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.)

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?).

Challenges ...

Maybe I'll get a fun title ... or, at least, a creative one ... but right now ... no.

So ... I'm sure everyone's aware of how there was a bombing at the Boston Marathon (well, thanks, Allanna's subconscious. You almost had me write "Boston Massacre." And, though rather apt, that's not what it was supposed to be.)

(Yes, I just talked to my subconscious there. What, you mean you don't?)

But, yeah ... I'm in a bit of a funk.
And when I say a bit ... I mean A LOT.
Because I am generally a happy-ish-type person.
And I don't feel happy much at all right now.

And, NO, it's not my period. Thanks for asking.

But the fact is that, yes, bad things happen. People are suffering. Some lost their life or a loved one. Many more were injured. There's a picture making its way around Facebook (and yes, I did check for authenticity. Because I HATE it when things are posted that aren't confirmed truth. Sadly, this IS.) with a man who lost at least one leg (below the knee). ... And, according to the news reports, out of the 170 or so injured, there were a LOT of amputees.

And an eight-year-old boy was killed ... out of three deaths, one was so young.

Nevertheless, things like this SHOULD NOT HAPPEN.
I want to know what someone would think to explain that behavior ... and, well, then I DON'T want to know. Because, regardless of any explanation which MIGHT make some semblance of reason for this to occur, there's the fact that it SHOULD NOT HAPPEN.

I feel angry. And helpless. And depressed. And irritated.
All rolled up into some little hedgehog-ball of upset ... with a soft underbelly of hurting.

Because, well, I can't even imagine what those runners and their friends and families are going through.
I can't imagine how it could be to go run in a marathon ... and then end the day with the possibility of never running again.

This is bollocks, y'all. Total bollocks.
Why can't we just be freaking NICE to each other?
Why do we, as a species, target each other? It doesn't make sense.

I just want to go and smack everyone up the head and be all, "You're a FREAKING CHILD OF GOD. HE LOVES YOU. HE LOVES EVERYONE. SO JUST GO AND TREAT EVERYONE WITH LOVE, DAMMIT!"

But, well, wouldn't that be a bit hypocritical and counter-productive?
I think it might be. Just a titch. (WARNING: UNDERSTATEMENT ALERT)

Seriously ... what is it with the fact that every time I try and do something frigging RIGHT, crap blows up (not always literally) ... but still. What the aitch is UP with that?

(Satan, that's what. Because he wants me to just give up and be a spiritual slug ... amirite?)

(Oh gosh, now I have SNL's The Church Lady in my brain. That usually just happens when Mom and I sit next to each other in Sunday School. Then we'll whisper "Could it be ... SATAN!?!?" or "Well, isn't that special?" to each other. Yes, there's a reason my mom is one of my besties. Many reasons, actually. But that is one of them.)

BUT!!
Where was I? Ah, yes!
SO, yesterday started out fiiiiiiiine -- I got the kids off to school (even though Bucket's lunchbag appears to be missing. Again.), Bubbles and I said an itsty prayer together (never too early to start a habit, right? And I should be doing WAY stinkin' better at instilling this into ALL the children. And myself.). Eventually, I got breakfast and did some laundry. ... And I got the news about Boston.

I don't really know anyone in Boston ... do I?
Thankfully, all my friends' friends (that THEY know) who were in the Marathon are safe and accounted for.

I read my scriptures ... blogged about that.
Started another spiritual/scriptural-type challenge ... Voices for Virtue created a 40-day challenge.

In the shortest terms possible, here it is: Read one conference talk per day for 40 days (with the exception of one day when you read the Sustaining of the Church Officers and the Auditing report and the Statistical report ... because those are all rather short)

So, yeah ... I started doing that, too. Since it STARTED yesterday. And, well, why not?
I mean, if it's so important for us to receive this revelation as a whole church, shouldn't I actually, you know, better acquaint myself with it?

Yesterday, also, my language practice SUCKED. Seriously sucked. German conjunctions and Spanish questions (Que, Donde, and so on ... and, yes, I DON'T have the accents on there. Because I'm lazy and peevish.) ... they just were NOT happening.

But, regardless, I DID read my scriptures and the opening remarks for Conference.
Did I feel tons better? ... I really couldn't say. Mostly because, well, if you usually feel around an 80 and then you feel around a -500, feeling around a -75 is better, but not great.

Today's reading was Elder Packer's talk. And it was a nice talk. I do worry, though, that he's not going to be with us a terribly lot longer. And that makes me sad.
He talks of how much wisdom he's gained ... and how, even though it's so hard to move about and do things he used to love, he wouldn't change that ... because the knowledge and experience he's gained is so precious to him.
He also talks of complacency and protecting the home and family against the bad things that are out there.

However, with what happened yesterday ... I keep thinking more toward one of the last talks given in Conference. Elder Bruce D. Porter gave a talk, "Beautiful Mornings."
And I liked how it was summed up over at The Latter-day Snark ... about how it wasn't so much about why bad things happen to good people, but more about who cares why bad things happen to good people.
I did give it a quick read-over ... and, yes, I feel more better than I did before I read it.

I do have a testimony that, through Heavenly Father's plan of happiness, that things will work out.
(Which reminds me of another conference talk, President Uchtdorf's "The Hope of God's Light.")

I know that we will have trials here on earth. And that we have the opportunity to learn and to grow from the trials that we and others face. It's not always going to be easy or fun ... But there will be good to balance out all the suck that is in the world. And, without all the bad, how would we even recognize what is good? ... So I do have to be thankful for the bad, too. (Though I might not be as grateful for it as I probably should be.)

I'm grateful for the Atonement ... so that we have a sure witness that everything WILL be right. Maybe not right now, but eventually. I'm glad to know that the people affected by the bombing will be made whole and perfect again.

It's just trudging through the figurative mud here that is hard. But we'll get by, right?
(If you're not sure, we do have it on good authority that we WILL. It just takes time and effort.)

