Mee My Mo: My life as I know it, breathe it, live it and love it!
Friday, June 27, 2008
The Ped Egg and Other Ramblings
So this story begins in the middle; the middle of my journey to realizing why I have a hang up about pedicures. For Mother's Day this year I asked for a Ped Egg from my children. I am a mother of four children and rarely do I have the time or the energy to spend on myself. I am a no nonsense type of girl anyway so actually spending time to care for my feet is a luxury. (Side note here: I have really dried out feet, cracked so bad that when I went to Mexico I came back with blood poisoning....now back to the story). Although I don't usually allow myself such privileges I was ashamed of my ugly feet when I was at my Bible study and the women got off on the topic of sandals...which led into feet...which led into the Ped Egg. However from all this talk I held on to one comment, it was; "It's almost sandal wearing time and all women should have tidy feet." I nonchalantly looked down at my gnarled mess of feet and saw first of all I was already wearing sandals (another one of the things I rarely do is pay attention to fashion season. For goodness sake, that is too much work!) My toenails weren't painted, or even trimmed nicely, my feet were dried and my heels were all of a sudden tattling my secret of unlady like proportion. I knew it deep in my heart...my feet were not tidy. I curled my toes in as if nobody would notice them that way. This wasn't working, so I pulled my feet in under my chair. When I got home I clearly stated my want of the miraculous Ped Egg. This was it; this would dissolve my shame!
Fast forward to a few weeks ago. My mother invited all of her girls over to give us pedicures. She scrubbed, exfoliated, massaged and painted 8 feet and 40 toes! She could have taken the easy way out and afforded herself the treat to get her feet done and just pay for all of us to go, but no. She instead served with great humbleness. It was a blessing. The reason behind this is she knows I don't care for pedicures at salons. They tickle me and I feel like an unclassed hillbilly as I can't stop pulling my feet away while laughing. Not only that but my feet are so uncared for I feel like they are judging me. Plus, the one and only time I went the asian woman attending to my woeful mess asked if she could do my eyebrows as well. I hesitantly said, "Um...what will they look like?" Her painfully honest, or maybe just plain rude response was, "betta than they look wight now!" I said no, in rebellious protest to the insult. Whether the insult by them or the insult of my feet to them, I have never returned.
Now let's go back to why this pedicure issue has been a haunting one. I finally realized I am damaged goods when it comes to pedicures, and here is why: Picture it… Portland, Oregon, circa 1990. I was just a young, carefree girl living the La vida loco in Portland. It was my first experience with big city and well, the city just called my name...so much so I rarely attended high school. To the advice of my mother I had better get some extra credits before I failed. I was then enrolled in an extracurricular project that would give me high school credits: working at a salon for free. This wasn't bad, I actually enjoyed it. I learned how to give facial, manicures, pedicures, and put perm rollers in. Most of the clients that came in were elderly and I had a great time chatting it up with them. I felt I was actually going to acting school as I would prepare myself to get in to character as a beautician, as I really didn't have the greatest skill. I talked the talk and knew just enough to fool the client. All was going well, until that fateful day. I was told by my manager that I had a client for a pedicure. I quickly greeted her and sat her down and introduced myself. I began to take off her shoes and there before me were the yellowist, thickest toenails I had ever seen. I continued and placed her feet in the warm water. I let them soak for a bit longer than usual as I tried to get the courage up to massage them. I took one out and began massaging as I made small talk with her. She was loving the massage and I could tell by her worn feet she must work hard. I was right, she was a hard worker...she was a school lunch lady. Somehow, knowing that made matters worse as the stigmatic visions of a lunch lady danced in my head; hairy mole, dirty teeth, mean, old woman. I was having an internal conflict: If I breathe through my nose I smell her crusty feet. If I breathe through my mouth I will inhale her skin. I keep going between the two. It was now time to cut, no chop in this case, her toenails. I am making some progress but come to the big toe. I am struggling with my eyes squinched and my mouth open as I am truly working hard. Then it happens, the layered toe nail was so soaked it began crumbling and as I cut it shot up and like a projectile a piece of the crumbling rocket flew into the back of my throat!!! I dropped her foot and stuck out my tongue as I gagged and I felt it drop down my throat. I swallowed her toenail. I will say it again, I swallowed the lunch lady's toenail!! I jumped to my feet and ran to the bathroom. I abandoned all client etiquette. I looked desperately for someone, anyone to give me direction. What is the protocol of swallowing a toenail?! This was never mentioned in my mandatory classes. I frantically ran to tell my coworkers. They just laughed.
