First Day Of School 2012

That is so messed up right? Who in their right minds would start school on August 7th? Oh, that's right! We live in California and 80% of the folks here are left minded!

Having got that off my chest, my three biggish kiddos did start school last week, much to Carson's dismay. To the boys, this "first day of school" business is old news. Just give them a few bucks for lunch, pound a fist in the van and let them be thank you very much. I did make them wear new, CLEAN shirts (much to Carson's dismay) and insisted on taking the mandatory picture in front of the house. I got my camera out, flicked my finger to hit the "on" switch and realized it WAS on. On and dead. I cursed myself under my breath (no back up battery either...rookie mistake) and pulled out the ol' iPhone, thus the iffy pictures.


~Preston-5th Grade-Mrs. Serian~


~Carson-3rd Grade-Mrs. Labron-Frazier~

Enough about the boys, let's talk about ABBY! She's a kindergartner!


~Abigail-Kindergarten-Mrs. Simonian and Mrs. Taylor~

I love, love, love me a kinder! And I love knowing and loving the kinder teacher! Mrs. Simonian was Carson's teacher last year and she was ah-mah-zing! She has always taught kinder, with the exception of last year (count my many blessing's name them one by one). We were overjoyed when we read Abby's name on her class list. She job shares with Mrs. Taylor (they've been job sharing for 17 years) and they couldn't be cuter or more enthusiastic about their job. Love that!


~Mrs. Taylor and Mrs. Simonian, so cute!~

~The Kissing Hand~

Abby was all too willing to shimmy into her new yellow skinny jeans (much more fashion sense than her brothers). She was a tad nervous, as expected, but was surprisingly stoic. Even when the little girl in the back of the room broke into hysteric sobs, Abby kept right on listening to Mrs. Taylor read "The Kissing Hand". She had a great first day and even napped a little that afternoon!

~Yogurtlicious after school!~

~My tired kinder with William doing his best to wake Abby up!~

Will and I bonded over Target slushies and Diet Coke. I was really looking forward to some one on one time with him. Instead, I'll be teaching preschool with Miss Heather at the Learning Tree Preschool! Yay! It's a great opportunity and I get to bring my little buddy with me. It was a last minute call from the bench and I'm happy to step in and take over for Miss Tami (who is moving to Utah, boo). Before then I think we need one more family vacation. We're taking off Thursday for camping in Cedar City. I can't wait! Neither can Carson. 7 days of school can really take it out of a guy!

Ontario Stake Youth Trek 2012

Last spring, Trevor and I were asked to be a Pa and Ma on our stake's youth trek. We said yes, because we say yes to everything (who wants to look bad in front of a member of the high council), especially callings, but we were more than a touch apprehensive about actually going. Trevor, because he hates taking time off work and me, because I would have to sleep outside, no tent, no shelter, with wild animals (insert rattlesnakes, bears, mountain lions, spiders, mice...) running amok all around me. *Shudder*

I wish I would've been more excited to go. I'm not kidding when I say that this was one of the greatest experiences of my life. Seriously. Even if one of those wild animals/insects (I'm still telling myself it was a spider not a mouse) woke me up the second night by crawling on my hand. Trev and I had 9 kids to look after and I know it sound cheesy but I'm so homesick for them right now. They were all so different and all so very awesome. Let's start the travel log shall we?

Wednesday night: Meet your family night/Make Family Banner/Drop off personal bucket. The list was posted on a random room in the Stake Center. I knew 2 of my kids and knew OF 3 more. The other 4 were complete strangers. When one of our daughters came to the door, looked through the list and promptly told her friends who in our family she didn't like, we started to get nervous. Everyone was really quiet, with the exception of muah. Typical of me to get louder as the situation gets more uncomfortable. On a side note, my heart was aching because I had just dropped off my 4 real children and it was William's birthday AND we hadn't even had an opportunity (or didn't make an opportunity) to sing to him. My baby was 3 and I was with a bunch of teenagers that didn't particularly like each other or us for that matter.


~Trevor, Devon, Kim, & Alina~

Thursday dawned bright and early. We had stayed up too late (NOT because we had procrastinated packing all the equipment our family would be needing and therefore having to make late-night runs to Home Depot and Target for supplies) and still being riddled with apprehension, I think I got 2 hours of sleep. We met at the Stake Center and all caravaned up the mountain to Riley Farms. I did make Trevor drive through Jack-in-the-box for one last Diet Coke. That was probably 90% of my apprehension, being cut off caffeine for 2 days.


