiday pay you can thank me. I like all things chocolate and carb-loaded. And Diet Coke. But that goes without saying.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Etcetera.......
Man Child upon waking up from "rest time":
Mom, I stink. I am gross. I hate gross. I need to pee pee and fart in the potty.
No kidding.
Mom, I stink. I am gross. I hate gross. I need to pee pee and fart in the potty.
No kidding.
Verbal Vomit...
Man Child just pointed out to me that a guy on Wipeout has a "big butt". Actually, his exact words were "Mom! He's got a BIG BUTT! That's DISGUSTING!".
Note to self: always walk behind, not in front of him from now on.
Note to self: always walk behind, not in front of him from now on.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
You Only Wish You Could Be Such A Good Parent.......
On Sunday the Man Child decided that Primary songs just weren't good enough for him during singing time so he broke out with Aerosmith's "Dream On". His father could hear him from across the room. As lightning didn't come down through the ceiling and strike him dead on the spot, I'll admit unashamedly that I couldn't be prouder.
Wait till they hear what we're working on for next week (evil grin).....
Wait till they hear what we're working on for next week (evil grin).....
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Deep Thoughts by Fox
From the mouth of babes comes truth:
"Mom, if a woman who goes after young guys is called a Cougar, would a guy who dates a younger woman be a Cheetah?"
What I'd like to know is what exactly prompted this vein of thought at his great-grandma's 88th birthday party.
"Mom, if a woman who goes after young guys is called a Cougar, would a guy who dates a younger woman be a Cheetah?"
What I'd like to know is what exactly prompted this vein of thought at his great-grandma's 88th birthday party.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
You Know You Need A life When.......
A) You see the movie Eclipse more than once because there's nothing better to do on a Friday night. No amount of 18-year-old hairless buff chest shots can make that movie anything more than a shallow reproduction of a fabulous book (my personal fav in the series).
and
B) You can't stop watching a movie on Hulu about the biblical heroine Esther. It's terrible, but the actor who plays the Babylonian king has the most mesmerizing eyes. Plus it's chocked full of big name stars, which makes me wonder, what bet did they lose that led them to being cast in this travesty. And was it all the same bet, or did they individually owe major bucks to the director and thus he said "you shall now perform in my latest project which will make the big-screen bible drama popular once again.' Mel Gibson tried to bring it back, but as he has gone flipping insane since then I don't think he's the man to emulate. If you'd like to prove me wrong, it's called "One Night With the King". I double dare you to watch it.
and
B) You can't stop watching a movie on Hulu about the biblical heroine Esther. It's terrible, but the actor who plays the Babylonian king has the most mesmerizing eyes. Plus it's chocked full of big name stars, which makes me wonder, what bet did they lose that led them to being cast in this travesty. And was it all the same bet, or did they individually owe major bucks to the director and thus he said "you shall now perform in my latest project which will make the big-screen bible drama popular once again.' Mel Gibson tried to bring it back, but as he has gone flipping insane since then I don't think he's the man to emulate. If you'd like to prove me wrong, it's called "One Night With the King". I double dare you to watch it.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Doggie Day Care....
Conversation between the Man Child and my brother's dog that is currently being "doggie sat" at my parents' house.
Hi Monkey (incidentally, the dog's name is Mikey)
Monkey, do you know me? I am Zachie.
Monkey, I am your friend. So I am going to grab your ears. It's okay.
I am going to grab your tail too, okay Monkey? It's alright.
(at this point "Monkey" ran to hide under the kitchen table)
No Monkey, come back! Monkey you get out here right now! I said NOW!
Good boy, good boy
(oh, and did I forget to mention that Mikey is a girl?)
Monkey do you know my sister Taylor?
At some point during the day MC decided that "Monkey" was actually "Mackey", and was so inspired by his new best friend that MC decided he was a dog too. He barked at a terrified Mackey for 30 minuted straight before I finally told my human/dog to leave him alone. MC stopped barking, but then proceeded to feed Mackey dog food one piece at a time, and I'm pretty sure he sampled it first before giving to his new "best friend".
My arm is getting stiff from patting myself on the back over and over for not allowing pets in our house. If he wants companionship, MC should start looking for an imaginary friend. Preferably one that's housebroken.
Hi Monkey (incidentally, the dog's name is Mikey)
Monkey, do you know me? I am Zachie.
Monkey, I am your friend. So I am going to grab your ears. It's okay.
I am going to grab your tail too, okay Monkey? It's alright.
(at this point "Monkey" ran to hide under the kitchen table)
No Monkey, come back! Monkey you get out here right now! I said NOW!
Good boy, good boy
(oh, and did I forget to mention that Mikey is a girl?)
Monkey do you know my sister Taylor?
At some point during the day MC decided that "Monkey" was actually "Mackey", and was so inspired by his new best friend that MC decided he was a dog too. He barked at a terrified Mackey for 30 minuted straight before I finally told my human/dog to leave him alone. MC stopped barking, but then proceeded to feed Mackey dog food one piece at a time, and I'm pretty sure he sampled it first before giving to his new "best friend".
My arm is getting stiff from patting myself on the back over and over for not allowing pets in our house. If he wants companionship, MC should start looking for an imaginary friend. Preferably one that's housebroken.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Question.....
Why will my boys sit in the lotus pose and "meditate" quietly because a stupid bird called Mr. Chung on Dinosaur Train told them to, and yet I have to bribe them with every form of sugar loading or Iron Man action figures to get them to be reverent for the 30 minutes that the home teachers are here?
Why the Octogenerians Play Golf....
That time of year is upon us. Yes, the long summer months of constant whining from home locked children. "Mom, I'm soooooooo bored" "Why don't we ever get to go anywhere????" (it probably goes without saying, but for the full effect you must imagine these being cried in the most pathetic, most annoying voice inflection of all time).
To try to buy myself a few weeks of sanity early on, The King and I signed Fox up for a week long golf clinic that will be followed by a weekly 9-hole game with other kids his age. He's occupied until school gets out in August.
(sigh)
Fox was really excited to go to his clinic last week. Not quite as excited as he is for football the fall, but who wouldn't year for the bone crunching, hard hitting intensity that is football over the mind-numbing monotony of golf? Still, the sport was appealing enough that Fox stayed for the entire first session and actually looked forward to his class the next day.
Upon leaving the course, Fox remarked that there were an awful lot of "old people" at the course. I explained that it was a great sport for the retiree crowd because it was low intensity and they could move at their own pace. He thought my explanation over, and with a brisk "oh" I figured the conversation was over and his mind had moved on to much more interesting things, like asking for the 110th time that day if his friend could come over.
(the answer was still no by the way, even on his 101th try).
Apparently the realization that "really, really old people like golf" stuck with him throughout the remainder of the day and into the next, for the first words out of his mouth upon exiting the parked truck at the course were to that vein.
Fox looked over at me, and with a smile that emoted a mother looking upon a precocious child with adoration and incredulity, pointed out an older gentleman and said "Mom, look at that man over there. I can see that this old guy is taking his last chance to golf before he dies".
Then he sighed as if throwing his arms up in the air and saying "old people-what are you going to do with them?".
Oh what I'd give to have just a peek into this child's brain.
To try to buy myself a few weeks of sanity early on, The King and I signed Fox up for a week long golf clinic that will be followed by a weekly 9-hole game with other kids his age. He's occupied until school gets out in August.
(sigh)
Fox was really excited to go to his clinic last week. Not quite as excited as he is for football the fall, but who wouldn't year for the bone crunching, hard hitting intensity that is football over the mind-numbing monotony of golf? Still, the sport was appealing enough that Fox stayed for the entire first session and actually looked forward to his class the next day.
Upon leaving the course, Fox remarked that there were an awful lot of "old people" at the course. I explained that it was a great sport for the retiree crowd because it was low intensity and they could move at their own pace. He thought my explanation over, and with a brisk "oh" I figured the conversation was over and his mind had moved on to much more interesting things, like asking for the 110th time that day if his friend could come over.
(the answer was still no by the way, even on his 101th try).
Apparently the realization that "really, really old people like golf" stuck with him throughout the remainder of the day and into the next, for the first words out of his mouth upon exiting the parked truck at the course were to that vein.
Fox looked over at me, and with a smile that emoted a mother looking upon a precocious child with adoration and incredulity, pointed out an older gentleman and said "Mom, look at that man over there. I can see that this old guy is taking his last chance to golf before he dies".
Then he sighed as if throwing his arms up in the air and saying "old people-what are you going to do with them?".
Oh what I'd give to have just a peek into this child's brain.
