I wrote my way out ...

So, I've not written in a while and I'm not even going to try to catch up.

I had to take Michael in to the ER on Tuesday night. We got home at 4 in the morning.
He has gallstones and is in pain. Loads of pain, to be honest.

Wednesday, I ran about on three hours of sleep. Got his prescriptions from the ER doctor. Got him to his primary doctor. Got an appointment with the surgeon for a consult ... got Bruise to soccer (socially-distanced) practice... got Mom to her first physical therapy appointment (since her hip surgery went great).

Thursday had my eye appointment (still no prescription), the big kids' dental cleaning, I ran into the next town (our clinic) for a urine lab (I STILL have a UTI. Joy. At least it's MOSTLY asymptomatic. I mean I have to pee a lot. And there's some blood in there, but it's not that painful or anything ...). Got Michael to his surgeon's consult. We're looking at laparoscopic gallbladder removal in the near future. But not near enough. I hate seeing him in pain.

Yesterday, he ran out of the ER painkillers, so I made sure that his doctor had sent in a new prescription. Ran some errands with various kids ... Got Mom to her other PT appointment (she's made great progress in just two days!!).

Today, I'm washing sheets and Michael's pillows, since he's been sweating so much. 

Bubbles isn't feeling great (sore throat) and started a fever. Bucket is peeved that we cut computer time (since the kids weren't responding to our needings of help (headphones, man ... I don't know that I love them).

Mostly, I just want to sit in the shower and cry. Or nap all day. And I haven't found a way to do either.

I need to finish making the bed, get Bubbles into a bath, ... and about a million other things. But I know that they won't get done.

I hate feeling helpless. I hate feeling useless. I hate feeling powerless. 
I hate feeling like no matter what I'm doing, I'm letting my kids down. I hate that they are worried about their dad. I hate that I can't fix this. 

I'm grateful for the amounts of prayers and help that people have extended. 
One of Bruise and Bucket's elementary teachers facebooked that she's moved back into town and would be happy to help ferry the kids about for soccer and dance. Hopefully, at Mom's next appointment on Thursday, she'll be given permission to drive again ... then we're back up to having two drivers in the home again.
A friend is bringing over dinner tonight. (And, even if she weren't, we have lots of leftovers ... which is great, too.)

Okay. Time to get moving again. Let's get my littlest baby to feel better.

Ocean of Emotion

What have you missed since I last blogged?

Not a whole bunch. Me being lazy and reading a lot.
My mom getting the munchkin brigade to CLEAN THEIR ROOM.
Michael and I applied for our passports ... not that we have a trip planned yet or anything.
I cut my hair (it needed it. Now, instead of being between my shoulderblades, it's jaw-length. And, overall, it feels healthier).

Michael and I went to Chef's Night Out in Eugene.
I, of course, FREAKED OUT before heading down ...

• What do I wear?
• It's a stinking CHARITY EVENT (Don't get me wrong, I love philanthropy)!
  There will be men with their TROPHY WIVES there!
  I will bring shame upon Michael!Shame on his company! Shame on his cow!
  (He doesn't have a cow, you say? WELL, THERE'S THE ONE THAT I'M HAVING NOW!!)
• What if I'm overdressed? What if I'm underdressed?
• What if I have to TALK to people and I say something declasse? 
• What if I spill my drink or food?!?
• Do I look like I'm trying to hard?
• ... Oh, hell. Fix the undereye makeup. Add some damn green liquid liner. It'll distract from the waves of fear and desperation you're giving off.

You think I'm kidding ... the plethora of rabidly-begging-for-input texts that I sent Michael and the tear-stains on our coverlet prove otherwise.

By the time I got down there (after wonderful C [who I Visit Teach] came to watch the kidlets came over, Bruise and Bucket arrived home from school, and I kissed everyone good-bye), after some en-route car karaoke, I was better-prepared mentally to deal with ... people.

I should say that I DO like people. Dealt with in small groups, I'm FIIIIINE.
But, well, when I don't know them and I'm not performing as someone else and when I feel fat and I'm on my period and there are angry bees that hate me in my head ... I'm ... vulnerable and more than a little sick-in-the-head.

Just keeping it real for you all.

I mean, usually, I can accept that, yes, there's more of me to love than average. I've got curves that won't quit. I love food ... and don't love to exercise. Or sweat, actually. Give me a book, a BLT, a rainy day, and a cuppa rooibos chai ... I'm a happy camper.

Put me into a social situation that involves dressing up more than in a jersey knit ... with strangers ... who have money (our tickets were given to Michael's company since they worked on an awesome project to combat hunger) ... and, well, I go into crisis-social-mode, obvs.

Good times, good times.
Once we GOT there ... and the pre-event schmoozing was over (so I didn't have to pretend like I knew what I was doing there), I could be proactive and go on the hunt for sampling bazillions of yummy things (I'm not that into chicken livers or pork pate. Good to know. But, DANG SON, I found some Ginger Lemonade that I can buy over at Market of Choice ... now I have TWO go-to drinks there [The other is the Rose Lemonade that you can pry from my COLD. DEAD. HANDS. ... though I also like the Dry Sodas -- esp. Lavender, Rhubarb, and Blood Orange.]).

Michael and I practically ate ourselves sick ... but there were SO many things to try ... and we hadn't even tried them all. And we didn't have seconds of anything!
(The Wild Duck cafe's Beer-Cheese soup? Yum. And there was a cantaloupe salsa with avocado. And a roasted-carrot chicken curry. And a rosewater panna cotta. And a sweet potato cobbler with lavender-caramel sauce ... and more ... and it was all really good).

See ... social events = STRESSFUL.
Food events = GOOD.
So, once it changed to a FOOD EVENT, I was good. No more stressful than getting lunch at the county fair, right?
(OH gosh, I sound like some antisocial bumpkin ... probably because I am rather a somewhat-antisocial bumpkin.)


Also, my Nana has been moved into an assisted-care home. With her dementia, it had to happen.
But, still ... I ...

I'm supposed to write her a letter every couple of weeks ... because I know that I want to keep in touch with her. And she can't hear well enough over the phone. And she doesn't have a computer, let alone know how to email or anything.  ... But ... it's tough. I don't always say how I feel. Because I don't want to be all "Hey, Nana. Your dementia makes me mad. I love you. But dementia sucks. And I know that it has to be worse for you. But it's sad. And it makes me feel like I've lost you and am mourning you before you have died. Because it's like part of your IS dying NOW. And I hate that. And it makes me feel selfish that I'm griping about the fact that I still HAVE you and I CAN visit you ... and it's not the same. ... Even if I could visit, which I try to when we can ... there's a part of me that wants to break down and cry about your state of being you-but-not and I just want to go back about 18 years to when I could walk with my dad down to your house and you'd feed Sarah, David, and me strawberries-fresh-from-the-garden with a splash of cream and a heaping spoonful of sugar. And Sarah and I would dress up in your costume jewelry and nightgowns and feel so grown up and we'd go and "help" Pop-pop mow Mrs. Weatherbee's field and tramp about in the garden and everything. I miss the smell of the attic at your old house back home. I miss riding in the backseat of your peach-colored Chrysler. I buy Freedent gum to keep in my purse because that's what you always had. And coffee candy. Even though it makes me feel like the most rebellious Mormon girl. Because these things remind me of being a little girl at your house during summer afternoons. And I was so very content then, without grown-up responsibilities ... and I really miss that. I really miss you. And I HATE that dementia has taken you away from us ... from me ... before death has. Because it makes me mad. And it makes me sad. And it makes me feel powerless and vulnerable and ineffective. Because I have NO IDEA how to fix this or what to do... I mean, I GET that I need to rely on the Lord and all. But it's not the easiest thing to do all the time. And I'll be walking in a store or in the library and I'll be hit by this WAVE of GRIEF, hard enough that I find myself breathless, reeling in its wake ... and I ... I ... I just don't know what to do.  And I don't like that. And I don't know if it will be any easier when you're fully gone or if I'll just feel more guilty for not knowing how to appreciate you more while you are here. I love our visits, even if you are more and more childlike each time I see you ... I'll admit, though, that after I get into the car to go, I mostly just want to curl up into a ball in a corner somewhere or lose myself in a story ... because I don't know how to handle losing you more and more. And that makes me feel selfish. And guilty. ... But I'm glad that you ARE around. That Bruise, Bucket, and Bubbles get this chance to know you here, as their great-grandmother. That they are able to witness your love for and fondness of them. That they're able to catch some time with you. I barely knew any of my great-grandparents ... so I know how lucky they are. I think I'm mostly just mad that, even though I've got my heels dug and and am shrieking for you not to go, that the dementia keeps dragging you away, piece by piece, until I'm grasping at the grains of sand running through my fingers as those grief-waves wash over me, leaving me soaked and chilled and frustrated-to-tears by my ineffectiveness. But I love you. And I want you to know that one fact. If you know nothing else, I just want you to remember, to KNOW, that we love you."

...

I mean, I could write that to her. It'd be honest. And one reason I don't like the letters/cards that I send to her is because they seem disingenuous ... all prattling on about how we love her (true) and what the kids are doing (true) and that we're fine (true) and we miss her (all too true) ... but that elephant is in the room and I am averting my eyes from its presence. And that feels dishonest. But it doesn't feel proper/kind/whatever to bring it up -- "I hate dementia. Dementia sucks. Dementia is ... I don't know what it is, but I don't like it." ... even if I did say those (true) things ... it might upset Nana more than it'd change anything else. So ... well, I don't see the point of doing it. 

I don't really know of anything else I ... strike that. I can report that Michael and I have now been married 15 years and ... some-odd days. I'm refusing to math right now.
And we went to the coast and ate good food and bought clothes.
I now have a rainjacket that fits me. And has a hood.
Michael got some new slacks, shirts, and ties.
We ate Monte Cristos at Gracie's Sea Hag ... and they were worth the wait and the effort!
We also went to Ripley's Believe it or Not ... just like on our honeymoon (but it was MUCH better weather this time).

And, I had signed up to sub for a Relief Society Lesson.
I figured that, hey, I'm teaching Sunday School ... why not just add on another lesson, right?
Originally, it was for March 6 - Joseph Smith.
Then it was bumped to March 13 - The Atonement and Resurrection of Jesus Christ. Okay.
THEN it was rescheduled to be the Teaching for Our Times Lesson - "Strengthened Through His Atonement" by Dallin H. Oaks.
And, did I mention that it was Easter Sunday? The Sunday that our Ward choir was performing in Sacrament meeting?
Yeah, no biggie, right?

Well, I crammed. A LOT. I'd been studying multiple talks by apostles and people (all the ones that Elder Oaks referred to in his talk. And a few more. Because WHY NOT?) ... including an excerpt from Lighten Up by Chieko Okazaki.

Well, I referred to the outline I wrote. The classroom clock wasn't working. My phone (with its clock) was in my purse. Along with the tissues that I really needed.
But the sisters all participated in the discussion.
People said that it was good.
I survived.
And I'm glad that it's over.
But it felt like it went well.

And I was VERY tired that evening.

And THAT's really, as far as I can tell, all I really have to report. 

Now, I should write that letter to my Nana.

Let me explain ... no, there's too much, let me sum up ...

Okay, where to start?

Forget that, I'll catch up later. But right now, I'm just going to restate some of my thoughts that I've put on Facebook.

I first linked to April McMurtrey's blog post, "President Monson, I Sustain You" because, while I was stewing a bit about how irritated I was about a certain-group-who-won't-be-named-here-to-avoid-giving-them-more-attention's choice to go to Conference solely to oppose the sustaining of President Monson, his counselors, and the twelve apostles.

