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.

All the crazy dreams!!

So, last night, I had a plethora of crazy dreams ... which flowed and ebbed into each other.

It started with visiting a gal I know from church. Her marriage isn't the best right now. Her husband has some pretty serious (and getting serious-er) mental health problems.

At one point in the dream, he asks for some help. (IRL, I'm not completely comfortable with him.) Since Michael's also there, in the dream, visiting these folks, I hesitatingly agree to assist him.

He asks me to come stand near the bathroom door. He proclaims that he's got a terrible fear of water, can't even step in the tub. He starts to fill the bathtub with not even an inch of water. I turn, not knowing what to tell him. He and his wife's son (but wrong age) have stripped or are in the process of taking off their clothes. ... I back out, scrabble for Michael's hand and announce, trying not to sound as panicked and disturbed as I feel, "Thank you SO MUCH for your hospitality, but we really must be going. I have a terrible headache and must leave. RIGHT NOW."

Later, in my dream, we're home ... but it's not like any house I've lived in. There are some similarities to my childhood home ... but it's not. The gal from the previous dream called, asking for help for her husband. And I am trying to be SO NICE since I'm genuinely feeling bad for her. But I am also FREAKED OUT by the situation. And I tell her that, no, I'm very sorry, but I am not the person to assist in this situation. AT ALL.

And I am so tired. And Michael and I are in our room (which, in this dream, is right by my mom's room). And I start to get undressed. And we start to ... well ... get a little frisky. Mostly clothed. But we haven't totally closed our door. And my mom walks by as she heads down the hall. And we have a rather awkward, but short conversation. Whoops.

So, in the next section of dream, our house (which is not our irl house) ... well, the door was left open. And I'm telling off the kids because they KNOW that we can't leave the doors open. BECAUSE THE CATS WILL GET OUTSIDE. And it's dark and I'm trying to count our cats, to make sure that everyone's in the house and safe. And Celeste-cat slinks into the light from the porch, carrying something in her mouth.
At first, I think it's a wet rat, something that she's hunted and brought back ... but it's actually a wet kitten. I would think it was just born. Except that it's about twice the size of a newborn kitten. It's got a collar that says something to the effect of "If you find this kitten, it's yours. We are done keeping track of it."

Harsh.

"Hon," I call. I think we just got ourselves a fourth cat. Sorry?"

Then, in my dream, Michael and I (and maybe Mom and the kids are with us?) are shopping at a little store. It's a lot like the shops downtown and a little like the ones that I shopped at over 20 years ago in Victoria, B.C.

We're browsing through things. At one point, I'm looking through some sale items in a cart outside a shop. They're marked down a LOT. One thing is even free, since someone told the shopowners that it was an empty box, but it wasn't. Things were so on sale that it all came down to around ten dollars.
Even though, with the item marked down to three, it's over $20 of stuff.

There are two shopkeepers. One is a blonde, younger woman. She's sweet and is just trying to keep her shop afloat with all the crazy. The other (her dad?) is an older, bald man. He's grousing about how much things are marked down, muttering, worried.

I dig through the cash in my purse. I give him a ten and two fives, telling him to keep the change. As he looks through the money in his hand, his whole demeanor changes. He's awed and humble and so very sweet. And it didn't cost me much ... just giving a fairer price for all that I was buying.

So, we leave the shop, everyone happy. Celeste-cat is walking along, in front of us, having followed us, like a dog. I think she still has the new, inexplicably still-wet kitten.

------------------------------

I really have no idea what a lot of this is all about.

The phone call from the wife ... I'm pretty sure that's related to a guy who was trying to buy my mom's property. He was ... a knucklehead. He was demanding and really rude to Mom's realtor (and good friend). For someone buying a house on contract (therefore, needed to be in long-term business/contact with the other party), he was quite a piece of work.

Needless to say, we shined up our steel spines and gave the "we cannot accommodate that/those request/s. Good day." ... And, once he realized that he had REALLY messed up and that we were aware that he wasn't our only option, he turned face and had his (sweet) wife call the realtor and ask if we would reconsider.

No. We really wouldn't (and are glad of it). He would have been a very trying neighbor for the folks on either side of the property. And we (and the existing neighbors) are SO VERY GLAD that we put our foot down. ... Really, if you're going to completely try and lowball on a property sold "as is" and THEN make multiple demands (reroof, cleared out, yardwork, etc ... when the seller kindly offered to pay for the property to be mowed AND offered to pay for a dumpster for clearing out the shop)?? Yeah, that was irritating and not happy-making.

But, there's a new buyer. And his family is SO excited for the property. And he's already helped DO stuff. So that is a huge blessing.

-------------------

But, yeah. That's most of what's going on in my subconscious.

... I agree. I totally wouldn't want to visit either. But I don't get a choice. Ha ha haaaa.

So, I've started a new blog for Nana's and Grandma Darlene's recipes.

If you care to look at it (there's not a whole lot there right now ... it's going to be a pretty big endeavor), it's at https://cookingwithnanandgram.blogspot.com/

There's two actual posts of recipes ... so ... yeah.

I haven't been sleeping well.

Last night, I remember dreaming that the van (my car) was starting to break down. And I maybe got a ticket for having sparks from under the car.
THEN, when Michael and I were driving a load of ... some stuff ... from Washington, we were going through a town and got pulled over by a deputy-guy-in-training. And he wrote a ticket for, like, $542 for something under the truck ... and when we were proving that we DIDN'T have sparks or whatever under the truck, he refused to take it away, since it would reflect badly on his homework or something.
BUT! He WOULD lower it to $537.
Yeah, thanks.

Thankfully that was just a dream.
And the only money woes we really have are because the other house still hasn't sold at all.
Good times.

We're feeding the missionaries today.
Bruise got (mostly) caught up on homework ... so he's at a friend's house (after we cranked the last two answers out this morning.
I did let him know that when he neglects or chooses not to turn in work or to not give a full effort, it reflects poorly on Michael and me, since that's a lot of how his teachers know about our family.

I will also let Bucket know that, too.

I know that things need to get done. And I'm doing some of them. But I'm not motivated.
My head and neck and shoulders hurt. I just wish that I didn't have to THINK for a while ... and I'm such the type that's always in my head. I just want a mental vacation.

I could gripe about how I do all the mother-stuff: make sure the kids are off to school/drive them to school or their bus stop, morning devotional, make sure they're eating, attempt to cook something healthy, pick them up from school or their bus stop (unless the big kids are walking home), drive the girls to their dance classes, drive Bruise and Bubbles to soccer practices, attempt to be social and happy ... or at least act like I am ..., ...

I almost wish that I had a day or a week or a month where I could just curl up in bed and hibernate. Maybe, then, when I woke up, I wouldn't be sad or overwhelmed.

I'm reading scriptures. I'm saying prayers. We're reading and praying as a family. I have a testimony. I'm going through the motions. I don't have any desire to NOT go to church or to not pray or to not read scriptures. I still really suck at the whole pondering or studying or meditating on things ... I know that I'll be blessed -- that I AM blessed -- from just TRYING. That Heavenly Father appreciates my efforts.

I don't feel like the best Ministering Sister. I get that it's a higher law. And I love that we're getting to that level as a Church and a society ... but, I kinda suck as a friend. I check in and ask them if they want a visit or could use anything ... I just know that I should be doing more. That I SHOULD be being inspired. And ... I'm ... I'm just treading water, keeping afloat just enough.

I want to be ... oh, ... confident in my spirituality. Does that even make sense?
I want to FEEL the Holy Ghost. I do okay as I'm getting a blessing. I know that my Heavenly Father is aware of me and loves me and all that. I get that. I have a testimony of that. I have knowledge of that.

I just am not feeling as inspired. And I'm sure that it's me. I've done something or NOT done something. And I'm trying to figure out what exactly I need to repent of and change (probably the  going-through-the-motions ... but I'm not sure what else to do).

And this has been happening for a few weeks. Several weeks. It's not just since Nana died.
But that's made it harder. Not going to lie about or sugarcoat that fact.

I mean, with dealing with my emotions from Nana's dementia (and then her death), I do understand why people drink.
Heck, I'm tempted to take a Percocet. But I don't.
Mostly because I know that doing that isn't going to fix anything. Escapist reading hasn't fixed anything. Not that I've done a whole lot of that the last week.

What have I done a lot of? Mindless games on my phone.
Not quite what I'm sure President Nelson had in mind when he told us to go on that 10-day social media fast.
That first day, I actually was pretty productive. Then I kinda slipped into games. Then Nana went into an unresponsive state. Then she passed. ... And, a couple days later, I emerged from avoiding Facebook and Instagram. Those are my big social-media time-sucks.

I followed the prophet. Was I ecstatic about it? Not really.
Of course ... at the same point, I don't feel ecstatic about ... anything right now, tbh.

I shaved my legs yesterday. It was past time, for sure.
I also bought blue lipstick. It would look better on a face that had foundation and sleep.

I've been trying to do some self-care. I'll eat. At some point. I try to drink water or juice ... mostly to combat crying-induced headaches. I'll do a face mask, so I don't look quite as haggard. I'll take a shower, so I don't disgust myself. I do some housework, so that something in my life looks nice and somewhat organized. I talk aloud to Nana, since I know the veil is thin. She might be here, who knows? I can't feel her. But I can't totally feel much right now.

I'm easily irritated and prefer to be mostly alone. This way no one has to be aware of how much I cry or anything. Honestly, I'm not that much fun to be around. I'm cranky or despondent. I just want some mindless task that I can do, where I don't have to think or react to anything.

More than anything, I just want Nana and Pop-pop's old house. Even just the living room. How the light would slant through the curtains on a summer's afternoon. The smells of living and traces Pop-pop's cigarette smoke interwoven into the carpet, curtains, and furniture.
I think, that in Heaven, that will be one room in my house. Or a bottle of scent, at the least.