Okay, so I should read my scriptures for the day ... Mosiah 9:1-9:19

• Okay, I had to go to the actual scriptures to make more sense of all this ... Chapter headings make like a LOT easier. So, now Ammon and Limhi and everyone are reading the plates Limhi's people found (So, they were translated! Whoot!) ... and it's the record of a civilization that came before.
• Zeniff is the part of a group who've left Zarahemla for the land of Lehi-Nephi He knows how to read and write (obvs, or else we wouldn't have this record). He spies on the Lamanite forces ... but, when he observes them , he realizes that there's a lot of good ... so he doesn't think that his group should wipe the Lamanites out. 
• However, the leader of the group is more bloodthirsty and doesn't really care for the idea of making a treaty with the Lamanites. So much so that he wants to put Zeniff to death for daring to question orders. He's spared due to a civil war fought among their own people. He is one of the few (it sounds like less than half of the original troop survived) that returns to Zarahemla to report to the families.
• Still, they REALLY want to regain the land of their ancestors, so they head back ... but, since they're not as righteous as they should be, they have a lot of trials (famine and "sore affliction," which always makes me think of boils ... but I'm sure that's not it. Or, at least not all of it.)
• Eventually, they return to where they started (where the original group camped, at least, before the civil war) ... They meet with the Lamanite leader who, remarkably, is pretty cool with the transfer of land. They agree to make a peaceful transfer ... his people leave the land of Lehi-Nephi and Shiom.
• BUT!! King Laman was a crafty guy ... after the Nephites move in, build their homes, establish farms ... really get settled in, he plans to get the Nephites into bondage and repossess their lands.
• But, like the Israelites in Egypt (as in "Tell old Pharaoh 'Let my people go!" ... you know, the story of Moses?), the Nephites were prosperous and, well, there were a LOT of them. So King Laman is forced to act sooner rather than later.
• The Lamanites are a society where there's not such the great work ethic, apparently ... and they really, really want to have all the food and flocks that the Nephites have raised (Kinda like the dog and the cat in "The Little Red Hen." You know, they don't help out, but they're more than happy to offer to eat the bread. Should I have prefaced that with "Spoiler Alert?" :P)
  So, under the king's direction, they start fighting with the Nephites and taking the crops and flocks of those they overtake.
• The Nephites that aren't killed in the raids flee to the main city with its stronghold and beg Zeniff for protection. He arms them with all the weapons he can get his hands or or create ... and they go to battle with the Lamanites, crying to the Lord for help.
• There's a huge battle ... In about 24 hours, they slay 3,043 Lamanites. Eventually, the Lamanites are driven back out of the land of Lehi-Nephi. The Nephites bury the dead, including their own 279 casualties.

I'm not totally sure what all I should be learning from this. ... I mean, it's really good to have a good work ethic. And to pray when you're doing hard/dangerous things. There is the whole similarity of the Nephites and Israel in Egypt ... I don't know that I really noticed that before.

But ... yeah.

Well, my mental health number is a bit better than it was earlier. 

Apparently the migraine that Michael came home with must have gone away ... since he went to work and everything. We're counting down to our vacation ... I'm trying not to freak out. Because, apparently, I am a  control freak and I'm trying to figure out how to keep the kids entertained on a long car trip (and that's IF we don't get in a traffic jam) and what all to pack for food and how many pairs of underwear we all need ... and how many diapers to bring (because, after getting urine in my FACE last time, if a certain child of mine does not empty his bladder out? He's going to pee into a diaper, so help me. Because, face it, you do NOT need to use the bathroom every half-hour. Especially in HEAVY TRAFFIC. Just sayin'.)

And I'm gearing up to wear a swimsuit. Please send me the mental fortitude to deal with the idea of people seeing me in a swimsuit ... because I am NOT in shape like I was when I was a teenager. Also, I am so pasty-white that I practically glow in the dark. ... However, since I colored my hair (red), it's rather fitting for that. But still ... I don't like being in a swimsuit in front of people so much. I like swimming and playing in the water too much to let it stop me ... but, oh, goodness. First world problems, amirite?

And we need to get an oil change and vacation is coming up fast and ... oh, I think my brain is going to explode and leak out my ears. Until we head off ... then I'll be okay. It's just that I'm bad with anticipation. It apparently freaks me out. So I live in denial until it's too late ... I freak out and try to get everything done ... and then I can have a good time.

It's exactly what I do when I gear up for a performance.
Fun times, right?

Weighing in ... but not in physical-type weight...

So ... I went on a bit of a limb, Facebook-wise ...

And I had the indigestion to prove it.
(Go fig, I can sing on a stage in front of hundreds of people without much issue. But state my opinion/beliefs? Yeah ... Not the most effective missionary, huh?)

So, I posted this --

http://middle-agedmormonman.blogspot.com/2013/03/simplify-my-thoughts-on-marriage.html

I think this sums up most of how I feel on this issue. I love my brothers and sisters, regardless of lifestyle ... or any other form of difference. 
I may not be at my most eloquent right yet ... so bear with me, please.
I could talk about how allowing the courts to decide who is or is not allowed to marry is NOT something that I could support (Seriously, do we really trust our courts that much? When people get awarded millions for spilling coffee on themselves or having to eat dog food when they get stuck in a house they BROKE INTO?). (See also: http://www.christianpost.com/news/gay-marriage-social-experimentation-and-legal-precedent-92041/)

I do believe that our homosexual brothers and sisters should have all the rights that a married heterosexual couple have, under a civil union. I believe that they shouldn't be bullied for having same-sex attraction.

I also believe, as this blog states, that God still loves us all and, ergo, speaks to all His children today.
That He knows best.
That He's expressed an opinion.

I support the leaders of the church (who've also said that we need to show so, so much love to ALL children of our Heavenly Father. And that, just because someone might do something or act in a way contrary to the commandments, it is NO EXCUSE to treat them with anything other than the love that Jesus Christ has for all of us).