Monday, June 7, 2010
It Brings A Smile to My Face..........
Ha ha, wanna know what's really funny?
Watching your 13 year old throw a hissy fit because you shut down the "kids laptop", which happened to be perched on your bed right where you are trying to sleep, and now her itouch is no longer charging.
Why oh why is it so important that the item in question gets charged immediately????
Because that's how a certain 13 year old gets around the "no texting" rule on her phone. She's figured out that she can use her Facebook app to IM a certain 13 year old boy any time she wants.
Too bad I keep unhooking her itouch so it never charges all the way.
Momma's no so dumb, is she?
Have I Ever Told You How Much I Hate Camping????
I hate it thiiiiiiiiiiiis much (arms spread as wide as possible- if I could I'd use Shaq's arms for the 7' wingspan).
Yet off I go tomorrow morning at 7:00 am.
Yep, you read that right. 7 o'clock in the freaking morning.
Did I mention it's supposed to rain all week too?
Oh, I must have forgotten because I'm so unilaterally focus on how much I despise sleeping in tents.
Here's the problem. I love my calling. I love my girls. I love being with them. I just hate being dirty, smelling like a funky combination of fried pork product and brush fire, and sleeping in the most uncomfortable environment imaginable.
Yes, I'm a prissy princess. I both own it and rock it.
Once a year though I try my hardest to shut down the little voice in my head that pleads "hotels can count as camping as long as we work on some knot certification while watching movies. And the pool will totally work for safety and first aid training" and pack up the dusty sleeping bags and tents (cause they never see the light of day the other 51 weeks of the year) and attend a good ole' fashioned Young Women campin' trip.
Granted, last year we stayed in the Taj Mahal of all YW camps, the Heber Valley camp, and this year we are at our stake property which boasts a newly remodeled lodge and toilets and showers, so life could be a whole lot harder. But you know me, I must find something to whine about. It's kind of my "thing". And until they build cabins I'll cry like my three year old when he hasn't had a nap about the fact that I have to sleep in a tent.
I know, I know. Get over yourself and have a good attitude. I DO have one about girls camp, I promise. I just don't have one about tents.
It's baby steps to perfection people. I'm just a wee bit (or several miles) behind the rest of the world that's all. I'll get there someday.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Note From A Student....
One of the most darling little boys to ever walk the earth just left a note for me on the practice chart:
" I love you.
You are Nice.
Love you Lots.
P.S. Wow"
I can't tell you how much I needed that today. Kids are awesome! Now if my own kids felt that way........
" I love you.
You are Nice.
Love you Lots.
P.S. Wow"
I can't tell you how much I needed that today. Kids are awesome! Now if my own kids felt that way........
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Why I LOVE Glee....
I just realised that Brittney's Cheerio outfit was on backwards during the onslaught of Vocal Adrenaline "funk".
It's the little details that matter people.
By the way, did you know that dolphins are just gay sharks?
Thanks to Brittney I've had to alter my entire world perspective.
And hide my diary from my pets.
It's the little details that matter people.
By the way, did you know that dolphins are just gay sharks?
Thanks to Brittney I've had to alter my entire world perspective.
And hide my diary from my pets.
Being Contemplative.....
Someone remarked to me the other day that my kids are always sick. As I thought about that statement, I realized that there was a lot of truth in tht statement. Has there been an extended period of time over the last 6 months that one of my brood or myself hasn't had some bug working it's way through our system? As I thougt about it more, I determined that the blame for our propentsity to illness is twofold: first, genetics. Asthma, spierocytosis, acid reflux, gall stones, retinitis pigemntosa, heart disease, diabetes, cancer......take your pick, we've got a limb for it in our family tree. TQ was finally diagnosed with asthma a few weeks ago after months of progressively stronger attacks (lesson learned- when doctors want to blame something that's been going on for 6+ months on allergies, insist on more tests) and the after math of dizziness and migraines. She is now on a daily steroid which has helped immensely. Poor Fox just can't get a break. Along with being the lucky recipient of the Retinitis Pigmentosa genes, we're pretty sure he also inherited spierocytosis which depresses the immune system and causes severe anemia. The slightest sniffle in the rest of the fam turns into a full blown flu in Fox. He's down today after coming home from school yesterday with a scratchy throat, his face bright red and head sweating from a fever. I was positive that I sent him to school healthy and yet 8 hours later he's barely functioning. After a year with him I think his teacher has become accustomed to how quickly Fox can go from running on the playground to being so sick he's laying on his desk in a stupor. Nothing fazes her anymore. It kind of stinks that the year is over and we'll have to start afresh with a new teacher in the fall.
The second reason for the frequent cold and flu appearance is my chosen occupation. I love teaching piano out of my home. It gives me so much joy and fulfillment. When I graduated from the U I knew that I would not teach full time for many years- at least until my kids were all in school if I could manage. So I tucked away the degree and haven't regretted that choice once. But I really working with children and music, so teaching from home seemed like a great way to balance out my desire to use my skills and still be available to my family. I love the kids I teach and their families. I've watched so many of them grow upright before my eyes- some of my earliest students are now married and have children of their own! However, the downside to having my workplace in my home is that my "classroom" is just the same as any classroom where children are; it's a giant petri dish. Every cough, sniffle and sneeze that's passed on at school is brought to lessons via my cute but unsuspecting students. I try to sanitize as much as possible, and encourage parents to keep their kids home if they are sick, but often times the bacteria are in an incubation stage or and haven't reared their ugly heads so the kids will come to lessons infected but not showing symptoms. Fast forward 3 days later though, and they're coughing and so am I. Of course, then it makes the round through everyone in our house and by the time we're recovered something new has been brought in. I have seriously considered if it's worth it, especially with Fox's crap can for an immune system, but I haven't come to a concrete conclusion yet. If we have another year like this past one though I may have to take a serious look at the risk/reward ratio and make some tough decisions.
Don't you want to visit my house now? I should hang an "enter at your own risk" sign at the door.
The second reason for the frequent cold and flu appearance is my chosen occupation. I love teaching piano out of my home. It gives me so much joy and fulfillment. When I graduated from the U I knew that I would not teach full time for many years- at least until my kids were all in school if I could manage. So I tucked away the degree and haven't regretted that choice once. But I really working with children and music, so teaching from home seemed like a great way to balance out my desire to use my skills and still be available to my family. I love the kids I teach and their families. I've watched so many of them grow upright before my eyes- some of my earliest students are now married and have children of their own! However, the downside to having my workplace in my home is that my "classroom" is just the same as any classroom where children are; it's a giant petri dish. Every cough, sniffle and sneeze that's passed on at school is brought to lessons via my cute but unsuspecting students. I try to sanitize as much as possible, and encourage parents to keep their kids home if they are sick, but often times the bacteria are in an incubation stage or and haven't reared their ugly heads so the kids will come to lessons infected but not showing symptoms. Fast forward 3 days later though, and they're coughing and so am I. Of course, then it makes the round through everyone in our house and by the time we're recovered something new has been brought in. I have seriously considered if it's worth it, especially with Fox's crap can for an immune system, but I haven't come to a concrete conclusion yet. If we have another year like this past one though I may have to take a serious look at the risk/reward ratio and make some tough decisions.
Don't you want to visit my house now? I should hang an "enter at your own risk" sign at the door.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Flasback To...The Draper Elementary School Song
Draper Dragons, the Dragons are we...working together as a team.....except for the socially akward girl in the corner who won't stop crying.....
(Yup, that's me. Stop laughing. Never mind, go ahead. I was ridiculous)
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
TQ just realized that PBS is "keeping secrets" from the toddlers and under ten crowd.
"Why doesn't the Man in the Yellow hat have a name?" she asked. "Is it because he's a victim of identity theft?"
And 2 seconds later, "you know, they are hiding the truth from us. Everyone on these shows is far too happy. Where's the recession? The war with Iraq? George Bush being an idiot?"
I don't know if I should be really proud or really, really worried about he jaded outlook on life. When you stop seeing the joy in Curious George and start asking tough questions it's time to change to CNN.
But then again, she was called a whore by some delightful young man as were exiting her junior high awards ceremony just 20 minutes ago so she might be projecting her anger from that lovely episode at humanity and mankind in general. I think the George Bush slam tipped me off.
He's been out of office for a year and a half now dear. It's time to find a new politico to mock and scorn. I'd suggest Glen Beck, but that's just me :)
"Why doesn't the Man in the Yellow hat have a name?" she asked. "Is it because he's a victim of identity theft?"