Maybe I should steam some broccoli. That was one of the smells that would waft through from the kitchen at their house.

Christmas hasn't ever been the same since Grandma Darlene passed ... and that was 22 years ago. Mom's stepdad passed a couple years afterwards ... that had no effect. Then Pop-pop passed. And then Nana moved ... and then had to move in with my uncle and aunt ... and then was in memory care. The major memories of Christmas in my rather idyllic, for the most part, childhood centered around being at my grandparents' houses. And that .... isn't ever happening again. And, really, hasn't happened for a while.

I know that it's up to me to start making some of these memories better and all. But ... I don't really know how to start yet.
Don't get me wrong. I love Christmas. I love being with my family. But ... there was something just magical about Christmas as a child. And I've not been able to fully replicate it for myself since Grandma Darlene passed. And, then after not having Nana and Pop-pop's house in the Christmas equation, it's been paler and sadder .... bittersweet, maybe. Maybe that's the better way to term it.

I should get a shower. My hair hurts as I've been crying off and on as I type this all.

Wow. I'm so fun to be around, aren't I? You used to come and read this blog for my witty bon mots and refusal to take life too seriously ... and now it's all mopey and bleak and guilt-ridden. Good times indeed.

Hopefully, I'll be out of this grief-induced funk soon. I can hardly stand to be around myself ... I can't imagine that you're having a great time, either.

A Turn for the Worse ... Here's my brain dump

My aunt called this morning.

Nana is still alive, but she took a big turn for the worse last night. Today, she's unresponsive. She's not in any pain (I knew that the hospice workers and her memory care nurses were good). But, she's not long for this world. I am going to miss her.

They took her out to her favorite lunch on Tuesday. She ate really well. She was okay until about yesterday night. It's not long until she can be reunited with Pop-pop. She's been waiting for that for about seventeen years.

I am going to miss her.
Lots.

But this is not a terrible thing.
I will miss her because I love her.
We will be able to do her temple work ... I think she'll accept it.
We will seal her to Pop-pop. This way they can have an eternal marriage. Even with the dementia, she's never stopped loving him.

She won't have dementia anymore. Her ankle won't hurt her (from a car accident long before I was born). She won't have to manage her diabetes. These are all reasons to be happy.

But I will miss her.

When I got the call today, from Aunt I, my mom was up. She was the first person that I told. Then I told the kids. Then I messaged Michael (since he was on site at a job ... or I'd probably have told him first).

In other news, we ALMOST were able to sell our old house. But the buyers backed out after inspection.  So, if we're counting, and we are, here's the line-up of failures:

• An offer was made, sight-unseen, for above asking price. ... They decided against selling their house. So that fell through.
• An offer was made and accepted, right about asking price. ... He couldn't get funding and the offer had to be terminated.
• An offer was made (lowball. Seriously, we'd already dropped asking price by $5,000. They offered $15,000 below THAT.), counteroffers flew back and forth. Finally, we got about the minimum that we were looking for as profit. Their inspector didn't like the place. Our realtor tried to see if we could fix things up and move forward. They weren't interested.

And that will bring us into a third month of not selling that house. Fun times.

And, OF COURSE, Mother Nature decides that THIS is the PERFECT TIME to give me confirmation that I'm not pregnant. (No, we're not trying. ... Honestly, I'd gladly take a text/email instead of menstruation. ANY TIME.)

We had a bit of a parenting-fiasco that hit this week. Kids eating upstairs. Kids getting into ice cream and leaving it out to melt. Grades nosediving. Lying about eating upstairs and getting into food. Good times. That was Wednesday evening. Bubbles missed her soccer practice. Bruise got his sleepover this weekend cancelled. The kids opted to put themselves to bed early, after cleaning their rooms, without dinner.

Confessions were made the following morning. The big kids turned in missing/corrected work. Grades are improved. Resolutions were made. Restitution is in progress.
Especially after I told them (after confessions were made), the scope of their punishment that they (NARROWLY) escaped:

• No watching TV
• Taking away the clock radios (No radio)
• No extracurriculars (soccer/dance)
• No parties/sleepovers
• Dad and I sell their tablets, since they won't be using them
• No Halloween costumes/trick-or-treating ... they weren't aware that this was even an option on the table. Once I told them this, as I was taking the big kids to their bus drop-off, they were SHOCKED that it was even a possibility. They were VERY GLAD that they confessed before these were put into practice.

We also had a DISCUSSION about honesty, integrity, and accountability. And about how, when you lie, you're damaging that relationship. When you make it a habit of telling the truth, we can give the benefit of the doubt for HONEST mistakes ... but, if you haven't established that trust from continued honesty, there's no room for us to extend that grace.

I think ... I HOPE ... that this is the end of this.

Also, when Bucket declares that "I didn't even know that we had _____," we can't give the benefit of the doubt anymore. Since she's already used that more than once when she was VERY MUCH AWARE of the existence in our possession of ice cream and other treats.

Yes, we're really mean parents.
Mean parents who are determined to groom some DANG, GOOD CITIZENS to release into the wild in another 6-12 years. Or thereabouts.
We want them to have the skills that they need to succeed in life, to make friends and influence people, to establish rewarding careers, to vote responsibly, to impact the world in positive ways.

And also have parents who can trust them.

Win-win, right? #goals

I'm keeping my chin up. But it's not been the easiest couple of weeks.

I am looking forward, though, to when we only own ONE house. That'll be nice.

In some nice news, Bruise made it onto the National AYSO team. He'll get to compete in Hawaii. That means that Michael and I might get to go to Hawaii, right? We've never been to Hawaii. Heck, I've never been off this continent. The farthest north I've been was Victoria, B.C. The farthest south has been San Diego. The farthest east has been Mississippi. ... I'm not that much of a world traveler. Not from lack of desire, mind you. Just lack of money and time. For now. Someday, we'll get all our ducks in order.

After we sell a house, ha ha ha...

How do you grieve for someone who's still alive?

So, my Nana has dementia. She's been in a memory care facility for a while. My aunt was taking care of her for a few years before that.

My for-all-purposes-stepmom called today to let me know that Nana isn't doing so well. Nana is pretty old, true. She's been missing my Pop-pop for over a decade (when she's aware that he's passed on. Sometimes, she just wonders why he doesn't come to see her). Her kidneys are failing. She's been put into hospice care.

I tried calling her today. She couldn't hear me over the phone (She wears hearing aids). She sounds healthy and in good spirits.

My stepdad has dementia. My mom is his primary caregiver. She puts up with a lot of verbal and emotional abuse. Gaslighting is a regular thing. It would be easier if we knew HOW accountable he was and when he was really lucid. He's not the same person he was. He told my mom that he loves her (he's sad that she's going to be moving up here soon. His children are stepping in to help take care of him. He's rather burned some bridges with two of them ... if he's not happy about a situation, it's like he goes out of his way --wittingly or no -- to ensure that NO ONE is happy). ... she responded that, with how he's treated her the last couple years, it's rather hard to believe that.

I don't like dementia.

I don't like any of its forms.

I don't like mourning people even before they've passed.

My Nana is still really sweet ... maybe even sweeter than she was when I was little. She (last we visited) still knew who Michael was, I was, and the kids are. That's pretty good. She doesn't recognize one of my cousins, which is sad.

I try to write Nana letters. I hope that she stays with us long enough to get this one.
I find it hard to write Nana letters ... not because I don't like to write or because I don't love her ... but because I find it hard not to write some of the things that I'd want to say ... because I don't want to take a chance of hurting her or confusing her.
"I miss who you were."
"I wish that you remembered [S] when you saw her."
"I love seeing you, but I hate crying afterwards."
"I wish that you were closer and could come visit our new house. I think you'd love it. I wish I could ask you about some of the features, since you might have an idea of what they were intended for."
"I wish that you knew that Pop-pop isn't avoiding you and that he hasn't abandoned you."
"I wish that I could take you to the temple while you're alive ... but I am planning, as soon as I can, to do your work and get you sealed to Pop-pop. I miss him, too."
"Thank you for always asking after my mom when we visit you. It makes me feel better to know that you really do love her -- even though things were REALLY ROUGH (especially for her) after the divorce. I wish that my dad had told you that they were separating before you found out from someone else in town."
"I miss going to your house when I was little. I miss you serving me fresh strawberries with cream and sugar. I miss your clam chowder. I miss how your house smelled. I miss dressing up with [S] in your nightgowns. I miss how you would buy us matching Christmas presents and she and I would go and have a fashion show after we opened presents."
"I miss how you'd tell me stories of when I was little." "I miss how when I'd call you and as soon as I'd say, 'Hi, Nana!' and you KNEW it was me, since I'm the only one who calls you that -- or you'd call up and ask to speak to 'Princess Budderfwy,' since that was your favorite mispronunciation of mine when I was learning to speak. No one else calls me Princess Budderfwy ... just like no one else calls me an 'onery little critter' like Pop-pop would. And, really, I did deserve that."
"I miss playing Megan and Sundance when I was little, even though you weren't wild about giving me horsie rides on your back when I was 5 and you were fifty-seven (or so)."
"I miss how you were ALWAYS 57 whenever I asked how old you were. You will always be 57 to me. I am constantly getting closer and closer to getting as old ... and older ... than you." "I miss going to musicals at the Hult Center with you."
"I miss going shopping with you."
"I miss walking to your house."
"Do you remember that silver patent-leather pair of Sketchers you bought me when I was, what, fifteen? And how you told me about the looks people gave you -- an old lady trying on silver sneakers -- since you and I had the same shoe size? I kept those sneakers until they were falling apart because they made me smile every time I saw them and remembered your story. I might just go buy another pair of silver Sketchers for that reason."

I don't know about you ... but I think I'm going to go sit in the shower and cry.
I hate it when people go where I can't follow. I hate it when dementia changes people.

I need to get control of my emotions before the kids get home.