If you're not familiar with this at all, here's what I'm talking about in a nutshell:
We have the opportunity during the Saturday Afternoon session of General Conference to, no matter where you are (listening in person at the Conference Center in Salt Lake City, Utah; at home in your pajamas [that's me ... unless I've gotten showered and dressed by then], listening to it in your car, etc.), have the opportunity to show by raising your right arm to the square/raising your right hand that you covenant to help and support [whoever the is being sustained] to do the work of God/fulfill his/her calling.

Now, if you're opposed (because you have knowledge that an individual is unworthy due to sin/s or some other legitimate reason that needs to be brought to the attention of those calling him/her), you have an opportunity to show that. Whoever is conducting that bit of ward/stake/general business will ask, "All in favor, show by the raise of the right hand/usual sign. ... Any opposed, show by the same sign."

(I'll admit that, when I was little, I wondered why it was the same sign. I figured that maybe people should raise their LEFT hand ... but now that I'm aware that it's a COVENANT, using the right hand makes a LOT more sense. ... Yeah, I was a weird child. ... That hasn't really changed.)

SO ... back to General Conference, when President Uchtdorf (second counselor in the First Presidency), asked for "any opposed?"

A small number in the Conference yelled, "OPPOSED!" (apparently, they also raised their hands AND stood). And they did that for the sustaining of the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.

President Uchtdorf kept his poise. "Your vote is noted." and "Please meet with your Stake President after the meeting is over." And he made sure to emphasize by the same sign, since that group apparently wasn't listening.

Now, I don't know what these individuals have gone through. I don't know their stories. I don't know if they've chosen to discuss whatever is troubling them with their bishops/branch presidents or stake presidents. I have no knowledge of any of this.

But, what I do know is that they chose, planning in advance, to be disruptive in a solemn gathering. And I'm trying not to be offended that they were rude to those in the meeting and (some of) MY leaders.

I was very glad to read Sister April McMurtrey's Christlike response and her personal plan of action.
As I posted on Facebook:

I'll admit that I'm a bit irked at what I really hoped was some drunk frat-boy prank at Saturday Afternoon's session at LDS General Conference ... though it wasn't. It was, unfortunately, real.
However, this gal's blog post is just about the perfect response to the situation. I should try and follow her example. (Though, I did tell my kids if they EVER chose to act in a manner as disruptive, rude, and selfish [Zoë's addition, actually. My kids are awesome], that'd I'd be SORELY disappointed in them. Because there are proper ways of giving a dissenting vote. Yelling at a religious event is NOT one of them.

Well, there were quite a few comments on that. Most were in agreeance that these individuals ACTED in an inappropriate manner, that regardless of whether or not they felt that they were being heard or not, there are other, more mature ways to show their disapproval of how the church is being run.

Then it started to veer off-course. I have one friend who seems to feel that it's her duty to fight everyone's battles. She (rightly) stated that we should love these individuals, that all they need is love and support.
I see that's the main point of her statements and she's right that we NEED to love them. But regardless of how they feel unheard at present, there's always a choice in what actions we take. And, since they decided to take THIS action, I feel that they're shooting themselves in the foot with that.

As I told another friend who underwent a horrible attack (as in, she was left for dead afterwards, but she lived through it), and was judged harshly and has since left the church due, a lot, to the treatment a lot of people gave her. That, and since she's a rather outspoken individual (which I love about her), she often felt that she didn't have a place in the church. (I'll be writing something about that in another post ... but, really, EVERYONE should feel welcome here. Jesus didn't sent folks away. Neither should we.) ... BUT, as I told her:
And, I have to say, our church is a sadder place for not having awesome people like you in it.

"But that's our loss. Because we, as a people, have not done our duty in successfully making our wards places where you and many others feel nurtured, protected, appreciated, and loved.
"We need to be better. It's a hard truth ... but that doesn't mean that it's not true."

And I'll stand by that. The gospel of Jesus Christ is perfect. Its followers, even including its leaders (as they'll readily tell you themselves!) are not. Nelson Mandela said, "I am not a saint, unless you think of a saint as a sinner who keeps on trying." ... and THAT is what we are. We are trying. And, as we were told in this General Conference, we need to give others credit as they try. If we don't, we're a church of latter-day hypocrites.

Eventually, thanks to Michael's stepping in with this lovely comment below, things settled down a bit.

I feel this post as veered past the original intent which was to respond in a more Christlike way. To forgive and to show mercy even we disagree or are hurt. The post was not meant to attack others or for others take offense. I hope we can forgive all those have wronged us and be forgiven for the offenses we have caused. I hope all those who continue to respond to this post will remember those principles.

And I did my best to soothe any still-ruffled feathers with this:

I very well understand that many people have issues with the church and its leaders and all ... but I firmly believe that civil discourse is the best way to handle this. Taking actions that are rather rude and disruptive can be alienating, which definitely does not help one's cause, no matter how much in the right one might be.

Maybe that's why I respect Ghandi and Martin Luther King, Jr. and, heck, Martin Luther ... (Luther himself was quite a rabble-rouser, if you think about it. But he did his best not to disrupt the meetings that occurred inside the church building.)

But, like I told my friend, Brooke, a lot of what I think really needs to be written in a post ... so I know what one of my week's projects is going to be.

And thanks, everyone, for your input. I love you all ... and I want you to love each other, too. Part of the wonder of this world is that we DON'T all feel/think exactly the same. Learning to love each other and learn from each other (even if it might JUST be learning patience with them) is really, truly vital.

And I understand that dealing with a text-only based platform, like comment-sections, can be really limiting without the inflections and other non-verbal cues that are present in face-to-face communication and vlogging. So, I just ask -- for the future -- please try to read each comment (especially those that you might feel are wrong or accusatory) in the kindest tones of the sweetest child that you know. Because I know all of you ... and you are all very wonderful (and NOT just because you flatter me ... as much as I do eat up that praise. :P).

I just want you all to leave this comment threat without any bad feelings towards each other. We often don't completely understand each other ... at least not at first.
(Have I told y'all the story of Michael's and my first argument? We still reference it, since it was quite hilarious. We were both correct, just about different aspects. Which, really, is quite applicable to life, when you think about it. :P)

So ... yeah.

I don't know what to do ... and I could just apologize for everything. Ever.

But, thanks to Sunday Morning's session of Conference, I'm feeling a lot better towards my fellow men and women.

Especially since I bit the bullet and went full-on "here's how I feel. Amen." as you'll read in the next post.

Fifteen Days Later ...

Yeah, yeah, I know. I know. It's been a while since I blogged.

I was actually going to blog YESTERDAY ... but there was a short in our phone line. Which meant that I had to spend about 24 hours with NO internet (besides the taste that I got with my data plan on my phone). Poor me, right?

What else has gone on ...

First and foremost, my friend Kim M (the friend I mentioned being on life support?) passed away last week. She had been moved to the ICU and was doing better for a bit. She was a bit responsive. She fought off a case of pneumonia and a staph infection. She got to see her girls and visit with them. ... but she really couldn't breathe. They had to make the hard decision to let her go.
And ... I understand it. I don't have to like the fact that I don't get to see her. That, like a lot of other people, she's gone somewhere that I can't follow yet. That I can't just text or call her. That I'm aware of how much her girls and husband are going to miss her.

A friend of the family started a support group  on Facebook. Its original purpose was to help pass along information and updates about her status. They organized a fast. There's a link to a GoFundMe fundraiser. The new Compassionate Service Leader in our ward (congregation) posted an opportunity to help clean up their apartment here in town and stock the freezer with some meals (Which is why I'm currently doing a few loads of their laundry. It's really the least I can do ... and it all still smells of Kim. She always smelled really nice. Even when I last saw her and she looked so sick, she still smelled so nice.) ... I took over a meatloaf for the freezer. I wrote the girls letters expressing my sympathy and that we love their mom, their family ... that we love them very much. And that their mom loves them so very, very much.

I cry a bit. When I cook (especially when I bake), I start to miss Kim a LOT. I still owe her a baking day. We were going to do it ... but I got busy, then she was in the hospital, then she was REALLY sick ... I had every hope and expectation that she'd kick this thing in the teeth, what with being up at OHSU with the best doctors around. I mean, if that young man in our ward pulled through hypothermia so bad that his heart stopped, what, six times? If he could pull through it, OF COURSE Kim could, too. I mean, I was praying, her family was praying, our wards were praying, friends of other faiths were praying ...

But, well, sometimes prayers aren't answered in the way(s) we'd like. And you have to accept that there's something bigger (and better) planned. And that, yes, it sucks ... but there's some reason behind it. Even though I just wish that I could know that reason right now. But... well... I don't.

Today was Kim's funeral. I didn't go. I kind of wanted to. But I couldn't.
Michael did. He's representing our family and our ward (along with some other members of our ward family).
But I have things here that I need to do. (Freezer meal and laundry for the family, taking the kids to their music lesson, watching T and L [friends and school chums of Bruise and Bucket]) ... things that prevent me from being in two places at the same time.

Besides, I keep crying. And I don't want people to think that I'm trying to say that this whole situation is MY grief ... Kim was loved by lots of people. LOTS. Because she's awesome. And, even though I really wasn't able to say goodbye in any REAL fashion, going to the viewing wouldn't be the same. She wouldn't smile or joke. She'd smell different. I couldn't give her a good, decent hug. It'd just be her body, not HER.
I figure that I'd rather cry by myself. This way no one thinks I'm trying to insinuate that I was closer to her than I was (friend and past Visiting Teacher) or trying to steal attention away from her family and closer friends. I know. I have issues.

.... I really wish that I'd been a better friend. For most of the summer, I wasn't aware that she'd be in the hospital. And, when she got out, I didn't know/realize that she was still so sick and could have really used a lot of help. I wish that the school schedules for her girls' school and my kids' school had been just a little more different, so I COULD have easily made pick-ups/drop-offs for both schools.  Because that would have been one less thing for her to fret about.

But ... well ... there's really no use griping about that now. It's not doing anyone any good.

But, yes, that's been a forefront thing on my mind.
And I realize that I need to get life insurance. Just in case.

Okay, okay ... other news. You don't come here to "listen" to me be all dour and melancholy. You come for the laughs, the sarcasm, the stories ... and I should get to all those kinds of things. Because writing about them is nice and light and fluffy.

This last payday, we've spent restocking our pantry and freezer. We've done so well at that, we hardly have room for all the good stuff. And I put together some freezer meals. We ate "Cafe Rio Chicken" last night (with a side of scalloped potatoes ... out of a box). It was good. Next time, I need to cut down on the cumin. There was quite a bit of heat to it. Good times. But I also have a few other meats-in-marinades in the freezers -- a pork roast with pepperoncinis, Italian-marinated beef roast, Chicken Tikka, French Chicken, Italian Chicken, Teriyaki Chicken ... stuff like that. (Gosh, I'm boring.)

These last few weeks have been pretty hard on our ward. One sister's father was in an accident. He barely survived. She and her sister are taking care of him. It's pretty stressful.
Our RS president's mother passed (she was of an age ... and was having end-of-life care at the home she was in. Still tough, but not entirely unexpected. Sister P is taking it rather well. But it's still not easy by any long shot). That funeral is Friday. ... One of the elders (guys) at church was canning tomatoes with his wife. There was a leak in the propane hose. His sons calculate there was a 30-foot fireball -- part of it got the house. This brother is sporting 2nd- and 3rd-degree burns. But he's in very good spirits ... and for how bad those burns could be, he's looking quite well (small miracles everywhere, you know?). He has a VERY strong testimony of the power of priesthood blessings and of the protection that wearing the garment can give (Seriously, I saw him shirtless. You can totally see where his garment was and was not. It's quite uncanny).