I wish I knew of some easy and fast fix that would result in everyone being happy. I was hoping that recognized civil unions might be it ... Apparently it's all or nothing. Which tears at my heart, to be honest.

I understand that not all of us see eye-to-eye on this. And that's one of the great things about having agency and the ability to choose for ourselves. I respect your opinion on this whole issue. Like I've said, I feel torn about it. Part of me sees it like Queen Victoria's quote (about not scaring the horses). But, there's also the fact that I can't go against what I know is true. It wouldn't be honest to myself or God.

And don't be speaking about how "my God" is a god of hate. He's not. If you want to know what has been said lately, go here (instead of taking other people's words for it. Would you take a cat person's opinion about dogs at total and complete fact? Really?): http://www.mormonsandgays.org/
(Spoiler: The main message is "Love One Another." Not "we hate everyone who is different.")

 And, even though a good deal of my friends are LDS, I know that I have a lot who aren't.
And, even among the LDS friends I have, there are some that don't share my exact opinion on things.
And I can handle that ... Life would be BORING if everyone was exactly the same.

Most of the comments that I got were decent and sharing an opinion that differed in some bit.
(One idea that I am totally in favor of -- Let EVERYONE get civil unions that offer all the protections of a currently-defined marriage. THEN, those who want a church-ordained marriage can have one in addition. Like how England demands that EVERYONE get married in the Church of England. Then, for LDS couples, they go to the temple to be sealed. I think this would be suitable and satisfy the majority.)

However, one of my friends (I like him. He's smart and he's funny. I respect his opinion ... though, as you'll see, we don't see eye-to-eye on everything. Also, I like him even though he doesn't care at all for C.S. Lewis. But, well, it takes all kinds.) lambasted my post. He said that since The Church was at all involved with Prop 8, that it should have its tax-exempt status revoked. He was ... harsher than I would have anticipated.

I don't LIKE to upset my friends.
It sucks to have an opinion that others (in general) mock.
I'm NOT a homophobe ... I like PEOPLE. And I don't think that people should be classified solely by what they choose to do with their sexual organs. Heck, I don't really CARE what one chooses to do with one's equipment. As long as you are relatively kind and have some semblance of a sense of humor, I'm totally on your team!

A FOAF (friend of a friend) put it really well on Facebook:

Here are my thoughts on gay marriage. Please try not to get offended and try to see where I am coming from. 
I think this argument started a long long time ago when marriage became more political and about property than it is about what God set it up to be. According to the Bible, God set up marriage as a three way covenant between man, woman and God. I don't think this definition of marriage would interest many gay couples. But when marriage became political it became about rights, and the three way covenant was pushed aside. I, and I am pretty sure a huge majority of LDS members, agree that all people should have equal rights regardless of race, religion, sexual orientation or gender. We have said many times that we have no problem giving them those rights in a civil union. But marriage, which used to be Gods, has already been taken and belongs to government. So of course religious people are getting upset when you take a core belief of theirs and change and reinterpret it as something it was never meant to be. A lot of this mess is our fault (traditional religionists) because we let the covenant of marriage leave the faith world and enter the political and now we are trying to get it back too late.

Now I have been too long winded to express how much I love and admire many of my gay and lesbian friends. I do not think I am above them or better than them in any way. I do want them to have all the rights I do. But it is difficult for me to understand how a person can think a gay lifestyle is okay and still believe in the Bible. And then, it is difficult for me to understand how one can believe in the Bible and still feel it is okay to make a covenant with God in a way that He has clearly stated is wrong and not have it feel like mockery. Let me be clear that I know that no one, especially me, is perfect and follows Christ perfectly. But doing something wrong and calling it wrong is different that calling it right.

The bottom line is, I don't think government has a right to have ANY say in marriage at all but we have already let it get its sticky fingers on it. I hope we can find a solution that works for everyone.
Now I have been too long winded to express how much I love and admire many of my gay and lesbian friends. I do not think I am above them or better than them in any way. I do want them to have all the rights I do. But it is difficult for me to understand how a person can think a gay lifestyle is okay and still believe in the Bible. And then, it is difficult for me to understand how one can believe in the Bible and still feel it is okay to make a covenant with God in a way that He has clearly stated is wrong and not have it feel like mockery. Let me be clear that I know that no one, especially me, is perfect and follows Christ perfectly. But doing something wrong and calling it wrong is different that calling it right. 
The bottom line is, I don't think government has a right to have ANY say in marriage at all but we have already let it get its sticky fingers on it. I hope we can find a solution that works for everyone.

I think that she's put it beautifully ... and yes, marriage has now been (for far too long) bastardized into some political/property thing.
But ... at its heart and creation, it's a covenant between a man, a woman, and God.

I have no problem, myself, with homosexual couples.
It's not like they're schtupping in front of me ... Therefore, it's none of my business.

(I have the same opinion in regards to people who have premarital sex. It's not what we've been commanded to do. BUT, they're still children of God. Most all of them are wonderful people. As long as they're not schtupping in front of me or my kids? It's not an issue that I'm going to focus on. I have enough sins of my own ... I'll work on those first.)

I also like how Eli over at It Gets Stranger covered his take on the issue: http://www.itjustgetsstranger.com/2013/03/about-that.html

I have friends who identify as homosexual or even bisexual. It doesn't bother me.
I have no issues with homosexual couples ... I think that Neil Patrick Harris and his partner or George Takei and his partner or Ellen DeGeneris and her partner (the girl from Arrested Development) are all adorable and wonderful people. I would love to have any of them as neighbors and/or personal friends.

I think, though, that this marriage discussion is broken.
I do want a solution that can make most everyone happy.
I just don't know how that's going to happen ... and maybe it won't happen until Christ comes again.