As my stepmom said, Nana's gone into hospice care. We don't know how long she has. It could be soon. Or it could be months down the line. We don't know.

Honestly, it would be a bit easier to have more of an idea.
We had been planning on going down for a visit on what was the weekend AFTER Pop-pop passed.
The kids are in school. There's soccer and General Conference. I have meetings and activities that are a bit harder to work around ... but ... I could just pull the kids out of school and take one day off if we need to.

Once I can talk without sounding stuffed up and weepy, I think I'll call my aunt and ask for their plans. Once I can get to that point.  (Oh, why can't everyone just text. It's easier to conceal my emotional nature that way.)

yiggety yo ... it's been a while ...

So, I just haven't had a lot to say that I haven't said on Facebook.

But today, spilling over from yesterday ... there's some.

I just am feeling like a kinda crap mother.

Saturday was okay. Bubbles turned 6. We had a party for family, then went out for dinner (Still not wildly impressed with Red Robin. But I got my Poppin' Purple Lemonade, so it wasn't too bad. Michael's burger was still cold, though. Drat.) ...  The day before, she got to have a couple friends join her at the local bounce-house-place. I learned that the moms of Bubbles's friends know each other ... so all the kids AND all the moms are friends. That was a sweet deal. And we took little cupcakes (and cookies for the lactose-intolerant kids) to her classroom.

But ... Sunday was tougher.
We had discussed reverence last week for Family Home Evening. And Bruise agreed to NOT do sudoku during Sacrament Meeting (like ... Communion? But it's what LDS people call it). Bucket has started drawing stuff from Five Nights at Freddy's ... which I asked her to refrain from. Since we're, y'know, supposed to be thinking about JESUS. And I have put my foot down that they WILL put away their stuff and SING during the songs (all 3-4 of them).

Bubbles is doing her thing, looking over the back of our pew and distracting the people behind us. Michael's dealing with that.

At one point, I look over ... Bucket is on the FLOOR, buns pointed to the person bearing his/her testimony, with her head under the pew.

"Hey ... hey!" I hiss at her. "You need to be SITTING now. On the PEW." ... Basic stuff, right?

"FINE!!" She snarls back. "Then I WON'T look for my pen!"

And ... guys, I just ... I just couldn't handle being there, on the same pew.
I whispered to Michael that I was going to take a walk ... and I left the chapel, stepped outside, walked around the building to where I could walk in without running into too many people, did my best not to cry ... I found that the Relief Society (women's group) room was empty. So I popped in there, turned on the speaker, and listened to the other testimonies being borne. And I still worked at not crying. Because I looked nice. And crying would make me all puffy and red-faced and my mascara would run and I'd have tear-tracks through my foundation.

I managed. Then I had to find Michael (and my bag, which he had taken). and I helped a friend find pictures for her lesson (I have served as an assistant Ward [congregation] librarian before. Mostly, it's all about finding pictures, making copies, and ensuring that there's chalk, erasers, crayons, and TVs). I also ran into another friend to ask a favor (and she agreed. Awesome girl).
Then I hung with Michael and helped him get set up for teaching the YM during the third hour.
Then we went in late to Sunday School.

And we went home after, to drop the girls off. They made mac and cheese, but not enough ... so when Michael, Bruise, and I got back from dropping off an invite to one of Bruise's classmates, there wasn't lunch for me. And I was not happy.

I finished typing up the Relief Society newsletter and sent it out. Only one mistake ... and no one has called me on it yet (I didn't change the subject line from "test email - [date]" ... but that's better than last week when I left in the "forwarded message" gobbledygook at the top of the email  --- since I send myself a "test email" then send it to the rest of the Relief Society. Maybe next week, I'll remember BOTH bits?)

Then I made myself mac and cheese and went to bed. I read a little, then SLEPT HARD. I remember waking up when Michael came in to take a nap. I vaguely remember Bucket coming in and giving me a kiss on the cheek. I vaguely recall Michael instructing the kids to take out the trash.

I did have a crazy dream. We were in a different (not nicer, just different) house. And Michael was making a meal. And, when he handed it to me, my mug was filled with, like 1/4 full of noodles ... and the broth was filled with a clean, unwrapped pantyliner, wrappers from bandaids ... I was kinda ticked. It's a good thing that I realized it was a dream ... or else, when he came to bring me IRL dinner (which was NOT topped with garbage), I'd have been all, "Michael, WHAT the HELL?!?" and he'd have been confused.

I want to be a good mom. But I just don't feel like I'm ... making it.
The house is cleaner (still) than it's been in a long time. I do a daily morning devotional with the kids before they go to school. They're alive. They're fed. They have clothes, shoes, blankets ... but I just feel like I'm barely managing to tread water with Bucket.

I try to do things, spend time with her ... and then stuff like this happens.
At least Bruise and Bubbles are sweet to me, even when they're mad.

What am I doing wrong?  I mean, I must be doing something wrong.
It's not like I haven't read, like, a BAZILLION books about parenting crap ... but I'm just not getting it.

In which I am maudlin ... let's hope blogging this gets it out of my system.

So, last night I was feeling pitiful (gastronomically ... sorry, TMI) ... and, apparently my brain thought that I should feel pitiful mentally, too!

Misery loves company, right? *overly bright smile*

So, I'm lying in bed, next to Michael and ask ... "Do you think she misses me as much as I miss her?"
He is intuitive and knows that I'm asking about that bestie that ... well, she didn't give me the Cut Direct, since that would involve seeing me. But, yeah, she took herself out of my life without warning.

And ... even though one of the gals I Visit Teach told me, 'Why would you want to keep suffering? Even if she came back and asked to be friends again, why would you take her back?"

It's not that I'm masochistic (well, HOPEFULLY not) ... but, when her and my friendship started out, it was good. It was fun. I miss that.

I don't like that I don't feel as self-assured. I don't like that I lost someone who was so much fun to laugh with.

I mean, it'd be one thing if she had left my life, but I still had my friend K, who passed away, who was fun to laugh and bake with ... even though she and her family were going to move away at some point. I can keep a friendship going cross-country ... I had done it before. Heck, I manage to keep a friendship going across the planet. ... It's just a little harder to do it through the veil (They never call, they never write ...).

But, even though it's been a long while ... nearly a year ... I still feel that ... I ... I just don't feel right.
I feel lost. I feel full of doubt that I'm even a decent friend.

STUDIES SAY, so they say, that if a friendship lasts seven years, it'll be able to weather anything.
...
WELL MAYBE SOME FRICKIN' STUDY IS DEAD WRONG.

And I kind of hate that, too.

Because ... I feel like a crap person.
What kind of crappy person does a girl have to be that her bestie cuts all ties with her without a word? That moves back to the same town and never even texts?

... Going with that, I am a REALLY CRAPPY person.

And ... I don't want to be a really crappy person. I want to know how to have fun, how to not be filled with self-doubt.

And, as friends have pointed out, this now-gone-friend has changed.
And it was harder to be supportive for her ... so ... maybe she's done me a favor?

I don't know.

They say that time heals all wounds.
How do I stop picking at this scab?

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.

Titles are for ... well ... people who can think them up (i.e., not me)

Okay ... Bubbles is now four. We're working on doing some pre-school stuff with her.

She actually seems pretty strong at math for a girl who counts "eleven, twelve, firrteen, sixteen, nineteen, twenty."
(Really, she's got a grip on addition and subtraction that I was surprised by. ... Note to self: Just because one is less-than-totally-confident with math, that does not by any means extend to one's offspring.)

The internet is still mostly working.
So the Bluray player had issues (the tray wouldn't open. Or, when manually pried open [GENTLY], recognize that it WAS open.
So we had to buy a new one.
Which, after we get a new Bluray/receiver for the front room and a new TV for the bedroom, will move to the bedroom. Yay for Netflix for Mommy folding laundry while the kids play in the front room!
Or Netflix for the kids in the bedroom while Mommy watches movies with friends in the front room!

But that's a ways into the future.

And now, as of this morning, the deadbolt on the front door isn't working. Won't retract. So that door is stuck locked.
Good thing the back door works!
(Makes me rather wish that our house was like my mom's ... with two main doors and an escape possible with another door in the laundry room!)

Okay. Enough for now.

Only a week? Aren't you the lucky one!

Yeah, yeah, I suck at updating.

Okay, in no particular order, here's stuff from my life:

• Michael built a new bookshelf in the living room. It's already full of books.
  I need to paint it. And the other bookshelf that he built last summer. (Was it in summer? I have no idea at this point.)
• I've been playing that supercute Neko Atsume (Kitty Collector) game.
  I can be a crazy cat lady without having to worry about attracting animals to live under my house. I like that the cats can give you the gold sardines. OR that you can sell the regular sardines to buy gold sardines. Totally worth it. Good on them.
  And there's a daily password to get some sardines. That's a nice game design.
  And the cats are supercute.
• Bruise and Michael went to the Cub Scout Lock-In last weekend. They stayed up late. Michael didn't sleep well, since I wasn't there. I didn't sleep well, since he wasn't here. Bucket stayed up WAAAAAAAY too late. So, after Bruise and Michael came home, Michael and I slept for a couple hours, got up, took the kids to the Taiko performance (Japanese drumming. Pretty awesome), went to Home Depot for light bulbs (we have SUCH the wild life. You jelly?), went home. He worked on his lesson for EQ (If you ask the lesson. there's apparently a chance that you'll end up teaching). I was going to work on my Sunday School lesson write-up-bit, but I fell asleep and napped HARD. Then we went to a birthday party.
• Friday was my not-anymore-friend's birthday. I was going to wish her a happy birthday ... but I didn't really know how to do that without seeming like I was forcing myself on her attention.
  So I didn't. And I don't know if it was a good decision or not.
• Church on Sunday. Went home, made lunch, took a nap, went Visiting Teaching (touched bases with all our sisters! Yay! They [hopefully] know that we love them! Yay!), went back home, went to a fireside about helping prepare our Youth for serving missions (apparently pornography is a BIG, BIG problem. And it's not just because the sexual aspect ... it's because the youth doesn't seem to have other ways they've developed to deal with stress.) ... it was a good fireside. I took a lot of notes.
• My kids' strings concert is coming up. Tonight's the rehearsal.
• I go between being GREAT on studying scriptures and preparing lessons ... and then NOT so much. What gives?