I would like to put this all behind me now but I have to realize that my experience has shaped me into what I am today. I am a woman that suffers with pedicure phobia
Fast forward to a few weeks ago. My mother invited all of her girls over to give us pedicures. She scrubbed, exfoliated, massaged and painted 8 feet and 40 toes! She could have taken the easy way out and afforded herself the treat to get her feet done and just pay for all of us to go, but no. She instead served with great humbleness. It was a blessing. The reason behind this is she knows I don't care for pedicures at salons. They tickle me and I feel like an unclassed hillbilly as I can't stop pulling my feet away while laughing. Not only that but my feet are so uncared for I feel like they are judging me. Plus, the one and only time I went the asian woman attending to my woeful mess asked if she could do my eyebrows as well. I hesitantly said, "Um...what will they look like?" Her painfully honest, or maybe just plain rude response was, "betta than they look wight now!" I said no, in rebellious protest to the insult. Whether the insult by them or the insult of my feet to them, I have never returned.
Now let's go back to why this pedicure issue has been a haunting one. I finally realized I am damaged goods when it comes to pedicures, and here is why: Picture it… Portland, Oregon, circa 1990. I was just a young, carefree girl living the La vida loco in Portland. It was my first experience with big city and well, the city just called my name...so much so I rarely attended high school. To the advice of my mother I had better get some extra credits before I failed. I was then enrolled in an extracurricular project that would give me high school credits: working at a salon for free. This wasn't bad, I actually enjoyed it. I learned how to give facial, manicures, pedicures, and put perm rollers in. Most of the clients that came in were elderly and I had a great time chatting it up with them. I felt I was actually going to acting school as I would prepare myself to get in to character as a beautician, as I really didn't have the greatest skill. I talked the talk and knew just enough to fool the client. All was going well, until that fateful day. I was told by my manager that I had a client for a pedicure. I quickly greeted her and sat her down and introduced myself. I began to take off her shoes and there before me were the yellowist, thickest toenails I had ever seen. I continued and placed her feet in the warm water. I let them soak for a bit longer than usual as I tried to get the courage up to massage them. I took one out and began massaging as I made small talk with her. She was loving the massage and I could tell by her worn feet she must work hard. I was right, she was a hard worker...she was a school lunch lady. Somehow, knowing that made matters worse as the stigmatic visions of a lunch lady danced in my head; hairy mole, dirty teeth, mean, old woman. I was having an internal conflict: If I breathe through my nose I smell her crusty feet. If I breathe through my mouth I will inhale her skin. I keep going between the two. It was now time to cut, no chop in this case, her toenails. I am making some progress but come to the big toe. I am struggling with my eyes squinched and my mouth open as I am truly working hard. Then it happens, the layered toe nail was so soaked it began crumbling and as I cut it shot up and like a projectile a piece of the crumbling rocket flew into the back of my throat!!! I dropped her foot and stuck out my tongue as I gagged and I felt it drop down my throat. I swallowed her toenail. I will say it again, I swallowed the lunch lady's toenail!! I jumped to my feet and ran to the bathroom. I abandoned all client etiquette. I looked desperately for someone, anyone to give me direction. What is the protocol of swallowing a toenail?! This was never mentioned in my mandatory classes. I frantically ran to tell my coworkers. They just laughed.
I would like to put this all behind me now but I have to realize that my experience has shaped me into what I am today. I am a woman that suffers with pedicure phobia
Thursday, June 26, 2008
A Wealth of Knowledge
Wiley is my little wealth of knowldege who is always curious about more information. He simply loves information, mostly on the Civil War, but really on anything.Questions/comments he has asked me this week alone.