~Trevor, Daniel, Me, Kim, and Alina in the back. Josh, Steven and Paula up front.~


~Trev, me, Daniel, Kim and Alina.~


~Ana, Steven and Paula in front. Devon, Alina, Me, Trev, Brooke pushing and Josh in back.~

We started the trek with a vignette of "Joseph Smith" (aka Matt Tesimale) being "tarred and feathered" (with chocolate syrup and marshmallows) by a "mob" (all the Pa's, including Trevor). I'll not lie, it started out more comical than dramatic, but we all did our best to imagine what it must have felt like. Then we started to walk. And walk. And walk. And walk. It was by far the longest walking day and most of it was done in silence. Awkward silence. If it wasn't for my Ana, we might have fallen apart then. But she would occasionally crack a joke about Kim having a model body or about reaching ZI-ON where there was root beer. She managed to get most of us giggling and smiling. Five minutes into the walking, the sole on Josh's boot started to desert the rest of it. By the way, duct tape fixes everything.


~Paula, Steven and Ana. Devon, Brooke, Kim and Daniel in back.~

There were other vignette's along the way and we heard real stories about real pioneers and real trials. We each had been given the name of a pioneer in the Martin or Willie handcart company that we would be representing, so to speak. My lady was awesome. Amy Loader. Mother of 8 girls. Six on the trek. She lost her husband and a granddaughter on the trek to Utah. One day, all her daughters had collapsed and refused to get up. She knew if she didn't get them moving again, they would die where they lied. She pulled her weary self to her feet and started to sway back and forth. Then started to twirl until she was full on dancing. She got her daughters smiling but they still wouldn't get up. Just then, she slipped and fell on some ice. All six daughters rushed to her aid. With a grin she told them she had fallen on purpose, knowing that they would all scramble up to help her. Clever mama.

Trevor's guy might have a cooler story than mine. Jens Peterson was crossing the plains when a member of his company sat down on a rock and out of sheer exhaustion, refused to go any further. Many people stopped to talk to this man, including Jens's father. But he refused to budge. Jens asked permission to talk to him. Everyone told him it was pointless but he wanted to anyway. He tried to reason with the man, tried to persuade him to no avail. Finally, he said, "Well, I'm not going to go without giving you a good whipping". He hit the man across the face and sprinted away to catch up with the rest of the handcart company. The man was so indignant that he ran after Jens. He never caught up to him on the trail, but later found him in Salt Lake City and thanked him for giving him the whipping that saved his life. Awesome right?


~Steven, Josh and Trevor resting after day 1.~

We walked for 7 miles that first day. we started warming up to each other and were fairly friendly by the time we reached camp. Dinner was stew in the dutch oven and then a sing-a-long. Lights out at 10 (and I couldn't sleep by Trevor, he had to be on the "boy side" of camp). I woke up to this view between the buckets (I took this picture with my banned iPhone).



A rooster woke me up at 3am and I swore I would have him for lunch, but other than that, the night passed by without event.

Friday


~Trev and I loading up Friday morning.~

We had yummy (read: bland) oatmeal for breakfast and we were off. The kids really started to talk more and joke more and stick together more. We crossed rivers with rafts (super fun for all) and the boys got to carry the girls across the "lakes" (fun for the girls...and the boys felt super tough). This part of the trek was a little more...hilly. It was harder but shorter. We stopped midday to sharpen our pioneer skills (sawing logs, shooting rifles, making rope, ropin' cattle, bow-hunting, etc.).


~Kim and Devon steading the handcart.~


~Josh carrying Devon across the water. He was always touched by the Valley Boy stories and this moved him a lot. Then his real mom mentioned it in her letter to him. The kids' parents were so inspired when writing those letters!~


~Part of the fam chillin'.~


~Devon, Kim, Brooke, me, Josh, Trevor, Steven and Paula sawing logs.~


~My favorite of us. I was so exhausted.~

That night after we got to camp and had dinner (chicken and rice and peach cobbler for dessert) we had a special Family Home Evening with our kids. We talked about the attributes of Christ and then had each of our youngun's go their separate ways to take a self evaluation of themselves as measured to Christ's attributes. Then we gave them each a letter from their parents. Steven lost his mother in October (stinking cancer!) and the wound is still healing. His dad just remarried and there is the tiniest bit of a chip in his shoulder about that. It didn't take him longer than a few sentences into his dad's letter before the flood came. It broke our hearts in two. We sat next to him and rubbed his back offering physical comfort, but not knowing what to say to him. After a few minutes, he collected himself enough to finish the exercise. There's more to this story, but I'll get to that in a minute.