Oh ... and when people go and quote random laws from Leviticus and Deuteronomy as proof of how dumb those laws are and why aren't folks up in arms about THOSE laws instead of just being upset about same sex marriage?
Well, IF one reads the New Testament, the reason we don't follow those laws is the same as why we, as Christians, eat pork and shellfish.
The Atonement and Resurrection of Jesus Christ fulfilled the law of Moses.
Christ gave us a higher law to follow ... Those that followed Moses were incapable of following these laws at the time (That's why Moses had to go get the ten commandments ... and why they had to wander in the desert for SO. DANG. LONG).
So ... yeah.

We do still follow the ten commandments ... but first, we love God and love our neighbors (i.e., EVERYONE. Even if they do stuff that we don't agree with 24/7... Heck, I sometimes do stuff that makes me regret knowing myself. Still have to love myself, though. I am a daughter of God ... and He thinks that I'm lovable.)

Yeah, I just want everything fixed.

Yet ... what am I doing about it?
Besides kvetching on my blog?

Yeah, I just don't know.

I just know that, whoever you are, you deserve to be loved.
And that I do love you ... might not always like what you choose to do ... but you are loved.
Heavenly Father loves you ... and if you choose not to believe in Him, I still love you. So you still are loved.

Opening night ...

Well, the house is MOSTLY clean-ish ... It could be a lot worse.

Mom C will watch the kids tonight (and bring them to the performance). My mom will watch them (and the performance) tomorrow night. Then a couple of gals in the ward will be taking on babysitting duties. Closing night, the kids will be up at Mom C's with some cousins ... then Michael and I will swing on up, nab them, bring them home, put them to bed ... and clean Michael up.

A client (older man) referred to Michael's facial hair as "cute."
Yeah ... he got some flack from everyone about that.
Just the word choice cracks me up.

I got some more sleep yesterday ... woke up before my alarm and couldn't fall back asleep. Oh well.
Going to make at least one dinner ... maybe prep some more. We'll see how awesome/motivated I get.

I really almost wish that it were already around 5 PM so that I could just get this performance STARTED.
That's the fun of opening night ... and, well, the fun of EVERY performance. Opening night, though ... that's when we have the biggest jitters.

Bubbles' doctor visit went fine. She's been declared "perfect." Her skull is almost totally fused closed, the big kid. She got three immunizations ... she took them well enough. A little crying, but once I held her she calmed down. She's got a large head circumference. Nothing freakish. Her doctor proclaimed that it's just "full of brains" ... along with being a beautiful child.

She did flirt with the few people in the waiting room. She had the play table all to herself ... and enjoyed crawling under the chairs.

Every so often she (along with Bruise and Bucket) will do something and I'll see, just for an instant, a glimpse of the adult she's growing into. And ... it strikes me.
At the same time, I'm glad that they're going to be such good-looking adults.

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

I'm still stuck on thinking about the whole situation at Steubenville ... It's just so wrong.
These kids there need adults to be leaders and teachers -- to teach what is and is not proper behavior, how to follow laws, how to treat each other -- regardless of one's sport status or gender or whatever.

I've started, from a young age, teaching my brood about their bodies. We've always used the terms "penis" and "vagina," partly because that's what they ARE ... and partly because children who can use the proper terms are less likely to be victimized.

I've also worked to teach them about treating others well. And that you don't touch other people's private parts or let others touch yours (with a few exceptions -- your spouse, your doctor as needed, things like that).

I also have felt the need to impress upon them that if they (or someone they know) is acted upon by another person who does something to them without permission, it is NOT their fault. The person acting upon them made a decision that impacted them. THAT person, not the victim/survivor is to blame.

I'm just getting REALLY FED UP with things that need to change. Like a person who says that we need to teach people not to rape deserves to have horrible things happen to her for saying such a crazy, outlandish idea.

I am more offended that these nay-sayers seem to feel that it's the default of men TO rape.
I am surrounded by wonderful men who would be aghast at the idea that all women, everywhere, should live in constant fear of all men turning into base creatures that have no choice but to force themselves upon others.

I'm just going to come out and say it: THIS IS STUPID. IT'S RUBBISH. IT'S BULL.

And I'm going to take a deep breath, flex my hands out of fists, and just hope and pray that things will get better.

And, until it does, I'm teaching my children to deal with what might happen ... though I really wish I never felt a need to. I'd love for them to be able to go out into the world without worrying about what someone might do. I wish I didn't have to instill a core of steel into their sweet, innocent hearts.

But I do.
Because some parents and leaders aren't doing their jobs.
Because some people are not in control of themselves.
Because some people don't care.
And that sucks. A lot.

So I will teach my kids to respect themselves. To respect others. To be brave and take a stand if they see anyone needing help. To know how to call 911. To know that they can tell Michael and me anything and that we will still love them. To stand up to "friends" ... and even their true friends, if need be. To protect themselves. To protect others. To stand up and give a voice to those who can't or don't know how to protect themselves. To know they can always turn to others for help, especially their Heavenly Father who is always with them ... because Michael and I can't always be there ourselves. To respect the privacy and needs of other people. To serve others.

And other things ... like what "consent" really is (if someone cannot say "no," then assume that it IS "no." You have to ensure they ARE saying ... and continuing to say "yes."). What masculinity really is and is not. That femininity is not purely submissive. The purpose of our bodies (i.e., the sacred power of procreation ... which, understanding that, helps to respect our bodies and others' bodies).

There are times when I can tell that I'm getting through ... like how Bruise knows that women have breasts (and men have nipples too) because we're mammals ... and their primary purpose is to feed babies. The kids know that they'll someday make babies with their future spouses ... and that they shouldn't do that before they're legally and lawfully married. As a sign of respect for both their spouse and themselves. They know that "penis," "vagina," and even "testicles" are real words ... not jokes or something to giggle at whenever they hear the words.