There's been a PTC (Parent Teacher Club) meeting. I chatted with our Principal a bit. And with the teacher that's the PTC-Site Committee liaison.

The kids had fun at the latest Kids' Club at the mall -- there was a magician. And origami. And painting. Bucket and I went to Claire's and I bought some peacock-feather earrings. Ended up being only a dollar (Clearance purchases for the win, right?).

Taught my nursery lessons. Those last three went SO much better than the first one. Oy.
I'm a little worried about one of the older kids in Nursery.
Seems like the child could REALLY use early intervention ... but, well, apparently that's not happening. I'm rather worried for this kid.

We fed the missionaries (sisters) dinner last week. Per Sister P's request, I made clam chowder. And cheddar biscuits and a salad to go along with it. Apparently, it's her favorite dinner ... but until lately, she'd been paired with companions who don't care for fish at all. Poor kid.

Grandma I and Aunt S (Michael's mom's mom and one of her sisters) have come out for a visit. We went over on Friday evening and spent some time visiting with them. Bubbles, not having had a nap, was a little stand-off-ish. Good thing they'll be staying for a couple weeks. That'll give us the opportunity to visit some more.
... And I've been charged to write letters to Grandma I more often. With requests for physical photographs. ... I'm given another opportunity for growth, see?

Like I mentioned earlier, Bruise and Bucket started music lessons this morning. He'll learn the cello. She's opted for violin. (Once we get a bigger house, I should practice the piano again. It's a nice outlet. Not as easy as singing, though. ... I should sing more. Just for practice and fun.)

I'm officially no longer ANY bit of the Compassionate Service Leader for our ward. I have a replacement. And she's amazing. Took off right away with everything. She and I even had a meeting where I passed on what I had ... and we talked about what I did. And she brought LOTS of GREAT ideas to the table. Sister P is very lucky to have Sister R as CS Leader. (Sister R ALSO brought over fresh apple crisp to our little meeting. Did I mention that I adore her?)

I'm about half-way through the laundry. It still smells like Kim.

(I wonder ... how do I smell to other people? ... I mean, I'd HOPE that I smell okay. But Kim always smelled REALLY GOOD. Her whole house smelled like her. Heck, I stepped into their apartment today and started welling up.)

Bucket and I went to the General Women's Meeting last Saturday. It was nice. I'm glad that they lowered the age to attend right in time for her to make it to the first one (in April). We continued what's now our tradition -- dinner out (at Applebee's so far) before the Meeting. Then she takes some cookies/treats home for Bruise and Bubbles. Sister R sat with us this time. (Last meeting, it was just Bucket and me on our regular pew ... creatures of habit. This time, we sat in a different pew.)

As I mentioned above, I had issues with the phone line this week.
I called, via my cell, yesterday morning as soon as the kids were off to school.
Talked to THREE different CSR (customer service reps).
The first one, Ashton, was nice -- personable and professional. "Hey, I'm going to butcher your name. Um ... Ah-LANN-ah?"

Me: "Actually, it's 'uh-LAW-nuh."
And he got it right from that point on. Friendly, kind ... good employee, you know?

He had to transfer me to another gal. (From all the scammer calls, it does not help that she has a bit of an accent) ... who called me "Allie-ah-na." REPEATEDLY. And had me doing contortions to unplug/replug lines from/into the wall socket (couldn't she just say, "Hey, if that's not really doable, just unplug/replug from the modem or phone itself"???? I mean, I haven't gone to modem-tech school or whatever ... but it's not rocket surgery, now is it?).

THEN I was transferred to ANOTHER GUY (also strong accent). He would talk over me and, even though I corrected him MULTIPLE TIMES (seriously, at least three. Maybe as many as five times), KEPT calling me Allie-ah-na.
"No, it's Uh-LAW-nuh."
"All right, Allie-ah-nah."
"*sigh*"

THEN, after we scheduled a repair tech to come out (because as I could have told them, nothing I do plugging and unplugging my modem will fix NOT GETTING A FREAKING DIAL TONE, y'all), he's all, "And before I let you go, do you have any questions?"
"Yes, I --"
"So, you have no questions?"
"But, I have a que--"
"If there's nothing else that you need ..."
"IF YOU'D STOP INTERRUPTING ME, I'D TELL YOU THAT, YES, I DO HAVE A QUESTION! IT'S VERY RUDE TO INTERRUPT AND TALK OVER YOUR CUSTOMER. IT'S NOT RESPECTFUL AT ALL, SIR. SO, ARE YOU ACTUALLY GOING TO BE QUIET FOR JUST ONE SECOND SO THAT I CAN ASK MY FREAKING QUESTION?!???"
"... yes."
"OKAY. *breath* If I need to cancel the appointment that MIGHT end up costing a minimum of $80 if the error is on our end, what phone number do I call?"
" ... ###-###-####."
"Thank you. *mutters to self* 'Was that really so hard? Really?'"
(Mom's right. I should ask to speak to a supervisor after a telephone conversation that irritating. And I should take names, for sure.)

I called Michael and vented/appraised him of the situation.
I had to repeat myself a lot, since I was VERY FRUSTRATED (i.e., crying).
He ended up bringing me flowers and chocolates when he came home.
(Also can you tell that someone just might, possibly, be having the painters in? [e.g., "I'm in a glass case of emotion!!!"])

This morning, I got the kids up earlier than usual (so we could be on time to music lessons). They got dressed, made their lunches, packed their backpacks, got teeth brushed, shoes on. We had our morning devotional-thing (Sing a hymn. Read the scriptures from the references at the bottom of the page. Read the history of the hymn. Have a prayer. Read a bit about etiquette). I packed up all the library books to return. We headed out for the car (the kids almost didn't grab their backpacks), took them to music lessons (at their school). Once they were settled, Bubbles and I ran by the library to return the books, then to the store to get WIC stuff (better last second than never). By the time we got back home, it was still about a half-hour before the window for the repair tech.

But he was there! Working on the phone box! We chatted. He came in and checked the jack (and had trouble reaching that. Went back outside to check things. Got a dial tone inside. Checked one more thing. Power-cycled the modem. HUZZAH! We're back in business.

Oh, I could have hugged him.
He was supernice. Very professional. Quite wonderful.
I did get his card and his supervisor's number. Called and left a message praising his work and manner.

He also told me that if it gets to the point where we need to power-cycle our modem often (like once a day), then replacing the modem is in the near future. Which is really good to know.

Then I fixed a freezer meal (a meatloaf, since Kim said that her husband is a real meat-and-potatoes kind of guy), chatted with Sister R via IM, talked to my mom ... headed over and picked up laundry to wash/dry/fold, vacuumed our front room (since Bruise and Bucket's friends will be over today).

Bubbles hasn't had a nap ... I say that, then look over to where she's on the couch. Asleep. She crashed while watching Wall-E. (It's a very soothing soundtrack.)

I should go make something yummy for the kids as a snack.
Or I'll just give them popsicles. Either or.

I'm about ready for a nap, myself. Not going to happen.

I should figure out dinner.

I don't know when Michael's getting back tonight.
Kim's funeral was at 10 AM in Hermiston. I don't know how long it lasts. I just know that he'll be home tonight ... and working tomorrow morning.


Is it just me ... or is it a common thing ... when things get bad, I just want to curl up in someone's lap. Maybe cry, maybe not.
But I'm far too ... um ... zaftig, per se, to be able to fold myself up decently, let alone fit in most laps.

Well, I have laundry to fold and dinner to figure out. And ... something ... something to bake.

I really like having working phone and internet. Even though I did get some reading done, I really like having wi-fi. It's just rather comforting knowing that I can look up things on my computer and my tablet without having to type it all on my phone or chance using up all our data for the month.

Blergh.

So, apparently, as much as I try, I'm not as well-adjusted as I try to be.

So, I heard back from the wife of the friend who called me manipulative.

Backstory: When I first learned that he and his family were in the ward, he let me know that (1) she is pretty new to the church and (2) she is uncomfortable around people she doesn't know.

These are good things to know. And how do you get to know people well enough to get comfortable around them? ... Well, spending some time around them or adding them on Facebook at least (so you can get some insight to their character/personality/sense of humor/life) can help.

I met her ONCE in real life. I tried to be friendly, but not overbearing; kind, easy-going ... you know, on my best behavior.

I sent her a Facebook friend request, along with a facebook message letting her know who I am ... some people are better with faces/names ... and letting her know that she could join our (private) Facebook group for playdates and other kids' activities. This way, she can take her kids to something fun AND have a chance to meet up with some other gals from church. Get to know THEM in a low-key environment and all that.

She never took me up on either offer.

When I sent [her husband] the text and facebook message about a possible visit, I also messaged her, too. Since some spouses check Facebook more often than others. Figured I'd cover my bases.

When I heard back from [her husband], I should have just sent another message ... something like "Oh, never mind! Heard back from your husband. Maybe a visit another time ... or meeting up at a park or something another time!"

... But, well, I didn't do that.

So, last night, I got a message back from her which basically said

1. I hardly know you
2. Don't invite yourself over 
3. Don't message me again

.... .... ....

In my defense, I never said that I was the one coming over. Just that I needed to know if that date/time would work for a visit.

Yes, she hardly knows me. Because she never made any effort to get to know me. I understand that people are busy and stuff. But, heck, I've met people through blogging or friends-of-friends through Facebook. Doesn't take much effort at all to respond to a message.

Sure, I won't message you again. Doesn't give me any opportunity to apologize or whatever. And I don't LIKE when people think poorly of me. I'm not perfect. Heck, I'm a big screw-up (apparently even more so than I had first thought! Joy!!/sarcasm).

I mean, I can entertain fantasies that someone will drop a letter off to them telling them that

• I was just trying to help my husband. Since THEY never respond to anyone else's texts, calls, stopping by.
• I was not going to be a part of the visit. Michael and the Stake President (most likely) were. So I wasn't going to invade their INNER SANCTUM OF SOLITUDE or whatever.
  (Geez, it's not like we're living high on the hog. We have five people, a cat, and two fish crammed into a two-bedroom manufactured home. One that is rather cluttered and all. It's never going to be featured in Better Homes and Gardens or House Beautiful or anything.)
• And they don't have to take the opportunity to get to know me (better in the husband's case, since it's been a while) ... and, with that, they're missing out. 

• Because I can be really nice. I can bake. I can make jokes (often self-depreciating!). I can whip up a decent card in MS Publisher. But, hey, if you're not willing to give me a chance, I need to get over myself. Because I need to realize that it's not worth fretting over ... and my energies can be better utilized in other things ... on people who actually appreciate what I'm trying to do.
• AND, if you DON'T want visits or calls or whatever from your Home Teachers, Visiting Teachers, or anyone, you need to stop blowing everyone off for months, put on your big-kid panties, and ask to be put on the Do-Not-Contact list. We'll respect that. It'll make it easier on those trying to serve you AND it'll make it so that you're not bothered by people who just want to serve you or get to know you or have concern for you. Because we don't want to be a bother. 

Yeah, I'm cycling through frustration and dejection.
Since apparently, I suck at dealing with rejection, too. FUN FUN!! Issues are the BESTEST!!
(In case you were wondering, that was complete sarcasm right there.)

I  do admit that I harbor some fantasies that [the husband] will someday be all, "Allanna, I was a jerkbuttface when you were just trying to help out your husband and show that you care. I shouldn't have done that. You up for a game of Spastic Uno?" or [the wife] will initiate a message on Facebook or something.
Or that they just forget about this ... awkwardness.

