It's make-up-your-own-title day! (No, not REALLY)

I know, I know, it's been a few days. But not SO terribly many as it COULD have been ...

Let's see.
Michael's done with his CRAZYHUGEEXPENSIVELONG test. In a couple months, we should learn if he's passed it. (Just FYI, this test only has a 42% pass rate. Yowch, right?)

Bubbles is in the middle of potty-training. She's doing pretty well ... Mistakes are still happening, but nothing horrendous.

Last week, one of my "baby" cousins turned 22. And she's THISCLOSE to graduating college.
I also got to have a lunch date with one of my friends that I hadn't seen (in person) for what feels like ages and ages. We had a great time. I've missed her bunches.

We cleaned the church (we had traded our assignment last week to this week).
I have to say that cleaning WITH kids takes a LOT longer ... but Bruise and Bucket are learning (bit by bit) how to clean the church bathrooms decently.
Yes, we opt for cleaning the bathrooms and the drinking fountains instead of the kitchen and vacuuming classrooms.
(Now, July-December, we'll have the other jobs to choose from -- washing the windows, vacuuming/sweeping the chapel, cultural hall, hallways ... and some other things. But, as for me and my house, we prefer the bathrooms.)

SO ... Michael can actually clean the bathrooms, kitchen, vacuum the classrooms assigned, AND clean the drinking fountains (that's the BEST one, really) in around an hour by himself, so he says ...
It took me, coaching Bruise and Bucket, on the wiping down the sinks and toilets (Michael was in charge of refilling toilet paper and paper towel dispensers and, for the most part, mopping), it took us almost EXACTLY one hour.

On Sunday, when we were walking into church, we ran into Brother D--. He made such a point of thanking us for COMING and CLEANING at the church (it's a nearly random assignment given to at least two families each week. Our family might be assigned to help clean maybe four times a year?) ... but it was pretty apparent that folks aren't showing up or doing their work.

I could rather tell that, since in the Nursery, we have PILES of sawdust where ants burrowed through earlier this month. (I should just take Michael's key and give that room a DECENT vacuuming sometime during the week) And, when I was scrubbing the toilets, they were hosting quite a pink ring of mineral-sediment in each and every one of them.
(When you have someone in the other ward remark on how good the toilets look ... I mean it's flattering, but it's also rather irritating. This is the Lord's HOUSE ... it SHOULD be taken care of.)

So ... yeah. And Michael got home from a meeting last night feeling frustrated.

Pretty much all of it really boils down to the fact that a good majority of folk in the ward (and don't get me wrong, I love my church. I love my ward. But we're none of us perfect. Apparently, here's an area in which a LOT of us can aspire to show HUUUUUUUUGE improvements. Just sayin'.) are not taking their responsibilities/duties seriously.

I mean, yes, sometimes there are times when a teacher just WON'T SHOW UP for church, leaving either the Sunday School presidency or the Primary Presidency skedaddling to find someone to take his/her place OR squeezing two classes together.
It's understandable when it's an emergency ... but just NOT showing up for a calling that you agreed to do (and it's not like there's NO ONE who could pitch in and sub. Heck, I just typed up the list of Primary substitutes into a pdf for my Nursery co-leaders.), it's not responsible.
(And I say this as a woman who LOVES to sleep in.)

I see Michael busting his butt to TRY and be a good steward (as called for, being an Elders Quorum president) to all the families assigned to his care (Not all the families come under the stewardship of EQ. Some are assigned to the High Priests' group in the ward). And ... well, he can't do it. Even when I'm at my most supportive, there simply aren't enough hours in the day/week/month/year/century for him to administer to each family on his own.

And, well, he tells me that there are three brethren in Elders Quorum who are consistently doing their Home Teaching.

Yes, you heard me.
THREE.
A SINGLE DIGIT ... yeah.

I've offered that, if I'm asked to speak in church in the near future, to issue a call to repentance.
(I can do that, since I do strive to do my Visiting Teaching. I feel intense guilt if I haven't reached out to my Visiting Teachees each month. Because, dang it, they DESERVE to know that Heavenly Father loves them, Jesus loves them, and they have at LEAST two sisters in the ward who know and love them and are willing to help out. Besides, Home/Visiting Teaching also is a great act of service to the High Priest Group Leader/EQ President/ Relief Society President, since THEY need to be able to know how we can best serve those in our ward's boundaries ... and, if they don't have the time/ability to visit each and every family/sister, how can they have ANY chance of knowing about those needs?

It just irks me.
And maybe it's got something to do with the fact that we haven't been home taught since before my friend Kim died (her husband, who's since moved out of the ward, was one of our home teachers. Our other home teacher is ... in legal trouble/having a crisis of faith. So, yeah, it's been a few months since we've had a visit. I GET that people are busy. But, when you're putting other priorities before serving the Lord, I have a bit of a problem with that.

Right now, I don't really know who my Visiting Teachers are.
And I get that whoever I've been assigned to are probably just really busy ladies ... but, at the same time, it's sad that they feel that I don't even rate a call/text/email/Facebook message/whatever.
I mean, sure, I'm doing okay. For the most part.
But, well, what if I weren't? Who would I call?
(Okay, I'd call my mom. But, when my mom passes, I'm going to be UP. A. CREEK.)
And I do have some friends in the ward, too. Like our RS president ... she'd make sure that I was taken care of.

But what of the families/sisters who DON'T have a friendship established with the RS President or someone, anyone else? That's RIGHT THERE what Visiting Teaching is all about (and Home Teaching, too). It's helping the good shepherd by going after and checking on all His wandering (and not-so-wandering) lambs.