And 2 seconds later, "you know, they are hiding the truth from us. Everyone on these shows is far too happy. Where's the recession? The war with Iraq? George Bush being an idiot?"
I don't know if I should be really proud or really, really worried about he jaded outlook on life. When you stop seeing the joy in Curious George and start asking tough questions it's time to change to CNN.
But then again, she was called a whore by some delightful young man as were exiting her junior high awards ceremony just 20 minutes ago so she might be projecting her anger from that lovely episode at humanity and mankind in general. I think the George Bush slam tipped me off.
He's been out of office for a year and a half now dear. It's time to find a new politico to mock and scorn. I'd suggest Glen Beck, but that's just me :)
Your First Mistake Was Trusting Him...
I should have known Zach was up to trouble when he was waaaay too quiet while my sweet visiting teacher was here. I thought he was just being considerate and letting me enjoy a visit with Kae Lyn while watching tv in my room. Nope, he was giving himself a hair cut. He looks like he just got out of a prison camp now. His enormous head just can't pull off a buzz.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
People With English Degrees Are Above Worldly Trappings....aka Technology Is LAME!
It took me 2 hours this morning to figure out how to transport the text from a spreadsheet to a text document. Finally I just retyped the whole dumb thing. And yes, I am in an AWESOME mood, thanks for asking.
Now the Man Child is yelling at me "I need help! I need help" while throwing his game in my face.( Btw, could the Star Wars song on an eternal loop be MORE annoying? Really, the brilliant minds that created animated Lego Sith Lords couldn't come up with more than one song for the game? Seriously!). It's so cute how MC thinks I actually know how to work a stupid Nintendo DS. He's 3 and has mastered all but the most difficult nuances of the gaming world. His older siblings know better. They gave up asking me for help years ago.
I am getting so old.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Those All Important Bonding Moments.....
Today as I texted my momma about some random bit of nothing, it hit me how great it is to have reached the stage of life where the parent/child relationship has morphed from teacher/disciplinarian/instructor to friend and confidant. As a teenager I never thought we'd make it to this point- two very strong willed and opinionated women, with a barrage of teenage hormones and insanity in one house does not make for a whole lot of harmony or mother-daughter warm fuzzies. But somehow we got through it, and by the time I got married I was finally beginning to realize what an amazing and cool (yes, I'm saying mother and cool in the same sentence) person Moma de Loma is.
I think we made it through for 2 reasons #1: my very large Puerto Rican dad and his crazy scary "mad eye" which could instantly freeze my sarcasm riddled diatribes, and #2: the fact that my mom was just so much fun to hang out with. While most kids my age were hanging out at friends' houses and (shock) dating, I was laying on my mom's bed watching bad 60's surf movies and making homemade pizza and fries. We'd stay up half the night playing stupid card games all the while arguing over who was the biggest cheater. 15 years later we're still doing those things, but now I have a daughter of my own in the mix.
One of TQ and my greatest similarities is that we'd rather hang with my mom/her grandma and my sis/her aunt than any other people on earth. It doesn't matter what mundane task we're doing: making dinner, bottling the harvest from God's Little Acre or tying a quilt for yet another relative's wedding, we laugh and have fun. Of course there is a lot of Diet Coke and sugar consumed during these times. Smiths should send us personalized Christmas cards for spending the gross national product of a 3rd world country in their store on candy and DC.
This past weekend TQ and I got to have a sleepover with Gma and Aunt Fancy in between funeral activities and boy's night. We rediscovered the Lawrence Welk skit on Saturday Night Live thanks to Hulu (best web site ever, hands down) and acted it out while playing Life.My poor dad. He was so overrun with estrogen I think he might have started his period. What a good sport he is though- he lasted through one game that should have taken 45 minutes but because of our need to act out the entire game as Judy/Janice from the Lenon sisters spoof it ended up taking almost 2 hours.
It was bliss. I almost wet my pants 3 or 4 times from laughing. And at our house, that how we gauge comedy: if it doesn't make you loose your bladder it's just not that funny. That's why you should try to always bring an extra pair of pants and undies when you visit mom and dad- you never know when you're going to need them.
Or maybe invest in some Depends.
Is that too much information?
Sunday, May 23, 2010
A Question for Those Who Know...
Can I watch the finale of Lost tonight having not watched the last 2 seasons and NOT be completely lost?????
Cause I love a good series ending. Even for a series I could care less about. There are way too many characters and too many story lines. And my pea brain can only handle so much at once before it gets distracted by the updates on Facebook or the smell of cookies in the kitchen.
Cause I love a good series ending. Even for a series I could care less about. There are way too many characters and too many story lines. And my pea brain can only handle so much at once before it gets distracted by the updates on Facebook or the smell of cookies in the kitchen.
Look, I Farted! Where?????? In There!!!!
Apparently somewhere along the line Man Child decided that you can see a fart.
That's why he sitting on the toilet mad as h%## right now that we won't let him off because he hasn't produced a #2 yet.
He claims he farted. He made his father come look in the bowl to verify said toot.
Either it is invisible or our son has inadvertently equated fart with poop.
I see lots of dirty underwear in his future.
And embarassing accidents at school.
Fortunately I've almost decided not to send him to preschool this year. 100% potty trained is mandatory for admittance and I have a feeling we'll be fighting this potty battle for months to come. He'll have it by 4 right??? And in another year he might be able to sit still for 10 minutes at a time and actually pay attention to the teacher.
Yep, we're definitely waiting. The battle of 3 hour church has taught me both his and my limits. Zach can't get excommunicated from church but I know he can get expelled from preschool. And I can't have a preschool flunkie on my conscience.
That's why he sitting on the toilet mad as h%## right now that we won't let him off because he hasn't produced a #2 yet.
He claims he farted. He made his father come look in the bowl to verify said toot.
Either it is invisible or our son has inadvertently equated fart with poop.
I see lots of dirty underwear in his future.
And embarassing accidents at school.
Fortunately I've almost decided not to send him to preschool this year. 100% potty trained is mandatory for admittance and I have a feeling we'll be fighting this potty battle for months to come. He'll have it by 4 right??? And in another year he might be able to sit still for 10 minutes at a time and actually pay attention to the teacher.
Yep, we're definitely waiting. The battle of 3 hour church has taught me both his and my limits. Zach can't get excommunicated from church but I know he can get expelled from preschool. And I can't have a preschool flunkie on my conscience.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Operatic Wonder.....
In an hour I'll be on my way to Fox's school to what his end-of-the-year program.
I love his teacher- she could have gone with the old stand by of Ode to the Utah pioneer or Tour of the Good Ole' USA. Instead, the class wrote an opera. Yes, you read that right. An OPERA. An opera about our local claim to fame, Hill Air Force Base.
This should be so entertaining.
Fox tried out for and won the part of "spy". He gets to dress in all black and get arrested at the end. His favorite part of the entire show is when he gets handcuffed. I am glad he doesn't have a singing intensive role as his "atonal pitch issues" tend to stick out even in the largest of choirs. He is blissfully unaware of his disability, and sings with the gusto of a hard core rocker.
His dulcet tones may make him a future audition round American Idol castoff, but I wouldn't have him any other way.
I love his teacher- she could have gone with the old stand by of Ode to the Utah pioneer or Tour of the Good Ole' USA. Instead, the class wrote an opera. Yes, you read that right. An OPERA. An opera about our local claim to fame, Hill Air Force Base.
This should be so entertaining.
Fox tried out for and won the part of "spy". He gets to dress in all black and get arrested at the end. His favorite part of the entire show is when he gets handcuffed. I am glad he doesn't have a singing intensive role as his "atonal pitch issues" tend to stick out even in the largest of choirs. He is blissfully unaware of his disability, and sings with the gusto of a hard core rocker.
His dulcet tones may make him a future audition round American Idol castoff, but I wouldn't have him any other way.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
This Just In................
BYU football: Unga can't rejoin team this fall, will likely turn pro - Salt Lake Tribune
This article has begrudgingly given me the most respect I've had for BYU in years. Way to stick to the Honor Code no matter what BYU, and despite all the national criticism. One experience that left a bad taste in my mouth from my 2 years at BYU happened during my first year when I shared a class with 6 or 7 BYU football players. Each Monday and Wednesday they laughed and chatted through the entire class, having the nerve to sit by me and then ask for my notes at the end of class. Wait- I should qualify that. They'd ask if they were feeling gracious. Mostly they'd just look over and copy them. I'll be honest, at first the attention was flattering but that was quickly erased by irritation and shock at how completely DUMB they were. About 1/2 way through the semester I finally became smart enough to plan arriving to class at the last minute so they couldn't find me in the middle of 300 students. Now before you get all upset and point out that the U players probably do the same thing, let me state that I agree. It goes on everywhere. The difference with BYU is the Honor Code each student must agree to abide by. It just really bugged me that I was busting my butt trying to listen and learn while these jokers laughed about how they'd slide through the class. Grrrr..........