Because it sucks, knowing that someone is upset because of you.

Can I hope that they just have some issue in their brains that they are already over this? And it's just me obsessing over being thought of as having less-than-perfect manners?

Any ways to learn (at 33, I'm so old!) how NOT to let other people's judgements be felt so keenly?

'Cause I'm totally in the market for some kind of non-accredited course like that. TOTES.

Oh, well. Imma go and contact the gals that I Visit Teach. Because, at least, THEY like hearing from me and know that I'm not a complete buttmunchjerkwad. In fact, 3/4 of them totally know that I'm good to have around in a pinch. We can sit and chat and laugh. That other one, at least, knows that I care for her and genuinely LIKE her (she's great. I know her from Girls' Camp, when she was in YW [Young Women's, the 12-18 year-old girls' group]).

Yeah, stuff like this just sucks. I hate feeling/knowing that I screwed up ... especially when I have the best of intentions. Because, dang it, I'm personally invested in this family that (apparently) thinks that I'm an overbearing jerk. How can we HELP them at all --effectively --, if we don't know their needs?

Well, there's prayer. And, oh, if that's the only tool we have, it's GONNA get USED.

Well, at least I can try to content myself with the knowledge that I know, his mom knows, Michael knows, the bishop knows, my mom knows, and Heavenly Father and Jesus know that I was trying to do something right. Something good.
And maybe they're not ready to accept it as that. But, eventually, they'll get that. And they'll know that I was just trying to be nice and helpful and having their best interests (along with helping Michael, who's -- face it -- a bit of a higher priority, y'know) at heart.

So, yeah, it makes me sad that they took it this way.
But I can't MAKE them ... do anything.
As Detective Lestrad would say, "Not my department!" (That's a BBC Sherlock reference, in case you were terribly confused.)

And, yeah, I'm hoping (as I'm sure that MICHAEL'S hoping) that this is my last post about this ... unless something absolutely miraculous happens and I can report some good news about this whole fiasco.

But, until I'm over it, I might as well just hash it out on "paper" ... It's therapeutic, right? Cathartic, at least. Either that or making some serious bread, so that I can KNEAD it and BEAT it quite a bit.
Or else I should just get on the elliptical (like I should do anyways) and watch some trash TV (Toddlers and Tiaras? Honey 2? Sharknado?). Or get some paints and hash things out on paper (but, well, that might be frustrating for me. Things never turn out how I see them in my head. Which is ... frustrating. But, well, it'd give me something ELSE to be frustrated at, right?).

Honestly, I'm rather jealous of people who don't live nearly completely inside their heads. It must be really freeing to escape from thoughtsthoughtsthoughts all the time. At least, when I read or if I'm acting, I get to escape from MY thoughts and into someone else's. It's nice.
But I've never gotten to that place when dancing or (attempting at) running when your mind can go blank and you're just sensation moving through space. Is that what an endorphin high feels like?
I wouldn't really know. Oh well.

Like I said, "blergh."

And where can I buy origami paper locally? Because that could take my mind off things. It requires focus. And ends up with something pretty. Heck, maybe I could make a cool paper-crane mobile for the kids' room. Or over my desk.
Screw it, I'm going to look up one on Pinterest.

(Aaaaaand, as I say that, all I can think of is George -- "This place is a tomb! I'm going to the nut shop, where it's FUN." Yay for random movie quotes.)

Vacation Recap

I'm not even getting into HOW far behind I am on scripture study and reading General Conference Talks. Not even going to go there ...

But let's see ... you probably want to know how vacation went! Yes?
Well, you're getting the report anyway. So there!

Friday, Michael stayed home from work and we ran last-minute errands and got everything packed (so when the kids got home, we just had to have them unpack their lunch pails, go to the bathroom, and jump in the van).

Then we drove down to my mom's and spent the night (Going down, we really spread out the traveling, which was nice).
From there, we headed down into California ... hit In-N-Out Burger (first time!) and stayed over at Michael's aunt and uncle's (with most of the rest of the family) that night.
THEN, we drove down to Anaheim and checked into the hotel.

I can say that we weren't terribly impressed with the Hotel del Sol ... we had to change rooms, in fact, because the air conditioner was BROKEN. Poor us. But it was nice to have family in the same hotel. It'd have been nicer if the pool had been open a bit later ... we only went swimming once ... and soaked our feet on another night. The last night we stayed there, we got back and changed into swimsuits ... and got to the stairs JUST as they had locked up the pool. *sigh* So the kids and I did showers instead.

The kids were surprised to go to Disneyland and California Adventures. They loved it, though ... even though Bruise was too short to ride California Screamin', the BIG roller coaster (I rode it with my brother-in-law, since Michael's not a fan of roller coasters.) ... Bruise DID get turned away ONCE from the Indiana Jones ride ... but we stuffed a couple Kleenex in his shoes and he was FIIIIIINE. (Bucket did not care for the Indiana Jones Adventure at all, really).
Bruise also REALLY loved the Twilight Zone Hollywood Tower of Terror. Bucket wasn't wild about it, but did go on it a second time. I'm talking Michael into going on it next time. I think he could handle it. ^_^

The one BIG thing that wasn't good was that our first memory card in the DSLR camera stopped working. So ... Michael's taking it to the IT guys at work today. If nothing else, I'll mail it to a digital image recovery place in Rexburg (I've heard good things about them ... and they have a 95% recovery rate for a lot less than the company in Dresden). I'd really, really like those pictures. I cried myself sick about it after we got home ... but I got a blessing and feel better (and was reassured in the blessing that things will work out).

Also, while we were out of town, a boy in the neighborhood found the spare key and got in out house. Didn't take anything, really (Well, a condom. Probably expired, really. Whatever.) ... It was really weird. But he came and apologized (after I'd gotten off the phone with Staples, who told me that if an SD card goes, there's no hope ... which I know is NOT true. But I cried anyways).  ... Now, when he saw that I'd been crying, he visibly blanched. He did apologize, saying that he wasn't thinking and didn't know what he was thinking.
Instead of berating him, like Michael thought I might ... because, really, I was VERY IRKED ... and hormonal and tired ... I was calm and told him that he NEEDS to think. That he's in control of his actions. That he has an incredible potential for good ... and that he needs to use it. And I asked for a hug, which he gave me.
He was quite abashed ... and I really, really, really hope that this makes him think and make better choices.
That and the fact that he's working in our yard for free for the summer. Our yard is going to look AWESOME.

It could have been way, way worse. Nothing was missing, really. Nothing was damaged.
We had lent the guns to a friend while we were gone. We didn't have any money lying around (I had a $5 bill in a jewelry box. It's still there). I'd already put the external hard drive with the kids' updated baby pictures and all into the (fire-proof) safe ... There wasn't much that could have been taken easily.

So, yes, we were VERY BLESSED.

Also, the other worrisome thing about the trip was that the transmission started to act up. My van doesn't like to shift a whole lot after a LOT of driving. But, after we got home, I had the transmission flushed. We'll see how that helps. But, like I told Michael, if I got an ulcer, we'd know why. :P

Where was I? ... Disneyland, that's right!
Here's a bit of what all we did:

• We did almost EVERYTHING in California Adventures.
• According to Google Maps on my phone, we walked about 16 miles total that first day.
  I can believe it, due to the five blisters that I ended up with. Youch!
• I also got a crazy bad sunburn on one of my shoulders. Dad C was shocked, since he WATCHED me put on a ton of sunscreen. It's mostly all healed now. It still feels all dry and leathery in comparison to the rest of my skin.
• Bubbles got a sunburn across her little nose and cheeks. It's about all faded now.
  She also ended up with Prickly Heat ... so I felt like a crap mom.
• The kids chose their souvenirs: Bruise wound up with a little (cheap) pirate sword at D-land. Bucket got a little Princess Leia dress-up doll kit (with little plastic dresses and different hairstyles). I got Bubbles a stuffed baby Pegasus (from Hercules) wrapped in a blanket. I got a hoodie.
• Bruise and Bucket got picked to be in Jedi training! They had a great time. Bruise dueled with Darth Vader and Bucket battled Darth Maul.
• We met a lot of the princesses: Snow White, Merida, Cinderella, Tiana, Aurora, and Jasmine (Snow White and Jasmine are, sadly, on the malfunctioning SD card. And Jasmine is Bucket's current favorite). We also met with the fairies, Rosetta and Tinker Bell ... two of Bucket's favorites (Silvermist was the missing one of the trifecta). We also got to see Chip and Dale, Brer Fox, Duffy (the Disney bear), Donald Duck, and Aladdin. (Aladdin is ALSO on the other SD card. *sigh*)
• We really could have used another day or two in order to get through all of Disneyland. And we didn't do Radiator Springs, since it was SO, SO crowded (and Bubbles was too small to go on many rides, poor gal).
• We did make sure to hit Pirates of the Caribbean and the Haunted Mansion ... those are dealbreakers for me.
• We shared Dole Whips (yum) and beignets (yummm!!!) ... Cafe Orleans is a bit spendy, but the servers were so, so nice ... and the dipping sauces for the beignets were so good. There's a Creme Anglaise (a vanilla-creme sauce. They described it as a "liquid creme brulee") and a raspberry cloutis ("clew-ee"), which I wanted to drink through a straw. Very good.
• The kids loved going on so many rides ... Splash Mountain was one they really liked. As was the Grizzly River Run (you can't NOT get splashed/soaked on that one). 
• We watched the Aladdin musical show. VERY GOOD. The genie was GREAT. And the scenery and costumes ... I mean, there wasn't anything NOT to love about it. Even Bubbles had a great time. And she's a little with a little's attention span. She clapped, even.
• We also met Mickey Mouse ... and Bubbles was ENTRANCED. She waved to him later, when the parade was starting (we were in line for "It's a Small World," which she enjoyed).
• The characters are all so great ... very in character. Rosetta declared, in a Southern drawl, as she signed Bucket's autograph book that Bucket's dress (her Princess Aurora dress) "It's PINK and SPARKLY, so she's dressed like ME!" ... Tiana was so hospitable. Cinderella was so gracious. Aurora was sweet. Merida ... she was wonderful, and quite taken with Bubbles, "the wee babby!"
• The kids and I went on Goofy's Flight School roller coaster. It's VERY jerky (unlike the smooth speed of California Screamin' ... yes, I'm spoiled forever now). The kids were in front of me ... and I had a single rider next to me.
  "Hi!" I chirped. What?? I'm friendly, okay?
  "Hello, luv," he replied.
  "...Where are you from?"
  "I'm from the UK."
  "Oh, cool! Which part?"
  Turns out he was from Scotland and works for Disney in Florida. He did NOT care for that roller coaster, which made me feel better about it's not being in my favorites, either. And he worked to control himself ... though I heard many "bloody!" things.
  And he rescued my ticket holder when it fell off my lanyard.
  Michael's lucky that I'm so faithful ... ^_^
• I think Bucket's favorite ride was Soarin' Over California ... It's a simulated flying/hang-gliding ride over California vistas, over a huge, curved movie screen. It was a great ride.
• Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, Space Mountain, and the Jungle Cruise were closed when we were there. Sad. But we'll just have to ride those next time.
• Bubbles really liked ... well, anything. We didn't take her to World of Color, she stayed with Mom and Dad C for that ... but she would have liked it, I think. She loves anything with music (like Ariel's Undersea Adventure and It's a Small World) ... and seeing Mickey.

And that's most of what I really remember about Disneyland.
(Michael, if you want to share anything, go ahead!!)

Then, we packed up and headed south to Carlsbad to LEGOland!
We actually stayed at the resort ... and I HIGHLY, HIGHLY recommend it!