I have a lot of work ahead of me ... and I'm so scared sometimes at what might happen to them. Some news stories out there are so, so awful ... things happening to little babies and young children, people who can't even defend themselves against the strength and cunning of some wicked, depraved adults out there.

What can you really do?
Teach them as best as you can.
Make sure they know that they can always come to you, that they can ask you anything.
Pray for them, even fasting for them.
Love them as best as you can.
Letting them know, through word and deed, that you have their back, you WILL protect them.

If there's anything else ... well, I'll try to learn it so that I can do it.

Because, well, if I screw this up ... would I ever really forgive myself?

Truly, if my kids EVER took part in something like what happened in Stuebenville ... or stood by while something like that happened ... I would, honestly, believe that I had FAILED my children and my community as a parent.

And, if they were at such a party and stood up against the tide of peer pressure, protecting another person? Even if they were arrested for being there, I'd throw them a freaking PARTY ... and I'd invite the arresting officers (since they were doing their job. And I support that). Cake and sparkling cider for everyone, because my child(ren) did what was right. And I want the world to know that I am celebrating that fact!

There's enough glorifying the crimes and their perpetrators.
I say that we start celebrating the heroes in the world ...  Let's start showing appreciation and honor for people who are working to change the bad.

Let's bring it.

What. The. Hell.

Okay, I'll admit that the shooting in the Clackmas Town Center was unnerving.
Because, yes, as an Oregonian girl, I've been there.
And you don't ever think to fear for your life when you're Christmas shopping (now, maybe trying to get a parking spot ...).

But ... I cannot even fathom of what a person would think of to go into an elementary school to start a shooting spree.

I ... have no words, really. I feel awful, sick at heart, for these families who are so affected by one person's selfish, evil actions.
I also agree with many others that the media is just doing too, too much.
You do not interview an 8-year-old who just escaped from a situation like that.

I don't care how much it benefits your bottom line. You need to show respect for the grieving families.

... I still ... I can't imagine what could cause anyone to do anything like this.

The only explanation that starts to make sense is demonic possession. And I'm not using that lightly.

I don't think gun control is the answer. These are criminals doing evil things. They're not going to stop just because it's hard to get a gun.
The man who opened fire on the Clackmas Town Center food court stole that weapon.

I think that there are a couple things that will help ...

As Michael says, we need to get focus onto the family. We need to love each other more.

I also think that we need to remove the stigma from mental issues. Stop judging. If there's a chemical imbalance, we're not helping by making it seem like it's a choice that someone is making.
I highly doubt that anyone WANTS to be depressed or suffer like that.

Remove that stigma so people won't feel like failures for needing help.
And make it possible for them to get help.
THAT SAME DAY. IMMEDIATELY.


It's crap like this that makes me want to defund Congress IMMEDIATELY and put that money to work IMMEDIATELY.
If we could prevent horrible things like this happening ... wouldn't it be worth it?

I wish that I could have just prayed harder or something ... but how could I ever conceive of such a thing happening?

I feel blindsided.
And so, so sorry for the families and friends of those who shouldn't have died today.
Their poor community.

I snuggled Bubbles once she woke up from her nap.
I was tempted to go pick up Bruise and Bucket from school ... but I refrained.
I will snuggle them as soon as they're home. Within an inch of their lives.

And ...

I also got to clean out our food storage cupboard, since there were weevils.

I hate weevils.

Miraculously, we didn't lose a whole lot of food. Mostly just containers of quick-oats and white flour. It could have been much worse.

The cupboard has now been scrubbed out with hot soapy water, rubbed down with eucalyptus oil, and is scattered with bay leaves.

And the kids need to learn to tie their shoes. And to do it themselves. That's what else.

I still can't remember that second dream ... Something about a ... !!!! Oh! That's what it was!!

I was going to volunteer at an old folk's home. And it was in a building INCREDIBLY LIKE the old Methodist church in my hometown. And I was dragging the kids along.
And it was haunted.

There's this guy, a doctor?? And a nurse had a crush on him ... but he ended up calming down this malevolent spirit and marrying her.

Parts of it were kinda intense ... But, yeah. That was it, in a nutshell.

What's Going On ...

And I say, "HeeeeeeEeeeeeEeeeeey!" I say "Hey! ..."
Oh, oops. Got caught up there for a tic.

So, Tuesday, Bruise SWORE that his lunchpail disappeared somewhere in the house. I searched. It was nowhere to be found. And if he had just PUT IT ON THE FRAKKIN' COUNTER LIKE I ASKED, it wouldn't have been an issue, now WOULD IT?

(Answer: No, Miz Llanna. No issue at all.)

Then, after taking a LARGE bowl of leftover meatballs as a snack (which Michael also has been using as a snack), Miss Bucket POURED about a 1/8-1/4 cup of salt on the leftover-leftover meatballs.

AAAAAAAAAND they kids whined so badly the previous night about the (TASTY) dinner I had made ... I was just burned out. I was THROUGH. And this was after having taken a nap (to make up for the energy expenditure of cleaning and vacuuming out the back of the van and setting up BabyGirl's carseat).

I really had just HAD it.
I screeched at them, sent us ALL to timeout ... came out after a few minutes to check EVERY POSSIBLE PLACE Bruise could have left his lunchbox (after he told me that HE hadn't HEARD me say to put it on the counter. Miss Bucket heard me. And told HIM so). ... It was nowhere to be found.
So, Wednesday, he had to ask the bus driver (no), his English-speaking teacher (no), and his Spanish-teaching speaker (BINGO!!!! It HADN'T even made it home. How did I ever GUESS?!?!??!???).

Mom came up Wednesday. And it was NICE to have a second adult to help keep me sane (since Mondays and Tuesdays, Michael has a class in the evenings. ... Yay professional development! Boo single-parenting. I am NOT made to be a single parent. If YOU are, more power to you. You have my respect. I don't know how my mom managed for so long [from when I was in second to fourth grade. Then again after fifth grade until she remarried when I was in high school].)