~Paula during solo time.~

We had a hoe-down that night and my fancy footed husband (go on and laugh) even favored me in a dance. We slept in outdoor bunks that night, and sometime around 2:30am something woke me up. It was tickling my hand. I tried to shake it off but it clung to me. I flicked it off with my other hand and whatever it was, was so big, I heard it land several feet away (*shudder*).

Saturday

We woke and had another delish breakfast of bland oatmeal. Then we had an unwelcome surprise. All our men folk were taken away to "fight" for the Mormon Battalion. What the what? The ladies were on our own! It really made us appreciate all they had done physically throughout the trek. At the end of our little jaunt, we had a little hill to traverse. At little hill with a 70% grade to it. Man we have awesome girls! It was so hard but they all pulled together and got all 10 handcarts to the top. Waiting, at the top were our menfolk. There was a line drawn in the dirt that they couldn't cross. It was so moving to see the anguish on their faces when they saw their sisters struggling and there was nothing they could do to help. Quite emotional too.


~The Miles Ladies.~


~The start of the girls' hill.~


~This doesn't do the hill justice. It was so steep!~


~I love this picture of Devon. This really shows what we were all feeling.~

All that pulling took it's toll on our girls. There were several girls suffering from heat, hyperventilation, panic attacks, and sheer exhaustion. Those awesome men stepped in and our kids were able to witness the priesthood in action. One of my "sons" was able to give his first and second blessing. What an experience. The Spirit was so strong in that little grove of trees!


~While the girls were pulling the carts alone, the boys were practically repelling (without ropes) down this hill. Scary!~

Then our last and final push to Zion, testimony hill. It wasn't as steep as the girls hill, but it. Was. Long. Trevor helped 6 of the 10 carts up the hill (I managed 3), but our boys were stellar and did all but one. As we were pulling our own cart up, I happened to be by Steven. He had done so much already and I could tell he was exhausted. 20 feet from the top he collapsed on the side of the mountain. The rest of our group couldn't stop, otherwise we would've lost the cart over the side of the cliff face. I did stop, however and sat there trying to get him to slow his breathing to match mine, offering what comfort I could. I told him I was right by his side and I wasn't ever going to leave him. Just then he popped up, and sprinted to the top of the hill with me right behind him. I don't know where he found the strength but it was amazing to watch. He was able to go back down the hill and help with all the remaining carts and without having any other issues.


~The last cart up Testimony Hill.~

The walk in to camp was awesome. We each had our families with us, kids in the front of the carts pulling with the Ma's and Pa's behind. Each of them had their own parents waiting for them in camp and there were plenty of hugs and tears all around. We had one last family prayer, and Trevor told them how they were the elect of God, sent here at this time and place because they truly were strong enough to handle these last days. He doesn't get emotional very (if ever) often, but he was struggling then. Again, such a strong spirit.


~Our family pulling into "Zion". Paula, Josh, Steven, Ana, Daniel, Devon, Brooke, Kim, Alina.~


~Our family with Trev and I bringing up the rear.~

We had a great BBQ with the whole of the group and their families. I'll admit to feeling a little homesick for them as we walked away, back to our car and reality. On a side note, Josh's boots completely betrayed him in the end and he ended up walking on nothing but socks and didn't get so much as a blister, miracles much?


~Sole-less Josh (with Alex Matheson on the left)!~


~Last family prayer.~

It was fantastic to get back home to a hot shower, diet coke and our four own babies. We slept like the dead that night!