The hotel itself is designed and decorated with kids in mind ... I mean, the elevators alone ... If you're staying on the ground floor (Kingdom themed), you have to ride the elevator anyways!
(If you check my Facebook, I have a short video of it!)

The pool is VERY nice. Bruise, Bucket and I went for a little splash-about while Bubbles and Michael relaxed in the room.

The buffet is a little expensive, but VERY good. The food choices are great ... There were MUSHROOMS!! And I barely ever get to eat mushrooms since I'm about the only person in this house who likes them. So, don't judge me if I gorged myself on mushrooms. And Vegetable curry ... and all sorts of other things (Though, next time, we will try the other two restaurants in the hotel -- the cafe and the lounge). The toilets have a kids' training seat built into the lid ... The decorations are great ... Really, I can't think of anything we DIDN'T like!

Bruise and Bucket LOVED having a TV to themselves. And lights in their bunks.
When they got to the room, there's a little safe for them to open. Inside were chocolate coins (which I knew about) and they each got a new minifig (Series 10): Bucket got Medusa (which was the one she wanted most of all) and Bruise got a skydiver.

LEGOland is smaller than Disneyland ... so we were able to do just about every ride (except for a couple that were closed, the water park -- closed, and a few that we skipped) and the Sea Life aquarium in the two days that we were there. And LEGOland is geared primarily for kids ages 2-12, so Bruise and Bucket were tall enough to go on ALL the rides, including the roller coasters.

Michael was thrilled to be there and see all the LEGO sculptures. We did the factory tour and the kids got to play in the splash park(s) in Pirate's Cove.

After the rides at Disneyland, Bruise and Bucket were a little jaded (because the Disney rides are generally longer) ... but the wait times at LEGOland were not bad at all ... and the Pirate's Reef ride made up for it.
It's a short ride, don't get me wrong ... you go up an incline, come down FAST ... and you WILL get wet. No matter where you sit.
When we got in, there was already about an inch-and-a-half of standing water in the boat. (Felt SO good to my flip-flopped feet after how many days of walking around parks!) ... And, when we finished, the only spots that WEREN'T wet were where my back and butt were against the seat and between my thighs, since I sat with my knees together. The rest of me was SOAKED. So I was REALLY GLAD that I had worn light layers, including leggings, instead of jeans. And that it was a warm, sunny day ... since that helped me to dry off quickly.

Like I mentioned, Bubbles couldn't go on a lot of the rides (she's NOT 36" by a long shot. Yet), but she and Michael had fun looking around at things. And she LOVED, LOVED, LOVED the aquarium. She waved to all the fish ... we think her first real word might end up being "fish." She's getting close ... "ffffsh!!!!" But, then again, it might be "hi!"

We bought our souvenirs before the aquarium ... then picked them up right before we left the park. Michael got two LEGO sets (Y-wing and the LEGOCity Pet Store). Bruise got the LEGO Kingdom chess set and an Iron Man 3 set. Bucket got two stuffed LEGO Friends animals (the grey cat and the brown horse), and ... um ... two Lego Friends sets, I think? Michael gave her an amount to spend ... and she really used it well. We got Bucket a little stuffed panda with a Lego block embroidered on its foot pad and a little Duplo set (polar bear and penguin). I grabbed a hoodie, a bag, a magnet, a couple ice trays, and a DVD for the kids (they still don't know about that, though. Shhh!!). Lots of LEGO loot.

The drive home, after getting out of the aquarium, was LONG. We took off around 4 and drove. Got caught in LA traffic, which was discouraging.

Michael: Why do I even TRY to get up to 60mph? (as we're going around 20 and maxing out around 40mph).
Me: Optimism.

He's so lucky to have me.

As I mentioned, the transmission wasn't wanting to switch gears easily ... so that was nervous-making. But we prayed. And prayed.

We grabbed dinner at McDonald's and filled the gas tank ... and kept driving. I fell asleep around 11 or so. We pulled over at a couple of rest stops so Michael could get a nap (but he couldn't, since Bubbles' car seat is RIGHT behind the driver's seat, so he couldn't recline it much).
We traded off driving when we got gas next. I grabbed a Cherry Coke and drove from around 4am-6ish ... Then we traded when we got gas (and breakfast at IHOP while the van rested a little and I tried not to cry or throw up ... Yeah, I don't handle stress well. I just wanted to be HOME).

We decided that we weren't going to go through Brookings (Michael would like to go there sometime and check out a job site that his company has worked on ... This was NOT that time, though. Poo.), but that we'd just head straight home on the freeway.

And we made it home ... around 3 PM. We checked out the house, figured out that the neighbor kid didn't steal anything, unpacked, started laundry, started loading pictures, got the kids ready for baths and bed ...

We made it to Sacrament meeting on Sunday ... and I went home afterwards ... Bubbles was tired ... and I almost fell asleep three times during Testimony meeting. So, Michael drove us home (the kids were in Primary and he wanted to be at EQ), where we took naps.

Monday, we took the kids out for frozen yogurt (since Bucket was Student of the Month) ... and I was sick with a cold ... and had JUST lost my sense of smell and taste.
Tuesday, my cold got worse and is starting to get better ... moving from my sinuses into my chest. FUN! But, at least, I'm not throwing up due to all the mucus ... so that's a benefit, right? And I don't think I'm running a fever anymore, like I was last night.

So ... just wish us luck on getting all the pictures off of the one SD card ... And that my mom and I get healthy again FAST. I hate being sick. It makes me grumpy. And that Bubbles' heat-rash clears up totally. And that the one neighbor kid turns his life around. Because ... I get the feeling, after meeting him, that he's a good kid. And he needs to KNOW that he's a good person ... and that he's capable of controlling impulses.

... I'll try and get caught up on scriptures and talks soon. It might not be today, though.

resulting in disappointment

So ... I'm going to buck up, put on my big girl panties, and deal with it.

But ... I'm a bit disappointed in the election results.

I had hoped that Romney would be elected. Because, really, his stances on most issues are the closest to mine.

And, really, Obama hasn't kept all that many of the campaign promises he made last year. I'm still HELLA irritated that Obamacare was passed without us knowing what all is really in it. So much for transparency.
(Though, as Michael pointed out, if Obama repealed NCLB [No Child Left Behind], I'd probably feel better.)

But, I had also hoped that if Romney had been elected, that this country would start knowing that members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints aren't all just crazy, polygamous, women-hating cultists who have horns and worship a guy from New York ... or a flaming lizard. (No, really, I hear the most interesting theories about my religion sometimes.

And people would know that we're not Amish, either.

Most of the other state issues went with how I voted ... So I can feel better about that.

Michael and I did our best to vote almost every single incumbent out ... unless we had a very good reason to keep one in. But I don't think we did.

Seriously, how Congress has been all "If you people don't like what we're doing and approve our pay raises and all, we're going to CUT [Medicare/Veteran Benefits/Education Spending/Etc.]!!!!!" ... and that just pisses me off.

My mom and I agree that The House and Senate should NOT be allowed to vote for their own pay raises.
We also are of the opinion that their benefits should be completely cut ... they should be required to have the same health/life insurance that is available to the public. And their paychecks should be much more similar, too.

Heck, I'm all for Benjamin Franklin's stance on what Congress should be paid ... It should be done by volunteers. Seriously ... this way, after four years, they would be ready to reenter the work force. They'd do it out of the goodness of their hearts, out of real concern for their constituents.

But, yeah ... like they're going to actually do that.

Man, I am feeling really jaded about politics ... and I had hoped that, after the election, I could feel happy about it. But, not really ... I mostly feel tired. And disappointed ...

... but, well, I can feel better that, with the popular vote, it was PRETTY DARN CLOSE.

It would have been lots worse if Romney had lost by a complete landslide.

It'll be interesting to see what the next four years have in store ... I sure hope that gas prices go down.
And, if we're going to be fined/taxed for my not having health insurance, I hope that they actually get health insurance prices to go WAY down. (Seriously, health insurance has not gotten ANY more affordable since 2008. Wasn't that part of Obamacare??)

But, yeah ... I'm mostly just really tired of this all.

About half the people on Facebook are gloating that their guy win. The other half are lamenting the state of the nation, foreseeing calamity and destruction just around the corner. There are a few who are being graceful losers (and a few graceful winners) ... but those are pretty few and far between.

I am thinking that I'm just not going to post anything about it.
I mean, yeah, I'm disappointed ... but ... it's not like my saying anything about it would change anything.

Of course, I almost feel that my vote was wasted ... which sucks.
Especially when there are too many outspoken people on facebook (bloggers that I follow, not personal friends ... well, most of them), who claim that voting for Romney is voting for a man who hates women, liberty, and is the devil incarnate who would pander only to corporations and eat the young of the lower-classes while bathing in the blood of puppies. Or something to that effect.

I was really hoping that he'd win and get the country in better shape within the next two years (as opposed to four years without much as-promised change), just to shut those nay-sayers up.

I just want results. And I want them NOW. I want gas prices and health insurance and cost of living DOWN. I want people to HAVE jobs and security. I want our nation to be self-sufficient. I want higher education to be affordable. I think that we should subsidize the arts, like they do in Europe. I think that prisons should be places of punishment, not vacation homes (seriously, if WE can't afford to have a weight room or cable, neither should murderers, rapists, or puppy-kickers). I think that we should punish rapists and child abusers more. I think that the banks that put our country into this mess should pay back the money we gave them, with a FREAKING DECENT INTEREST RATE, and start doing what they promised -- loaning money so that we have GROWTH happening and jobs available!! I think we should start taxing companies prohibitively who outsource jobs overseas (because, face it ... money talks. If we get it so that keeping jobs HERE has a positive effect on their bottom lines, companies will DO IT). I think, that if people are so concerned about weight management, we should subsidize gym memberships (or, at least, exercise equipment). I think that we should implement more public transit. I think that libraries are even MORE vital to communities during a recession, and their funding should be supplemented, not cut. I think that all public servants should save their districts/states money by only allowing room/board and basic needs to be covered by taxpayer money ... the rest they do through their own savings and concern for their constituents. I think the we need to start getting it so that people on welfare can get OFF welfare. It needs to be a temporary measure. Once people are able to take care of themselves, they'll have more self-respect and be more involved in what THEY can do ... as opposed to what the county/country can do for THEM.

I mean, really, is that so much to ask?

... Don't answer that. I don't think I could take it today.

Welllllllllp ...

Mom got home safely ... right about the time that Bruise and Bucket got off the bus.

I showed them, while Bubbles napped, the new clothes we got for Bubbles ... and the new leggings for Bucket (who outgrew about half her leggings ... apparently, she's outgrowing a lot of shirts now. What's up with that?!?) and a new shirt for Bruise, so HE got something, too.
However, he was bummed that Bucket got more clothes than he did.

So we all sat down and read a Berenstein Bears book and talked about how, sometimes, life just isn't fair.
And they went out and played with the neighbor girl. And I did my nails.
And promptly messed up one ... so redid that ... and messed up some more ... so I just redid that whole hand. ugh.

I was NOT very energetic, so we had leftover spaghetti for dinner.
When Bucket took my bowl back (I didn't eat until after giving Bubbles a bath and overseeing Bucket's shower ... Michael was in charge of Bruise's shower), she remarked ...
"This bowl is so FREAKING warm!"
And I responded, "You don't need to talk that way."
Yes, I am a hypocrite.

I ALSO pushed three children out of my uterus AND graduated college AND had a TRYING last term of student teaching ... so, well, I think that I've EARNED the right to say "crap" and "freaking"...

