The Three Little Pigs

I hate to refer to them as the Three Little Pigs, but they've certainly earned the title. I thought I'd give an update on all the children as I still have NO LIFE of my own.

Braveheart is killing me. Along with her new McDonald's career, she is convinced that she is going to be a rockstar. She spent the night with my sister and her hubby. I think they created a monster. You see, they also thought they would be part of the rockstar scene and they actually got pretty close. They interviewed with the manager for Nine Inch Nails and had the same agent as Jewel for a while. But, like most VH1 Where Are They Now? episodes, the band had a falling out and split up. Oh, what could have been is now turning into fuel for the fire in Braveheart's rockstar dream. She was sent home with Billboard magazines, Rolling Stone and a few books on the business side of music. Seriously, she probably will be famous someday because when this kid puts her mind to something there is no stopping her. It's extremely aggravating.

Prince Lawn Gnome and I are spending time on very, very thin ice lately. He is 15 and thinks he's 20. He also thinks that I am a complete idiot and that I am trying to control his life. I feel the need to remind him that if it weren't for me he wouldn't even have a life and if his tone doesn't change then I will certainly do the honor of extinquishing it for him. Oh, how I long for a son that speaks to me as if I am an actual person and not just an ATM. Intellectually, I know this is a phase that we must get through, but honestly, it is wearing me down. When will he be motivated to do something besides eat, play Halo and eat some more? I keep waiting for him to turn the corner and come out with some maturity under his belt, yep, I keep waiting and waiting... And, just what is with him only wearing shorts in the winter? Is there some body temperature thing I don't know about that goes along with puberty? Somebody clue me in here, please.

Songbird had volleyball tryouts today and was encouraged as she "almost made the competitive team." I find that hard to believe as she is as uncoordinated as they come, but maybe she is coming into her own. Now, she is completely obsessed with which team she'll be on because of who else might be on that team. She's all about the social aspect. And, once she knows which team, she'll be all about the glamorizing up of the uniform. I overheard talk of a Bedazzler.

She also tried out for choir. I hate to sound like one of THOSE mothers, but she'll be a shoe in. The kid was born to sing. But part of being in choir means that she will be in 7th grade next year. 7th grade? 7th grade is still part of me, I remember it vividly, 7th grade helped warp (I mean shape) me into who I am today. How is my baby old enough to be going into 7th grade? It's unreal. You know what comes along with 7th grade? Make-up, boys, the shaving of legs, usually a first heart break and so much else that I'm sick just thinking of it. Oh, Lord help me!

Oprah was Right and Shock and Awe

I cannot tell you how many Oprah shows I've seen over the years and after awhile she started getting on this kick of your home being your sanctuary... blah...blah..blah... And, I'd think, well sure, if I had as much money as Oprah and no kids in the house then maybe I'd even consider trying to have a sanctuary, a place to call my own. At the time, I would have just been happy to pee without interruption. Well, it is with an ample amount of humility that I admit that Oprah was right. How do I know? Let me sing it from the mountain tops that the bathroom remodel is done!!!!! Yeah, that's right, you heard me and guess what? It's beautiful! My hubby did a fabulous job! Kuddos to the hubby! He has just deposited a hundred million brownie points in the bank.

Of course, I had to match the paint color in the bedroom and guess what? It turned out fabulous too. It reminds me of the movie Under a Tuscan Sun. Yes, Oprah was right, EVERYONE should have a sanctuary away from children, telephone calls and the demands of life. I may never come out. And, if I catch any children using my new towels it is off with their heads!

Speaking of towels... when my darling hubby called to tell me that the remodel was officially done, he mentioned that he folded the new towels in such a way as to fit perfectly in the shelves that he custom built. I could barely hear the rest of the conversation over the *ding* ding* ding* in my brain. It kept saying, what? He knows how to fold towels? I've known this man for eighteen years and I've witnessed him folding a towel maybe twice. I couldn't help but mention this little fact to him, no matter how much I tried to keep it in. I can only compare it to something akin to Shock and Awe. To which he replies, "Oh, sure, my first job was in domestics. I've just been playing dumb."