1. "What is the significance of the hourglass on pirate flags?"
2. "George Washington Carver used peanuts to make soap, cheese, coffee, ink, milk, and oh uh, shampoo!"
3. "Did you know that gagging is good? Yeah it removes all the mucous."
4. "It takes 80 bags of manuer to produce one bag of potatoes."
5. "In ancient egyptian times, they were comfotable painting naked ladies."
6. "Seventy-five percent of the dust under your bed is actually dried skin."
7. "If God came to you in a dream and told you to move to Antarctica, would you move?"
8. (to Bobby) "Did you know the only civilian killed in the Gettysburg battles was a woman in her house baking bread, that was shot by a confederate bullet that went through her wall, her name was Jenny Wade?"
9. "Mom wisdom is given to you by God and knowledge is just human studies and stuff like that."
10. "Do you know that the man that broke the record for knowing languages knew 27 languages, I don't know his name though.....maybe we could look that up!"
These are things he made me research with him this week:
1. The Lost City of Atlantis (was in fact theorized to be built on a volcano)
2. Is there life on other planets? (He concluded no)
3. The significance of the hourglass on pirate flags. (ask him, and he will tell you all about it)
Most of the time Wiley is talking. He talks about things that sometimes my mind can't keep up with everything he is saying. I told him the other day (just to see what his reaction would be) that he'd be going to public school. He cried. I told him I was joking. So what does my son want to be? His first thought was that he just wanted to inherit money. I was upset and asked him why. He apparently didn't know someone had to die for you to get the inheritance. So he has changed from wanting to be a historian to now an archeologist. His back up plan is to play in the NFL, even though he says thats "ridiculous", so "if that doesn't work than I can join the army and make a few bucks....and I found out they give you money for school!"
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Scarletism for the day
After writing about her I decided that I too often forget some of the things she says so I will blog them.
Dhyan (to me): Man, I am really starting to get silver hair!! Did you ever think I would have silver hair so young?!
Scarlet (to us all): (grossed out) Ooo, I will run away!
Me (to Scarlet): (confused) Why?!
Scarlet: (to me) I won't live with a man that has silver hair.
Scarlet the Enigma
Enigma (noun) One that is puzzling, ambiguous or inexplicable. This is Scarlet. Scarlet is one of the most interesting people I know and she is merely 9 years old. If I could describe her in 3 words I would say: Strong willed, repentive and unique. I could write of this one for hours, no days, but since this is a simple blog I will sum up. She was the the youngest of the 3 children for 9 years, until little Miss Annabee came less than 3 months ago. She is only 18 months younger than her brother and 5 and a half years younger than her older sister, but she never let his or her sister's age outshine her, she just does everything big.
Scarlet has always dealt with a bit of the OC (obesessive compulsive) behavior. She has for 9 years 3 months and 3 days always had something new she decided to be obseessed about. It may be big or it could be something small that would go unnoticed for weeks. Then she has some behaviors that are just there and don't go away, such as germ phobias, mouth noises and control issues. At present she needs you to look at her when she talks (even if she is the one interrupting conversation) and then if you don't she will repeat the same sentence over and over and over until you do look at her with all your attention. Even if you say, "Scarlet, I heard you say that three times already!" She just repeats her self seemlessly as to not disrupt her own talking pattern. Here are some of the things she has done:
At 3 years old she was very much into eating parmessan sprinkle cheese and one day I came home to a horrible cheesy, smelly house. I followed the scent to the livingroom, then up the stairs and finally to Scarlet's room. I twist the handle ready to barge in and see where this smell is coming from, but the handle doesn't turn and instead I ram my shoulder into a door I thought was going to open. Having locked doors is a big no no in our house so I bang on the door..."Scarlet!!!" Then I hear a very sweet and angelic voice almost sing out, "Is that my cute little mommy?" Why yes it is. She opens the door and there lay before me a floor covered in parmessan cheese. Why? Well because she likes it. When I sat her down to get eye level with her and tell her to look at me, she turned her head and would not. When I turned her head to me to make her look at me she crunched her eyes closed. It's all on her terms. Little did I know when she was 3 how much so it would be that way.