However, I am trying to wean Bruise and Bucket from saying "What the ..."
JUST because Bumblebee, the Autobot, says it, does NOT make it acceptable for my kiddos to.
Just like how a set of their cousins have a house rule that you do NOT say "stupid" or "butt."
Every house has slightly different rules. And you try to respect that without giving up your integrity ... like, if a friend's parent offers them a sip of wine at dinner at THEIR house, they can just say, "Oh, no thank you. We don't drink wine." No biggie.
And we try not to say "stupid" or "butt" at their cousin's house.
However, when their cousins are here at MY house? I am not all that careful.
My house, my rules. :P

So, in other news, my kids apparently have lost faith in the bus system.

Back in September, the bus route changed, since there were SO MANY KIDS on the route.
They split the route that my kids were on (Sadly, Bucket's bestie was moved not only from her bus route but, also, into Bruise's group at school. Muy tragico0. We were given a list of the stops for each route (in case our route had any changes), along with what time.

I usually send Bruise and Bucket out the door about ten minutes before the time posted on there. Since, they do request that you get to the bus stop about five minutes early. And ... after their first day of Kindergarten, when we MISSED THE BUS, I wasn't taking any chances.

So, after they waited for ten minutes (so, according to the timesheet given, the bus was TEN minutes late), the and the neighbor girl ran back to the house stating that the bus hadn't come and they needed a ride to school.
Thank goodness I had on a robe.
I ran to the bedroom and put on shorts (in 40-degree weather. WINNER! ... Well, it's not like I had to get out of the car) and a sweatshirt. And a bra, too. That's important.

And we all loaded into the van and I got them to school. After we passed the corner, where the rest of the bus-riding students had ALREADY BEEN PICKED UP WHILE MY KIDS FREAKED OUT. *sigh*

But I got them to school, safe and sound.

I called the school to give them a heads-up. And, per their instruction, also called the bus garage (though, at first, I wasn't wanting to. Since, after Monday's fiasco ... when one of the gals working there [not the head gal, though I did talk to her, too. Head gal was LOVELY] finally called me back (I called on Tuesday afternoon ... didn't hear back, so I called back on Wednesday morning), I had the impression that she thought I was making a huge deal out of nothing ["Well! That was QUITE the message!"]. And I don't want to be a bother, really. I have no desire to be THAT PARENT. ... At the same time, though, when my kids are a half-hour late AND crying? I do think that I deserve to know the bus driver's account of the story. I don't want him to get in trouble ... I just know that I'm not always getting all the info from my six-year-olds, no matter HOW hard they're trying to relate all the facts to me).

I talked to the NICEST guy at the garage. He told me that I was ALWAYS welcome to call with ANY questions or concerns ... which made me feel a lot better.
AND I learned that, at our stop, the bus didn't get there until about seven minutes later.
(So the kids were freaking out that the bus was THREE OR FOUR minutes late ... instead of being about ten minutes late.)

*rolls eyes*

But, hey, I also now know that I can keep the kids in our warm, dry house for just a little longer ... which is great news with the wet and cold weather coming in.
So that's good.

Tonight is Curriculum Night at the school (so we're missing rehearsal ... but I put that we'd be unavailable this  Thursday back when we auditioned. So ... it's clear. And I emailed the director a couple weeks ago to reminder of the fact that Michael and I weren't going to be there last Thursday or today. ... I DO try to be responsible and cover my bases. ... Also, it appears that HALF the cast wasn't there for the last rehearsal.

Oy. Good thing it was just the read-through and getting to know everyone. Still ... that's really harsh.
This week is starting to get familiar with the music ... Good thing we have the CD. ... I should start listening to that, right?)

But I'm glad to get to meet with the kids' teachers and to learn what is going on in their classroom.

I feel so clueless this year.

Last year, the kids brought home weekly homework ... so I knew from that what concepts were being taught.
AND their teacher, bless her sweet heart, wrote WEEKLY newsletters home with information on what was happening in the classroom.

I miss that.

And I know that I shouldn't EXPECT weekly newsletters ... but ... well, when we ask the kids what went on at school, usually they'll just tell us about recess or lunch. If pressed, they'll tell us about learning to write their numbers or count to 120 or something ... but, well, they're at SCHOOL for about SEVEN HOURS (plus another half hour for the bus) ... I KNOW that they have to do more than count for SIX HOURS plus recess and lunch.

(Though, sometimes, Bucket will tell me what "Free Friday" activities she's done in her class.... I mean, that's a start, isn't it?)

If I didn't have an infant, I'd try to be there, volunteering in their classrooms at least once a week (and volunteering at our local library once a week, too) ... But ... since I can't BE there, I feel really ... lost in regards to what is going on at school.

And, the one sad thing about being in SOTW is that rehearsals are on the same weeknight that PTC meetings are scheduled. *sigh*

Oh well.

In other news, I've done the dishes and thrown a couple loads into the washer so far. Rather productive. Still need to get a shower and dressed professionally enough to attend curriculum night.... At least my nails are cute, so that's something. (Maybelline Plum Paradise -- cheaper dupe of Essie "Sexy Divide" -- base with a faux-gradient of Sally Hansen Gem Crush in Be-Jeweled ... Ring fingers have the glitter starting at the tips. The rest have the glitter starting at the cuticle. They look rather like the first set here: http://pshiiit.com/2011/11/05/video-tuto-pshiiit-se-degrade-avec-essie-et-opi/ ... except the glitter is purple-based. Almost silver-lilac with larger pink sparkles in there. If you really cared.)

And ... yeah. I think that's most everything to report.

UPDATE: Just for you, Robin, since you asked so nicely. :) complete with chips, hangnail, and all.
(Since I missed seeing you at church!)

Still haven't cleaned off my desk ...

... because I am GOOD at procrastination.

It's like an ART, y'all.

So, since we last chatted (Ha. Most like, "since I last chattered away at you and you pretended to listen, nodding and smiling placatingly"), what's gone on ... Hmmm....

Monday afternoon, I got a call from L (a gal from church. I VT her. Our kids ride the same bus home. In fact, her son gets off one stop after mine).

L: Are [Bruise] and [Bucket] already home?
Me: No, not yet. *checks clock. It's about 15 minutes past when they normally get home* I suppose the buses are running late again.
L: Well, [her son] just got home. He said that there was a lot of commotion on the bus and that the bus driver missed the stop, couldn't turn around without getting stuck, and that [Bruise] and [Bucket] are still on the bus, crying.
Me: Well. ... I'm going to call the bus garage and see what's up. Thanks for letting me know. Thank [her son] for telling you.

So, I call the school. The office worker I talked to called the bus garage. The driver had also called the garage, telling them that they'd missed the stop and he'd drop the kids off after the route's done. The gal at the school asked me to call her back when the kids got home.
(Which I did. I also texted L to let her know, too.)

Bruise and Bucket came, half an hour later than normal, RUNNING down the street, CRYING.
Like crying so loud and hard that I could hear them halfway down the block.
Bucket was worried that they'd NEVER get home.
Bruise just told me, "MOM!!! I MISSED YOU!!!!"

I got them calmed down ... (reported back to the school that they were home now) ... and shared a story about when I was in first grade. (I rode the bus, like, once a week to go to my aunt's. Once, I got on the bus on the wrong day. I told the driver, as soon as I realized it, and he just told me to hang out while he drove the rest of the kids home. Then he took me back to the school and I ran home from there. No biggie.)
They felt better that I'd been there, done that. (So has Michael, in full disclosure.)

I called the bas garage yesterday to get the full story. I was told that the kids forgot to get off the bus.
Which is odd, since THAT never happened before. And that NONE of the six-or-so kids that get off at our stop remembered.
And that L's son, when I've talked to him, is not one given to overexaggurate.
I quizzed Bruise and Bucket about it after they got home.
No, they didn't FORGET to get off the bus. (Theirs is the first stop. That makes it difficult to forget, no?)
And all of the kids were on the bus for the whole trip.
What they reported was that kids on the bus were being REALLY LOUD. Some were using inappropriate words (Yes. "Inappropriate words." That's a direct quote.) One kid was screaming.
The driver drove past the stop. Then he called in to the garage, went through the route, and swung back around to drop off the first-stop group.

Ah! On the answering machine is the response from the bus barn. Not only were kids loud, but the windows were REALLY steamed up from the rain and all the kids' body heat. It was an accident.
And I need to let my kids know that as long as they're on the bus and the driver's there, they're safe. And that sometimes a wrong turn is made and these things do happen.
(For the record, my kids have already experienced a driver making a wrong turn. They can handle that. It's when the bus barrells past their home ... I'd be a little worried, too. But it all ended well enough.)

Besides that, I've tried a few recipes from Pinterest. Most have been great.
I'll warn you that making mac 'n cheese with cooking the noodles in milk ... the sauce gets REALLY THICK REALLY FAST. The flavor was fine. The texture wasn't so great.... since it was done before Michael got home from work. So the noodles were really mushy in a THICK sauce.
I'll give it another try sometime ... I'm giving it the chance that it was totally MY fault, not the recipe's.

We finished reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix Monday night. I got through it without crying ... too much ... this time. (It's Michael's favorite of the series. I still like Goblet of Fire ... plenty long without too many people dropping like flies. *sigh* Between Joss Whedon, Steven Moffat, and J. K. Rowling, I should have embraced the fact that every character I've ever loved will DIE. ... But, hey, I'm an optimist. I go into every book thinking that every character will come out alive. Well, unless it's a murder mystery. Then someone will die. And I always hope it's the most repugnant character in the novel.)
We've started Half-Blood Prince ... Then it'll be Deathly Hallows ... Then .... I'm going to have to figure out what to read to them next. Maybe The Little Prince and some more Roald Dahl... Such choices.

I cleaned the fish tank (well, most of it) today. It was getting gross.
Let's hope that I haven't given the fish a death notice by removing the grossness of their tank.
I did squirt some StressCoat in there ... Let's hope they make it through.

If not, Bucket's asking for neon Tetras for her birthday. Or another goldfish. Since, as I told her, I'd worry that the goldfish she has would nibble on the Tetras.

Bubbles has started waving. And she'll give high-fives ... especially to my face. *rolls eyes*
But, overall, she's still her affable, sweet self ... even though she's not sleeping as thoroughly as she could.
Someday, hopefully soon, she'll start sleeping through the night on a regular basis. Instead of falling asleep around 8 and waking up at 2 AM. Or midnight. It depends. But I'd like for her to sleep from around 8 PM until ... how about 6:30 AM? I could settle for that. I'd prefer 7 AM ... but 6:30 would be nice. I'd even be willing to get her for a dream feed around 10, if she'd consistently sleep until 6:30.

Well ... I can't think of anything else to write ... So ... yeah.

A small whirlwind of my life

So, I got all the dishes done ... and dirtied up some more.

Mom came up.
I made ice cream (Root beer flavored).
Michael's birthday was yesterday.
And I had a child sent home from school.

Where to start?
So, Mom came up and we were going to have a little Mary Kay party.
But Bri's BabyBug wasn't feeling good. So it's postponed.
(And Bri? You're NOT a bad friend. You're a good friend and a wonderful mom. It's all cool. ^_^)

Mom and I (and Michael, who was home by this time from his EQ meeting) watched Thor.
(Mom hadn't seen it before.)