Lucky for him, he had so many brownie points in the bank as I am taking 1,000 brownie points away for every year of "playing dumb." But, even this revealing confession cannot take away my glee. The bathroom is done! The bathroom is done! And, I loovvveee it, yes, I loovveeee it.

Oh, Spring Where Art Thou?

Spring, why oh why do you play with my emotions? You flirt with me throughout the winter months. Beckoning to me with your alluring sunshine. You call to me on not so gentle breezes to come out and play. But, where oh where have you gone? Why do you hide yourself from me and let Winter take center stage once again? You know that you are my true love. No snowflake, ice crystal or slushy street can compare to your beauty. Spring, oh spring, I am willing to forgo any relationship I have with ol' man Winter for the rest of my days if you will only come back.

I looked and looked and found signs of you everywhere. The tulips, irises, and peonies bursting forth from the cold hard ground gave me hope and brought a smile to my face. How cruel it is for you to beckon them forth only to forsake them to the dreaded snowdrift. Won't you come and save them from sudden death? It is only by chance that my schedule would not bend to your warm advances and have saved me and the garden from the agony of early defeat. You are sly my true love. Why do you toy with me?

Oh my darling Spring do not envy my ability to maneuver slick and slush filled streets that no snow plow has dared to touch. Do not cherish my glow in the dark white, dry and flaking skin. Spring oh spring, the turtleneck is not all it's cracked up to be. I can hear your laughter at my feeble attempts to start a warm and crackling fire. It should come as no surprise to you that I can never remember which pull opens the flu.

It is with long suffering that I endure your mockery. How can I turn from my love for you? It is ingrained within my being and I am unable to control it. I long to feel the warmth of your kiss on my cheek instead of the sting of a winter slap. Spring oh spring, why are you so cruel?

I'm Sore!

I'm sooo sore. I should know better, but once again, my all or nothing personality got the best of me. I have had IT with this crazy bathroom remodel. It is the project that never ends. I need to have my life back. I need my little spot for my toothbrush and hairdryer away from children. It's almost done, but almost isn't done... and when oh when will it just be done already?

This really does have to do with me being sore. You see, the paint color in the bathroom was going to clash terribly with the bedroom decor. It's been six years, so I decided to match it up. And, well, yesterday I decided it was the day to get it done. I took down wallpaper, Spackled and painted all in one day. I don't do ladders so I climbed up and down off and on a chair a million times over. I stretched, I bent down, I kneeled on hardwood floors all in a manic episode of nesting. I thought my darling hubby was going to kill me when I announced that he would not be able to sleep in his own bed as I was finishing up NO MATTER WHAT.

I awoke early and knocked out the rest... hanging curtains, making up the bed with all new bedding, rearranging the furniture. It looks great! I finished just minutes before I had to be at work. And now, boy can I feel it. Everywhere.

But, did I mention that I'm done?

Do you want fries with that?

Braveheart is ecstatic! She is ready to conquer the fast food world. This week she was offered her first real job at McDonald's. It is adorable how excited she is about minimum wage, just wait till she learns who FICA is. Funny how you never really want your child to grow up and say, "do you want fries with that?" And, yet, for a first stepping stone, it is entirely appropriate. Do you remember when you thought McDonald's was the best restaurant ever? Well, this child not only grew up with that mentality, but she is also a product of the Playland generation. Which mostly meant that we always ended up fighting some unknown virus 7-10 days later, but when you're desperate for grown-up conversation a McDonald's Playland will always offer up another mom in the same boat.

I want her to learn so many lessons from this experience: the value of GOOD customer service, how to stand up for herself and not be taken advantage of, how to SAVE a buck or two, how to organize yourself so that work doesn't become your entire life, how to balance school and work, how to stand on your own two feet and NOT fall for the completely sexy, wild and possible drug addict that works with you.

I suppose she would object if I tried to go to work with her. No doubt, she would be made fun of if her mom stepped in when customers were rude to her. I'm sure she would be completely annoyed with me if I tried to work out the best possible schedule ever with her manager. Maybe I can sneak in a good comment card on her behalf from time to time.