And, from my experience of Visiting Teaching, I KNOW that it's not always easy. There will be sisters who don't WANT visits (or even ANY contact from the church). When that happens, you just write letters or send texts (if they're cool with that) and let them know that you're there for them, that you care, that they're not alone or forgotten.

One gal (who I met by being assigned as her Visiting Teacher) was rather flabberghasted when I visited, Michael in tow as my VT companion, since I couldn't get hold of my assigned companion. We had a lovely visit, which started a friendship. ... She was flabberghasted because, when she asked if we had any fun plans for the coming weekend/spring break (in a couple days), I told her that Michael and I were getting married the next day. (It was true. And it was a HUGE reason why I wanted to be SURE to visit her before we went on our honeymoon. Because VT is a priority to me. Not just because of numbers ... but because I'd feel AWFUL if any sister assigned to me felt lonely, forgotten, or neglected. That's NOT how Heavenly Father would want her to feel.)

So, yeah, I can't really wrap my head around why so many folks in the ward aren't reaching out to those they've been assigned stewardship over. Even if you're only able to make contact once every couple months, it's SOMETHING.
If I had more time, I'd be about ready to just print out cards saying "If you need anything, please give your Home Teachers ________ & ________ a call at, respectively ___-___-____ or ___-___-____. Or contact your Visiting Teachers ________ & ________  at ___-___-____ or ___-___-____. They'd love an opportunity to get to know, love, and serve you! ... And if they don't, give me a call at ___-___-____ or email me at ____@_____.___ and I'll set them straight at what a wonderful opportunity they're selfishly neglecting. Because you're awesome! And they should know that!"

But that might be a little, oh, passive-aggressive and overly forward, I suppose.

But, yeah. It's irritating that things like this happen.
(Since, in regards to the cleaning the Stake Center, Brother D-- is no spring chicken. Nor is he in the best of help. He shouldn't have to pick up the slack for all the people who aren't pitching in their share. *SIGH*)

But, well, it's sucky. Because I love these people ... but I also, at the same time, want to give them a GIANT kick in the bedonk-a-donk to get them into gear.

Yeah, I shouldn't talk about this aloud. Or else you're going to hear me bellow that "If we'd just GET IN GEAR and DO STUFF, we'd get blessings, y'all! And I FREAKING NEED blessings! If we'd just DO our CRAP, we'd receive more! THIS is the reason why we DON'T HAVE the SEALED SECTION of the GOLDEN PLATES! I'M TRYING to get my CRAP DONE! I'VE STARTED READING MY SCRIPTURES DAILY! NOW YOU GUYS NEED TO STEP IT UP!!!!!"

And, well, that's not the most Christlike way to address people.
Regardless of whether or not it might be true.

But, yeah ... that's about where it stands.

So ... besides that, I am toning my hair with my awesome purple shampoo. I left it in for, like, 25 minutes the other day. And Michael was impressed at how much blonder/more-platinum my hair looked. So I'm leaving it in longer today. Worst case scenario -- my hair will be a little on the lavender side. Oh, boo. (Honestly? I'd be kinda thrilled.) And I FINALLY got around to giving myself a manicure. Most of my nails (fingers and toes) are a deep nude. But my big toes and my ring fingers are sporting nail strips. Mint green with a cream/dusty rose floral print. The nude ties in with the shadows on the pinkest parts. If you care. Which you might not.

Oh, I've been talking to Bruise and Bucket about puberty.
The other day (Friday morning, before school), I was telling them about their (soon-to-develop) secondary sex characteristics [e.g., body hair, Adam's apple, breasts ...] but I also mentioned menarche and (Bruise was HORRIFIED at this) nocturnal emissions.

But, hey, at least they're aware of what fresh hell their bodies have in store for them.
I did tell them that they really didn't need to discuss this with their school chums or anything ... since it's really something that families should discuss. BUT, with all the fun-fun-fun of upcoming Sex-Ed classes, I figure that I should cover my bases as to human development and gospel doctrines and morality and expectations NOW, while they still listen to me, right?

So, that's most of our week in a nutshell.

And, from discussing with the kids this morning (about accepting God's will, even when we DO have righteous desires ... we have to learn that He does know more and will give us all what's best for us to learn. And I mentioned how we prayed [and fasted] that Kim would get better and come home to her family and us ... and that it ... ... didn't happen.
Bucket crawled into my lap and gave me a big hug. Which was nice, even though she's solid for her size (that girl, I swear, is all bones and muscle. Good for her, right?).

But, yeah. It's not fun when I drive by the road that Kim's family's old apartment is on. Or I watch some clip from Jimmy Kimmel and think that I should share that with her ... and I .... can't. But I'll deal.

I just, you know, I thought I'd be older. A LOT older. ... when I started losing friends this way.

I know it makes me sound all petulant and childish, but I don't LIKE it. Not at all.

Well, I'm going to go load the dishwasher or something. And wash this application of purple shampoo out of my hair.

THEN maybe I'll enlist Bruise and Bubbles to help me build a blanket fort where we'll eat ice cream until it's time to go pick up Bucket.
Though I'll probably be DONE with effort after I load the dishwasher and do some laundry. Or something. They house will wait another day for cleaning, I guess.

Mulling it over

So, it's been a night since that latest fiasco ... and, like I told Michael and my mom, I'd bounce back enough.

The good thing about me is that, thankfully, part of being me is feeling things SO intensely (I'd be a good Gothic novel heroine that way) but I can get over it. I burn brightly but burn out quickly.