Scarlet has always had OC issues with her clothing. From the time I can remember she can't handle tight necked shirts, panties that "squeeze her butt", pants that "squeeze her butt", shirts that "squeeze her stomache", socks or shoes that "make her hot"or really any clothing that was her actual and correct size. She for years would pull the panties up her crack and this was the only way she'd wear them, because for some reason this doesn't "squeeze her". She won't get her ears pierced because she would obsess about them. She went through a stage where she was convinced her lips were chapped so she'd peel them till they bled...daily. When we dealt with this behavior she started to pick her gums till they bled. Thank God we are done with that stage. If you have been around her for any amount of time there are trademark things you will notice about her.
1. She always has short, scraggly hair. This is because she will not let me brush it, so I threaten to cut it....she has never had long hair.
2. Her panties, which are always 2 sizes too big for her, are always spilling out the top of her pants that are also 2 sizes too big for her.
3. She is usually barefoot and has dirty feet.
4. She is either smiling really big or giving a very dirty look to someone. (no in between)
5. She is always humming or singing under her breath....songs of worship.
6. Although she has drawers and a closet full of clothes she will wear the same outfit for a month straight if I let her. Once she finds something comfortable she sticks to it.
Scarlet went through a stage where she overly obsessed about germs. It was to the point that for Wiley to enter her room he would have to first wash his hands, this began to not be enough, so then he'd have to have a full shower and then pass her "inspection". Then she began posting signs. One on the door read, "NO SMOKING". Nobody smokes in our family but neverthless it was necessary for her to draw a handmade sign with the little cigarette with a circle and slash through it. I didn't think too much of it until I was going through the house to check the bathrooms. I came to her vanity area and there it was, a very well thought out sign. It read, "Employees must wash hands before returning to work. " Then you pan down a bit further and it read, "They must also wash their hands before they start work." This is a classic scarletism, she needs obvious things to be stated. Every time we deal with an issue another one usually pops up. The other day in the car she was fussing about something, I can't remember what anymore. She said, "well it's because I am aggresive compulsive." Hmmm. Obviously she took some of the conversations we have with her and explanations and made her own category. Aggresive Compulsive.
Now you may think, why not just discipline her. I do, but I choose my battles with her and see the beauty in her strong will. I will, like a good student of Dr. Dobson, strive to "break her will without breaking her spirit." Scarlet is a leader and is an amazing person. She is the best little mommy I have ever seen. She loves the Lord with all her heart and has a very sensitive spirit. Her heart of quick repentance is a saving grace for her (ironically her middle name is Grace). One day Dhyan found a note at the bottom of the stairs. It was written in older handwriting and said, "Dad I am sorry I mimicked you today." Well Dhyan called up the stairs to Van because he thought maybe she had caught Scarlet mimicking him and was going to take matters in her own hands and make her write this apology letter. He asked and her response was that Scarlet came in and asked her to write the note from her. Dhyan calls Scarlet down and asks her, because he didn't know he was being mimicked. She shamefully squeezed out, "When you told me to go to my room yesterday I mimicked you." Then she burst into tears. The conviction was from the Holy Spirit, as nobody saw her do this. Scarlet also will leave notes all around the house for me, typed out, handwritten ones, ones with doodles, and some with stickers and they all go on about what a wonderful mother I am and her gratefulness for that. I love this girl, as perplexing as she is, she is even greater in character.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Who am I Kidding?!