She is growing up and I am sipping the mixed cocktail of anxiety and pride served best, of course, with a side of piping hot fries.

Emotional Curveball

I am a creature of habit. I shop at the same grocery stores. I buy the same items. I buy my gas at one particular gas station, at one particular pump. I ALWAYS have two cups of coffee with just the right amount of creamer before I face my day. I park in the same place at work consistently. It's not that I cannot bend or be flexible, its just, well, that I work best with structure or deadlines. If I have all day to get stuff done, then it generally takes all day. If I have thirty minutes, well then, it's amazing how much can get done.

These past two weeks have had anything but structure. Of course, there is the ongoing bathroom saga (remodel), ungrateful company, quick trip to Iowa to visit relatives, messed up work schedule due to vacation, and then the phone call. You know the kind. The phone call that comes as a surprise and takes your breath away. My stepdad, had suffered a heart attack.

Now, I can say that he is doing well. He actually feels better now (according to him). But, I don't. I am overcome with emotion. Besides my darling hubby, he is the one man I care about most on this Earth. This is the man that is not my biological father, the man that I was down right mean and rude to, the man that didn't have to try, the man that hung in there no matter how ugly, the man that has loved my mother through thick and thin, the man that has embraced me as his daughter. He suffered the heart attack and I suffered the attack of heartache.

I know this situation is not new to so many. I know that I am getting to that age when such events will be more common place... but may I just say THIS SUCKS!

Now, I'm just hanging on... I feel emotionally and physically drained. The "To Do" list is taking up too much brain space. I feel disconnected and out of sinc. My routine is out of whack. Which makes me wonder "how old am I really?" Emotional curveballs are not my style.

Back in the Land of the Bloggers...

I'm back, back in the Land of the Bloggers. I missed you guys. I really did. I don't think I realized how cathartic it is to vent regularly! And, boy, did I need to vent. Truly, I have no one to blame but myself. The company that decided to come at the worst-time-ever tried my ever last nerve. Then they did a Conga on that ever last nerve. Needless to say, I have sworn up and down that from now on I am NOT going to beat around the bush when I would prefer that company NOT come.



Every morning before I even put my size 9 feet on the floor, I would pray for the strength and patience to make this a pleasant visit. I cooked, I cleaned, I cooked, I cleaned some more, I spent time visiting, I rose early and went to bed late, and in the end my company seemed completely ungrateful and downright rude! And, the whole time I'm screaming to myself "JUST LEAVE ALREADY!"


I blame my upbringing. I was always taught to be polite under all circumstances. My mother taught me to clean the entire house and basically turn ourselves inside out for company. There were company dishes, company towels, and for goodness sake I even have a recipe called, "Company Potatoes!" She couldn't help it, her mother taught her. Guess what? Here I am perpetuating the INSANITY. Why do we do this to ourselves? I'll tell you why, because most of us don't live in a state of perfection. Most of us have children that leave clothes, dishes, toys and such lying around. Most of us have husbands that also leave stuff lying around, and let's be honest, most of us leave a few things lying around too. None of us want to be judged for it! None of us want to be criticized for not being PERFECT.

Here's the thing. I have spent a lot of time being supportive to this particular friend, tons of phone conversations listening to the latest drama and believe me there is always drama. I have agonized for her and with her. I have gone so far as to consider actual murder, of very deserving individual, on her behalf (unfortunately God commanded against it) and all I would like in return is a little GRACE. Is it to much to ask to let me parent my own children? You may disagree with it, but please, keep it to yourself. Don't just assume that I have nothing better to do than entertain you endlessly and therefore extend your visit without asking first or bring additional people with you! Please, I would never do this to anyone!

I know, I know, I should have just spoken up. I should have just told her the truth. What do I expect? You are my witnesses, NEVER AGAIN. I am going to be true to myself and my family. We are NOT going to go through this three ring circus of phoniness again. Life is too short! True friendships are mutually edifying. I hate to say it, but the older I get, the fewer tried and true friendships I seem to have. Is anyone else experiencing this or is it just me?

Longing for the Ocean...