We did some shopping. My Amazon.com order came in. The Pack-N-Play is here. Now to clean up our room to fit it in there (Guess I know what WE'RE doing this weekend!). One of my book orders came in (three more books that should arrive QUICKLY ... and another around March). My Moby Wrap (baby sling) arrived. So did the weather shield for the stroller (So when we're waiting for the kids' bus, BabyGirl, at least, won't get completely soaked. That'll be a good thing. Especially with Oregon weather. Our four seasons? Rain, rain, rain, and road construction. At least THIS side of the Cascades). ... So, yeah ...
And Mom and I went to Hallmark and got a calendar, so I can keep tabs on what goes on during BabyGirl's first year.
And I have Baby ESP installed on my phone. To keep track of feedings and diapers and all those things I did by hand for Bruise and Bucket those first couple years ... at least until they stopped breastfeeding.

A conversation with Michael:
Me: Well, I hope that BabyGirl and I will be successful in breastfeeding. I mean, I managed with twins. It's been a while, but I knew what I was doing.
Michael: Um ... just so you know, either you BOTH succeed at it. Or SHE fails. You won't fail. It'll be HER. If that happens.

It's nice that he has such faith in me. I appreciate it.

Also, in COMPLETELY OTHER NEWS: Newt Gingrich is an idiot.
If he expects to be taken seriously on running on a "family values" platform, shouldn't he at least ATTEMPT to avoid actions/statements REEKING of hypocrisy?
Or, since he's obviously FAILED THAT, shouldn't he be mature and contrite about it? Admit that he made HUGE, REPEATED MISTAKES ... and assure us that even though he leaves his wives when THEY get sick, he won't treat our (ailing) nation that way. And then, actually, you know, FOLLOW THROUGH.
Instead of getting all high and mighty about how DARE the news media/anyone JUDGE HIM for cheating, multiple divorces, MORE cheating, ... especially while he was fighting for Bill Clinton's impeachment for some of the same behaviors.
Hasn't the White House/Oval Office been desecrated ENOUGH?
Regardless, it doesn't matter. He doesn't have my vote. And he won't get it.
Seriously, what'll he do to abandon our country? The USA is sick and suffering. From his track record, he's going to leave us for something younger and healthier.
Is he going to go live overseas? Or will he go to that great unknown? ... I'm trying not to get my hopes up.
As I said on Facebook, I'm reminded of a Firefly quote whenever I think of him.

"I know him. And he's a psychotic low-life."
"And I think calling him that is an insult to the psychotic low-life community."

Because ... well ... do I really have to explain?
But, hey, when the quote fits ....

THIS is why I can't get involved in politics. It IRRITATES me. And ... yeah ... why CAN'T Stephen Colbert be on the ballot? I would feel better voting for him. Also John Stewart. Or Mike Rowe.
But, well, Colbert is a better write-in than Mickey Mouse, isn't he?

Ugh. Sometimes, being a grown-up is just DUMB, DUMB, DUMB.

(But, really, South Carolina? Why'd you select Newt Gingrich for the primaries? Do you just WANT Obama in office for the next term? I don't get it ...)

Okay. Time to make dinner. Then I might just go soak my head or something.

It all started with strange dreams ...

and then it got worse.

As far as the dreams, I don't remember a whole lot. I woke up from one because a grizzly bear fell on me.
Yeah, like the Australian drop-bears ... but a Grizzly.

The other was ... weird. As in girl-on-girl action. Not my kinda thing.
But, hey, at least my stomach was flat and I had skinny thighs.

And I'm totally happy NOT participating in any of that kinda thing.
I have Michael and he's enough. Really. And he's fine with the fact that I don't have that toned stomach and thin thighs. Thank goodness. (Either that or it's a good thing he doesn't wear his glasses all the time. :P)

But then, after I had gotten up, gotten showered and was about to start breakfast (while Michael, poor guy, was sleeping off this bad flu) ...

damndamndamndamn.

Just got the call I didn't want to get. Even more than the call that I got this morning.

damndamndamndamn.

...

As I was saying, I was showered. Michael was sleeping off the flu/thing that he's been fighting (took a sick day yesterday, even). Kids were in their PJs.

Mom C texted. We needed to get to the hospital now if we wanted to see Grandpa.
We all got dressed in a hurry. Even (especially) Michael, as he was sweating out that fever. And we ran over to the hospital.
I waited with the kids while Michael went to see Grandpa.
(Grandpa is one of the biggest influences on Michael. And I've adored him since I've met him, too.)
I got to see him. He was heavily sedated, so he was sleeping.

I really kinda hoped that maybe there'd be a last-minute miracle-type-of-thing ... but, you know, I was totally going to understand if there wasn't. I mean, it'd be nice if all genocide would miraculously stop, too ... and that'd take a miracle ...

We hung around the hospital for a few hours. Most of the family was there. From what we knew, people were waiting until all the family got to come and say good-bye before they decided to pull the plug.
After people had eaten lunch (runs to Arby's and a burger place downtown) at the hospital, we dispersed to various locations.
C&A took all the kids, theirs and ours, to A's parents house to play.
Michael and I headed home so he could sleep off the rest of his plague (he started to feel better. Better enough that he's sure that a nap -- which I had to wake him up from -- and a shower will have him back to normal. Phew).
T1, J, T2, and W headed to T2 and W's place.
Along with most of the cousins in the area heading to various places.

And then, a few minutes after we all left, Grandma decided. And they pulled the plug.

And Grandpa's gone.

As hard as it is for me, I'm sure that it's harder for Michael.
Still, all the feelings that I had when Pop-pop died ... I remember them. I know how it feels.
(It's not like when my mom's stepfather died. I was, sad to say, glad to see him go. Long story. Bad story. And not because it happened to me. It didn't. But still.)