So props to BYU today for sticking to their guns. I know it wasn't the popular choice and you'll be lambasted by your own fans, but it was the right one.
This article has begrudgingly given me the most respect I've had for BYU in years. Way to stick to the Honor Code no matter what BYU, and despite all the national criticism. One experience that left a bad taste in my mouth from my 2 years at BYU happened during my first year when I shared a class with 6 or 7 BYU football players. Each Monday and Wednesday they laughed and chatted through the entire class, having the nerve to sit by me and then ask for my notes at the end of class. Wait- I should qualify that. They'd ask if they were feeling gracious. Mostly they'd just look over and copy them. I'll be honest, at first the attention was flattering but that was quickly erased by irritation and shock at how completely DUMB they were. About 1/2 way through the semester I finally became smart enough to plan arriving to class at the last minute so they couldn't find me in the middle of 300 students. Now before you get all upset and point out that the U players probably do the same thing, let me state that I agree. It goes on everywhere. The difference with BYU is the Honor Code each student must agree to abide by. It just really bugged me that I was busting my butt trying to listen and learn while these jokers laughed about how they'd slide through the class. Grrrr..........
So props to BYU today for sticking to their guns. I know it wasn't the popular choice and you'll be lambasted by your own fans, but it was the right one.
Who Has Time For Blogging When Dinosaur Train Is On?
I've been a little distracted lately.
Okay, a lot distracted.
My house is a mess. The laundry goes straight from the dryer to the laundry room countertop only to sit there for days waiting to be folded. Dishes sit in the sink until noon at the earliest.
Who wants to work when you can watch back to back episodes of Dinosaur Train on the DVR?
If you haven't discovered this toddler gem, then get it on your schedule NOW. There is an entire episode dedicated to poop. Big poop, small poop, it's all poop they sing. It's okay to poop in the open cause everyone does it.
LOVE IT!!! I made the king watch it last night after Glee. He didn't laugh out loud like I did, but I think that's because he's a big onery butt-munch because of work stress. How can you not be amused by logic such as "every dinosaur eaats, so every dinosaur poops"? These are important life lessons people!
BTW.........Glee (sigh). I love/hate every single character. That's what makes it such a fantastic show. I want to pummel Hummel (good alliteration, eh???) one second then give hime a hug and wipe away his tears the next. I did not love the Madonna episode- it sacrificed story line for Madge idol worship- but every other episode, including last night's, has been incredible. I can't wait for the Rachel/Mommy dearest drama to unfold next week. Tuesdays can't come fast enough.
Don't you love that I haven't blogged in 6 weeks and my first new post is about TV? I have prrorities people.
Okay, a lot distracted.
My house is a mess. The laundry goes straight from the dryer to the laundry room countertop only to sit there for days waiting to be folded. Dishes sit in the sink until noon at the earliest.
Who wants to work when you can watch back to back episodes of Dinosaur Train on the DVR?
If you haven't discovered this toddler gem, then get it on your schedule NOW. There is an entire episode dedicated to poop. Big poop, small poop, it's all poop they sing. It's okay to poop in the open cause everyone does it.
LOVE IT!!! I made the king watch it last night after Glee. He didn't laugh out loud like I did, but I think that's because he's a big onery butt-munch because of work stress. How can you not be amused by logic such as "every dinosaur eaats, so every dinosaur poops"? These are important life lessons people!
BTW.........Glee (sigh). I love/hate every single character. That's what makes it such a fantastic show. I want to pummel Hummel (good alliteration, eh???) one second then give hime a hug and wipe away his tears the next. I did not love the Madonna episode- it sacrificed story line for Madge idol worship- but every other episode, including last night's, has been incredible. I can't wait for the Rachel/Mommy dearest drama to unfold next week. Tuesdays can't come fast enough.
Don't you love that I haven't blogged in 6 weeks and my first new post is about TV? I have prrorities people.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
What I Learned Today......
I've decided that the worst phrase a mom can hear coming out of their son's mouth is "Mom, I put my finger in _______________". No matter how you fill in the blank, it's bad news.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Note To Self....
If one was to, hypothetically of course, allow her 3 year old to wear a football t-shirt under a sweater to church because all of his real church clothes are sitting in the pile of dirty laundry that has been collecting for 2 or 3 weeks, one should probably make sure he can't take of said sweater during the first 30 seconds of Primary.
One should also make sure the 3 year old is not called on to stand in front of the entire primary to hold a picture during sharing time, especially on the off chance that on that particular day the picture will need to be held for ALL of sharing time (about 10 minutes), not just the normal 15 seconds.
Because that would be SO humiliating to the poor mother to have her child paraded in his homeless t-shirt church ensemble for all to see. I'd fully expect an annonymous bag of clothing to be dropped on her porch later in the week by some charitable soul who witnessed the scene and thought "that poor child, can't his parents afford a shirt and tie? I'm going to make some calls- I think Sister so-and-so has a boy about his size.....". What kind of masochist mother would let that happen??
Me I guess.
One should also make sure the 3 year old is not called on to stand in front of the entire primary to hold a picture during sharing time, especially on the off chance that on that particular day the picture will need to be held for ALL of sharing time (about 10 minutes), not just the normal 15 seconds.
Because that would be SO humiliating to the poor mother to have her child paraded in his homeless t-shirt church ensemble for all to see. I'd fully expect an annonymous bag of clothing to be dropped on her porch later in the week by some charitable soul who witnessed the scene and thought "that poor child, can't his parents afford a shirt and tie? I'm going to make some calls- I think Sister so-and-so has a boy about his size.....". What kind of masochist mother would let that happen??
Me I guess.
Friday, March 26, 2010
My Son, The Exhibitionist...
Man Child took his shirt off in the truck on our way to the mall.
Now he's taken it off again.
At least we're at home
Maybe someone declared this house naked land and I didn't get the memo.
Visitors, you have been warned. Enter at your own risk.
Now he's taken it off again.
At least we're at home
Maybe someone declared this house naked land and I didn't get the memo.
Visitors, you have been warned. Enter at your own risk.
I'm A Bad, Bad Girl Who Needs To Be Punished (Commence Butt Slap)
Don't you love Hairspray. That's my favorite line in the entire movie.
And I feel a strange camaraderie with Miss Turnblad as I have apparently been a very bad girl. So much so, that this morning I about gave The Husband a heart attack when I sent him an IM saying "I've been naughty".
Like all men, his mind went somewhere totally different than what I intended with that statement. I guess they can't help themselves.
What I was referring to was the fact that I woke up at exactly 9:54 am this morning to the sound of my sons playing Mario Brothers on the wii in the basement. There are so many wrong things in that sentence- did you pick them all out? 9:54- on a Friday. Sons (plural) play downstairs. Meaning the 9 year old is not at school. Basement- meaning they knew they were hiding the illicit school truancy from sleeping beauty mom. "I" woke up- meaning when I turned off the alarm at 7:45 I didn't hit snooze or reset it; instead, I assumed I could super humanly wake up from a deep slumber exactly 15 minutes later.
Yep, I stink.
In my own defense, I was up very late last night worrying about a myriad of things. I was fully committed to NOT waking up on time about 3 seconds after I got the call that my 7:30 am piano student was not coming. But I only intended "sleeping in" to mean 7:45, not almost 10! Holy frick woman, could you be any lazier! People ask me all the time how I handle ding am piano lessons every week day. It was hard at first, but then I realized that it was forcing me to wake up at a reasonable hour and if I had no reason to get up I'd sleep all day.
Okay, I realize that getting my kids up and off to school SHOULD be a good enough reason for getting up but I'd just justify it that they are learning to be independent and self-motivated. See how I can swing things my way so easily??? It's an art. I should teach lessons.
So that's why I am naughty today. Well, every day probably but especially and blatantly today. I did get Fox off to school so he can take his spelling test and pass 3rd grade. He was pretty excited to go so I think being at home is not as fun as it sounds when you're stuck in your desk doing fraction worksheets.
Tomorrow I'll be better, I promise.
I might actually proof read and edit before I post.
And I feel a strange camaraderie with Miss Turnblad as I have apparently been a very bad girl. So much so, that this morning I about gave The Husband a heart attack when I sent him an IM saying "I've been naughty".