~Home.~

Sunday night we had a fireside testimony meeting for all the kids and their ma's and pa's. All my "kid's" testimonies were awesome but one will stick in my brain forever. My Steven. He talked about how hard his mom's death has been on him. On the night we gave them their parents letters and Steven had broken down, it had been because his father had written that his mother was watching over him through the veil. She was beside him and she would never leave him. Then, when he collapsed on that last day, he thought he could go no further, that his body had been pushed beyond what it was capable of, there was someone next to him, telling him that she was there beside him and that she wasn't going to leave him. He said he knew it was his Ma, but in that moment it was like I was his real mom. He found that inner strength and was able to finish the trek stronger than he could have imagined. I was hysterical. We're talking ugly crying here. What a sacred experience to be a part of. I'll never, ever forget it.

NPHS 20th Anniversary Celebration = A Fancy Night Out

I knew I was going to like this new job soooooo much more than the old one. There is an annual dinner and this was our first one (obviously since he just started over 2 months ago). There were cocktails and hors d'oeuvres (which I did NOT partake of) and then dinner and awards. Dinner was great. Dessert was better. A band (a really good band) played throughout. Then a hot guy presented the "Bricks and Mortar" award and I went home with him. Seriously, I do appreciate that he wanted me to come and didn't balk at the fact that I insisted on getting a new dress and accessories to go with it. I won't be caught shaming the director! Anyway, that's pretty much it. Besides the pictures...

~Photobooth Pic.~

~The director giving the "Bricks and Mortar" award to LeBarge Industries" and my salad and name tag.~

~The director and his wife.~

On The Third Day Of Christmas My True Love Gave To Me; Three Cold Sores, Two Princess Birthday's, And A Staple In My Sweet Carson's Head

So ya, I've been a blogging delinquent lately. But there is just SO MUCH going on and I can't seem to find a minute or 30 to sit down and document it all. My birthday passed (along with Thanksgiving). It was great as far as birthday's in your thirties go. Trevor took a whole day off the week prior to take me to the Happiest Place on Earth. Just us again. It was awesome. Rob and Ashley joined us and it was fun to play big kid style. I got a new camera bag from Trevor. I love it. I normally wouldn't write down my gifts but I was trying to remember what I got last year, and the year before and the Christmas's and Anniversaries in between. I couldn't. And I have a great memory. I've just misplaced it lately.





Thanksgiving was a quiet affair. Just us and Mimi and Papa. One great turkey, and an almost empty movie theater after, we deemed it a success. By the way, Tangled is all kinds of cuteness.





Black Friday brought the world 33 years of being graced with my presence. Trevor gave me the royal treatment and made me (or ordered me) breakfast in bed. Later in the day, he took me to Harry Potter and then out to Thai food. Perfection.

Monday brought me a new niece, in all sorts of dramatic style. It's not my place to give all the gorey details, but let's just say I'm so thankful that Chelsea is alive and baby Jillian is out of the NICU and home to a family that loves her. Yes, it was that dramatic. Too many blessings to count.



Friday night started out just dandy. We had a ward Christmas party and I love valid reasons not to have to cook dinner. We brought a non-member friend of Preston's who was spending the night at our house. We got home a little late, but I didn't want to be a fuddy-duddy mom so I let them play a little XBox. Evan and Luke were also over for a late nighter. Carson Walker was irritating Preston Scott a little too much (or a lot too much) which subsequently caused (or forced, in Preston's words) Preston to kick him hard enough to project him into the open door of the entertainment center. Now I'll skip the part where Trevor dang near burst a blood vessel screaming at Preston, the many, many, MANY tears on both Carson and Preston's part (Preston was devastated) and jump to the emergency room part. I only had to wait 90 minutes to see a doctor (a doctor straight out of Grey's Anatomy named Scott Walker...Carson loved that). 90 minutes of trying to calm a very nervous, very anxious, very injured Carson. I thought for sure he was going to give himself an ulcer over the anticipation of stitches. Stitches he didn't get. Evidently staples work best on scalps. One was all we needed, so there was no reason to numb him. The lidocain shot would be more painful and take longer than the actual stapling. He didn't cry but it hurt. Bad. So bad that I took him to get a Happy Meal at 2 o'clock in the morning. Trevor and William were up waiting for us...yes...at 2:30 am. Little stinker is teething again.

Saturday brought a visit from Santa. Carson passed his present request via me...chatting with Santa was just not in the cards this year. Normally I would have forced him to ask for the Remote Control Motorcycle himself but the boy had just been stapled back together and was running on very little sleep. I took pity on him. I was supposed to go to a photography workshop that afternoon, but napped instead. Good thing I did...