Ok , you will not be seeing any photos in this post. The reason is that I am too vain, or maybe I just don't want to embarrass myself. I have a habit of never being satisified with my body and always looking to change it, I have stars in my eyes. In all out fashion I take these "before" pics of myself, knowing I will never look like that again and I will have a record of what I used to look like and feel so proud that I was able to conform myself. I am all about marked progress so I humiliate myself and have my poor hubby or my laughing sis take pics. I will get in the worst sunlight I can find, wear a bikini and take pics of my front, back and each side. I cannot tell you how many times I have done this for the last 13 years. The most recent was just a few weeks ago. I looked at these pics this morning and I look worse today!!!! What the heck happened?! I was exercising and now I am heavier. I have concluded that this is a bad idea, the only way these pics make me feel any better is that maybe in 10 more years I will look at them and say, "Man, I was hot, what was I complaining about?!" I say this because I recently came across just this situation. A "before" pic of me in a bikini outside, once again with Chrissy taking a pic of me. This "before" pic is something I would love to have as my "after" pic now. I need a reality hit and for someone to tell me to just not to that again. I took some "before" pics of myself a little over a year ago and had an extremely embarrassing event take place. You would have thought I would learn my lesson but no, I just keep torturing myself. I was on the computer looking at my "before" pics and was having problems with my computer, so Dhyan is at work and he has the ability to log into my computer and be able to view what I am viewing sitting in his office! He is trying to walk me through some thing and I am getting bored so I start pulling up my before pics. A coworker walks in and Dhyan now has his back to the computer screen and is talking to this guy (I didn't know). So the guy is starting to look uncomfortable and Dhyan turns around to see his wife on the big screen in bikini with everything hanging out! He quickly shuts it down and calls me and lets me know what I was doing. I was mortified! I literally was so embarrassed I didn't know what to do with myself, I just started running around the house in circles screaming as if I could escape. These pics were so raw; cellulite, stretch marks, not bikini ready if you know what I mean. My slideshow of horror was played to this guy (whom we have eaten lunch with and he knows me). But even still this wasn't enough for me to stop doing this. Maybe I am not aging as "graceful" as I can, as I seem to be making more of a spectacle of myself!!
Isn't it Ironic?
Last night little Miss Annabee has an explosion of sorts in her diaper as most infants do from time to time. I quickly grab some wipes that are sitting on the couch and have a naked little chubby butt waiting for a diaper. Hmm, none in the tote of baby stuff intended for such items. None on the couch, as rarley do said items make it to the the tote where they belong. I know, the diaper bag of course! (which is actually not a diaper bag, but a school bag). With one hand in the diaper bag scrounging around for a diaper and the other hand holding little Miss Piggy by her ankles, I cannot find a diaper. I finally have to resort to yelling for help for one of the older children to go upstairs where the mother load of diapers are! (Rabbit trail: I have diapers everyehwere, I was blessed with literally over 30 packs of diapers: they are under the bed, under the crib, stacked in the corner, stacked in the closet) After I take care of this whole poopy mess I take my diaper bag and empty it. Is there a secret compartment that these diapers are disappearing?! My diaper bag is so heavy, surely I must have dipaers in here that I overlooked! No. Here are the contents of my diaper bag:wallet
Desitin
cell phone
lipstick
receipts
Hotel check out
California Baby cream
baby headband
my headband
baby outfit
baby rattle
empty thing of wipes
lotion
3 McDonalds free icecream cards
sunscreen
2 lollipops
1 peppermint candy
1 pack of trident
4 packs of honey
ziploc baggy of change
extra pacifier
nail clippers
half eaten bag of trail mix
stray M&Ms
offering envelope
camera
No diapers and no wipes.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
WOW!!