Michael handles his emotions differently than I do.
I cry. I fret. I complain how it feels like death is this betrayal/abandonment. Even though I KNOW that it's temporary. I KNOW that we will all be resurrected. I KNOW that families can be together forever.

It still hurts. I still HATE IT that I can't get a hug, get advice from these loved ones. I hate that I can't remember the exact timbre of their voices, each note of their personal scents, how their skin feels. I can look at pictures of them ... I can hear and even tell stories about them ...

It's not the same.

And I hate that. HATE. IT. SO. MUCH.

...

Driving back home from the hospital, before we knew that Grandpa was really going to die in the immediate future (we knew it'd be this afternoon or this evening. ... But that's not NOW, you see.)(Although, now it's the past. And it's HAPPENED.), I thought, "I'll blog about this. And, maybe, just maybe, I'll wake up tomorrow and go to read my blog. And it won't be there. Because it's all a bad dream."

Yeah, fat luck on that one.

Is "fat luck" even a phrase? If not, it should be. Kind of some combination of "fat chance" and some kind of sarcastic luck.

My head hurts. My eyes hurt. I hate days filled by tears. I hate being emotional.

Oh, T2 just called. Wanted to make sure that we knew. Sweet girl.

After Mom C called, I woke up Michael to let him know. (He's my #1 priority.)
Then I texted back to his cousin, K, who'd I'd been texting back and forth with, giving updates ... since I promised her that I'd let her know what I knew, as I got it.
And I called my mom's machine. Again. And left a message.
And started to cry again.

I had already explained to the kids what was happening, this morning, while Michael was upstairs at the hospital, visiting Grandpa.
That, when you get old, your body doesn't always work like it should. You body gets old, too, and when it doesn't work right, you die.
And that we shouldn't be too sad, since we will be together again. It'll just take a while. And we will miss people when they die. But that it's not for FOREVER.
And, when we get to see them again, they'll have their bodies back. And their bodies will be perfect. They won't be in pain or sick or anything.

Poor Michael. Both of his grandfathers have died.
I still have one left. I'm not all that close to him ... but there's the fact that he's still alive.
I can't even imagine how this feels for Dad C. I don't know how I'd feel if/when my dad dies.
Though, really, Dad C and his dad are closer than I feel with my dad.
And poor Mom C. She's cried more than anyone, I think. I wish I knew what to do to help.

All I want to do is to crawl in some hole/cave and just sleep. And, maybe, when I wake up, things will be perfect again.
My house will be clean.
Everyone will be alive.
No one will be sick or in pain.
Gingi-cat and Di-di will be back.

So ... yeah. That's most of what's pertient around here.

How was YOUR day?
(PLEASE say it was better. PLEASE. Lie to me, if needed. I really want there to be GOOD things happening today. Because if everyone's day is this sucky ... I may just lose the will to live. So, PLEASE have had a better day. And tell me what was great. I'd appreciate it.)

Surfacing ... Some bad news and some musing ...

To tell the absolute truth, mostly I've just been lazy. That's the main reason for my absence.

I mean, I did make some things for presents ... but mostly I've just NOT done things.
Speaking of .... *restarts the washer* ...

Okay, I'm back.

Firstly and most importantly, Michael's grandfather is sick. He's almost 85. He fell twice over Thanksgiving weekend. Once, while with family -- the second time was unloading luggage upon getting home. Thank goodness that Uncle D was there. So they took him to urgent care. And he was diagnosed with pneumonia. Later, he went into the hospital ... it's not pneumonia, it's some other infection. But, yeah, he's been really tired.
Uncle L called this morning. Grandpa, during the night had a heart attack ... He's alive. Thank goodness ... but he's in the ICU right now. L will call back with updates as they come. I called Michael and let him know. He'll call his siblings to let them know. L already called Michael's folks ... So .... yeah. That's where we stand right now.

I know that it's irrational of me, but I REALLY, REALLY HATE IT when people die. I suppose it's a testament to how much value I put on human life ... but, at the same time, it's a little ridiculous that I tend to look upon people dying as a form of abandonment.
Yes, I AM overly sensitive.

And, YES, Christmas (and Thanksgiving and Easter) have not been at all the same since Grandma Darlene died. About 15 years ago. ... And even more not-the-same when Pop-pop died back in 2001.
(Nostalgic much?)
(YES.)

But, yeah, if you could sends prayers/good thoughts/whatever for Grandpa, I'd really appreciate it.
We love him lots and really, really would like for him to be around for as long as we can possibly have him.

Of course, with this all happening around Christmas ... well, it does lead to some ruminating on the nature of the holiday.

One of the worst things about Christmas is how commercialized it's become.
The worst thing about Christmas is about how commercialized it's become.

I have NOTHING against Santa. I love Santa. The idea of a benevolent man/spirit/entity of some kind, serving the children of the world -- bringing presents to all children. Because he loves them and wants them to have happiness (Yes, we have been reading L. Frank Baum's The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus. And I do re-read the "Yes, Virginia, there IS a Santa Claus" letter every year). But, I do get a little annoyed when the presents seem to be the reason for the holiday, y'know?

The real purpose for Christmas, the reason that I strive to remember, is that we are celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ. He was sent to us, by a loving Heavenly Father, to teach and to redeem us.

When you think about it, it's really quite amazing.

A little baby, born in squalor, would grow to be the greatest among all mankind.
He would love and serve the disrespected, the sinners, the sick, the hated.
He would live his mortal life as a perfect example for us to follow.
He would willingly suffer and die for us.
He would triumph over death, allowing all mankind to live again, to be resurrected.
He would fulfill the demands of justice, allowing us to repent and to be able to return to Heavenly Father's presence ... something that we could never do on our own.

I could go on ... and, truly, I should. But then this blog entry would never end (and I'd never get the dishes and laundry done. Or get that shower that I need.) and I'd run out of words long before I would be truly finished.