Of course, I also will deny that things are an issue ... until I end up sobbing over a movie, highlighting my abandonment issues. *humorless laughter*

But, for the most part, I'm pretty over this. I made my way through feeling horrible for making someone feel bad, to blinding rage because I really didn't do anything that wrong -- but my words/actions were quite misconstrued, to being really irked that someone who's known me for the vast majority of his LIFE couldn't give me the benefit of the doubt ... or at least be civil, to being frustrated that he couldn't at least make the decision to be civil, to being resigned and bummed that there's something obviously going on that he doesn't feel that he can let anyone in the ward know about.

I do keep thinking about things that I could have said differently in my response (which I KNOW that he's seen, since Facebook TELLS you if someone has seen it ... or has, at least, left their window open with the chat open).

Things like:

• Hey, I am sorry that you took what I said/wrote to be manipulative. That was not my intent at all.
  Maybe if that was your first response, you should have balanced out that feeling with your knowledge of me and my character. When have I tried to manipulate you in the past? Ever? No?
  Then why would you assume that I'd start now?
• Dude, what's up? I'm reading past your hurtful words that something is wrong. This isn't like you.
  The [Name] I know is an easy-going, happy guy with a great sense of humor. Something's up.
  As your friend, I would love to help. I like to fix things. I can't fix stuff (or even give it my best) without knowing what the problem is. Let me in, okay? ... Do you wanna build a snowman?
• I spent way too much time yesterday feeling horrible (that's my fault) for being a horrible person, since I do my darndest to not be manipulative. However, with some time to distance myself from the immediate situation, I have realized that (1) asking if a visit is convenient is not manipulative and (2) calling it manipulative was quite illogical and irrational. I was spending too much time feeling bad for being called something that wasn't true. Why would you say something that was so hurtful when it wasn't true?

I also thought about saying things like:

• THAT wasn't manipulative. If I were being manipulative, I'd have told you that you'd better be there for a visit or I'd have an anonymous source make a payphone call to the police that you're running a meth lab in your kids' bedroom. THAT WOULD BE MANIPULATIVE.
  Requesting a response? Not manipulative.
  You could have said "That doesn't work for us.", "I don't want a visit.", "Put us on the DNC list at church.", "My house is a mess.", "Take our names off the church records.", "You can't come over until you bring us a plate with six dozen cookies, including snickerdoodles and chocolate with white chocolate chips.", or a vast many other responses -- none of which resort to name-calling.
  If you would have responded to ANY of the other phone calls or voicemail messages that have been left by people OTHER THAN ME during the past year, do you think that I'd have been requested to contact you to even find out if you're alive? Being perfectly honest, my husband is more than irked that you've blown people off by not having the guts to even text back "I don't want visits. Leave us be." See? You can be cold and callous and impolite -- rude, even! --to people that aren't as close. That distance allows for that. But to do this to me? That's cold, man. And I know that it isn't you.
  Seriously, acting like that towards me is comparable to kicking a puppy. Because you know that I am  not a manipulative person ... at least, I work NOT to be. Coercion is not my bag, baby. 

I know that I shouldn't have let it get to me in the first place. Water off a duck's back, right?
But, well, when you get a response like that from someone you think you know, someone you've grown up with? ... Well, it makes me wish I were a little more psychopathic -- in the way that "Oh, I hurt someone's feelings. I didn't mean to. Oh well. Long hair, don't care"-type way.
(As opposed to plotting his revenge for years and taking that guy DOWN. Again, not my style.)

One of the good things, I guess, is that Michael had a PPI (Personal Priesthood Interview -- a 1:1 meeting with our bishop) last night. He showed Bishop the message I sent to [Name] and let him know what [Name] replied. ... And, well, Bishop M was surprised. So, well, I guess that means that I wasn't being manipulative (yeah, I need MULTIPLE witnesses. I mean, I figure that Michael would try to let me down gently, since I'm his wife and he knows how I can react. I figure that my mom would give it to me straight, but as gently as possible. For Bishop M to agree ... well, that helps, too ... Apparently, I just need lots of validation. I mean, I was about to email my RS President (who I work with a lot) to check. And my "Sis," who has seen me at my bests and worsts. I didn't ... but I really thought about it.) ... I mean, if Bishop read my message and was shocked at the coldly-vitriolic response, then I figure that it's not just me. That I really didn't make some horrible gaffe.

So, readers ... some of you have known me IRL for a while. Am I completely wrong?
If you think that I'm manipulative, I'd like to be aware. And I've asked for this ... I'll do my best not to get miffed if you tell me that I have done something manipulative. It'd be illogical for me to react that way to you. Since you're just giving me honest feedback that I've requested. And, if I'm not aware of my faults, how can I try to improve myself?

But I do feel better this morning ... especially compared to how crap I felt last night. Sleep is a good thing.

Update:
I did let his mom (who's known me since I was three) know what's up.
She confirmed that if he's lashing out, it's because he knows that he can't justify how he's not committed right now to anything church-related. But that she knows and I should know that I'm not the person [Name] is trying to frame me as. That I shouldn't waste any time feeling bad. ... And, coming from her, that does mean a lot. She was my main Seminary teacher, so she saw me in the early mornings nearly every school day for about three years. Besides seeing me just about every Sunday for around 15 years.
It does make me feel better ... and lets me know more of what's up. And I appreciate that.
So ... I should just say my prayers. And let this storm blow over.
Since, she points out, love and concern are not the same thing as manipulation.
Phew.

Venting

So, as the wife of an Elders Quorum President (the guy who presides over the Elders [the guys who are over 18 who aren't high priests ... yeah, I'm not good at explaining it all, since I'm not in EQ or High Priests, but bear with me] ... in simplest terms, a group of guys in a class/group at church), I sometimes am employed as an unofficial EQ Secretary. (I answer the phone when people call the house to ask Michael to arrange some elders to go over and help people move or arrange a couple elders to go give someone a blessing or whatever and he's not already home ... or, since I know a lot of people in the ward on Facebook, sometimes I'm asked to get hold of someone we've had no luck reaching any other way ...)