I just got back from Prescott today and took this pic when we were out to lunch and it begs the question.......Why?! Why does this woman have such large hair? I am not making fun, I am really curious. She was so full of confidence in her black velour pants and the largest hair in the west. She didn't seem to mind that every person she came in contact with all had the same look on their face and then they would realize that they were staring so they would look anywhere other than her hair. It wasn't just large, it swallowed her whole body, she was only about 4 ft 11" and the hair itself probably had a circumference of 3 1/2 feet! I wanted to ask her why, I wanted to talk with her and get a peek into her life, such confidence and zest...interesting.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Why I Love Kim
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There are several reasons I love each of my sisters uniquely but one of the reasons I love my sister Kim is because she doesn't follow rules of "how to's" in life. She homeschools, used cloth diapers, is a vegatarian, has adopted a child from Ethiopia, has started a non profit organization that promotes adoption, and the list continues. But watching her kids can be the most fun and most transparent look into who Kim is. Here is just a glimpse. Some of us sisters and sister-in-laws met at the park for a picnic lunch. The rest of us have our strollers, our hats our packed lunches. My lunch has organized compartments for paper plates, napkins, and ice packs to keep things cooled. Each child has a beverage, a sandwich, chips and a dessert. I bring extra food for snacks for everyone (I like order). We are already eating: enter Kim and her kids. They run into the ramada area from 3 different directions somehow all commencing in one spot at the table. There was plenty of room for them to all be spread out but they all stuck together like glue. They wait for their lunch and Kim comes with a handful of lunch literally in her hands. All frazzled looking she is holding a large cup of water that is spilling, a whole cantaloupe, a large ziploc bag full of I don't know what, and some sandwiches. She plops it all down on the table and I examine the contents closer, as I provide her some paper plates. The large ziploc bag is full of sliced bell peppers and the hugest portabella mushrooms I have ever seen. The cantloupe is unopened and there is nothing to open it with, and the kids are all sharing the "big glass of water". I laughed inside thinking what in the world kind of crazy lunch is this?! But to my surprise and enjoyment I watched as her kids shared with eachother, and each chimed at their mom, "can I have some nature's candy?" They were referring to the mushrooms and peppers. No junk food, no special drinks, no organization and order of each child knowing what belonged to them. It was refreshing to watch these children eat their food happily accepting what was handed to them, all sitting and eating in unity while sharing their lunch with one another. Kim can have one of the craziest lives I know of, but she chooses to live outside the box and make the extra efforts, giving up comforts to make and teach these oh so unique kids. Sunday, June 8, 2008
Bug's Life
To explain the above picture I need to give you a little history. Wiley is afraid of wasps... and bees, well actually he's afraid of all bugs.....including flies. (apparently not maggots though). He was born in Seattle and there aren't many flies there, we didn't see a lot of ants, crickets, black widows, scorpions and the such. So to see one scared him a bit. But the real problem didn't begin till we went to Disneyland for his 4th birthday. We had tickets to see the Bug's Life 3-D interactive show. Well when the "bees" sting you in the back he freaked, as well when the "bugs" scurried under our bottoms he freaked. This was a nightmare for him. We didn't know how much so until he started to run and scream when a fly would come around him. He will run into a a street full of moving vehicles to get away from the mad beast!! Well he grew up and we went to Disneyland again and tried to do this show again, you know to let him see how unfounded his fear was, and we'd all have a good laugh after we watch the show. So we got their early got great seats, right in the front and it began. Long story short he ran out screaming and Dhyan had to go wait with him outside till we were done. Fast forward to today. He is still afraid of things that fly. We were at grandmas yesterday and the plan was to swim and have lunch and relax. He and Scarlet got their swimsuits on and headed out to the pool only to have them both (led by Wiley screaming in a voice I didn't know he could still make) running back into the house, into the den and locking the door. There was a wasp outside. We kept trying to convince him the wasp wasn't gonna bother him..blah blah blah...but no budge. So finally my sister Chrissy tells him (but is joking), that if you just snap your fingers the wasps won't bother you. I follow it up and say "yeah yeah I heard about this, the snapping sound sends a vibration to its....", Chrissy ends by saying "his thorax, yeah it bothers them too bad." Not thinking much of it we see the kids run outside with hands flailing above them wildly snapping their fingers until the can jump into the pool. I was laughing so hard and was going to tell them, but then decided if I let them believe that...at least for a little while they will not be so afraid and can enjoy their day. They swam and I would check and they'd be snapping their fingers every once and while and then continue playing. I had almost forgot completely what we had told them until they were dried off and dressed back inside and ready for lunch. The wasp had gotten in the house and was on the ceiling. This is a picture of Wiley snapping to protect himself from this wasp. I asked him later if the snapping worked, "yep, not one wasp stung me." I will tell him later...maybe.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