I really miss my friend Kim McD ... she's the one who passed a while back.
I was going through my GoogleVoice messages ... I had some texts from her. And that made me miss her a lot.

I also am realizing that I'm scared of being hurt in friendships ... a lot more than I used to be. I mean, I hate feeling like I've fallen out with a friend. But I'm not very social anymore (except online ... and sometimes not as much as before).

I need to deal with this. I don't like feeling sad or like a failure as a friend.
I mean, I know that I tried hard to be there, to be supportive ... and now I almost wish that I hadn't put so much effort into a friendship that WAS fun (and I met some great people through) ... and that's sad.

With the Kim friendship ... I just miss her a lot. And wish that I'd been able to do more for her and her family,
With the other one, ... I just am left wondering what I did wrong, what I didn't do ... I don't know. And I get frustrated by not knowing.
I've been spoiled by the internet. I can look up and research nearly ANYTHING, drop of a hat .... and I have little-to-no way to figure this out.
Not without going around and asking people.

I did ask the now-not-friend. I could see that she'd viewed the messages.
Nothing.

If I ask other people, it feels ... I don't know ... like middle school.
"So-and-so doesn't want to be my friend anymore, what's up with THAT?!? Can you ask her what's up?"

I mean, since she and I have a few dozen friends in common, it is almost tempting (though horribly immature) to post something like "So, [Name] unfriended me, my husband, and my mom [#] months ago. But she's kept almost everyone else. Someone want to help me figure out what I/we did that was so horrendous that she couldn't tell me about it? That she never responded to messages that I sent her? Because I'm find of boggled. I mean, they say that if a friendship survives seven years, it'll last forever? And we were friends for, like NINE FULL YEARS ... so, what gives?"

But, like I said, that would be REALLY passive-aggressive and immature. So I'm not doing that.

I tried. And it didn't work. So ... well, either I've DONE something pretty horrible (since in my FB message to her, I did give her the out of well-maybe-facebook-was-being-wonky and she could have JUMPED on that. "Oh, yeah! How weird! It's all fixed now!" ... but, no. So ... yeah.) or I HAVEN'T done something that was MANDATORY.
And, either way, I really .... just don't know.

And it eats at me. What did I do/not do?
I try to be a good friend ... and, well, apparently, I'm not as good of a friend as I'd like to think I was/am.

In other news, two of my friends are twitterpated with each other. It's cute.
And I rather wish they'd gotten together in high school (even though she and I both crushed on him, but I didn't realize that she'd crushed on him ... if she asked, I'd have willingly given him up).
They're really cute together. And that's a good thing.
Happy looks good on her.

And they both like me, which is nice. They'll both FB message me and tease each other. And it's pretty adorable. He's good for her. And she's good for him.

So, for Bucket, Bubbles, and my Girl's Night In (Bubbles fell asleep during the first movie), we watched Legally Blonde, While You Were Sleeping, and the Wedding Singer. Good times. It's nice that Bucket is willing to watch chick-flicks with me. Next time, I think I'll work towards getting her into costume-dramas (if I ever get Anne of Green Gables/Anne of Avonlea, that'll be a good start. If not, well, maybe Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day?).

My stepdad's dementia is not getting any better. Neither is my Nana's.
At least, though, with Nana ... if you're confused or something is flat out wrong, you can mention it to her and she'll be, "Oh. It's the dementia. Okay."
If you tried that with my stepdad, he's all, "NO. I'm right. I'm telling the truth. You're not remembering it right. I'm telling the truth!"
And ... well, that's not easy to live with. So I really need to look for a good place for Mom. Since there's going to be a time when she needs to be some place without someone trying to gaslight her.
(If we had another bedroom or two, it'd be FINE. Well, fine-ish.)

Okay. Time to head out to storytime. And run some errands.

I wish life came with an instruction manual.
I'll keep things together.
I mean, I have faith that everything WILL work out ... but I just wish that it was easier and that people didn't have to suffer in the meantime.
And that I had no responsibilities for a while, no bills, and a hole to curl up in for a good cry.
Since that's not going to happen, I have books. Books are good.

Wow, I suck at keeping this updated ...

Good thing you still love me, right?

I couldn't sleep last night.
I'm sure it had NOTHING AT ALL to do with the fact that I had two HUGE cups of Dr. Pepper when we went to McDonald's yesterday. (My mom came up, since it was a no-school day.)
Of course, after I finished the ebook I'd checked out on my library app, I checked our bank balance.
And FINALLY Michael's paycheck came through before any overdrafts (way to cut it close, right?) ...

Still, it was pretty frustrating, since he is supposed to get paid on the1st and the 16th ... and this is the NINETEENTH DAY of the month. I thought that direct deposits were, you know, scheduled in advance and all that  ... but, yeah, whatever.

I hate adulting sometimes.
Especially when you don't have tons of liquid assets (that you THOUGHT you'd have) the morning of your twins' birthday party.
(Good thing it was a small, family party ... They'll get together with friends ... sometime. Especially since one of their friends doesn't celebrate birthdays, so she couldn't come to a BIRTHDAY-thing ... but she COULD come to a playdate-thing, I'd hope.)

But, yes, tender mercies of the Lord: =No overdrafts. (phew.) We had cash that covered (and had some leftover) lunch for us, cake and ice cream and drinks (and plates, napkins, and cups). We had enough food in the house to cover meals without scrimping. Our bread wasn't moldy. The milk hadn't gone sour. (And, even if it HAD, Bubbles is still receiving WIC, so that's nice).

I came to a conclusion, which I wasn't thrilled about ...
Michael and I keep thinking about (someday) building our "dream home" and what we want in it.
We go about this VERY DIFFERENT WAYS.
His way = design a floorplan. Ask me if I like it and what I'd prefer to see. I waffle on the whole thing.
My way = Create a Pinterest board. On it exist NO floorplans. Rather, it's filled with ideas for decorating and organizing. Or cool ideas to integrate INTO rooms. Again, not what Michael had in mind when I told him about that board.

SO, as I was thinking (in the shower, since that's where I do my best thinking for the most part nowadays), I realized that a big reason that I haven't planned on designing actual SPACES (besides my crack spatial skillz /sarcasm) is because deep down, I'm scared that we'll never have the money to actually DO it. And that realization ticks me off, since it feels like, in a way, I'm doubting my husband and his ability to provide for us ... which is stupid. And I DON'T LIKE doing stupid things.

Last week, I was crap at studying (let alone READING) my scriptures. I need to do it. I KNOW I need it. I have a class to prepare for, let alone that it's a GOOD thing that we've been COMMANDED to do.
This week has been better so far.
After church, I holed up in our room for a couple hours -- changed the sheets, looked at the lessons to be covered, read through next week's Relief Society lesson, caught up in the BoM365 (read the Book of Mormon in a year) schedule ... It was nice. I felt productive.
Yesterday morning, since I wasn't in any rush to get dressed or whatever, I started looking through the lesson I'll be teaching in RS in a couple months (Originally, it was going to be lesson 5, about Joseph Smith. BUT, due to needing to reschedule things due to a Stake Broadcast added into the calendar, I'm now teaching the lesson about the Atonement and Resurrection. It's a great lesson (not that the JS one wasn't ... but I like this one a lot and am not at all upset that I get to teach it)) and I read a conference talk, since I do need to go through those a few times (I didn't highlight in my November Ensign yet. Later).

I do need to work on saying sincere prayers ... and having formal, little prayers ... as opposed to just little statements of gratitude or what I need. Prayer is more of a conversation with our Heavenly Father, so said our High Council speaker on Sunday. It's not like text messaging (that's what I'm telling myself).

I'm still having dreams, every so often, about that bestie who's dropped out of my life.
I mean, yeah, I still miss her. But ... well, in my dreams, she's always ignoring my presence or trying to actively avoid me. And, usually, I find her and tell her point blank that I still love her, that I miss her, that I hope for the best for her.

They're not the most happy-making of dreams. But, at the same time, I'm not sobbing or irate or whatever else when I wake up. So ... yeah.

I'm enjoying my new class of students (in church, you usually change classes based on your birth year. So, I have all the students who are starting 2016 as 12- or 13-year-olds. I had a lot of students (all but one, actually) during that last quarter of 2015 who had or would turn 14 before January 1st.
I miss my old class, yes ... but I'm having fun getting to know a new bunch (and making sure that I get everyone's names right).
The Sunday before (being the 10th), tradition continued ... in that I had another adult join my class (usually for observation. It's enough to make a girl nervous!). So far, I've had our Ward Sunday School President (who's a friend, so that's not so nerve-wracking), the STAKE PRESIDENT (a little more nerve-wracking, though I know him and I know that he's not scary ... You make a joke about going onstage in your nudie-pants, and realize that the Stake Prez is in the room and HAD to have heard you ... and you apologize ... and he tells you that it's okay ... Yeah, one has to admit to oneself that he's not going to be shocked by anything else you do. So that's out of the way. Yay?), a friend who was visiting your ward for the day (I practically dragged her to class, so I happily brought that upon myself), the bishop, one of the members of the bishopric, ... and now the STAKE SUNAY SCHOOL PRESIDENT (who I didn't know at all).
So that was kind of ... nerve-wracking.
But he said that I did fine.
In fact, my Ward Sunday School Prez reported to me on Sunday that (1) he didn't have anyone lined up to observe my class (That's fine. I told him. Next week. It's tradition!) and (2) that Brother ___ was impressed with my teaching.