Which brings me to today .... .... .... Yeah.

SO, there's a family in our ward/congregation. I've known the husband for AGES. We grew up together. I was in Sunday School classes with one of his sisters. He and his family are in our ward. And we've only run into each other at church once.

For the last year (or thereabouts), he won't return phone calls or texts or anything. But I have him as a friend on Facebook.

So, per Michael's request, since he's not returned anyone's calls or whatever for the last few (many) months, I sent him a FB message and a text. This week, the EQ presidency (president, first and second counselors, and their secretary) are getting together with the Stake Presidency to visit some families in the ward. They were hoping to visit this family.

I sent a message and text that pretty much said, "Hey! This is Allanna! Are you and your family up for a visit at date/time? If not, get back to me! If I don't hear back from you, expect a visit! :)"

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

Well, a couple hours later, I get a fb message:
I do not appreciate the manipulative manner in which you have attempted to illicit a response from me. If and when I am comfortable having you in my home, I will invite you - not the other way around. Until such a time should occur, please refrain from further manipulative communications. So, since I am not one who likes conflict or irritating/offending others, I figure that I can apologize ... even though I KNOW that asking for an RSVP is not usually classified as "manipulative" behavior. I wrote back:

You're right, [Name] ... I was not my best. I will admit that you're totally justified in calling me out on that. Michael (and his secretary, Brother [Secretary]) have had no luck whatsoever in touching bases with you. I was hoping that I might have better success. And I see that I was wrong.

I'm sorry. I do feel bad that you feel very disrespected. You have every right to your feelings.

I don't want to be a bother or offensive to you. And I'm sorry that I was.

What can I do to make things right? Because I do like you. I miss seeing you around, like when we were in the Canyonville Ward.

Please accept my apology for being a complete dunderhead and all other insults that I deserve. I wasn't trying to be a jerk. ... I just seem to have that talent. Which I will work on not having.

Sorry.

And then I went through feeling HORRIBLE because I've apparently been an awful, manipulative person. I called Michael and let him know what was up. I tried to stop crying, wracking my brain to figure how I messed this up. I called my mom (who knows this other party) ... and she assured me that I wasn't being a manipulative wretch. And, after Michael got home, he told me point-blank that I wasn't being manipulative. That this friend has been blowing off EVERYONE for ... well, nearly a year ... and that this was rather a last resort, since he never responds to anyone else (and, if Michael drops by, they don't answer the door). Michael's frustrated that [Name] isn't being gutsy enough to tell anyone that they don't want visits ... and that he then does this. I took a shower ... and cried some more (better than emotional eating, right? Right??) ... and I passed from being a sad-sack into crossing the threshold into near-blinding rage.

• Seriously, I've known this guy for over TWENTY-FIVE YEARS. He knows me. He knows that I'm generally a good person. He probably is also aware that I can be a really sensitive person. And that I do my best not to be easily offended. And that I do my damndest not to offend others ... especially on purpose. I try NOT to be manipulative. I CAN be ... but I really try not to coerce others. Because it's not kind or right. And I want to be like Jesus, dammit. (Saying "damn so much is not very Christlike. I know. I'm human ... I'm aware.)
• He could have JUST AS EASILY written something a heckuva lot more tactful. (e.g., "I'm sorry, Allanna. That doesn't fit our schedule. We're not up for visits at all. In fact, take us off the church records." OR "No, that doesn't work for us. Maybe we could meet up at a park or something in the summer." OR "Nope. Doesn't work." OR "Not ready for a visit. Put us as DNC (Do Not Contact)." ... ANY OF THOSE WOULD WORK AND NOT RESORT TO CALLING ME NAMES WHEN I'M ONLY TRYING TO HELP MY HUSBAND AND A FRIEND.

I mean, I'm not a really violent person. But, if I could quit seeping tears (now of rage instead of self-pity), I almost feel like punching something. Like this guy.

I mean, really ... "Silence implies consent" is a totally valid thing. If guys say it, they're not accused of being manipulative. They're lauded as leaders. When people are doing social things, being asked to RSVP is not out of the ordinary. You don't hear people getting invitations getting all pissy about saying if they can make it or not. Yes, I GET that it's a VISIT to THEIR HOUSE ... but this is NOT something out of the ordinary in our church. In fact, a family SHOULD be getting a visit from their home teachers AND a visit from their visiting teachers ... TWO visits per month! He grew up in this church. His dad (and granddad) have both been BISHOPS of the ward ... As my mom pointed out ... and Michael and I agree ... something is going on. And it's something that makes him uncomfortable ... uncomfortable enough to take it out on me. I mean, if I'm being manipulative, it's like Hello Kitty-level manipulation. If need be, I can TOTALLY pull out the big guns and be all Maleficent-level. But that's not really helping anyone. So, yeah ... I'm just really irked and more irked. I try to do something good. And ... well, THIS. I know, I know ... I need to take it on the chin. To have skin soft as rose petals and thick as naugahyde. I'm working on it. Still, if I didn't feel so blindsided by this, it'd be easier to deal with.

The long ... surprise ... winter

So, where did we last leave off?

Bruise was NOT awarded his Bobcat badge last week ... because, apparently, Pack Meeting was cancelled (since we'll be meeting as a pack for the Blue and Gold Banquet). And everyone was SUPPOSED to receive an email Tuesday ... but that didn't happen. Most of us were (shivering) in our cars in the parking lot until we were told that, "Hey! Thanks for showing up! Go home!" Oh well.