SAHM
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I love that as a society in whole we have finally accepted that being a SAHM (stay at home mom), really is finally worth a title. I can put "SAHM" on an application, or on paperwork that asks what you do for a living. People recognize the acronym and use it often in writing, etc. This title encompasses many professions: I am a homeschooling mom, I am an arbitrator/mediator, judge, jury, cook, housecleaner, doctor, nurse, teacher, vetrinarian, police officer, financial advisor, mechanic, psychologist, errand runner, photographer, pastor, taxi driver, coach, cheerleader, and the list goes on. What I wasn't aware of when I decided to be a SAHM, was that my children really beleive that is what I need to DO as well as be: Stay at home. I don't usually take "me" days but sometimes I find it relaxing and needed to just get away from everyone and take some time to shop by myself (even if it is for groceries). But a phenomenon occurs when I disappear for more than 30 minutes. Here is how it goes:
I take a day with my sister and mom to go to target and lunch. I take my youngest child since she is breastfeeding. I am enjoying myself but am aware of the time. About 45 minutes goes by and I get the first phone call. It's Van, she wants to know what I am doing. "Just shopping", I say. Long silence and then finally an "OK, well when do you think you'll be home?"
"Oh I don't know maybe an hour or so." Alright now they know I don't plan on being gone forever. About 10 more minutes go by. Ring ring. It's Scarlet this time asking in her high pitch voice when I will be home. I tell her the same thing but she then proceeds with a comment that I have been gone forever. I let her know I will be home soon enough, find something to do. Well another 10 minutes go by and I get a text...not from my children but from my husband. "We are really hungry" it reads. I respond, "well then make some lunch". No reposnse, then 5 minutes later another text. "Can you call Dominos and order some pizza for us?" Is he crazy I wonder. He must be kidding. So I write, "Are you kidding around? I am in the middle of changing a poopy diaper and trying to get Annabella calm so I can get her pictures taken." His response, "yeah I am kidding, I will call myself". (I don't think he was kidding). Ring Ring, its Wiley now. "Mom, can I play video games upstairs?" Stumped, I reply (wondering if Dhyan left to get the pizza and thats why he is calling me), "Is your dad home?" Wiley says "yes but he is playing video games with Uncle Dave downstairs"......................SIGH................."Um, you'll need to ask your dad." Then he wonders when I will be home. I finish up my "me" time and head home with a crying baby. They hear the garage door open and I am "FINALLY" home!! All of about 3 hours went by but I got several comments of how long I was gone for, tattles of who did what while I was away and how they were so hungry. Being a SAHM isn't just what I am it is what I am expected to do (by my kids). Oh but I love being missed and so important in their eyes!!
Taking Matters Into Your Own Hands (or finger)
Well, there wouldn't be a term "sibling rivalry" if it didn't exist. So with that being said I will reflect on event that took two days to unfold.
Day 1: Wiley comes down the stairs demanding with a shocked but still slightly amused smile and tone, "Mom you HAVE to get Scarlet in trouble!! Can I tell her you want her?" This phrase comes out of either Van's or Wiley's mouth daily so several thoughts rush through my head: she's stolen Van's phone again and pretended to be Van while texting Van's friends, hmmm maybe, or maybe she has put a hot bagel bite on Wiley's nose while he was napping, or it could be that she poured hot water all over his bed and put his hands in it. It could be that but maybe it is that she is demanding he take a shower before he steps into her room so his germs won't get in her room. Maybe she read Van's diary again. Who really knows, so I stop trying to guess the million things she may have done and just ask, "Why?" Well this was a new one...apparently she told Wiley she had a maggot on her finger but its dead, so she said, "see touch it to see if it's real." He did. It was a bugar. Well I just giggled and stared at him. He was appalled. He asked in a high pitch voice, "Well aren't you gonna get her in trouble." I say with mother wisdom, "I don't think so Wiley, why would you touch her bugar?" Well the obvious response was, "because she said it was a maggot!!" Well of course. I just shook my head while coyishly smiling and said, "I don't think so Wiley, not this time, you know sometimes these things happen to us." He seemed to accept this answer for some reason and so it was over....or so I thought. I didn't know he was secretly planning to get back at her.