...because Sunday morning, William woke up at 3:00 am and partied until 5:00 am. He also demanded my audience at this party. Not all was lost, "The Prince and Me" was on some random network, and I got to crank out a chick flick while he tore apart the house. When I woke up at 7:00 am, my lips had been invaded by 3 massive cold sores. I'm not sure but I think it has something to do with stress and a lack of sleep. I'm looking into it.

Sunday was also my Princess's birthday. Abby is the big "Oh, four" now. I can't believe it either. I'm going to post about it all later because it has taken me 5 days to get this post done and it all still seems very overwhelming...plus my lip hurts and William just whacked Carson right on his stapled head.

In The Last 72 Hours

I've had an interesting three days. And by interesting, I mean crappy. It started Wednesday morning when William ran out of food at breakfast. I was elsewhere in the house helping children get ready for school when he grabbed onto the tablecloth (there was someone's leftover breakfast still on the table) and pulled and pulled until said leftover breakfast and ceramic Halloween bowl were smashed to pieces on the kitchen floor.

Fast forward to MULTIPLE poopy diapers and a very ouchy looking bum all because he his cutting four teeth at once. He's hard core.

The rest of the morning was dedicated to cleaning, for a potential buyer, who was coming by to look at the house that afternoon. At lunchtime, my "oh so clumsy" daughter spilled milk all over the table, herself, and the freshly swept and mopped floor. A bath was in order. I was loving and patiently waiting for the water to reach her desired temperature, when, as I bent over to plug the drain, my iPod fell out of my pocket and into the water. I might mention that I have a very close personal relationship with my iPod. We're rarely separated. She's always in my pocket soothing me with audio books or motivational music. I toss her into a bunch of rice (per Internet instruction on how to save a wet iPod) and commence with the cleaning.

Potential buyers are late, which almost makes me late dropping off Preston at piano. Trevor comes home none to happy about the iPod situation which puts my defensive nature in overdrive. After Abby spills all her juice at dinner, I decide a trip to the store for Desitin is in order. I come home to a much more sympathetic husband and the rest of the evening goes by without incident (however, the kids were in bed so what could really go wrong while the little angels sleep?).

Then, Thursday morning arrived. Abby had her preschool Halloween party, so most of my morning was devoted to primping my little princess. The boys were awesome and got ready without complaining and we were ready to go well before the car pool showed up. I dropped Abby off at school and went to work in Carson's classroom.

It was on my way to Carson's classroom that I got the voicemail from the carpool reminding me of Preston's field trip to the Discovery Museum and also reminding me that I had forgotten to pack him a sack lunch. I was told not to worry, they had their son split his lunch with Preston. They must think I'm so incapable...which might be true.

Abby's preschool party was adorable and we went home to change out of her costume. You see, Thursday is Chick-Fil-A day. My favorite day of the week next to Saturday and Sunday. We were almost ready to walk out the door when I reach to scoop up William to put his shoes on. Speaking of shoes, I had misplaced (or my children had) one of my flip flops, so I had to borrow Trevor's. The over sized toe on that darned flip flop caught the edge of my rug and I fell full force onto the floor, landing with all (and I mean ALL) of my weight on my left knee. ON WILLIAM'S FOOT! Poor baby was hysterical! I was in shock. Or at least my knee was. I couldn't really move. The pain had shot all through my leg. But the mama adrenaline kicked in and I was able to comfort him, examine him, and deduce that he was not seriously injured. Off to Chick-fil-a!

It was on my way into Chick-fil-a that I felt like something was maybe wrong with my knee. I hobbled in, ordered and sat down. After twenty minutes or so of chatting with my friend (the fabulous Jamie) and feeding my littles, Abby wanted an ice cream cone. So, I hobbled up to the counter, got her the cone, and hobbled back to the table. As I was sitting down, Abby tried to squeeze into the booth behind me and I sat on her cone. My ice dream booty was now covered in soft serve goodness. I scooped up the smushed remnants of cone, slapped it on our tray and told her to eat it with a spoon. The lady in the table next to us declared Abby "charming" when she scolded me with a deafening, "Mom! I told you!". What she "told" me is a mystery since she hadn't spoken a word, but whatever.