Bruise was disappointed. I was irritated and disappointed. Bucket, though, OH, she burst into tears and roared, "We packed [books/bags] FOR NO REASON!!" ... Oh well ... so, we all went to Target and got the rest of a present for a friend's birthday. And, while we were all there (Michael and Bubbles were along, too), we just browsed around for a little.

Also, the McTeacher Night at a local McDonalds went well. We had dinner (the sacrifices that Michael makes. He does NOT care for Mickey-Ds at ALL) and I got a strawberry and creme pie. So it was all good. We chatted with one of their first-grade teachers, one of the gals from the office, and the principal. Good times.

It snowed Thursday. Michael had gone to work, so I was keeping tabs on the weather.
School was cancelled. The snow kept coming (and coming and coming) down. It was crazy.
Finally, around 10 in the morning, I called Michael and told him to come home early.
It took him about twice as long to get home (couldn't take the freeway, due to a 20-car pile up ... which ended up being more like a 50-car pile-up), but he made it. And stayed home Friday.

I don't remember it ever snowing as much as we got on Thursday (which was around 9 inches), but I'm told that back in '88, we got about eight inches of snow one winter back home.

And it KEPT snowing.

It ended up being 15 inches ... and we're in an area where we barely see more than 2-4 inches of snow at a time, tops. Most people don't have snow shovels. Some of us have chains or studded tires. There are TWO snowplows for the entire state. ... One of which has crashed yesterday. ... Yeah.

So, our town (and many around it) have just about completely shut down. The kids are still of of school today (Monday). We had Sacrament Meeting (one-hour) of church with four wards combined ... and, if you didn't feel like you could make it safely, it was asked that you stay home and safe.

That birthday celebration that the kids were going to go to? Postponed.
Going up to visit the grandfolks, back from Florida? Postponed.
Choir cancelled, since our choir leader and her family can't get out of their house.

And a lot of friends in other areas are laughing that our area has totally shut down with "only" 8-15 inches of snow. Because they're dealing with below-zero (Fahrenheit) temperatures and FEET of snow ... and everyone there KNOWS how to drive in snow. AND their roads get plowed.
So ... yeah.
We know how to deal with floods and crazy amounts of rain ... but we don't have ANY plows in our COUNTY, let alone our city.

So ... yeah. And I'm trying not to freak out. Michael's LOVING all the snow. Bruise and Bucket enjoy it well enough (except for cancelling most of our plans). Bubbles HATES it (If we take her outside into it, she SOBS if we don't hold her. If she's in the car or whatever, she's fine. But she does NOT like to be out in the snow).

I went a bit crazy ... Friday, we fed the Elders (missionaries). We also had a couple of girls over to play with Bruise, Bucket, and Bubbles. I made a beef stew and (crusty, dense) bread, and rice pudding. Saturday, being snowed in for this long, not knowing if we'd lose power or not (we haven't so far. PHEW!), I made a potato-corn-bacon chowder, breadsticks, whole-wheat apple muffins, oatmeal, and a chocolate teff pudding.
Apparently, that burnt me out, since I didn't cook Sunday. But I did binge-watch season two of Downton Abbey. Nine hours after starting, I'm one season closer to getting caught up. It's a start.

Today, I had the kids "clean" their room. I use those quotation marks so that you know that they didn't REALLY get it clean. But there's progress. And I'm trying not to have an aneurysm over it.
I got caught up on the dishes and am working at getting caught up on the laundry. Which will take a while. But we have company (Mom and my Aunt J) coming over in a couple days. So ... yeah.

I'm ready to have NO snow anymore. The roads are getting clearer ... full of slush.
I would be glad not to have to deice the heatpump anymore.
The kids and I are looking forward to school ... I need some time that's QUIET.

And I need to clean out the fridge.
And do a million other things. And I just want to hole up with flannel sheets, down comforters, sparkling cider, hot cocoa, and a dozen books. With maybe some VERY soft classical-type music playing. Instead of TRYING to hear what's being said at Downton (and failing), with the volume turned up to 50, and the kids running around, screeching and screaming.
(Wonder why I have a headache?)

Oh well.

I'm a bit jealous that Michael's gone off to work. His coworkers aren't nearly as loud or demanding (most times, ha ha, I'm sure. Really, he's got a great group there.) as our brood.
Maybe for my birthday, I should ask for noise-cancelling headphones?

In good news, Mom's and my Body Shop order came in. I smell amazing (monoi oil and honey body butter). Season Three of Sherlock should arrive tomorrow. My frying pan should arrive Wednesday (just in time for me to make sure to replenish my supply of cornmeal).

Well, it looks like the White Witch's reign is coming to an end. And not any time too soon.

Especially since my comrade-in-arms deserted me with the kids to go earn that paycheck.
(Can we make telecommuting a thing? Soon??)

Okay. Time to close this up and be a mom again.

It's the small things ...

Today, I feel like a total rebel.

I had TWO glasses of juice today.

Do I NEED two glasses of juice?
Not according to my doctor, who -- during my first pregnancy -- told me, "You only need ONE glass of juice per day."

But, you know what? I drank that second one ANYWAY.

*cue evil laughter*

The rest of the weekend ...

So, after Saturday afternoon, Bucket did throw up a couple more times.

And she did throw up once yesterday (Monday) afternoon.

Michael's home sick. He went to work, felt absolutely awful, collected his paycheck, and came home so he could throw up in peace.

Yup, we've got the puke chronicles happening here.
---------------------

The kids LOVE swim lessons. In fact, we'll be going to the pool in a few. Good stuff.
Maybe today they'll actually put their faces in the water. Nine lessons to go to get that one done.