So, that's nice. Because Brother ____ sure didn't have to say that. ^_^
I guess it's a good thing that I brought a handout for the class. And that I printed up strips with the scriptures to read on them. And that I tell my students about great resources to help their scripture study. Because if there's one thing I love (besides the gospel, since I do love it bunches. And my family, ditto), it's books. Or knowledge available on the interwebz.

I know there's more to report about. but my hands are tired of typing. I'll do more later.
But sooner than a month from now.

Crazy Dream Chronicle: Memoriam Sweater

A couple nights ago, I dreamed.

And it was a strange dream (obvs, since I remembered it, right?) ... In it, I was at my mom's house-but-not ... and we were doing laundry. LOTS of laundry [Art imitates life imitating art, yes?].

And ... well, we needed to get a sweater washed and dried. For my friend's brother. Because he was sick. Like bad cold/fevered/stuck in bed shivering-type sick.

In real life, he was murdered back in 2007. Both the boys who killed him are in prison (sentenced for life, but up for parole after 25 years ... so, in another 15-16 years or so).

...

But, in my dream, he was alive.
I wasn't the closest of friends with him.

He was the first guy (besides one of the sons of a lady who watched me when I was little ... and he doesn't count) to ask me out.

I was too young ... and I knew that it wouldn't be fair to date someone I wasn't really into (Should have remembered THAT when I started dating my first boyfriend. But, well, that would have been SMART. And I wasn't really being super-intelligent right then. *sigh*).

I mean, if I had been his girlfriend, I'd have gotten a nice macaroni necklace ...

Again, not a good enough reason to be someone's junior-high girlfriend.

...

The worst thing about living is outliving other people.
Especially people who go so early.

I mean, I know that there are reasons ... reasons we don't understand ... and that by enduring these things, we learn and grow and all ...

... but it doesn't make it any less sucky, really.

His poor family, though. They took it really hard. Not that I can blame them. There were only the four of them ... and Kevin disappeared ... and was found murdered.
He and his sister, my friend, were quite close ... so it was even more devastating.

I remember when he went missing. She called (she was stationed out of state) ... and she was pretty panicked. I did my best to calm her down ... and I hoped and prayed that maybe he was just being horribly irresponsible and just headed off to Vegas or something on a wild hair and just forgot to call anyone ...

... That would have been a million times better, really. His cat would have forgiven him. So would the rest of us. Because doing something selfish and a little stupid would have been so much better.

But, yeah. So, he was in my dream. And I was scuttling about, trying to help find that sweater ... or to get it washed and dried if it wasn't already.

... It's strange to think of how many people from my high school that I've outlived. Since I'm not horribly old. Yet.
But, at the same time, it's ... sad ... to know of so many people who've been murdered, who've committed suicide, or who died in car crashes.

I suppose it's not too surprising that I think about these things ... since (1) I'm kinda morbid anyways and [evidence: fan of The Walking Dead, reads Stephen King, enjoys creepypasta, etc.] (2) we did just get through Halloween and Dia de los Muertos.

I remember reading an article about how we keep the dead with us ... how we think of them and remember them ... so that they are still around, still affecting us ... It's a comforting thought.

And there's another article I read about how we keep memorials and objects to remind us of those who've passed ... like how I have a lot of my Grandma's books and jewelry ... and how I treasure some of the jewelry that my mom's stepmom passed on to me as presents from her collection before she passed. Or how I have a journal of my Pop-pop (and, apparently, journaling skills ... or, really, the lack thereof, IS a family trait. :P) ... and how I find it very hard to part with things that folks give me after they're no longer around (like a pull-up bar that Michael's grandfolks gave us. We don't use it often ... but I hate the idea of not having is because it was Grandpa C's).

And here I am, surrounded by clutter (of my own devising ... well, with some help from the munchkin-brigade. LOTS of help from the munchkin-brigade) and half-sick of shadows.

Still, I really don't like losing people. Not only temporarily ... and I know that death is just this temporary thing. But I still dislike that separation.
There are times when I miss my Grandma or Pop-pop or Grandpa C so hard that it feels like a blow to the gut ... and I'd give just about anything to be able to hear their voices and have a conversation with them again.

I don't know why I take this separation so dang hard ... you'd think I had abandonment issues or something (which would explain that ... but I don't really have anything to pin that on, besides my parents' not-very-messy divorce. Truly, my childhood was pretty idyllic).

I don't know how much or how often those have passed get to observe the living ... but, sometimes, I'll chat a little at Pop-pop or Grandma D or a friend who've passed. I'm sure they don't mind that I remember them and are thinking of them and miss them bunches.

If they talk back, I don't really hear it. But it comforts me ... and that's reason enough, right?
Cheaper and less harmful than drugs.

Yeah, you usually don't get such an introspective and maudlin post from me, the queen of levity ... but, well, there you go.

..... ..

I've not been very productive ... but that'll be changing here shortly.

I HAVE gotten the kids' laundry through the wash (one more load to dry) ... now to have them fold and put it away when they get home, right?

I'll be doing another load of dishes, since that's a NEED. And I'm going to get the front rooms cleaned up a bit more (since they're really not at all right yet. Ha ha...)

So, a few months ago, I did the "see less from" for a friend of mine on Facebook, knowing that we'd still be Facebook friends and that, when I was ready to see more of her posts, I could just go to her page.

I realized today, since I was feeling braver and readier, that somehow we've been unfriended.

I had to call Michael anyway, so he looked too. (An engineer-ish trait is confirming information, just to be sure that things are really things.) He also had been unfriended.

I can hope that this is a Facebook glitch, though there are more than a dozen friends that we still have in common.

I'm not feeling brave enough, though, to send a message, to throw out a "hey! I saw that Facebook says we're not friends anymore! Whoops! I hope that I didn't do that ... or that you didn't do that. Because I still care. And I hope that you do, too. ... Not hearing from you when you were in town was sad, but I figured that you were busy and all. And I didn't want to be that needy friend when you're busy. ... Or it could be that, as close friends as we were, you do just need your space and all ... and maybe I'm not quite as fun/cool/supportive/helpful to you as I hoped I was. ... And, well, that's cool, too. Because I just want you to be happy. ... Even though I miss you. ... But I hope that you and your family are all doing well. And that you're happy. Because I want you to be happy and healed and whole..."

But, really, how do you say all that in a not-at-all-pathetic, no-pressure way?
I'm not coming up with anything.

So, yeah.

I mean it's great that Michael's my best friend and I have him and get to see him and have sleepovers with him just about every single day. And my mom's an awesome bestie, too.
I have other friends-that-are-girls, too ... just not always as close as I'd like or within a 30-minute drive, you know?

And I know that 99%+ is all on me for that. It's easier, with kids, to NOT leave the house and just replace calling people (and dealing with kids in the background/ambient noise/non-complimentary schedules/etc) with emailing, facebook, and blogging. ... Or not even doing those, but striving to achieve a cleaner house and/or making progress in getting through my TBR pile.

I mean, I know that this friendship was on the rocks and all ... we weren't talking or emailing (though, when I'd reach out, she'd respond and it'd be very much like old times ... though with her being far away and having kids and going through school and ... a lot of ands ...) ... I know she's busy. But I miss hanging out with her. And it hurts to have this ... raw space.

And I get that them's the breaks sometimes. And it'll suck for a while.
And I'll need to pray and read my scriptures more. And things will get easier.
And I'll clean my house and invite some friends over to watch movies together.
And, eventually, Bubbles will be in school and I'll start volunteering at the library or spend more time volunteering at the kids' school(s).
And maybe PTC will choose a day/time that isn't the same date/time so that I can work to be more social with the sisters in my ward ...


...

.....

...

So, I obviously need to be more proactive in being social.
And, in order to do THAT, I should clean my house so that I can have people over without them being in danger of bodily harm (from tripping over the mess) AND so they'll have a place to sit (as comfortable as my piles and piles and piles of laundry are ...).

I'm not totally, completely okay yet ... but it's nice to be able to type all this out in some attempt to work out HOW my jumble of feelings can be translated into actual thoughts.

Though, I'll be honest ... I do rather wish that I was back in high school where/when all my good friends lived pretty close. That was handy. If one moves away/starts being homeschooled/whatever, I could still keep in contact a bit ... but there were other friends to hang out with at lunch or before school or at rehearsal. I miss that. I miss it a lot.

If I had a clever title, it'd go here

I woke up a little earlier than usual. So I'm actually showered already.

But I put on pajamas, so don't be THAT impressed.

Today, during morning devotional with the kids, we got to talking about the whole "don't just love those who love you." (paraphrased from Matthew 5:46-47) ... and I told Bruise and Bucket (and Bubbles, if she was listening) that you can't just be cliquish. And that sometimes, yes, people will act like jerks ... but we have to remember some things:

• S/he is still a child of God.
• Maybe there's something going on in his/her life that we don't know about.
• We can always pray for guidance in helping us understand why [whoever is acting like a poophead] is doing what s/he is doing, so that we can use that inspiration/knowledge to speak to his/her heart ... so that they'll know that we care and are trying/wanting to help.

And Bucket's eyes went wide as she told me, "Mom. That is what I needed to know how to solve a problem with someone at school."

Okay. Phew.

My main goal in doing morning devotional with the kids is that (1) they'll get some scripture-time/pondering-time (nearly) first thing in the morning, (2) they'll have some spiritual armor on to help them through the day, since I can't be there to help guide them constantly (it'd be exhausting and overbearing. I'd rather be reading, truly. :P), and (3) we'll have some time together so that I can have some idea of what's going on in their lives.
There are some other goals, too, of course, but those are the biggies.

And, well, learning that this IS helpful ... it's very validating.