Like all men, his mind went somewhere totally different than what I intended with that statement. I guess they can't help themselves.
What I was referring to was the fact that I woke up at exactly 9:54 am this morning to the sound of my sons playing Mario Brothers on the wii in the basement. There are so many wrong things in that sentence- did you pick them all out? 9:54- on a Friday. Sons (plural) play downstairs. Meaning the 9 year old is not at school. Basement- meaning they knew they were hiding the illicit school truancy from sleeping beauty mom. "I" woke up- meaning when I turned off the alarm at 7:45 I didn't hit snooze or reset it; instead, I assumed I could super humanly wake up from a deep slumber exactly 15 minutes later.
Yep, I stink.
In my own defense, I was up very late last night worrying about a myriad of things. I was fully committed to NOT waking up on time about 3 seconds after I got the call that my 7:30 am piano student was not coming. But I only intended "sleeping in" to mean 7:45, not almost 10! Holy frick woman, could you be any lazier! People ask me all the time how I handle ding am piano lessons every week day. It was hard at first, but then I realized that it was forcing me to wake up at a reasonable hour and if I had no reason to get up I'd sleep all day.
Okay, I realize that getting my kids up and off to school SHOULD be a good enough reason for getting up but I'd just justify it that they are learning to be independent and self-motivated. See how I can swing things my way so easily??? It's an art. I should teach lessons.
So that's why I am naughty today. Well, every day probably but especially and blatantly today. I did get Fox off to school so he can take his spelling test and pass 3rd grade. He was pretty excited to go so I think being at home is not as fun as it sounds when you're stuck in your desk doing fraction worksheets.
Tomorrow I'll be better, I promise.
I might actually proof read and edit before I post.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Have You Seen My Hair Lately????
Last night for Young Womens we gave the girls manicures.
Correction. The wonderful and gifted Miss Melinda gave the girls manicures and I clumsily followed along. Only Suzy, our sweet down syndrome friend, was subjected to my attempts.
She's a girl after my own heart. Bright pink, sparkly nails fit her to a T.
While I have never been what you'd call "high maintenance", my grooming disability of late has reached almost epic proportions. My hair was in a pony tail for so many days straight it almost didn't need a band to keep it in place. In fact, I think it grew 3 more inches with out my noticing at all.
Something clicked last week and I asked TQ to return all my hair apparati back to my bathroom. She begrudingly brought it back- her attitude no doubt influenced by a firm belief that I would never use said hair utensils, thus hoarding the expensive flat iron she had come to call her own.
Silly girl. Doesn't she know yet that everything that's her is hers, and everything that's mine is her's too? I thought all teenagers understood that rule. It's why she can borrow any pair of shoes of article of my clothing without asking, but I cannot look cross eyed at anything belonging to her.
No comments about how I can't fit in her size 3 pants or extra small shirts are necessary, thank you very much. I choose to believe she's just selfish. It hurts less than knowing I couldn't pull her pants above my calf.
But that's okay, because my hair grows at super human speeds. I do nothing with it. It doesn't get pampered with expensive products or regular trims. And yet, it grows like it's on anabolic steroids. If Brittney Spears had my hair she wouldn't have to buy so many ugly wigs to cover the painful grow out from "The Buzz".
But then again, she's probably a size 3 and can wear my 12 year old's pants.
You win.
Correction. The wonderful and gifted Miss Melinda gave the girls manicures and I clumsily followed along. Only Suzy, our sweet down syndrome friend, was subjected to my attempts.
She's a girl after my own heart. Bright pink, sparkly nails fit her to a T.
While I have never been what you'd call "high maintenance", my grooming disability of late has reached almost epic proportions. My hair was in a pony tail for so many days straight it almost didn't need a band to keep it in place. In fact, I think it grew 3 more inches with out my noticing at all.
Something clicked last week and I asked TQ to return all my hair apparati back to my bathroom. She begrudingly brought it back- her attitude no doubt influenced by a firm belief that I would never use said hair utensils, thus hoarding the expensive flat iron she had come to call her own.
Silly girl. Doesn't she know yet that everything that's her is hers, and everything that's mine is her's too? I thought all teenagers understood that rule. It's why she can borrow any pair of shoes of article of my clothing without asking, but I cannot look cross eyed at anything belonging to her.
No comments about how I can't fit in her size 3 pants or extra small shirts are necessary, thank you very much. I choose to believe she's just selfish. It hurts less than knowing I couldn't pull her pants above my calf.
But that's okay, because my hair grows at super human speeds. I do nothing with it. It doesn't get pampered with expensive products or regular trims. And yet, it grows like it's on anabolic steroids. If Brittney Spears had my hair she wouldn't have to buy so many ugly wigs to cover the painful grow out from "The Buzz".
But then again, she's probably a size 3 and can wear my 12 year old's pants.
You win.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
So, What I Said Earlier Still Stands, But........
The Husband brought me home Zupas and a dozen chocolate covered strawberries.
Giant strawberries.
I'm pretty sure God always intentede strawberries to be covered in chocolate, but made mankind work for their goodness. May I say a big thank you to the wonderful man or woman (probably french)that listened to the divine inspiration whispered in his or her ear one day when they were cutting up the fruit and asked, "how can I make this fruit better? I'm sick of jam. Shortcake is overrated. What would make strawberries better than they've ever been?".
And thus the chocolate covered strawberry was born.
Now, if only I knew who created the chocolate fountain all of life's mysteries would seem insignificant.
I bet he/she was french too.
Aux gens de la France : Mon nom est Loma et de la part des citoyens du monde je voudrais dire merci pour vos pâtisseries délicieuses et desserts. Mais pas pour votre vin, parce que je ne bois pas.
(A translation for you uneducated masses who do not speak or read perfect french. Of course I did not use a french to english web translator! I wouldn't even know how to google, I mean find, one. Sheesh! Some of us are just gifted linguists:
To the people of France: My name is Loma and on behalf of the citizens of the world I'd like to thank you for your delicious pastries and desserts. But not for your wine, because I don't drink.)
Giant strawberries.
I'm pretty sure God always intentede strawberries to be covered in chocolate, but made mankind work for their goodness. May I say a big thank you to the wonderful man or woman (probably french)that listened to the divine inspiration whispered in his or her ear one day when they were cutting up the fruit and asked, "how can I make this fruit better? I'm sick of jam. Shortcake is overrated. What would make strawberries better than they've ever been?".
And thus the chocolate covered strawberry was born.
Now, if only I knew who created the chocolate fountain all of life's mysteries would seem insignificant.
I bet he/she was french too.
Aux gens de la France : Mon nom est Loma et de la part des citoyens du monde je voudrais dire merci pour vos pâtisseries délicieuses et desserts. Mais pas pour votre vin, parce que je ne bois pas.
(A translation for you uneducated masses who do not speak or read perfect french. Of course I did not use a french to english web translator! I wouldn't even know how to google, I mean find, one. Sheesh! Some of us are just gifted linguists:
To the people of France: My name is Loma and on behalf of the citizens of the world I'd like to thank you for your delicious pastries and desserts. But not for your wine, because I don't drink.)
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Health Update, Because I'm Sure You've Been Worried....
Killer Migraine?
Still there.
But I made it through 1 1/2 hours of piano. I cancelled the last hour, which made me so sad. They are two of my best and most talented students. They come from a home of structure, discipline and commitment. Their parents don't throw away money just to say their kids take this lesson and that. Mom and dad actually expect them to practice.
This family is golden.
I actually have several golden families that I teach. I am so blessed.
The King took over my biggest stress of the night, finishing the flag stands for New Beginnings tomorrow. My poor attempt from earlier today just didn't cut the mustard- it wouldn't have held up Kate Moss let alone a poster board YW torch.
They are going to be fantastic.
Did you know spray paint just runs in 20 degrees? Something I learned tonight.
I'm sure I have forgotten a hundred things that I will hit me 10 minutes before NB starts tomorrow night, but I so don't care anymore. My eyes are going to pop out of my head because the blood flow into my brain is stuck right between my eye brows. Yep, right on the newly aquired furrow lines (thank you Man Child).
Earlier I wrote a totally snarky and bitter post that I immediately deleted after posting. I sure hope no one had a chance to read it in the 30 seconds it was online before I came to my senses and remembered my vow of just yesterday to be a better person. If you did, please just chalk it up to the ramblings of a severly mentally compromised person- I haven't been able to connect 2 cohesive thoughts together since the 'graine landed.