Oh ... I should mention that I took Bruise to the doctor's on Monday. His Molluscum went CRAZY. So he has all these little bumps (and scabs from the ones that we popped) all over his arms, chest, back, and thighs. Poor boy.
We saw another doctor in the practice, since their pediatrician was busy ... but he ended up coming for a look.
Bruise's case is the worst that he's ever seen in his 20+ years of medicine. But, as he reminded us, Molluscum ALWAYS goes away.
We were told to

• Leave it alone (No scratching or popping any more bumps)
• Keep it covered
• Review the CDC handout

We were also told to have him eat healthier, since his immune system SHOULD have kicked in by now.
So he's drinking some fruits and vegetables ... and THIS SUMMER is the summer of getting him to enjoy vegetables. And SOUPS. Since it's EASY to get one's veggies by eating soups.

Bucket has a few (like 5-7 TOTAL) Molluscum warts on her. But they're not in spots that she can itch. And they will stay covered.

BUT, while Bruise was at school yesterday, he was scratching at a scab. And it started to bleed. And, with all the scabs from some, I'm pretty sure that the school thought that he had Chicken Pox (He was immunized, so that chance is slim) ... and their teacher is pregnant ... so I got a call.
But since he was scratching and had an open wound, they had me pick him up.
(I really kinda wanted to say, "What? Does the school not have ANY Band-Aids? I can swing by Costco. Get y'all a big box." ... But I didn't.)
Yes, Molluscum is contagious. IF YOU TOUCH IT. And if you don't wash your hands. But, really ... I don't wash my hands as well as I probably should. I wash, but not always for a full one-two minutes. STILL, I haven't gotten ANY. And I'm in contact with Bruise a LOT.

The reason why Bucket's gotten them, I'm pretty sure, is because they've taken baths together. And, despite my requests, they end up wrestling around and goofing off in the tub. (Now? It's TIME for them to have separate baths. I get it. My babies are growing up. *sigh*) That's the only way she could get them on her back.
Bruise is always kissing on and trying to hold Bubbles. She doesn't have ANY.

And, according to the CDC, there's no reason to keep a child out of school or daycare due to Molluscum.

The school did seem to feel a little better when they knew that he'd been to the doctor, so they knew it was NOT Chicken Pox. But it was the whole open sore issue ... *sigh* I just don't know.

I did ask Mom, since she's a retired teacher, if I had been in any way irresponsible by not telling the school/their teacher about Bruise's Molluscum. And she assured me that, no, it wasn't an issue ... until he was rolling up his sleeves and scratching. Which he wasn't supposed to do.
If their doctor had even mentioned letting their teacher/school be aware of it, I'd have definitely let them know. But ... it never even crossed my mind.

So, I picked him up and we went to Target and got some Ace bandages to wrap his arms in while he's at school so he can't scratch. Good thing school's getting out next week.
The whole thing exhausts me.

Of course, what's even funnier, is that as Michael and I looked at his arms ... it already looks WAAAAAAY better than it had even last week. So it's really a huge mountain out of a molehill, for the most part.

Michael's pretty sure that they called me without asking Bruise about what's on his arms.
If they'd asked, he'd have told them that it's warts. Which is what it is. He knows. Bucket knows.

Mom is pretty sure that they're just being a little paranoid. What with Chicken Pox and then the huge fears of blood-borne pathogens.

But we're working REALLY, REALLY HARD to get his immune system kicked up a notch with healthier eating and LOADS of prayer.

Especially since I'm not getting the kids into swim lessons until they're Molluscum free. (Or there are only the healing ones. No new ones.)

I really wish that I knew where he caught it. Just like I really wish that I knew how Bucket got head lice.

Oh well.

So, besides that, Mom and I went to Farmers' Market yesterday. We got goat cheese (feta AND chevre), fresh basil (which makes me house smell AMAZING), apple sauce and apple butter, fresh cherries, some beef (Michael had a delicious birthday steak for dinner. And I got to feel rather virtuous for having locally-grown/raised beef in the house for once. ^_^), sugar snap peas, and a cucumber. I think that's it. ... Yes. That was my haul.
Mom got two cucumbers ... and no steak.
But that's because the steak was Michael's present. Well, one of them. ^_^

Mom and Dad C (and Grandma C) came by as we were grilling up the steak and some burgers for the kiddos.

(Did I mention that we FINALLY got the grill?? We did! It came in on Sunday. Michael picked it up and put it together Monday night. It took TWO HOURS for him to put it together ... so that tells you how NOT-CLEARLY the instructions were written. But it's a good grill ... and it's ours.
Also, with the gift card that it came with, he bought himself some LEGOs. ^_^
He put his Tie-Fighter together while Mom and I were watching Thor.
Bruise is rather jealous. :P)

What was really cute was that they kept saying that Michael got the grill for his birthday.
No, we bought that for Memorial Day (not that it arrived in time. *sigh*) ...
We got him a DRILL for his birthday.
They got him some very nice shirts and a gift card for the movie theater. Always a great present. ^_^

And Michael was cute as he was almost as excited as I've ever seen him about something.
The drill and driver (came as a set) will be put to good use.

(FYI: The most excited that I've EVER seen him was when he learned that he passed his test to be a real engineer -- as opposed to an EIT.
Srsly, he swung me around. And that takes something. I'm nowhere near being one of those sweet, little things that weigh 90 lbs, soaking wet. ... And, really, with my bone structure, I'd look skeletal if I were that small. But I'm not happy about my BMI. Ugh. Let's not go there. Let's concentrate on how adorable it is when Michael's excited. Because it's ADORABLE.)

In other news, Jem! is on Netflix streaming.
I've watched about three episodes ... and, since I'm hormonal (nursing AND having the painters in) I almost started sobbing at one part.
One of the foster girls runs back into Starlight House to rescue the jar of money the girls are saving (which she had attempted  to steal from earlier). When she comes out, Jerrica tells her that it was a crazy thing to do and that ... *sniff, sniff* ... no amount of money could ever replace you.
And, oh gosh, I'm misting up ... This is so stupid.
These are CARTOON CHARACTERS ...

Yeah ... this is what Michael gets to put up with (and, strangely enough, he seems HAPPY about it. Probably because insane people are pretty entertaining. That must be it).
Lucky boy.

Oh, and ... well, this is the year that I start messing up Michael's age. I KNOW, really, how old he is.
But then I say, "Well, you're only 34."
No. No, he's not. I'm off.
By more than one year.

He just looks younger. That's it. It must be.
Or else I'm in denial that I'm as old as I am.

No ... because I'm starting to think of myself as older.
Even though, mentally, I still FEEL as clueless as I was at 16.
But, since I've passed 30, I just assume that I'm automatically 35. Not 31.

I'll chalk that up to having found my first grey hair.
In my EYEBROW.
A few months ago.

Yes. That's so, so special.

Also special?
While Michael and I were talking in bed last night, we were talking about NOT refusing to use big words.
Call Mathematics by their real names: ADDITION, SUBTRACTION, etc.
Michael's main beef is that when people refuse to use the big words, it makes awesome classes like Chemistry SCARY for a lot of people.
Whereas, if we're all used to using big words ... it's not such a big deal to lean about hydroxides and other things that use big words.
I have taught our kids that they have penises and vaginas (and I'm working on the term vulva, since that's the actual correct term for the part that you see ... and it'd be good to use the CORRECT-CORRECT term).
As I said that "they have penises and vaginas," last night, Michael was tired.
"No, they shouldn't. At least not both at once."
"Yes, honey," I sardonically drawled. "Because we only give birth to hermaphrodites in this family."

Yeah. We're special.

But, besides it being a matter of importance to use the correct terms for things, I also read that, according to some research (citation needed, I'm sure, since it was a while ago that I read it), children who use the correct technical terms for their private parts are less likely to be sexually abused. ... Something about the (potential-)abuser realizing that they'd give stronger testimony and are more aware of what is and isn't appropriate.

And, well, in a case like this, I'd rather be overly safe than sorry.

I do try not to be a helicopter-mom. I do try to foster independence in my children.
I want them to feel loved and secure ... but I also want them to KNOW that they have the ability to protect themselves. To be capable of making their own (hopefully GOOD) choices.
I want them to know that I respect their decisions ... I might not always agree with them ... but that they have the right and the ability to make their own choices.
I want them to know what they NEED to do ... and that, after that, they have freedom to choose and prioritize their wants.
I want them to be responsible citizens who help others around them to feel valued and appreciated. I want for my children to be strong. I want them to be healthy. I want them to be content in their place in life, to not regret many things. I want them to be educated, to have a love of learning. I want them to never stagnate in life. I want them to develop a good work ethic, to be able to support their families -- to have marketable skills (since life WILL throw challenges in one's way. It's not an IF. It's a WHEN) that they can take confidence and security in possessing. I want them to love the Lord, to have a love for the scriptures, prayer, and following the commandments because they WANT to (not just because it's something they are supposed to do) entrenched in their character. I want them to aim for Celestial marriage ... and, regardless, to live life in preparation of those covenants that they'll make in the temple. And, after their wedding, to show love and respect for their spouse. I also hope they'll marry people that we'll get along with, too. ^_^
I want them to be aware that they can ALWAYS come to Michael and me for love, support, advice, a listening ear/sounding board. I want them to never fear that we won't love them or that we'd shun or shame them. (I will admit that I am, at times, disappointed in my kiddos' choices. Sometimes I may not love them as fully as they deserve ... but I will always love them. It's my JOB. And I gladly accept that responsibility.)

I also want them to eat their friggin' vegetables. And pick up their crap. And not give me any sass. And not to psyche themselves out of things they need to do -- I want them to be able to acknowledge that they are afraid ... AND DO IT ANYWAYS. To PROVE to THEMSELVES that they CAN do it. Even if it's scary.

And ... well ... I, as a mother ... as THEIR mother, need to learn how to best model this for them. How to best support and encourage them. To give them a safe haven from anything else out there. To foster a love of learning and of loving those around them. To show them that, even if you don't LOVE it, eating healthily and exercising will not KILL you. ... Things like that.
I need to be better at it.

Bubble's Birth Story

Due to popular demand ... and, really, there is also the fact that this is my journal ... here's the story of Bubbles' birth.

[TMI ALERT: I figure that this is my blog. And, well, I can handle y'all knowing what all went on in this birthing experience. If you are weak-stomached or very sensitive ... you might want to NOT read this entry. Just giving you a heads-up.]

Bubbles' gestation, as you already know if you've been reading along for the whole journey, has been ... interesting.  I mean, I had the joy of a kidney stone ... and then there was the whole "I'm breech! I'm vertex! I'm breech again! Hey, you had an external version ... and then I turned breech on you! Next visit I'll be vertex!" excitement ... Yes, it was exciting.

And, of course, it was different from Bruise and Bucket's birth in many ways:

• Only one fetus in there ... in my GINORM uterus with TONS of amniotic fluid.
  Yup, Bubbles had her own personal Olympic-sized swimming pool.
• I didn't have preeclampsia this time. Which was LOVELY.
  Even though my feet were NASTY-SWOLLEN. Up to mid-calf.
  And I had elevated uric acid levels and low red-blood cell count ... but, hey! My liver enzymes were NORMAL! WOOT!! ... So I didn't have to be on MagSulfate (I HATE that stuff. You feel like crap. And you have to stay longer in the hospital. *sigh*) this time.
• Once Bubbles turned and STAYED vertex, I was able to know that I could stay in the labor and delivery room the WHOLE TIME (well, until she was born. Then, since the hospital was still REALLY FULL, we got moved to a postpartum room.
  Seriously, when I say RIGHT AWAY, I mean it. They got me up to pee, cleaned me up (The bed and the bathroom looked rather like cut-scenes from an episode of CSI), and then after we changed my hospital gown, I was wheeled down to our new room.
  Still, that's WAY better than being wheeled, in labor, to the surgical room (JUST IN CASE), having to heft my giant, swollen self -- BETWEEN CONTRACTIONS -- into THAT bed, giving birth, getting BACK into the OTHER bed, being wheeled back to the original L&D room, then trying to pee and almost passing out (and puking. No almost on THAT one.), then laying in bed while hooked up to that MagSulfate drip. Ugh.
• And there was the fact that last time, I was induced at 36 weeks (due to preeclampsia).
  This time I would have been induced at 39 or 40 weeks ... but I (1) had a little girl that turned breech RIGHT AFTER a version and then (2) kept getting bumped since the hospital was full of ladies whose cervixes actually cooperate with them. *sigh* ... So I was overdue by a week.