I also had Bruise and Bucket do their Spanish reading in the morning today ... and I had them read scriptures, since we have those in Spanish. And, since today is NOT early release, so they have an hour less to work on homework-stuff and housework after school. (It's only going to get HARDER once Strings lessons and LEGO Robotics start ... *sigh*)

Other things in my life --

I FINALLY got the correct email address for one of the students in my Sunday School class. I misread two letters as numbers ... and his mom was having a devil of a time with it. But she and I persevered ... and I've FINALLY succeeded in emailing him. Phew!

Last night, Michael and I started a bath for Bubbles (Bucket wanted a bath by herself) ... and we both got distracted. When Michael checked on Bubbles, the tub was about an inch from overflowing. Bubbles was happy as a pig in the mud, with the water up to her neck.
(She had been asking to go swimming, so this was pretty much her own private pool. Ha.)

Of course, this was something that needed to be made into a Facebook post, so I grabbed my phone and ordered her to "Cover your parts!" And, well, my Facebook friends seemed to enjoy what we shared of our crazy life

I'm still TRYING to feel prepared for Sunday's lesson.
Right now I'm printing out talks, lessons (for October), and ... well, anything that I think might help me to be more prepared.

We'll see how it goes. I still need to make a questions box, though ... just in case.
Or, until then, my students can just slip me a piece of paper or stick it in my bag or something. I'll find it ... eventually. :P

Michael and I made it to Curriculum Night at the kids' school the other night ... and I left with more questions than answers.
Don't get me wrong. I REALLY like their teachers. But when I asked about what Bruise and Bucket are going to be learning in Social Studies and Science, I was only told that it's integrated into the Math and Language Arts, due to how little instructional time is available vs what all needs to be taught.
Yes, it's an answer, but not exactly what I asked.
(I was looking for something more like, "Well, we're not teaching Social Studies and Science on their own, due to time constraints, but we have integrated units on [countries, cultures, animals, earth science concepts, etc] within the Language Arts and Mathematics that we're teaching." Or something like that.

We also learned, just before we left, that Bruise HAD been falling asleep in class. ... Which was due to his and Bucket's sneaking the tablets into their room. Which lets us know that it was going on for a little while. And that they REALLY can't be trusted with their tablets (which is ANOTHER reason why their tablets have taken a vacation to stay [indefinitely] at my mom's house). *sigh*

So, yeah, I was THAT PARENT and sent a LONG email with the other questions that we didn't have time to address (or fully address) ... along with offers that Michael and I are more than willing to help out in whatever ways we can. If the teachers don't have time to grade homework, it's not like I'm incapable of that (well, maybe slightly incapable in Spanish, since I'm only 46% fluent, according to Duolingo ... and I think they might be giving me too much credit) ...

I just want to know what's going ON.

But we're glad that the kids DID bring home homework packets Tuesday. Math, cursive (since it's not required for Common Core, it's not taught in the classroom), and a Spanish reading assignment with a multiple-choice assessment for comprehension. This is along with a reading log with student-set reading goals for reading in English AND Spanish.

Bruise and Bucket ALSO brought home a sheet about Typing.com with their log-in information so they can practice at home (optional) ... Bruise's didn't work, so I had to make an educated guess at the Technology teacher's school email (I got it right) and she let me know that Bruce's username was already taken -- and gave me the new username, so we were able to log him in. Phew!

I also read over the sheets that the P.E. and Music teachers had prepared.
The one surprising thing was that the P.E. teacher stated that if students come to P.E. without appropriate footwear (athletic shoes), they wouldn't be able to participate AND receive a failing grade for that day. ... I ran that by my mom, a retired teacher, and she said that it didn't sound legal. So, in my email to their kids' teachers, I mentioned that I was concerned about the kids receiving failing grades since my daugher OFTEN wears sandals/boots/non-athletic shoes to school and I hadn't been made aware of which days she has P.E., so I can't help her with that.
(And the P.E. teacher is a first-year teacher, so I don't want to lambast him with anything ... but, instead of stating that parents could just ask their children's teachers about which days they have P.E., it'd be cool if he'd put a small schedule on there with which animal groups have P.E. on which days. ... Yes, kids are sorted by groups with animal names. It makes it easier to keep track of which class they're in, since around 2/3 of the students are in TWO classrooms with the Bilingual program.)

Yes, I know, I know. I'm a hard woman to please.
I'm aware.

I'm also a woman with a headache, so I should go pop some acetaminophen and rub some essential oils on my temples ... and get dressed so that I can take Bubbles to storytime. And clean the house. And fold and put away more laundry. And wash more laundry. And prepare my lesson(s). And read books. And feed my family healthy things. And ...

Yo-yo-yiggity-yo

Yeah, I know it's bad when my MOM says to me, out of the blue, "So, just how long has it been since you blogged?"

A long time.
A DANG long time.

So, let's see what's gone on, in a nutshell, since then.

CUE THE MONTAGE!

• My mom had another birthday. She's 29 again, which makes it awkward ... since I'm older than her. I know, I know ... She CLAIMS that she's 39 again now, but that only gives me four years and a few months until I catch up again.
  (Joking, joking ... she admits to her age. And not just because she gets a discount at the bread store. I just like to give her some ribbing about her being younger than me.)
  (And you have to realize that this is coming from ME ... the girl who still claims that her Nana is 57. Since Nana was 57 for YEARS. When she turned 80, I even sent her flowers that said "Happy 57th Birthday, Nana!" which REALLY confused her for a bit. And not just because she has dementia. Once I explained that I really DID know that she's NOT 57, she did think it was funny.)
• Bucket is worried about her Betta fish, Blue. His fins are getting really beat up. And he's not as active. But we've had him for a few years, so We're just going to make his end-of-life days as pleasant as possible. ... So I should probably clean out the fish tank.
• I was caught up in doing the dishes for a little while. Not anymore. And I have laundry up the wahzoo happening here (I have underthings in the wash so that I'll HAVE underthings tomorrow. Yeah, that's probably TMI ... but I WAS concentrating on getting the KIDS' stuff cleaned first. Oh well.)
• I was released from my calling as Nursery Leader in our ward (church congregation in Mormon-speak). I did FINALLY get that bulletin board (Apparently, they had installed a bulletin board MONTHS ago ... in some other room in the building. Ha! But ours was installed  on the 6th. And I busted my buns to get the bulletin board planned and put together before I was released ... which was officially done last week.)
• My new calling at church is Sunday School teacher for the 12- and 13-year-olds. There IS a manual, but it's online and there's just GUIDELINES as far as topics go. I feel quite ill-prepared ... but we'll see how it goes. (Hide yo' kids, hide yo' wife, hide yo' husbands, 'cause Allanna's in charge of teaching the youths!)
• I got together everything for Bruise and Bucket's registration for the local Strings classes. Bruise will be in the Beginners' level class again. Bucket has moved up to Intermediate. And I have their registration filled out, their scholarship applications done, the check written out ... so we're ready to turn this in before the due date!
• I started doing Khan Academy more. I've mastered K-4 math and am 74% through 5th grade math. (I had originally thought to start with Algebra. HA HA HA. No. My skills are waaaaay too rusty. But y'all should be proud of me for persevering. Math was not my forte ... because I feel quite intimidated by it. But I'm working my way through it.
• I'm also back into doing my DuoLingo ... but only German and Spanish. With my 15-day streak (so far), I got caught back up with all my skills and have even surpassed where I had been. It tells me that I'm 42% fluent in Spanish and 31% fluent in German. So that's nice.
• I FINALLY got our Rosetta Stone program installed on the computer. The main problem that I had was when I tried to install from online, the language packs were ALL incomplete. So I had to have their Customer Service help me (She deleted the incomplete packs and let me reinstall them anew from the discs I have). Phew!
• The kids FINALLY cleaned their room. FINALLY.
• Bubbles is starting "Mutti Preschool" -- My mom is now working with Bubbles to make sure that she's learning the skills she'll need for Kindergarten. Yesterday, they made a poster with a picture. They concentrated on words with the letter "o." Mom was actually impressed by how much Bubbles has already learned (huzzah!) ... though, little Homeskillet there really likes to make poop-jokes. So there you have it.
• I'm determined to change my hair again. People like the light blonde ... but, well, it really just doesn't FEEL like me. And the upkeep is a little crazy, since I don't like having visible roots that much. But it was a good experience.
• We went to the local Renaissance Faire last weekend. Bruise came home with a new wooden sword and shield. Bucket adopted a new "pet" dragon (I've taken to referring to her as "The Babysitter of Dragons."), and I got some perfume oils. Bubbles didn't make any requests, but she did wear her cloak from last year nearly the entire time.
• After the Faire, the kids went home with Mom C (who watched them) while Michael and I bought LEGO Minifigs (I totally have the banshee now. And she's awesome!) then went out to dinner with our friends Mark and Lacey (who are finally moving a lot closer than they've been!). It was lots of fun to get together with them.
• My van died on Thursday morning. Bubbles and I had driven (not far) to go shopping (Bruise needed a new watch -- and I got one on clearance for only a couple more dollars than just getting a watchband cost ... and I had bought and returned TWO watchbands by that point ... and I needed flour after having made 5 batches of playdough for the Nursery cupboard [If you really care, here's the rundown: Pink/Vanilla-scented, Orange/Wild Orange-scented, Blue/Peppermint-scented, Green/Lime-scented, and Purple/Lavender-Vanilla-scented]) ... so it was good that it was within walking distance and that I did have a stroller in the back. I locked up the van and left it in the parking lot and waited for Michael to get home from work to jump it so we could get it home. ...
  Friday, we took it to Les Schwab (after jumping it AGAIN) to see if it was the battery (which was under warranty) ... AND IT WAS. So, $3.55 later, I have a BRAND NEW battery in my van WHICH RUNS. I had such a crazy amount of relief running through me that it's a wonder I didn't faint. I know that it's totally a first world problem and all ... but I'm glad that it was fixed before I have to run the kids to Strings lessons (and, eventually maybe, LEGO Robotics in Bruise's case) AND that it was such a cheap fix. SERIOUSLY, it was awesome and I'm really thankful, since we'd been PRAYING a lot.
• Bad news - one of my aunts has been diagnosed with breast cancer.
  Good news - Her MRI showed that it's just that one bit and it should be taken out and treated and stuff soon. Another answer to prayers. Phew.
• Bubbles is a bit low in her iron-count, so I need to be working to get her to eat more iron-rich foods. But she's 28 pounds now (at 3 1/2 years), so that's good.
• Bruise had a few Cub Scout meetings. Last week was the bicycle rodeo. ... Bruise and Bucket have outgrown their bikes. Looks like Santa knows what to get them, huh?
• Michael got another promotion ... "But it doesn't come with a pay raise," he told me. And that was ... okay. I mean, it's great that they can charge more for his work and it's more responsibility ... then we learned that, no, it does have a raise. Which is nice. 
• We went to a friends' house for dinner Monday night. Another family in the ward who we like and have worked along with the parents in different callings. We had a BBQ and talked a lot and it was fun. The kids (theirs and ours) were jumping on the trampoline. Their 14-year-old son and I talked a bunch.
  (He's a joker, which is fun. I went to shake his hand and he finagled it so that I grabbed his forearm instead. Which made me laugh like when Robert Gere shuts the necklace box on Julia Roberts' hand in Pretty Woman. You can watch that on YouTube, that clip, if you don't know the reference.)
• Did I mention that Michael's spoiled me with LEGO?
  He bought me the Mystery Machine and the Big Bang Theory set. They're sitting on my printer right now. ^_^
• I was feeling so chipper friday, after the van's battery was replaced, that Bubbles and I baked Orange and Raspberry Sherbet cookies (it was out of a boxed mix). She had lots of fun. And I did, too, with my cute sous chef.
• Other, further back catch-ups: We met with my friend, Brooke, for lunch; we went to Pioneer Days in my hometown with my stepdad's nephew and his wife (both LOVELY people. Jeff, my step-cousin, REALLY wanted to buy "the princess" [Bubbles] cotton candy ... which he did. And, golly, that cotton candy was GINORMOUS. Jeff would have bought more than one, and I'm so glad that he didn't! It was big enough for our family to share ... I have a picture of Bubbles "helping" to hold it and ... well, it looks nearly as big as SHE is!); we went swimming at the local outdoor pool a bunch; Bruise and Bucket finished up their swimming lessons with Bob at the indoor pool ... We went to the Art and Air Festival (no henna tattoo this time). The kids and I went with Cousin Kathleen and her son to the Air and Space Museum in McMinnville. We got to visit Nana and that side of the family. We now have Nana's other couch. I had a PTC meeting (I have this month's coming up TOMORROW evening) where we met the new principal. We went to the kids' Open House at school and met their teachers. The kids have started school (Fourth graders. I have TWO fourth graders!). I got Visit Taught, which hadn't happened in a LONG time. We had a playdate over at Robyn's -- Bruise and Bucket played with her kids (Bubbles did for a bit then played on my phone) and Robyn and I got caught up and worked at setting up a shelf for homeschooling ... which is bittersweet, since Bruise and her son are besties and have always been in the same classes ... until now *sigh* ... It just means that I need to be more proactive about setting up playdates, right?
  Michael and Bubbles and Bucket also went to the Stake Daddy-Daughter camp-out last month. They had a great time.
  And Bruise had fun staying up late and getting to eat ice cream OUT OF THE CONTAINER, which was pretty awesome. ^_^
• We're working our way through The Chronicles of Narnia (saying that always makes me think of that SNL music video, "Lazy Sunday"). We're now into Prince Caspian, which means that (since we started with The Magician's Nephew) we're nearly halfway through the series.
• Michael and I are reading through the rest of L.J. Smith's Forbidden Game series. We just started the third and final book last night ... so, in a few more days, I can actually TALK to him about it. (TBH, he's still waiting for me to read through a few books [*cough**cough*The Scorch Trials, The Death Curse, The Kill Order, Hollow City, Jackaby, The Westing Game, etc *cough**cough*] so we can talk about THOSE.)
  He's also reading Code Name Verity and Ready Player One (we started that one together, so he's nearly halfway through it).
  I still need to also read The Night Circus before it's due back at the library. And I have, like, a metric ton of other books in my TBR pile. #BibliophleProbs
• I've been working to be better at reading my scriptures and praying and all ... so I have a prayer journal going. It seems to help me focus a little more as I'm writing my prayers down. I still say prayers, too. In case you were worried.
  I'm getting close to finishing Numbers in the Old Testament. Doctrine and Covenants were harder to get through, since it's not at all in chronological order. But, if I keep with this reading schedule, I'll be through the Standard Works by next fall.
  And I'm also more than halfway through the 40-day General Conference reading challenge. I try to stay a day ahead ... so when I got THREE DAYS behind, you know that I fell off the wagon there for a bit. BUT I'm caught up ... just need to get a day ahead again.
  