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

I "discovered" fanfic this weekend. Blame DeviantArt.

No, it's not Twilight fanfic.

It's LABYRINTH fanfic.

I am pitiful.

But I also figured out one reason why I had the HARDEST TIME with relationships ...

Look at the literary/cinematical men that I idolized:

• Edward Rochester - Brooding, passionate, lives a comfortable lifestyle ... ^_^
• Wesley - Becomes a pirate and saves his love from a marriage she doesn't want ... He FENCES!! He survives the machine!! He says, "As you wish" ... He loves her even when she's the most insufferable brat to be imagined!!! *sighs and places hand on heart. Sighs again*
• Jareth - Can we just say "rawr?" Forget the tight leggings ... it's not about that. It's the fact that he is the total epitome of obsession and ... yeah. He defies total explanation ... And he created a GORGEOUS dress for Sarah ... and, oh, how he holds her and leads in that dance ... It's so purposeful and ... yeah. *fans self*
• Gilbert Blythe - *melty grin* He's just so GOOD. ... After the whole "Carrots" episode when Anne first comes to Green Gables. He's so patient and kind and unselfish ... He GETS her. Enough so that she starts to get herself ... 

And that's just a start to the heroes (and anti-heroes) that shaped my warped world view. ^_^

Is it really any wonder that I spent (far too many of) my formative years with my nose buried in books or watching the classics (like Labyrinth, The Princess Bride, Sabrina [the one with Bogart. NOT Ford.] ... and, of course, the Disney cannon).

That and listening to The Phantom of the Opera ... and totally relating to Eponine's unrequited love in Les Miserables.

Truly, it's amazing that I'm this well adjusted.
(It was quite a shock, really, when [FINALLY] I liked a guy and he *GASP!* actually liked me back!!!!!)
(Even more shocking when a guy actually liked me enough to marry me!! I mean, me!!!  -- I was really more than resigned to my inevitable future of becoming a crazy cat lady, living in a Victorian-style house, with 98 cats. ... Since 99 would just be too many.)

Yes, I had an .... interesting ... childhood. Yes. You could definitely say that.

Okay. Enough blathering about that. ...

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

So, besides browsing around DeviantArt and devouring Labyrinth fanfic (DON'T JUDGE ME!!!!), what else has happened?

Had a meeting Sunday evening after church. We have a great bunch of women working in the Young Women's program.

Bucket didn't throw up Sunday night. PHEW. Since we really needed sleep.
(She did throw up Monday evening. Just the once.)

The kids started swim lessons yesterday (Monday). They LOVE it. Yay!
I took TONS of pictures yesterday ... and a few today. They're having fun. I can't believe how big they're getting. It's crazy.

I chat with another mom there. Her son's in the class after Bruise and Bucket's class ... her daughter is too young for classes right now ... but that girl ... I'm totally envious of her hair. It's SOOOOOO cute! Those tight spiral curls. ADORABLE!!
(Okay, it's not envy ... I don't know that I could pull off that awesome hair. But I'm happy for her that HER hair curls so well. ^_^)

Michael came home sick yesterday. He's still not feeling great, so he's home today. Which gives me the opportunity to run out and get an errand done. Phew. And I can try and do some Visiting Teaching without having the kids in tow.

I did have to go grocery shopping by myself (the kids were napping and Michael was REALLY feeling poorly) ... but I got everything I needed. And I found castor oil so that I can see if it works at clearing up my face a little. 

It's been SO hot. I don't like walking and finding myself sweating. I still have not found the joy of sweating (another reason that I'm not in good shape --- since you tend to sweat when you exercise and all. *sigh*).

The kids enjoyed swim lessons today ... and I got together with one of my friends (who happens to be my Visiting Teaching companion) which is always fun. And I feel all grown up, since I'm going to try something new (and painful) ... I'll let you know how having someone experienced doing the waxing compares to doing it yourself (which, in my case, is rather ineffectual and can leave one with bleeding follicles. :S Yes, I am a delicate flower. Who gives pretty much full disclosure. :P)

Still, the place that I'm going to came recommended to me by a friend. So, since Michael's back to working (and being paid) for a 40-hour week, we're splurging this month. Wish me luck!!

In other news, I am behind on the dishes and general housework ... because I (being a complete dork, of course) spent most of yesterday poring over Labyrinth fanfic (Yes, I did have to check with the Google to see if it was "poring over" or "pouring over" ... I love the internet. ^_^ ... Even if it contains fanfic that wastes hours of my day. Oops.)

And, really, that's about all that's been going on.

In which I say "gorram" a lot. And then I lick the spoon.

Don't get me wrong. I love the holidays.
Like, I tear up when I sing songs about the Baby Jesus. I LUV da Baby Jesus something fierce.

So, today, after the folderol that occurred this afternoon, I manage to start cooking. I made the batter for chocolate crinkles. I made the centers of the peanut butter balls (Buckeyes) with the recipe that I STOLE from my dear Dorie. I'm making the brownies from Black Apple... I have a few things going on (and, all the mean time, I'm yelling at the kids' door for them to just take a dang nap!!!!!).

I am NOT Martha Stewart. Not in the least.

• Martha does not do her cooking in an untidy kitchen.
• She doesn't do it wearing sweats.
• She has her hair properly coiffed. Not uncombed like a savage heathen.
  (No offense to any heathens among you. I'm using hyperbole. Please don't be offended by the use of cliches. You know that I love you.)
• Martha has a proper double boiler for when she's dipping the PB balls. She doesn't just place a random glass pie/casserole dish on top of a saucepan and hope that it works.
• Martha also doesn't say "dammit" or "gorram" every gorram time she burns her arm with the steam coming up from the makeshift double boiler.
  (Which in my case is rather often. The cussin' and the burning of my arm. It's a Christmas miracle that I have any skin left on that arm.)
• She also isn't a complete flub at putting parchment paper into glass baking dishes for the brownies (At least the recipe is easily doubled and only really dirties one dish in the preparation. And they're soooooooo good).