But, well, I'm sure that you understand why I start bawling like a baby when I sing Christmas carols. And why I get all misty-eyed just listening to them.

Christmas is a time of miracles. And, maybe this year's miracle won't be Grandpa's recovery (as much as I REALLY, TRULY hope and pray that is will be) ... but, if nothing else, maybe this year's miracle is just reminding me of the importance of this holiday and what we're celebrating. We're celebrating the fact that death is NOT the end, that everyone has the opportunity to return to the heavenly home from whence we came, the eventuality of peace on earth and goodwill to all.

(Truly, I know that it's still going to get worse before it gets better -- C.S. Lewis' The Last Battle, anyone? The first two-thirds of that book are so depressing..But, phew, it does work out in the end. --- And, honestly, I'm not at all prepared. I have lots of progress to make. No, really. Believe me! ... But, oh, sometimes, I'm really ready for Christ's return. I can't wait to see my Pop-pop again. Or Grandma Darlene. Or Gingi-cat. And the fact that evil will be controlled. I could go for walks in the middle of the night and not fret about being abducted or raped or mugged or anything. I won't have to lock my doors. My kids will be able to walk to the park and play while I ... do ... something productive! It'll be wonderful.)

But, yes, things can get bad. And, really, for us, things could be much, much worse. Overall, our family is pretty healthy. We're not in danger of foreclosure. We have our vision and hearing. We have clothes. We have food. We have a car. We have pets (in fact, since getting our hedgehogs, Miss Diana-cat has been such a snuggler. It's kinda weird. In a nice way). We have the opportunities and ability to serve others. We have running water and electricity. We have BOOKS ... We're really very blessed.
I need to remember that.

And I will try.

So ... while I work on that, here's one of my favorite contemporary-ish Christmas songs:



Peace on earth, can it be
Years from now, perhaps we'll see
See the day of glory
See the day when men of good will
Live in peace, live in peace again
Peace on earth, can it be
Every child must be made aware
Every child must be made to care
Care enough for his fellow man
To give all the love that he can
I pray my wish will come true
For my child and your child too
He'll see the day of glory
See the day when men of good will
Live in peace, live in peace again
Peace on earth, can it be
Can it be (Intellectual Property of RCA ... you probably already knew that, though)

Epic World Suck

Reading Rainbow has been dropped from PBS. They made the decision to go with their early-literacy shows ... and so there MIGHT be reruns on your local PBS station (Not MINE, dammit. YES, I do believe that this is serious enough that I WILL use a curse word for it. You do NOT take away one of the last of my FAVORITE childhood shows without any warning ... or AT. FRIKKIN'. ALL).

I mean, really. They cancelled Square One. They took away Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood. NOW they've taken Reading Rainbow.

I mean, I know that my kids LIKE Word World and SuperWhy ... but neither of those have that je ne se quoi that LeVar Burton and his show possessed.

And I shall not even DEIGN to think of WHY THE BLOODY HELL that travesty of a purple dinosour or Teletubbies even EXIST when people who are SUPPOSED to CARE about the future of our nation and the BRAINS of its wee, little children are CANCELLING SOME OF THE BEST CHILDREN'S PROGRAMMING EVER TO EXIST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11!!!!!!1!!!!!!!!one!

Yes, I AM a tad bit upset. How could you tell?

(No, really. Was it the plethora of capital letters? Or, perhaps, the myriad exclamation points?)

Really ... I I were in charge of instilling knowledge in the heads of children, there are a few shows that I find are mandatory:

• Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood
• Sesame Street
• Reading Rainbow
• Schoolhouse Rock
• Square One

Those are the shows that I really recall totally influencing me as I was growing up.

Sesame Street taught basics (letters, shapes, numbers, counting, basic arithmetic, and some social skills). Mr. Rogers totally taught social skills and gave a glimpse into the world (LOVED the mini-field trips where we watched how things were made!!). Reading Rainbow helped to cement my love of reading.

(Michael often tells me that I obviously wanted to be one of the kids on there giving a little book review. And he's SO totally right.)

Square One (especially Mathnet, their parody of Dragnet) actually made me interested in Math. (I never have totally LOVED Math ... but this helped SO much.)

And, of course, Schoolhouse Rock was a great way of teaching concepts through songs. Very, very catchy songs.

(My Sophomore year of HS English felt like SUCH a waste of my time since I already KNEW what a noun, verb, pronoun, and adjective all were. I even knew what an adverb was and how to use one. ... And, because of Schoolhouse Rock, I'd known what all these things were since my mom brought home Grammar Rock and Multiplication Rock on VHS. -- I've since bought the DVD with the whole collection. And I LOVE it SO much.)

Last time something like this happened (i.e., when Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood was cancelled), I wrote to both PBS and OPB ... and nothing happened.

So I am not doing anything really this time. I'm just kvetching to you and going to curl up in a corner and cry.

Seriously ... if Reading Rainbow and Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood are cancelled while *shudders* Barney still stays on the air ... well, I'm not surprised that the world is in the state that it's in. Grrr.

At least I've raised my children right. Bucket will tell me, "We don't watch Barney."
And my kids know a good portion of the lyrics to "This is Halloween" from The Nightmare Before Christmas. And their numbers and letters. And they usually will remember to say "please" and "thank you" and not call people fat.

I mean, I can understand that maybe there's not the funding for full seasons of new episiodes of Reading Rainbow. I know that money's tight. I know that the government doesn't seem to want to spend money on educating people instead of lining their own pockets and their own medical insurance and pensions ... but why can't there be a promise that Reading Rainbow and Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood would ALWAYS be on ALL public broadcasting stations ... I mean, Fred Rogers was a HUGE reason there even WAS public broadcasting.

Yes. I'm sad and cynical today. *sigh*

It just sucks. Really, really, really, really sucks.

I mean, really. REALLY, really, really, really, really sucks.

Do you understand the magnitude of the suckage? Because it is VAST.