And so, you see that between taking care of kids, taking care of the house, trying to stay abreast of studying scriptures and foreign languages (well, just two for now), and getting sucked into Facebook and the internet, I didn't MEAN to neglect you. It just happened.

Now, I should do some math, German, Spanish, and then go shopping and drop off the kids' Strings registration and application for scholarships, then get Bubbles fed and down for a nap and read my scriptures and conference talks and pray and write in that journal and .... maybe take a nap, too.

Your "What's-Gone-On-In-the-Last-Two-Weeks-If-You-Really-Care" Update

So, yeah, it's been two weeks since I last blogged.
(Way to go, me ... sounds like I'm starting with a confession. I'm not Catholic, but I do have some friends who are ... and it's not like I haven't seen movies where a character is in Confession ... I digress. Like I always do.)

Okay, since June 9th ...

Well, I WANTED this to be a fun, chatty post, since I got back in touch with my high-school Theater teacher (also taught Writing for College, which was a great class, too). (No, I'm NOT trying to suck up, okay? I really did enjoy those classes AND having him as a teacher/friend. Geez, you guys.) ... where was I? Oh yes ... AND I would have really preferred, since I told him that I have a blog and he said that he'd be glad to read it, to have something witty and funny and well-drafted ... but, well, it is what it is (didn't Vonnegut say that? I find myself saying it a lot. And I think it's a quote ... Whatever. I've just gotten up and I can't brain yet).

Sorry, Mr. A. I really did want to be clever and awesome. But, well, at least you know that I didn't hire a ghostwriter or anything, right?

SO ... the kids are out of school for the summer. Bruise and Bucket had their well-child check-up. They're current on their shots (Bucket had pumped herself up to be prepared for a vaccination, though I was pretty sure she didn't need one, so she was bummed NOT to get a shot. ... Yup, that's my girl).
That's how we started Summer Vacation -- go to the doctor's, then take the kids' to Grandma's house (while Mom and Dad go to a meeting [read that: get to a meeting rather late because the guy in charge of getting information only told us the [City] Stake Center, not an address. So we went to the church building in [City], then had to call our sister-in-law to figure out where we (and another ten cars) SHOULD be ... which meant that we were BARELY on time. Which meant that Michael had to listen to me grouse about how I HATE being late. Poor guy. At least we got to eat at the Pita Pit for dinner, so it wasn't terrible. And the meeting was good [about missionary work]).

Backtracking -- the kids had a fun time at their class trip to OMSI. I was feeling guilty about not going with (but then I'd have to run Bubbles up to Mom C's, run the kids and myself BACK into town, drive up to OMSI -- most likely carpooling, so then I'd have to drop off everyone BACK at the school and run BACK UP to Mom C's, AND THEN go back home) ... however, since I found myself being VERY GOOD FRIENDS with Mr. Toilet that day, I didn't feel so guilty.
(I would have said that I didn't feel so bad, but that would have been a lie. Since I was NOT feeling good by any means. Not for a while.)

I've agreed to be PTC (Parent-Teacher Club) Secretary for the 2015-2016 school year.
Sounds like the meetings will be moved to Tuesday evenings, which mostly work better for me. Michael can pick up the kids (and take Bucket to her Activity Days twice a month) ... I'd better prepare a metric crapton of slow cooker meals.
It also sounds like there'll be a morning meeting once a month. I'm sure they'll get used to me in pajamas, schlepping my brood in. (I jest, I jest. But I WILL be rocking a ponytail with my I-threw-this-on-right-before-running-to-the-car ensemble.)

Before the kids went down to stay a week with grandfolks (they stayed with my dad and L Monday; then, until Friday, they were with my mom and stepdad), we did the kick-off for the city summer activity/scavenger hunt/passport program/thing. It's actually really fun. You get a little passport and go around (mostly downtown) and collect stamps from participating businesses. At some places, you need to do something to earn your stamp. At others, you get to make something (like at the paint-you-own pottery, you paint a little trinket [which you'll come back later to pick up, after it's been put into the kiln and cooled. Or, at a coffee shop/deli, (at least last year) kids made their own, free, Italian soda. Or you had to shoot so many baskets on the court at the YMCA. Stuff like that]). Some are out a little ways -- in one, you go to a historic mill, which makes a nice day trip. it's fun to go on the tour and into the little interpretive center -- grind some flour by hand. Maybe feed the chickens and turkeys ...

But, yeah, Bruise, Bucket, and Bubbles had fun spending the week with grandfolks. They all came back happy, tired, and sunburned (I know they did put on sunscreen. They were JUST in the sun that much).

While they were gone, I had high hopes of laying in bed and reading all day (like I could do pre-kids). Instead I did small bursts of cleaning ... and got my hair colored.
Tuesday, I went through the kids' outgrown clothing and got that sorted. Then I went to the salon for my appointment. I'm now even blonder (working towards platinum, since that's one of the [few] colors I haven't done) and sporting some fun streaks. We tried to do teal, purple, and pink ... but the pink didn't take at all. So I have fun teal and purple streaks (hadn't done purple streaks before. I've done teal, but only on the bottom-most layer of hair. And that was years ago) happening.
Then Michael and I went to see Jurassic World (which was good despite not starring Dr. Ian Malcom. Though, trivia says (and I missed it), that Jeff Goldblum's picture IS featured on a couple books held by two characters in the film).