Yes, it's a good thing that my children are mostly in their room so they don't hear me say gorram about eleventeen gorram times.

And then, as I'm getting the brownies in the oven and licking the spoon (BECAUSE I CAN!), I try to think if I've eaten anything today besides the tidbits of cooking, (Oh, yeah, I had a very good sandwich earlier) (But the fact that I have to HAVE this conversation with myself is what brings me to the inevitability of my future where I will contract Type II Diabetes. )

And I then I lick that spoon some more. Because if I'm gonna suffer Diabetes, I might as well enjoy my life (and all the sugar, sugar, sugar, simple carbs, sugar, simple carbs, sugar) as best as I can.

Before it's all ripped away from me ... leaving me alone and senseless. Like Bertha Rochester, but not so violent, I hope. More forlorn, I think.

Pitiful, huh, that my future will be that of some crazy woman in a Gothic novel.

If I wasn't so spent what with the spider that was in the sink this morning as I was doing the dishes (BUT IT WAS THERE!!! AND IT COULD HAVE BEEN A BROWN RECLUSE AND THEN, IF IT BIT ME OR THE KIDS, WE'D HAVE ULCERS OR SOMETHING ICKY ON OUR SKIN!!!!!!), the aforementioned folderol, and the fact that my children APPARENTLY HATE ME BECAUSE LISTENING AND OBEYING IS JUST TOO MUCH TO ASK OF THEM!!!!!!!! ARRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

I can't wait for Michael to be home so he can pet my hair and call me his pretty little tulip and I can pretend that I'm dainty and sweet and lovely. And then he can bake all the cookies, so I don't have to look at any baked goods for a good hour or so.

I'm tired of yelling. I'm tired of my kids not napping. *sigh* I'm tired of spiders being in my house. EVER. If I wanted them in my house, I'd go out and buy engraved invitations for them. Have I done that???? NooooOOOOoooooo. Why don't those dang arachnids get the point? *sigh*

Though, I do feel a little self-righteous that spellcheck didn't know the word folderol (I did have to check the spelling. I was wicked-close. So there!)

Then I remember how many times I've said "gorram" ... thus cementing my place in Hell.
(I joke. Repentance is still possible. Thanks be!!! ... And that's one reason we celebrate this season.)

But, yes. I think I'm ready for a nap. Or some brownies. .... Or eggnog. Yum. I think I need some posthaste!

Two days in a row that I haven't woken up in the middle of the night crying. That's god, right?

I still cry a bit when I am waking up. Or when I think too much. Or when I'm trying to fall asleep.

But not in the middle of the night.

That's progress, right?

Of course, reading through the archives of Overhead In the Ward helps. Very LDS humor ... but, oh-so-so-so funny. It's helped.

Michael and his brother, C, were able to fix the truck today. It only took MAYBE an hour, total. There was just a screw loose where the gasoline was leaking out. *phew* I love that prayer works. Now maybe I'll take Michael up on a blessing to help me deal with life without my Gingi-babe. I mean, I didn't want to ask for too much of Heavenly Father all at once. I mean, not that I had ANY doubts that He could handle everything that I could ever think of to ask for (and more), but my main priority was getting the truck working again. And it is.

(C also fixed a couple of our doors. Pretty awesome. See? This is what I didn't have, being an only child. Having siblings means that you can get people who help you. Nice! ^_^)

So now I can just try and get to that acceptance-and-trying-to-move-on part of my life. Although I can't really get my brain around not having Ginger around. ... And, I know that it's really only temporary ... but it's not fun.
And, yes, I know ... it's not supposed to be.

But, like I've said, I'm not all that great at adapting joyfully to change. As much as I adore President Monson, I STILL miss President Hinckley.

But, for now, I just keep in mind that quote from Sleepless in Seattle: Well, I'm gonna get out of bed every morning... breathe in and out all day long. Then, after a while I won't have to remind myself to get out of bed every morning and breathe in and out... and, then after a while, I won't have to think about how I had it great and perfect for a while.

And, after a while, I know that I'll stop crying so often, that I'll be able to only remember the happy times, that the hurting will dull away ... and that will be a good day.

It's not today ... but I haven't taken an extra shower just to give me the privacy to cry alone and without worrying about how it's affecting my family. (Seriously, the shower? A great place to cry. You don'thave to worry about everyone overhearing your snifflings, you don't have to go through a box of Kleenex, you get to be alone ... Since I don't have a little cave to crawl to in which I can lick my wounds in private, the shower's the next best thing.)

Today is a little easier than yesterday. And I'm glad for that. I hope that tomorrow will be a little easier still ... and so on and so on and so on.

I may have come across a new way to deal with the whining ... collapse on the floor and say that the whining exhausts you ... and you can even declare that you're dead.
I'll have to see if it continues to work after today.

And, when Bucket repeats and repeats and repeats a request (without waiting for a response in between), I've made a blanket statement that I have to say "No" if she doesn't wait for a response. Because, frankly, I find it ANNOYING AS HELL.

(Yes, I know. Patience is not one of the virtues that I have perfected. ... I've got a long, long way to go. I'm aware.)

But, yeah ... doing better.
I'll try and post soon something FUN and not about how EMO I am and stuff.

Soon. Pinkie-swears!