Holy frick! I've been typing away for 10 minutes and I can't remember a thing that I've said. I bet none of it makes any sense, but right now I'm not caring so much so I won't go back and edit.
I'm sure tomorrow I'll be very embarassed.
Still there.
But I made it through 1 1/2 hours of piano. I cancelled the last hour, which made me so sad. They are two of my best and most talented students. They come from a home of structure, discipline and commitment. Their parents don't throw away money just to say their kids take this lesson and that. Mom and dad actually expect them to practice.
This family is golden.
I actually have several golden families that I teach. I am so blessed.
The King took over my biggest stress of the night, finishing the flag stands for New Beginnings tomorrow. My poor attempt from earlier today just didn't cut the mustard- it wouldn't have held up Kate Moss let alone a poster board YW torch.
They are going to be fantastic.
Did you know spray paint just runs in 20 degrees? Something I learned tonight.
I'm sure I have forgotten a hundred things that I will hit me 10 minutes before NB starts tomorrow night, but I so don't care anymore. My eyes are going to pop out of my head because the blood flow into my brain is stuck right between my eye brows. Yep, right on the newly aquired furrow lines (thank you Man Child).
Earlier I wrote a totally snarky and bitter post that I immediately deleted after posting. I sure hope no one had a chance to read it in the 30 seconds it was online before I came to my senses and remembered my vow of just yesterday to be a better person. If you did, please just chalk it up to the ramblings of a severly mentally compromised person- I haven't been able to connect 2 cohesive thoughts together since the 'graine landed.
Holy frick! I've been typing away for 10 minutes and I can't remember a thing that I've said. I bet none of it makes any sense, but right now I'm not caring so much so I won't go back and edit.
I'm sure tomorrow I'll be very embarassed.
How's Your Afternoon Going?
An itchy little brain twitch that started in last night is working it way to a full blown migraine.
My head feels like it's going to fall out of my butt.
And my students just showed up 10 freaking minutes early!
Just thought you'd want to know.
My head feels like it's going to fall out of my butt.
And my students just showed up 10 freaking minutes early!
Just thought you'd want to know.
Monday, February 8, 2010
I Think My Floor Heater Is Haunted....
It's making noises.
Unintentional noises.
So my piano room has a ghost.
I sure hope it likes Jon Schmidt.
Unintentional noises.
So my piano room has a ghost.
I sure hope it likes Jon Schmidt.
Trying to Remember What I've Learned...
For the last two weeks the King and I have had the same conversation over and over. Then my mom and I had it, then dad, and finally my sister joined in as well.
I won't go into details, but I need to commit the resolutions I have come to from all these conversations to my online journal so that I will remember them in the future lest I forget what all the frustration and tears have taught me.
*People are wonderful. Most try to help each other and live according to high moral or ethical standards. They'll give all they have and then more to those who are in need (remember, Thailand, Katrina, and Haiti?) There will always be a few who are content to live in their own little bubble, and never think of anyone besides themselves, but they are few are far between.
*People are flawed, but that only makes them more interesting. How boring would this world be if we were all the same? I need to be more patient and understanding with people, and try to look at situations from their perspective no matter how different it may be from my own. I need to forgive easier and learn to forget the wrongs of the past. I have to stop judging others for what they are or are not doing and remember that we are all just trying our hardest to get through each day with the demands of being parent, daughter/son, provider, friend, serving in church, school and in the community.
*The Gospel of Jesus Christ is perfect. We are all trying our hardest to live it and serve Him by serving in it. It's not like a business- the people we serve aren't our "customers" or "clients"; too often it appears that way when the reality is that by serving each other we are serving Christ and building His kingdom on the earth.
*Satan is so cunning and wicked. He knows just how to play to our weaknesses and fears. I'm sure he's quite pleased with himself for the dark funk I've been in for the last few weeks. But he didn't take into account my good husband and children, or my supportive parents and siblings. I love these people more than words could possibly ever express. Satan cannot comprehend unconditional love, so he always discounts its power.
*I am so blessed to live in an age of technological wonders. My two newborn nephews who have been in the hospital the last 2 weeks would have succumbed to their illnesses should they have lived even 50 years ago. Instead, their tiny bodies were brought back to health through modern medicine. My uncle, aunt, and TK's 4 year old 2nd cousin are all fighting cancer in its various forms, and have not one treatment but many in their arsenal. My son's vision is slowly dieing every day but at the same time researchers are moving closer and closer to gene therapies that may restore some of his sight someday. Last week we visited a new pediatric Opthamologist, and for the first time since Fox's diagnosis I felt like we had a doctor on our team, one that would work and advocate for Fox. What an enormous blessing.
*I am a lot stronger than I ever thought I could be. Someday I hope to be as strong as my mom, who is the most wonderful woman on the face of the earth. I hope that someday I can have a testimony like my dad's, whose faith could move mountains. I hope I can develop as thick of skin as his as well. Dad rarely lets anyone get to him, and in return rarely judges others. He is an incredible example.
I won't go into details, but I need to commit the resolutions I have come to from all these conversations to my online journal so that I will remember them in the future lest I forget what all the frustration and tears have taught me.
*People are wonderful. Most try to help each other and live according to high moral or ethical standards. They'll give all they have and then more to those who are in need (remember, Thailand, Katrina, and Haiti?) There will always be a few who are content to live in their own little bubble, and never think of anyone besides themselves, but they are few are far between.
*People are flawed, but that only makes them more interesting. How boring would this world be if we were all the same? I need to be more patient and understanding with people, and try to look at situations from their perspective no matter how different it may be from my own. I need to forgive easier and learn to forget the wrongs of the past. I have to stop judging others for what they are or are not doing and remember that we are all just trying our hardest to get through each day with the demands of being parent, daughter/son, provider, friend, serving in church, school and in the community.
*The Gospel of Jesus Christ is perfect. We are all trying our hardest to live it and serve Him by serving in it. It's not like a business- the people we serve aren't our "customers" or "clients"; too often it appears that way when the reality is that by serving each other we are serving Christ and building His kingdom on the earth.
*Satan is so cunning and wicked. He knows just how to play to our weaknesses and fears. I'm sure he's quite pleased with himself for the dark funk I've been in for the last few weeks. But he didn't take into account my good husband and children, or my supportive parents and siblings. I love these people more than words could possibly ever express. Satan cannot comprehend unconditional love, so he always discounts its power.
*I am so blessed to live in an age of technological wonders. My two newborn nephews who have been in the hospital the last 2 weeks would have succumbed to their illnesses should they have lived even 50 years ago. Instead, their tiny bodies were brought back to health through modern medicine. My uncle, aunt, and TK's 4 year old 2nd cousin are all fighting cancer in its various forms, and have not one treatment but many in their arsenal. My son's vision is slowly dieing every day but at the same time researchers are moving closer and closer to gene therapies that may restore some of his sight someday. Last week we visited a new pediatric Opthamologist, and for the first time since Fox's diagnosis I felt like we had a doctor on our team, one that would work and advocate for Fox. What an enormous blessing.
*I am a lot stronger than I ever thought I could be. Someday I hope to be as strong as my mom, who is the most wonderful woman on the face of the earth. I hope that someday I can have a testimony like my dad's, whose faith could move mountains. I hope I can develop as thick of skin as his as well. Dad rarely lets anyone get to him, and in return rarely judges others. He is an incredible example.
Banned From Primary (Almost)
The Man Child is on week 5 of big kid Primary, and so far he's flunking.
Yesterday he was on his chair for 5 minutes before he began taking off his shoes and socks, then doing back flips off the chair.
I have no idea where he inherited the gymnastic abilities from.
His poor teachers have other rambunctious kids to deal with, but none can compare to my youngest spawn. Yesterday was so awful that I will now be spending each Sunday School hour sitting next him and threatening him with his life if he tries to move.
Sundays rock.
Yesterday he was on his chair for 5 minutes before he began taking off his shoes and socks, then doing back flips off the chair.
I have no idea where he inherited the gymnastic abilities from.
His poor teachers have other rambunctious kids to deal with, but none can compare to my youngest spawn. Yesterday was so awful that I will now be spending each Sunday School hour sitting next him and threatening him with his life if he tries to move.
Sundays rock.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Overheard At.......Uno Attack
Title: This One's For You Steph....
(From the Saturday night entertainment at la casa de Loma's parentals.)
*Why does she have blue boobs?
*When do you think that Testicle Festival will start?
*We had a rebirthing session one night...
*He's trying to punch wind!
*These marshmallows look like afterbirth.
*"I need some ribbon"
response:"You can use my chest hair! But only if you wash it first."