Just looking at the picture I choose to post of the ocean makes me miss it. I miss looking out onto the water. I love the water. I thank God for water. It soothes me.

I need to be soothed. My nerves feel raw and exposed (stress). I need solitude and maybe a good nap. I think that this concept is one that I find hardest to explain to those around me. I NEED alone time. It's not that I don't love or like you. No, I'm not mad at you. Yes, I am ignoring your phone calls, but don't take it personally. I just need time. I need personal space without someone needing or wanting anything from me. I need to unwind the whirlwind in my brain. Life is always so busy that I can't hear my own thoughts.

This week I'm taking a blogging vacation, and hopefully, will enjoy some peace and quiet. Yes, mom, now I know what all the hub-bub was over "peace and quiet."

In the meantime, if you check in and I haven't posted... just take a minute to enjoy the ocean view (pic) and take a deep breath. I'll be back... I promise.

Running Around Like a Chicken

I always think of my Granny, who is Hungarian, and has a great knack for translating slang into her own personal language. "Running around like a chicken with his head cut off" is simply to her "Running around like a chicken." This phrase sums up the total of my life right now. I can live in this spiralling vortex and actually pull it off for a while. I can put up a pretty good fight. I've had years and years of experience. But, what I've mainly learned from all that experience is that it can only last so long. The human body can only give so much. The human brain is capable of snapping under too much (laundry) pressure. Ask my children, they can literally describe what a conniption fit looks like.

It is so much more desirable to stop and smell the roses. And, maybe if I weren't the one that has to plant the roses, water the roses after thawing out the hoses that were left out all winter, threaten Prince Lawn Gnome with his life if the weed eater gets too close to the roses, mourn for the roses when he does weedwack them to death because he can't be bothered to take an appropriate amount of time around them when there is playtime to be had, collect the remaining roses and arrange them in a beautiful vase that I will proudly display on a table after I clean that off... well, then maybe I could just enjoy a stroll through the yard and enjoy smelling the roses.

So, truly, the spiralling vortex principle applies to EVERY area of my life right now. Even a simple task is not so simple. Add the bathroom remodel, that is taking forever, into the mix and the house is less than desirable. Of course, this is the time that an old friend would decide to stop in for a few days. Doesn't the threat of no running water at any given time mean anything to anyone anymore? I thought that was a rather pointed clue, that no, this isn't a good time for us, apparently not pointed enough. Guilt from not promptly returning her phone calls of late kept me from just outright saying "Are you kidding me? Absolutely not." Instead, I heard myself say, "Oh, great. I'm so looking forward to having some time to visit, just us." Hope she doesn't mind spending hours in the garden reclaiming it for spring or actually tiling the bathroom floor. Both items are on the agenda and CANNOT be put off further. Just add it to the vortex!

Oh, yes, and the daily vortex is still churning around work, homeschool, bible study, youth group an upcoming vacation weekend, and yes, another set of relatives coming to visit. Yes, that will about take care of March.

Cream O' Wheat for the Ages

There is a distinct advantage to raising independent children. Especially when it comes to being able to throw together a sandwich or a grilled cheese for oneself. Prince Lawn Gnome can make a mean fried egg. True, there was more than one casualty when he was learning to flip them in the pan. Thankfully, you can count on the dogs to be nearby to lick up the spillage.

Lately, Songbird has been trying her hand in the kitchen. Her latest, Cream O' Wheat. Which explains why we went through a gallon of milk in the blink of an eye this week. I don't know about you but I love Cream O' Wheat. It's a down-home kinda food. Low cost, good for you and reminds you of the kind grandma used to make. It also has some miraculous qualities. My favorite is its bonding capabilities. Move over SuperGlue 'cause you don't have nothing on the Wheat. This is an attribute that Songbird learned firsthand after over boiling it onto the glass-top stove. I didn't make the discovery until well after the cooling process and the adhering had officially taken place, as I had worked the night shift (occupational hazard).

I'm quite certain that in a pinch I could mortar a house with the stuff. It's just a rumor, but I heard it was used to build the Great Wall of China and the Pyramids.