Day 2: Now Scarlet comes down stairs and very matter of factly lets me know Wiley IS in trouble (she didn't ask like Wiley did, she just let me know). Why I wonder, and she walks out of the room letting me know Wiley put a bugar on her. Meanwhile she is already letting Wiley know that "I" want him (Oh thank you Scarlet). So Wiley comes in and says, "What do you want, Mom?" (as if he doesn't have a clue). "Did you put a bugar on your sister?" "Yes because she made me touch her bugar yesterday." "No Wiley she tricked you into touching her bugar, you actually took the choice out of her hand by putting the bugar on her, she didn't do that to you." "Well she would have anyway, and I didn't know it was a bugar...I thought it was a maggot!!" "Well why in the world would you touch a dead maggot?!" "Well I have touched a maggot before..." At this point my head begins to spin as I realize and actually hear the conversation I am having. "Ok! Just don't put bugars on people and when your sister tells you she has something on her finger to touch....don't touch it! Scarlet don't trick your brother!" Case closed!
Friday, June 6, 2008
Something is amiss here!
Ok, I thought I would be a money saving mom. There are days that we have several different leftovers left in the fridge, either from home made or restaurant. Sometimes I declare an "every man for yourself" lunch and everyone knows they can finish off the leftovers in the fridge. Van had a piece of pizza, Wiley is eating chicken wings and Scarlet made soup. I reheated my chipotle steak burrito bowl. All was going good, I was feeling proud of myself for cleaning out the fridge and saving our food resources for another meal. Then it happened, I took a bite and got a funny feeling piece of meat. It had already been chewed on!! I asked all the kids and they said no they didn't do it but I have a sneaky suspician that Van is the culprit. Here are my clues; she asked if she could reheat it for herself, and she was seen putting her fingers in it by a very nosy source (Scarlet). Either way I didn't finish my thrifty lunch choice.
When the Cat's away the Mice will Play
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So my dear hubby made it to Tepic, but not without some anxiety. He texted me from the airplane before he took off to let me know "the dude next to him smells like Quiznos...specifically a classic Italiano sub". He would know, that is one of his favorite sandwiches, but I guess not when it can breath on you in confined quarters. I do have to say he did a very methodical job of packing and I was impressed that his bag that couldn't weigh anymore than 50lbs. was 48.5lbs.
We took a free day and ate out and went shoppping and ate Baskin Robbins, then we ended our night by getting some pizza and wings, renting movies and eating Reeses Peanut Butter cups.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Starting to blog
As computer illiterate as I am I have decided to begin blogging, I always seem to have so much to say so why the heck not write it and say it to everybody!!!
Tonight my husband is getting ready for his mission trip to Tepic. I have left him the hefty job to pack for himself...I usually do these things but decided I may forget something important so I am gonna let him have a go at it. I am watching him as he is scrounging around for clothes he can't seem to find. He has made about 8 circles from the bedroom to the closet to the laundry room and back again.....I hear him mumble to himself, "oh, I didn't know I had all these colors....(deep in thought)....these reds will turn my whites pink." So at that thought he decided to go to the store, and so the procrastination continues.
Tonight my husband is getting ready for his mission trip to Tepic. I have left him the hefty job to pack for himself...I usually do these things but decided I may forget something important so I am gonna let him have a go at it. I am watching him as he is scrounging around for clothes he can't seem to find. He has made about 8 circles from the bedroom to the closet to the laundry room and back again.....I hear him mumble to himself, "oh, I didn't know I had all these colors....(deep in thought)....these reds will turn my whites pink." So at that thought he decided to go to the store, and so the procrastination continues.