*When you lay it down don't let it stick.
*Between all of the ladies present there are only 5 ovaries!
*I wish my BFF was a monkey
*It's not nice to call your daughter a douche. I'll probably grow up to be an emo because of it.
*She's got a nice, firm hand but it only last a while.
Don't judge us too harshly- you should be so lucky to spend an evening gaming with mi familia. These are the single greatest people in the world.
Question......
Why hasn't my son figured out yet that bringing me a hand full of Legos and telling me "fix it" is about the same as handing me an atom and saying "make a tree"???
Overheard At.....Channel 11
Title: If You Tuned Into The Show At This Point You Might Wonder IF It Was Really Kid's Programming
"Milk Lucy from the side not the back, or she might kick you".
"Milk Lucy from the side not the back, or she might kick you".
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Overhead At...The Church Basketball Game
Title: Now I Can Kiss That Career In The NBA Goodbye
From a 6'5", 230lb neanderthal upon being called for a charge on a 5'5", 120lb defender:
"That's why they call this church ball. Cause the refs don't know what they're doing (stomp, stomp, lots of under the breath cursing)"
Kudos to the wonderful refs, one of which was The King, for holding their ground and not getting upset by the insults. Their only payment for coming out each Saturday morning for 5 hours to be abused by every out of shape, blow hard Kobe Bryant wannabe in our stake is blessings in heaven.
FYI- it was a very obvious charge. Idiot.
From a 6'5", 230lb neanderthal upon being called for a charge on a 5'5", 120lb defender:
"That's why they call this church ball. Cause the refs don't know what they're doing (stomp, stomp, lots of under the breath cursing)"
Kudos to the wonderful refs, one of which was The King, for holding their ground and not getting upset by the insults. Their only payment for coming out each Saturday morning for 5 hours to be abused by every out of shape, blow hard Kobe Bryant wannabe in our stake is blessings in heaven.
FYI- it was a very obvious charge. Idiot.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Overheard At....Red Lobster
Title: No One Will Ever Love You As Much As I Do...
From an enormous man at the table south of ours, to his high school daughter sitting across from him:
"I love you but if anyone ever touches you I will kill them. I am not kidding. My life has gone downhill enough already".
From an enormous man at the table south of ours, to his high school daughter sitting across from him:
"I love you but if anyone ever touches you I will kill them. I am not kidding. My life has gone downhill enough already".
Just Wondering.....
*Why hasn't anyone ever called animal control on Curious George and Clifford the Big Red Dog?
*How do Emily Elizabeth's parents afford to feed a dog the size of a dinosaur?
*Is that the reason she's an only child?
*Why did they name her Emily Elizabeth? Did they watch Saved by the Bell and think "hey, that Tiffany Amber Thiessen's parents had a brillant solution to that quandry that's been plaguing us for 9 months now- how do we possibly pick between two cliche and overused names?". Let us not forget that it's entirely plausible they were inspired by Buffy the Vampire Slayer's Sarah Michelle Gellar. ( I bet both of their hits in Google search just went up 200% from those 2 sentences. You're welcome ladies. I'm always here to support the actresses of my youth who are now obsolete.)
*If The Man in the Yellow Hat's outfit translate to the real world? Would we see him on peopleofwalmart.com in black thigh high boots, yellow John Stockton shorts with a crystal belt buckle and a yellow off-the-shoulder tube top? Would the yellow hat now sport feathers and a tiger print rim?
*How has The Man in the Yellow Hat avoided multiple law suits for destruction of private property? I bet his neighbors have a petition circulating to get him and that stinky monkey evicted.
*Why do people act like the can understand and interpret George's monkey noises as language?
*If Curious George were to borrow Steve's "monkey translator" (from Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs), what would his first words be? Maybe "You bunch of stupid upright opposable thumbed freaks. How did you pass us up in the evolutionary chain?"
*Would Curious George then become a moderator for Fox News Channel?
*How do Emily Elizabeth's parents afford to feed a dog the size of a dinosaur?
*Is that the reason she's an only child?
*Why did they name her Emily Elizabeth? Did they watch Saved by the Bell and think "hey, that Tiffany Amber Thiessen's parents had a brillant solution to that quandry that's been plaguing us for 9 months now- how do we possibly pick between two cliche and overused names?". Let us not forget that it's entirely plausible they were inspired by Buffy the Vampire Slayer's Sarah Michelle Gellar. ( I bet both of their hits in Google search just went up 200% from those 2 sentences. You're welcome ladies. I'm always here to support the actresses of my youth who are now obsolete.)
*If The Man in the Yellow Hat's outfit translate to the real world? Would we see him on peopleofwalmart.com in black thigh high boots, yellow John Stockton shorts with a crystal belt buckle and a yellow off-the-shoulder tube top? Would the yellow hat now sport feathers and a tiger print rim?
*How has The Man in the Yellow Hat avoided multiple law suits for destruction of private property? I bet his neighbors have a petition circulating to get him and that stinky monkey evicted.
*Why do people act like the can understand and interpret George's monkey noises as language?
*If Curious George were to borrow Steve's "monkey translator" (from Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs), what would his first words be? Maybe "You bunch of stupid upright opposable thumbed freaks. How did you pass us up in the evolutionary chain?"
*Would Curious George then become a moderator for Fox News Channel?
Overheard At Walmart........
Title: Christmas in the Trailer Park
From a 4th or 5th grade boy to his mom to his mom, while looking for a Christmas gift:
"I want to get him a pumpkin pie and beer"
From a 4th or 5th grade boy to his mom to his mom, while looking for a Christmas gift:
"I want to get him a pumpkin pie and beer"
Thursday, January 28, 2010
You Can Kiss My Hieny January.......
I've decided that I'm going to quit apologising because all my posts of the new year have been so negative.
Does anyone really feel good in January??
Here in Utah it's cold, the sun rarely peeks through the inversion and they dark days are way too long. I have to force myself to leavet the house when the refrigerator is bare except for suspiciously smelling leftovers and cheese. On Sunday we were out of eggs and The King was almost ready to break the Sabbath because he wanted cookies so badly that he was teetering on the brink of madness.
I'm sure that when February finally arrives next week I will be transformed into a happy, content and motivated person again, but for now I'm just going to sulk for 3 more days. At least I know that misery loves compay- almost everyone I know says the January blahs have about done them in as well.
At least the snow is finally melted off the grass in my front yard. The foot that won't leave in the backyard is a constant irritation though.
Stupid January. You suck.
(PS. Thank you, Peopleofwalmart.com, for making me laugh really, really hard for the first time in probably a week. You should be required reading for the winter depressed).
Does anyone really feel good in January??
Here in Utah it's cold, the sun rarely peeks through the inversion and they dark days are way too long. I have to force myself to leavet the house when the refrigerator is bare except for suspiciously smelling leftovers and cheese. On Sunday we were out of eggs and The King was almost ready to break the Sabbath because he wanted cookies so badly that he was teetering on the brink of madness.
I'm sure that when February finally arrives next week I will be transformed into a happy, content and motivated person again, but for now I'm just going to sulk for 3 more days. At least I know that misery loves compay- almost everyone I know says the January blahs have about done them in as well.
At least the snow is finally melted off the grass in my front yard. The foot that won't leave in the backyard is a constant irritation though.
Stupid January. You suck.
(PS. Thank you, Peopleofwalmart.com, for making me laugh really, really hard for the first time in probably a week. You should be required reading for the winter depressed).
Monday, January 25, 2010
Also......
Did I mention insomnia blows??? It's 2:24 in the freaking morning.
Why can't my brain stop thinking and thinking......
Blasted thoughts. And stress. And problems. And life.
Why can't my brain stop thinking and thinking......
Blasted thoughts. And stress. And problems. And life.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
It's My Blog and I'll Whine If I Want To..
I have lots of feelings that I just need to get off my chest, so to save my poor husband from the pain of a good venting session I'm going to do it here.
Boy I'm whiny lately!
This week has blown. Not only has it blown, it's sucked too. Sucked huge boulders.
The King had an awful week at work. On a good day his job is manageably stressful but when it comes to a new code roll out week it's just an agonizing, eating your fingernails to stubs, buying stock in the Tums corp. kind of stress. On top of that, the code for another extremely important product got all fubbed up after it was "supposedly" cleaned up this summer so that amounted to 2 days of nightmare fixes that wouldn't work and a last minute hail mary that finally saved the day. The King deserved every minute of rest he's gotten this weekend, not that it was much, and needs about 3 more days of sleep to get his mojo back.