[OH GOSH. WHAT FRESH HELL IS THIS?? Bucket got up to go potty. Then I hear the kiddos freaking out. She had tied dental floss AROUND BRUISE'S NECK.
THE HELL?????????
Michael's dealing with it. ... Sometimes ... I just ... I just don't understand my children.
And it's truly amazing that they are still alive. And not because I sometimes have the urge -- WHICH I DO NOT GIVE INTO -- to gleefully throttle them.
I mean, really ... what if Bruise hadn't freaked out?? He could have been REALLY hurt.
That REALLY ticks me off. I mean ... I am NOT going to break my record of NOT having my kiddos survive.
In the last three years, I've already lost two cats and a hedgehog. That is my LIMIT.]

Okay ... back to the birth story.

So, there I am ... at 41 weeks. Michael and I go in Friday morning to be admitted (FINALLY) for my scheduled induction.
Since, obviously, my contractions aren't doing anything. I'm dilated to 2 cm. Not effaced.
My cervix is soft ... but that's about it.
And, yes, I can talk and walk through those contractions. Even when they're regularly occurring.
(I still don't know if it's just that I have wussy contractions or if I just have some mutant ability where pain doesn't affect me as much as other people. Who knows?)

I get checked in at 9 AM. I'm admitted and hooked up to my IV. Pitocin, saline, and antibiotics are started at 10:40 AM.
(I tested positive for Group B Strep this time. My first words on discovering this were, "Honey, I don't know how this happened. I haven't slept with anyone else. I swear." ... Last I had read, Group B Strep was listed as an STI. And I know that I hadn't changed my partner. And that I could trust Michael.
Turns out that, hey, Group B Strep is part of one's "natural flora" down there. It comes and goes. I just didn't have an active "bloom" last delivery. Who knew?)

We mostly just hang out (I lay in the hospital bed, getting up to pee, and watching Animal Planet and TLC on TV) ... Not a whole lot is happening.
Mom and the kids came to visit after school ... not that I had a baby to show them. *sigh*

Around 5:30, my doctor checked me again. ... Dilated to 3.5 cm, still no effacement.
WHAT?!?!?
I'd been on that Pitocin drip for nearly six hours!
For 1.5 cm!!
So, she reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeached as far as she could reach to attempt to strip my membranes.
And, golly, but it was very wet ... since, in the process, my water broke.

"Ha! You can't send me home now!" I gloated.
Yes, that was my first thought. That I couldn't be sent home.

After that, the Pitocin seemed to pick up a little more.
I asked for a dose of Fentanyl around 6:30 or so, since I was in a bit of discomfort.
And, really, if I'm birthing in a hospital, I might as well NOT be experiencing loads of pain.
Around 7:30, I asked for an epidural.

It took two tries to get it placed.
That first attempt?
Obviously, we weren't in the right spot ... The anesthesiologist poked the needle in, my right leg swung up and it felt like someone had slammed my calf with electric porcupines.
(By the by, don't you agree that "Electric Porcupines" would make a good name for a band?)
And tears streamed down my face. I don't know that I was in THAT much pain ... but, golly, I wasn't comfortable. And I was TRYING SO HARD to stay still.
But, hey, that second attempt? It was successful.
And I was NUMB from the bottom of my ribs down to my puffy feet. 

So, we just went back to waiting. And waiting.
And I had an internal monitor (to measure the contractions accurately) and a catheter installed ... since, well, I wasn't going anywhere.

There was an episode, I don't remember what time ... maybe around 9? 10? ... where my blood pressure (which was a little high coming in) dropped.
A LOT.
It had gone from around 140/85 down to 110/50.
But, hey, now I know for sure that when I've given blood and started to feel dizzy and nauseated and clammy? That's because my stupid blood pressure just took a total nose dive.
We rolled me over and I held a cool, wet washcloth to my forehead.
I did NOT throw up.
And I started to feel better after a while.

Around 11, just about the time that Michael had nodded off, my contractions were getting stronger. And the magic button (Yes, I had one of those epidurals that you could give yourself a little "sumthin' sumthin'" ... but only once every 20 minutes ... NOT. FREAKING. ENOUGH ... when you needed to take the edge off.) was not doing its job.

I was starting to moan a little. And I woke Michael up around 11:30.
He came and stood by me and held my hand while I curled my (mostly numb and tingly) appendages and gripped the side of the hospital bed and did my yoga-breaths and tried not to moan too much during contractions that just kept coming.

Around 11:40, Bev (my nurse for the night) came in.
"Bev?" I asked plaintively, "I think I may have made a mess in the bed. I'm not totally sure, since I can't really FEEL it ... But I think that I did. And I'm really sorry."

She lifted up the sheets. "Hey, that's okay!" She chirped.

"That means that, yes, I did." I would have hung my head in shame if I hadn't been in that strange, timeless, odd space that I had reached. "I'm sorry."

But she got me cleaned up and checked on me again around ten minutes later.

"Bev? Um ... I think that I feel the need to push. ... And I don't know if I'm supposed to do that yet."
"Do you want me to check you? See how you've progressed?"
"Sure."
"Okay ... Hmm ... Can I FIND the edge of your cervix? ... Let me see if Dr. M is around. ... Hold on and DON'T PUSH YET, okay?"
"Okay ..."

And, THAT, my dears is how I learned that panting? That's the way to breathe and NOT push.

Thankfully, my doctor had NOT gone home. She rushed in, got my legs situated, Bev put an oxygen mask on me, and we got down to business (But not "to defeat. The Huns. HWAH!" ... Yes, random Disney reference).

Bubbles had worked her way QUICKLY down the canal.
We established that I push most effectively when I hold my breath and bear down. So that's what my job was.
Around three pushes got her head out ... and she had the cord wrapped around her neck.
(I had originally asked for the cord not to be cut until it had stopped pulsing. Since the current studies suggest that, by doing so, it can reduce the chances of the baby having jaundice.)
Dr. M cut the cord asap ... after about two more pushes got Bubbles out.

She was born Saturday, March 3, at 12:10 AM.

They quickly moved my pale, little girl (Well, not SO little, I suppose ... She was 9 pounds, 2 ounces. 21 inches long) to the warmer and got her checked out, breathing, and bundled up ... then back to me in minutes where we started breastfeeding.
(My last worry about her birth had been if she'd have a good latch. She does. She's a good eater. When she chooses to finish a feeding. :P)

While Bubbles was getting warmed up, cleaned out (so she could breathe), and tested, I was getting my stitches and chatting (albeit exhaustedly) with Dr. M.

As she was getting the placenta (and lots of membrane) out, somehow my left foot felt REALLY strange. Like COLD ... So I sat up a little and took a look.
It appeared that, as she squeezed the cord, it had gushed blood all over my foot.
I pointed out that my foot was covered in blood. Dr. M was all, "Oh crap! I can't believe that I did that!"
"Aw, how about you get the other one ... so they'll match."
Yes, that's my post-birthing sense of humor. I get a little punchy, obviously.

Then, after a go at nursing Bubbles, Bev escorted me to the bathroom (and I dripped all over the floor on my way there. Yes. I have no pride.), where I actually PEED and passed gas ... as opposed to last time where I couldn't even make the fifteen-foot journey to the toilet. And I puked from the effort of TRYING to pee.
(When I got to the postpartum room? I totally went poop. ALL BY MYSELF. And it wasn't scary like last time. I knew that I could do it and not rip out my stitches or anything. AWESOME.)

I was given 600mg doses of Ibuprofen ... and I was GOOD. I had to be on the Pitocin drip until the morning. Then I got to be FREE from that IV stand (which made all my bathroom trips SO much easier).

I don't think we got ANY sleep, really, that first night. Not because of Bubbles (well, okay, a bit because of her), but more due to having to move rooms in the middle of the night, having nurses come in to check Bubbles' and my vitals ... Yeah, it wasn't very restful.

Saturday morning, I got a shower before Mom and Dad C came to visit. That helped me to feel a bit more ... human.
Then, Mom and the kids came by to meet Bubbles.

Most of the rest of the day was just spent waiting for Bubbles to have the pediatrician check her out (which ended up happening LATE, while we were sleeping and Bubbles was out, hanging with the nurses so Michael and I could get some sleep). My vitals were looking better and better. And I was feeling fine. I didn't even need any ice packs this time.

Sunday morning, Michael left to get ready for church (he had a lesson to teach). And Dr N (from our kids' pediatrician's clinic) came to check out Bubbles. It was nice to see him. He used to be the the high councilman for our ward when we were in the University wards. And ... well, there is a tenuous relation. (His uncle married my Pop-pop's [grandfather's] niece, if I'm recalling this all correctly.) Regardless, it's always nice to see him.

Thankfully, both he and my doctor gave the okay for Bubbles and me to be released that day. This way Michael would be able to bring me home. And he did. With the kiddos.
And we got home, got unpacked, and had some family come to visit ... And I could tell when I was getting really tired --- Because my stitches would start to get REALLY sore.
Sore enough that the Ibuprofen and the Dermoplast were just not cutting it. Oh well.

The first night home with Bubbles was ... not very restful.
She was having issues with gas.
So, as I've mentioned Mylicon drops are a REALLY GOOD THING to have around.
She's still having some issues, but nothing near as horrendous. 

Her umbilical cord fell off yesterday. It's hard to tell if she'll have an innie or an outie ... But I'm thinking it'll resolve to be an innie.

We went to church yesterday. She slept nearly the whole time. Which was pretty nice.

Okay ... I'm getting REALLY TIRED now. We went up to a friend's to do some newborn photos (and some pictures of Bubbles with us as a family and with just the kiddos). Then we headed back home in awful traffic and rain. I'm so glad that Michael drove. I ended up falling asleep for about the last 20 or so minutes. I felt bad, since I'm sure that Michael's just as tired. Poor man.

Wish us luck (and say your prayers, if you're the type inclined to pray. I'm not going to make you do anything that you're not comfortable with. Because I love you so. No, REALLY.) that we can start to get Miss Bubbles on a bit of a routine. ... I mean, I already feel tons better than I did after I had Bruise and Bucket ... and, to be completely honest, taking care of a singleton? WAAAAAAAY easier than doing it in tandem ...
But still, I'm looking forward to when, a few months down the road, Bubbles sleeps for longer stretches during the night.

Oh! I am not trying to brag here ... maybe this is totally normal for mothers of singletons?
The swelling in my feet is nearly completely gone! (Wearing tennis shoes for a day seems to have helped kick the puff to the curb!! YAY!!) ... I keep looking at my left ankle and noticing how SKELETAL it looks compared to how it looked two days ago.  ... Oh, metatarsals, tibia and fibula ... How I missed you!!
(*sings* Reunited and it feels so good!)
And I'm able to fit into my pre-pregnancy pants. I sport the new-mom muffin top when I wear them ... but there is the fact that they fit about four days after giving birth. I was rather shocked.
(I still wear my maternity pants, though. Because they're COMFORTABLE! ... But I have some extra options now. Which is nice. ... And I can wear my tights again! That made getting ready for church so much easier.)