15 minutes later, my "charming" daughter alerted me to the fact that William was stinky. That was an understatement. Frothy, foamy poo (sorry, I have to tell it like it was) was oozing out his diaper and up his back. Panic. I have no wipes, no diapers and not even a clean napkin on the table. The fabulous Jamie rushes to her car and comes back with wipes, and a swim diaper. As I race to the bathroom, with William at arms length, the lady at the next table burst into gleeful hysterics.

With my baby all clean, I resume my "restful" lunch. Trevor called somewhere in the middle of all this. When I told him about my knee, his first reaction was, "Brenda! Don't you know you don't have insurance?". My reaction was this, "No Trevor. I forgot until I was halfway to the floor and thought, 'Dang (I didn't say dang) I can't fall. I don't have insurance.' I was going to stand back up but, the flight to the floor was so fun, I decided to go through with it". Then he apologized.

As we were leaving, I hoisted Will onto my hip and immediately feel wetness through my sweater and shirt. My thoughts were that he had had too much to drink and soaked through the flimsy swim diaper. We rushed home and I whisked the diaper off to discover it's not "wetness" but was, rather, explosive diarrhea. A quick clean-up, and he is off to nap time, while I plop down on the couch with my cantaloupe sized knee.

Oh how it was throbbing! The boys came home and joyfully? started in on homework. Then Mimi called to say she was 10 minutes away. This was a happy, yet unexpected surprise. I paid the boys $2 each to speed clean the downstairs (luckily she didn't look behind the office door where they stashed everything). I didn't move from my cozy spot on the couch.

Trevor came home a couple hours later. My memory fails me but I think this might have been when I mentioned that the air conditioning had gone out in the van. Had I not mentioned that yet? Well, the air conditioning is out in the van.

Friday morning dawned...with no milk in the house. Off to the donut shop we went. The boys get dropped off at school and I hobble into WalMart seeking a brace for my sore injured knee. I'm thinking it's a sprain but Trevor is convinced it's a torn ACL and will only be healed by a $50,000 surgery. Who would've thought I'd be the glass half full one in the relationship? After WalMart is Carson's field trip to the pumpkin patch and home again to rest and ignore the sink full of dishes and explosion of toys in the house. I was successfully resting when my carpool buddies call to see if I can pick up the kids even though it's not my day to pick up. Not a problem.

At 3:00pm the realtor calls and wants to bring by another prospective buyer between 4:30 and 5:30. Not a problem said I, as long as he can make it 5:15, so I can get my munchkins ready for the ward Halloween party that night. He ASSURES me they'll be done at that time.

At 3:05 I pack up Abby and Will to go get the big kids. I place my key in the ignition and...nothing. Dead van. I had left the power on in the car, because I had to get a DVD out of the player that Abby wanted to watch inside...for 4 hours. The fabulous Jamie had my back and picked up the big kids, dropped off the car pool kids and helped me jump my van. After all that drama I had exactly 27 minutes left before the realtor showed up with the prospective buyers.

Enter more cash bribing to the kids to speed clean. They rock at speed cleaning. I rock at speed dish washing and vacuuming. We are out the door at 4:31. The realtor is there and is waiting for the prospective buyers. We leave and head to McDonald's for a treat. We drive past the house at 5:10. I was hopeful that the prospective buyers had already come and gone. The realtor was still waiting outside for them to show up. We continue driving around the neighborhood for 20 more minutes until the prospective buyers finally show. Luckily, they are good at speed house hunting.

That's about where the drama ends. There were a few scoldings from Trevor about me not taking adequate care of my knee by resting, icing and elevating it. But after a few times of me spatting at him about the last three days he's stopped trying.

Feeling Funky

OK. It was a matter of time before the "limbo" got to me. It has now officially "got to me". In fact, it's eating at my brain. I feel like I'm on the edge of something, tipping on the precipice, waiting to be pitched over or be pulled back. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Teetering on that edge, my emotions keep going back and forth between comfort, frustration, indifference, encouragement, dismay, stress, hopefulness, trying to figure out the right one to fit my current state of mind. It's exhausting not knowing what to feel. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Yep that's what's getting me. My nerves are raw and my tongue is sharp (to the detriment of my spouse and spawn). This little thing is constantly at the back of my mind picking away at my brain.