Man Child is sick again. Oh joy.
My uncle has now been fighting his cancer for almost a year. He's responding well to his new chemo regiment- the 6 tumors in his lung have not grown- but the side effects are kicking his butt. This week the family found out that my aunt has cancer as well. My heart breaks for her and her family. She is one of the strongest and most determined women I have ever had the blessing of knowing, so I know she's going to be a fighter.
I've had to ground TQ from almost every electronic device in her arsenal. She is not happy with me. Add to the grounding that she has a horrible tooth ache and the earliest I could get her in to the denist is this Wednesday and you have all the ingredients for a perfectly miserable teen.
My newest nephew got admitted to PCMC last night with RSV. He is so tiny, and his poor little body was having to work so hard to breathe. The prognosis is good, but he'll have to be in the hospital for a few days. My poor brother and his wife have 4 other sick kids at home, one of which is Man Child's BFF Oakie-Dokie who has pneumonia. Please say a prayer for this little family tat everyone will get better soon.
Now for me. I am stressed out and frazzled by life this week. The constant snow/cold/inversion invading our fine state has not helped. The recital hall that I have used for years is massively overbooked so I had to push my recital to June. One of my students broke my piano pedal. Sometime during the Christmas holiday MC was playing downstairs with Fox and got into my stuido, found my EXTREMELY EXPENSIVE, EXTREMELY UNIQUE flute and decided to assemble it-causing untold amounts of damage- then throw it back into the drawer where I just found it on Monday. I want a time out from life, but running away never helps anything. Sometimes being an adult really stinks.
Stinks like BYU.
See, my sense of humor is coming back. Venting really did help.
Boy I'm whiny lately!
This week has blown. Not only has it blown, it's sucked too. Sucked huge boulders.
The King had an awful week at work. On a good day his job is manageably stressful but when it comes to a new code roll out week it's just an agonizing, eating your fingernails to stubs, buying stock in the Tums corp. kind of stress. On top of that, the code for another extremely important product got all fubbed up after it was "supposedly" cleaned up this summer so that amounted to 2 days of nightmare fixes that wouldn't work and a last minute hail mary that finally saved the day. The King deserved every minute of rest he's gotten this weekend, not that it was much, and needs about 3 more days of sleep to get his mojo back.
Man Child is sick again. Oh joy.
My uncle has now been fighting his cancer for almost a year. He's responding well to his new chemo regiment- the 6 tumors in his lung have not grown- but the side effects are kicking his butt. This week the family found out that my aunt has cancer as well. My heart breaks for her and her family. She is one of the strongest and most determined women I have ever had the blessing of knowing, so I know she's going to be a fighter.
I've had to ground TQ from almost every electronic device in her arsenal. She is not happy with me. Add to the grounding that she has a horrible tooth ache and the earliest I could get her in to the denist is this Wednesday and you have all the ingredients for a perfectly miserable teen.
My newest nephew got admitted to PCMC last night with RSV. He is so tiny, and his poor little body was having to work so hard to breathe. The prognosis is good, but he'll have to be in the hospital for a few days. My poor brother and his wife have 4 other sick kids at home, one of which is Man Child's BFF Oakie-Dokie who has pneumonia. Please say a prayer for this little family tat everyone will get better soon.
Now for me. I am stressed out and frazzled by life this week. The constant snow/cold/inversion invading our fine state has not helped. The recital hall that I have used for years is massively overbooked so I had to push my recital to June. One of my students broke my piano pedal. Sometime during the Christmas holiday MC was playing downstairs with Fox and got into my stuido, found my EXTREMELY EXPENSIVE, EXTREMELY UNIQUE flute and decided to assemble it-causing untold amounts of damage- then throw it back into the drawer where I just found it on Monday. I want a time out from life, but running away never helps anything. Sometimes being an adult really stinks.
Stinks like BYU.
See, my sense of humor is coming back. Venting really did help.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Just A Little Bit More Venting Before I Turn In....
It's been a long day.
*Fox has started texting and calling his grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, casual acquaintances, etc..... in an effort to stave off going to sleep. Unfortunately he's enlisted the help of his three year old brother, undoubtedly because he thinks the "cute toddler voice" will help keep the recipients of these nightly undercover activities from alerting his parents from their occurrence.
Grandma Wheezer narced him out today. She insisted that the 10:30 pm calls were "so fun and sweet", but I know that by that time of night my parentals have shut down the house down like Fort Knox, climbed into bed and cozied into the 85 pounds of quilts and flannel sheets, donned their matching Darth Vader breathing masks and are well on their way to Lala land.
So if you get a call from Fox after 9 at night, please don't answer it. Cute as he may be, you'd only be perpetuating the cycle of late nights, early morning alarms that are ignored, refusals to wake up, oneryness and petulance while dressing, and almost being late for school. If you want a good chuckle though, call his cell while he's in school and listen to his voice mail. CUTEST MESSAGE EVER - seriously, I made him promise to keep it forever so that I can always remember his sweet, tender 9 year old voice.
*Ten months ago The King decided to conquer the weight that he'd gradually accumulated over the last 18 years since he graduated from high school. Today he weighed in at his lowest weight, exactly 70 pounds lighter than when he began the journey. I am so proud of him, but I think he's gone about as low as he can without looking manorexic. The man has the best metabolism- he can down three McD's cones in a day and still lose weight.
Jerk
But I love him anyways.
*TQ- see previous post. It will introduce you to the loveliness and ray of sunshine that is a 7th grade female.
And to top it all off, I would be errant if I forgot my Stellar Parenting Moment of the day:
Kill me, just kill me now: Man Child was HEINOUS at TQ's basketball game this evening. They had to stop the game in the 4th quarter when he ran onto the court. In all fairness, he did just want to play, and the firetruck we tried to distract him with was pretty lame, but it was one of those "who's out of control child is that?" moments where you just want to duck your head, throw the kid under you arm and slither away in disgrace.
So that was my day. How was yours????
Semi-retraction: I'm sure that by tomorrow morning I will feel very badly about the negative and sarcastic tone of the last two posts, and really regret blogging in the heat of the moment when my reactions and emotions are completely irrational due the estrogen bubbling into every pore of my body, but for tonight I'm just going to enjoy the peace of mind that comes from a good verbal vomiting session.
*Fox has started texting and calling his grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, casual acquaintances, etc..... in an effort to stave off going to sleep. Unfortunately he's enlisted the help of his three year old brother, undoubtedly because he thinks the "cute toddler voice" will help keep the recipients of these nightly undercover activities from alerting his parents from their occurrence.
Grandma Wheezer narced him out today. She insisted that the 10:30 pm calls were "so fun and sweet", but I know that by that time of night my parentals have shut down the house down like Fort Knox, climbed into bed and cozied into the 85 pounds of quilts and flannel sheets, donned their matching Darth Vader breathing masks and are well on their way to Lala land.
So if you get a call from Fox after 9 at night, please don't answer it. Cute as he may be, you'd only be perpetuating the cycle of late nights, early morning alarms that are ignored, refusals to wake up, oneryness and petulance while dressing, and almost being late for school. If you want a good chuckle though, call his cell while he's in school and listen to his voice mail. CUTEST MESSAGE EVER - seriously, I made him promise to keep it forever so that I can always remember his sweet, tender 9 year old voice.
*Ten months ago The King decided to conquer the weight that he'd gradually accumulated over the last 18 years since he graduated from high school. Today he weighed in at his lowest weight, exactly 70 pounds lighter than when he began the journey. I am so proud of him, but I think he's gone about as low as he can without looking manorexic. The man has the best metabolism- he can down three McD's cones in a day and still lose weight.
Jerk
But I love him anyways.
*TQ- see previous post. It will introduce you to the loveliness and ray of sunshine that is a 7th grade female.
And to top it all off, I would be errant if I forgot my Stellar Parenting Moment of the day:
Kill me, just kill me now: Man Child was HEINOUS at TQ's basketball game this evening. They had to stop the game in the 4th quarter when he ran onto the court. In all fairness, he did just want to play, and the firetruck we tried to distract him with was pretty lame, but it was one of those "who's out of control child is that?" moments where you just want to duck your head, throw the kid under you arm and slither away in disgrace.
So that was my day. How was yours????
Semi-retraction: I'm sure that by tomorrow morning I will feel very badly about the negative and sarcastic tone of the last two posts, and really regret blogging in the heat of the moment when my reactions and emotions are completely irrational due the estrogen bubbling into every pore of my body, but for tonight I'm just going to enjoy the peace of mind that comes from a good verbal vomiting session.
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