Wednesday, I cleaned up the house a bit and organized a freezer (which NEEDED to happen, because I was sick and tired of foisting off an impeding avalanche EVERY time I opened that stinkin' freezer), since we were feeding the missionaries. One of the elders is going to be going home soon. Which is a bummer (for us) since he's really fun. But we know that his family misses him, so we'll deal.
After dinner, we went to Home Depot to go pick up supplies for Thursday evening ...

Thursday, I spent around four hours cleaning up the kids' room. Two bags of stuff to donate. Another FULL bag of trash, countless passes with the vacuum on every bit of floor that I could reach, cleaning off the BIG shelves ... and their room was clean. BUT ONLY HALF OF THEIR ROOM.
(We worked on the other half of the floor and the closet on Sunday. Happy Father's Day, Honey!)

Then I went shoe shopping. I ended up with a pair of sneakers (goal), a pair of dress shoes (secondary goal), a pair of nice flip-flops, and a new shirt (bonus!) And some new socks. And a swim cap to protect my dye job (which sort of worked).

Thursday night, we spent building Bubbles's new bed, since she bent the frame of her (used) toddler bed by jumping on it. Whoops. Michael cut the boards, I sanded the boards. We ran to Home Depot again (another board and more sandpaper). We bolted the thing together and screwed down the plywood ... If a bomb should happen, that bed might burn to the ground. But it'll burn to the ground as a thing SOLIDLY BOLTED TOGETHER. Doesn't even shake or shiver when I sit on it.

Friday, I went to work with Michael. I helped Paige (the office manager) by collapsing cardboard boxes (which brought back memories as I used the boxcutter. Even though it's been around 20 years, I still know how to employ boxcutter safety. Thank you Shop Smart and your [kinda boring] safety videos). Then we took out the recycling ... which, being Paige and me, was filled with giggling and nearly dropping bags of precariously-piled bags of magazines and newspapers. She's totally fun to hang with. And I got to meet her son in the survey department (Lest you misunderstand, this is NOT a large company. I think they have about 15-20 employees. But I hadn't met everyone ... usually since, if we come with the kids, I work to take the kids out to the stores in the complex or the park, so that Michael can actually get some work done. That and we never can turn down a trip to Trader Jo's. :P).

After work, we got lunch (even though Cafe Yumm did mess up our order a little. It was still delicious.) and headed down to my hometown. We collected the kids so we could check into the hotel (and give my mom a chance to rest -- between taking care of the kids AND my stepdad [who has dementia], she was exhausted. Poor girl).

We checked in, got settled, waited for my aunt and my cousin's daughter (who Aunt J is taking care of this summer) to come, then we went swimming.
Since I mentioned that my swim cap mostly worked, instead of having nice delineated technicolor streaks, they turned into more ... mermaid hair. Which isn't BAD by any means. Just a little different.

After that, we got dressed and ready and headed back to Mom's for dinner.
After eating and the kids (Cousin + my munchkin brigade) playing, we headed back to the hotel, took a small tour of the casino, and went to bed.

Michael joked that, "Hey, maybe this is the room that Mike Rowe stayed in a few weeks back." But I had to break it to him that, no, THAT hotel is the one across the highway.
(Though, it WOULD have been awesome to be able to make that claim. Heck, I think that THAT hotel should get a little brass historical event plaque for the door: "On ___, 2015, Mike Rowe slept in this room." We could use the added tourism, I'm sure.)

Saturday, we started back fro home, making a stop at Wildlife Safari (If you have a membership at the Oregon Zoo [Ours is almost ready to expire], you can get your admission for 1/2 price. #TheMoreYouKnow) So we made it worth our while. Then we scouted some stores for another LEGO set that's all sold out up here. No dice. And we got some fast food for the drive home.

We got the sad news that Michael did not pass his HUGE engineering test that he took back in April.
He'll be taking it again, next April.
Please send prayers, good thoughts, happy muju, whatever.
Passing this test (next year) will make him a full-fledged Civil Engineer.
Which is what he's been working for.
(I'm just irritated that OSBEELS is dumb in not letting you know your actual score or what you missed or anything. Just a Pass/Fail. Which isn't very helpful. How can you gauge how much you need to improve? Bah.)

Bubbles loves her new bed. The kids are enjoying their clean room (still need to go through three dressers -- hoping to get Bucket's clothes into ONE dresser, so that the other dresser can START housing Bubbles's clothes -- getting THOSE out of OUR room -- AND one set of shelves. THEN they will have a CLEAN-clean room.
And they'll just have to do maintenance on it ... or face the wrath of a frustrated mommy. (A fate worse than death!)

We wished everyone (Michael's dad, my stepdad, my dad, and my Grampy) a happy Father's Day on Sunday. The little craft that the kids in Nursery did for the dads was well-received (the kids did a handprint on a page that said "Daddy, I'm hooked on you." We added a googly eye and orange lips to make the handprints into fish. I made it about as simple and easy as possible. just had to ink up the kids' hands, make the prints, wipe off the hands, let dry, draw on lips with an orange marker, glue on the googly eye, and let dry. Most of them were even done last week. Even better).

Yesterday, we did some chores while Michael was at work. Then we went to a Health Fair, to the library, and back home. The big kids worked on Duolingo (Spanish) and khanacademy (math) and read a bit. And played outside with a neighbor.
Then we went to their swim lesson, where they had fun with Bob.

Today (and the rest of this week) will be more of the same -- housework, not forgetting everything they learned last year, playing ... and doing some of the town passport program.

As I type all this out, I realize that I have a vaguely boring life. But ... well, I like it.

Because, unfortunately, there are much worse alternatives.
Like what happened in my hometown Saturday night.

I don't know how much it's been on the news, but there was a shooting.
In my small hometown.
Which left my cousin's best friend's husband dead.
By his nephew (who was one of my classmates since Kindergarten).

Both the victim, JP, and BF, who shot him are family members of a couple that are in my home Ward (church congregation, if you're not LDS) family.
J is the son of this couple. B is their grandson.

And we're just left reeling. Because ... how could this have happened?
My cousin's BFF went from having a perfect, happy family to being a widow in seconds. And she witnessed the whole thing. I can't imagine how she's feeling.
And poor N (the mom/grandma) ... because she and her husband are some of the nicest, kindest people around ... nobody deserves for this to happen, least of all them.

I keep hoping that this is just some crap nightmare. But it's not.

And I can't wrap my head around this.
BF was a nice guy.
When we were in Kindergarten together, after school, we'd walk the block north from the school, then part ways (he towards his grandma's house about a block away to the west, me further north to my house).
"See you in a million years!" he'd call as he crossed the street.
"No, see you tomorrow," literal-minded little me would call back.

And, in middle school, when he was in the popular group and I was not ... One time, in P.E., he came up to me after another less-than-pleasant bout of existence with some of the in-crowd kids.
"You know," he told me, "you could be popular."
"What?" I replied. As quick on the uptake as ever. Typical Allanna.
"You could be popular, too. If you drop [friend's name] as a friend."
(I mean, I didn't make that choice. But I knew that BF didn't have to tell me that. And that he did because he saw what was going on. And I was sure that he remembered how we were friends in elementary school ... and that ... well, it's not the type of thing someone without empathy and caring would do.)

Even on Facebook, now, people are all commenting that they can't believe that BF would ever do something like that. He was So-and-so's friend. He was always a good guy. ...

... what happened?

And I keep wondering if there was something that I could have done.
I mean, after middle school, we weren't close or anything. We were in the same school and we'd say "hi" to each other when we saw each other. But we didn't move in the same circles, really.
But I always thought of him as a friend.

I mean, I was DOWN in our hometown that day.
If I knew then what I do now, I'd have worked to track him down and talked to him.

But, I mean, what could I have said ... "Hey, later tonight, don't shoot your uncle. AT ALL. Not even once, let alone a bunch. M'kay? That'd be great. So, how's it been going for the last decade or so? You doing okay?"

Not very realistic, I know. But ... could I have been a better friend to him? Was he even on Facebook? I could have sent him a friend request ... let him know that I always remember him fondly, since we were friends a long time ago. That I appreciated that he offered me that chance at being in the in-crowd when nobody else really seemed to care (except jumping at the chance to make my friend's life pretty awful).

Michael tells me there's really nothing that I could have done differently.
Which is true. Unless I had a time-machine or something ...

Which then makes me wonder WHY this happened? HOW could this happen?
This is the kind of thing you read about.
It's not something that you can prepare yourself for in advance (well, not and remain mentally healthy).

And I find myself, squatting to find refried beans or tomato sauce in the pantry cupboard and wondering, "What am I doing with my life??? Why am I even here ... what's the significance of my existence right now? I should be doing something ... and ..."
And then I have to get on with my life because I have three kids who need to be fed and a husband to assist and a cat to snuggle (so she won't get all anxious and pee in the laundry pile or over-groom herself. Seriously, I cannot believe that out of all of us, it's the CAT that has a prescription for Prozac. Obviously, this is the perfect cat for me. Obviously.)

However, I think that it's time to escape into a book sometime today.
I have a pile of library books that need to be read ... but I'm feeling the need to jump into a tested-and-true old friend. Something familiar. Something safe. Something that will be good to read while Bubbles is napping.

I mean, I have faith that there's an overall plan. And that we all are going to learn and grow from this ... horrible ... happenstance.

But, still, I really wish it hadn't happened at all.

When I am benevolent dictator of the world, all conflicts will be dealt with hugging-it-out. Or maybe pie-eating contests. Or staring contests whilst eating dark chocolate (unless one is allergic. To chocolate. I've not yet heard of anyone being allergic to staring ... but what do I know?).