So, as all this is going on in my cranium, I've started eating...and eating...and eating. Constructive no? In the past month and a bit I've put on 10 more pounds or so, adding to my already "cushy" appearance. I don't feel at the top of my game, emotionally or physically.

I think my friend sensed this. She's a photog and a dang good one. She offered to get me all pertyied up and do a photo shoot. I was thinking how stupid I would feel and how embarrassed I would be. So I told her sure, thinking I would find a way out of it later. Then, I told Trevor. He liked the idea. Then, I thought about it some more. Maybe I needed this. Needed to feel good about myself. Needed to feel pretty and lovely. Give myself (or in this case, let Jamie) a little boost of self-esteem. Here are a couple of the results.

Not too shabby right? She's a rock star, Jamie. She took me shopping and picked out my new shirt and all the fancy accessories to go with it. I never do that. She did my hair and my make-up. I'll say it again, she's a rock star. You should totally check out her work...here

Afterward, I felt so good that I took my cherished children out for ice cream. They loved me, I loved them, I loved myself. Then William gave me a reality check and sprayed red vomit (not spit up...vomit) all over me, from my pretty new shirt to my shoes. Reality check noted. But it did feel so good to feel good about myself, and whenever I glimpse these pictures now, I remember that I'm not a scary hag of a mom who has let herself go (at least not completely). And I smile a little. Thanks Jamie.

For Trevor's Sake, Stop Calling Me Fat

So, my would have been best friend posted on her blog awhile back that an oh-so-ignorant gym employee rudely assumed that she had had gastric bypass. She had lost an amazing 60 pounds in one year through hard work and exercise. I couldn't believe the gall of some people. Really? You actually say something like that to a stranger? Really? But I think I can top it.

Over the past few months, I have been asked twice, by people who KNOW me, when I was due. Really? Isn't that a question you only ask if you know FOR CERTAIN that an overweight person is expecting? REALLY! But that's not the worst one. I even had someone suggest that I have lap band surgery now that we have our own insurance. Really?!

Now don't get me wrong. I could stand to lose a few (or 60), but REALLY?! Is it so bad that I should go under the knife? Really? But that's just the point. Do these people think I don't know what I look like? Really? That it hasn't dawned on me that I haven't lost the baby weight from Will...or Abby...or Carson...or the 20 I put on when I moved to California? I know. No one knows more than me, I promise. You don't have to chuck dumbbells in my face to alert me to the fact. REALLY!

When unfortunate situations like these arise, I'm cool about them. I laugh it off and try to make the offender not see my fat cells swell with irritation. The person who may suffer most is my soft place to land. Poor Trevor gets to see me wallow in self pity and has to try to power lift my self esteem off of the floor. It's a lot of weight. It's a wonder he doesn't strain something. He spends weeks and months adoring me and gushing over how beautiful I am. Just when I'm about to believe him, Jillian Michaels shows up in the form of acquaintances with her forked tongue lashing out subtle fat comments. Grrr.

Maybe I'm mostly upset with myself. A-I've let myself go. B-I let other people get to me. It shouldn't matter what other people (aka stupid people) say. But it does. And it hurts.

I'm done now. Please don't fill my comment box with helpful hints on how to lose weight. I know them all. I did Weight Watchers. It didn't work. They wanted me to count points and actually participate in the program. I still don't know what went wrong. Instead, fill it with exclamations on the fact that I am so skinny that if I lost 5 pounds I would look emaciated and a stiff wind would surely blow me straight to OZ.

P.S. Sorry for all the "really" nonsense. I just watched SNL and I couldn't love Seth Meyers and Amy Pohler more. Read on for a more lighthearted post and know that it's subject is much more significant to me.

I'm A Mama

And they remembered. Another perfect Mother's Day, in bed, with nothing to do but listen to my book, nap, and be waited on.


~Stuffed french toast with cream cheese and strawberries, the recipe even called for 2 oz of freshly squeezed orange juice...which he did!~

I did have to do five dishes. They are required to be washed by hand and my one-armed man apologetically had to ask for my assistance.


~Sadly, the doctor only had blue, pink and white to choose from, no red. I say it's Mariner blue. He dessents.~

It was a great day. I love these five people so much it hurts.