Hello, My name is HOLY FREAKING-OUT PILE OF INSANITY!!!!! ONOZ!!! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!! ZOMGosh!!!!!

*dryly* As you can probably infer from the title of this post, my calm facade is starting to crack.

If by "starting to crack," you mean to say that OMGosh! I have coming up in a matter of DAYS about the most STRESSFUL TIME OF MY EXISTENCE (with, perhaps, the exception of my sole-responisbility when I was student teaching ... you know, that period that I threw up every morning due to stress, nibbled lunch, and ate a sensible dinner ... and dropped a good five pounds ... probably all in tooth enamel).

Here's my itenerary (unless you're a stalker or a thief. If you are, I'm lying. This whole time, I'm going to be bunkered at home, cleaning my arsenal and polishing my VAST knife collection. They're already all sharpened. I just like that glossy sheen to them.):

• This weekend, we're throwing the bridal shower. And visiting family, family, family, and more family. Then ditching the kids with grandparents for the next week ...
• Since on MONDAY, I'll be deserting Michael to go to Young Women's Camp. Unless I'm running a fever, then they'll send me home so that I don't spread the bird flu the swine flu (What's next? Cerval Cat flu? Platypus flu? I can never keep the old ones straight, anyways. Just be glad that I didn't refer to it as the Spanish flu. Since, you know, I wasn't actually ALIVE to live through that one.)
• Then I'll be ditching camp to run back home and make sure that I have EVERYTHING ready (including myself!!!!) for Mer's rehersal dinner (and getting reunited with the kids) and the wedding.

Yes, I've been in denial for a few weeks. I DON'T want to deal with all of this. No flippin' way. Especially since I'm STILL mucus-laden and hoarse. This is crazy. And I'm nearly hyperventilating about it all.

I'm SO, SO, SO glad that I have Roxy as one of the other bridesmaids. She's keeping me sane. She and I went in together on the present for Mer. (CUTE!! ... I'll tell you after the wedding, probably, since I don't know when I'll next have TIME or the PRESENCE OF MIND(!!!) to blog next) And she's taking on the veggie tray for the shower. Phew!!

So, I'm just working at getting the rest of the food-stuff and games-stuff together ... And then I have to pack, pack, pack, PACK, PACK!!!!!!1!!!1one!!!!1!

Pack the kids' things, pack for our stuff, pack for camp, pack for the wedding ... Pack the stuff to do Bucket's and my hair ... *sigh*

And I folded most of the kids' laundry in our room. I think I should get a National Medal of Honor for that. Only, what, about seven more loads to finish folding ... since Ginger-cat decided to PEE in our bathroom (well, those clothes were already dirty, but still!!!) and on a pile of blankets (yes, those DID need washing, BUT they were on CARPET! EWWwwww!!!!). It's amazing that she's still alive.

Oh, and probably TMI or something -- but the toilet seat in our bathroom (not the hall bathroom) has a crack in it. And it keeps pinching my butt/thigh (my buthigh??). So we're going to replace that.

AAAAAAND, I need to cut Bruise's and Michael's hair!!! And I should try to give myself a facial before camp ... and upon arriving home from camp .... and remember to use MONDO amounts of sunscreen .... and, and, and ...

Oh, and do the dishes.

And restart the computer so that my stupid printer will spit out all the things that I need printed. Ugh!!!!!!!!!

And I need to finish "Tea Time for the Traditionally Built" before it's due (in two days!!!!!! Ack!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

*sigh*

SO ... who wants to pet my hair and tell me that I'm pretty and NOT-at-all fat, regardless of how my bridesmaid dress makes me feel (well, okay, I just look like mah BOOBAGE is nearly twice the amount as is usual ... which is, I must say, quite the feat!)

(On overhearing myself: At Jo-Ann's fabric yesterday, as Roxy was buying some fabric. We were talking about how the bodices of our "dresses" -- they're seperates -- showcase our ... endowments, per se. I told her, "Hey, I'll do your hair if you pin my boobs! ... Just not literally pinning my boobs, because that would HURT." And the gal measuring fabric was all snickering into her shoulder. Poor girl.)

(Also, Rox and I were at B&N, picking out little booklets for Mer's gift ... with three three-year-olds. As we're perusing a certain ... area ... of the self-help section ... I guess it does count as relationships ... we have various passers-by giving us some glances. Rox mutters, in sotto voice, "Yes, we're looking at sex books. We just don't have ENOUGH kids, can'cha tell??" ... Oh, how I cackled. It only got better when Bruise observantly exclaims, "Wook!! Dere's a wowwipop on dat book!!" ["Look! There's a lolipop on that book!"] ... No, I didn't allow him to glance at the innerds of ANY of those books. Not a glimpse!)

Ah, yes ... the remarkable life and times.

Now, really ... I just HAVE to get through the next, what, 12 days?? Once July 12th is here ... I'm going to be SO DAMN HAPPY.

(Sorry for swearing. But it NEEDED an explitive. It's for descriptive value. Pinkie swears!)

No clever title.

Yes, yes. It's been about a week since my last confession post.

Sorry. I've been busy (playing far too many Facebook games) ... doing stuff. 

Michael and I tackled the ginormous pile of laundry. Half of it is folded. We've watched a few DVDs (Disc 1 of xxxHolic -- anime, pretty good; The Man with One Red Shoe, Saved! <-- No, really. There's an exclamation point in the title.).  We took the kids to the zoo Friday ... when, like, at least FIFTEEN schools had field trips that morning. Oy. Used to be that 9 AM at the zoo was pretty quiet. Not so much this time.  It was crowded. And I ran over more than one errant school-child's foot. Some were not on purpose so much. (Seriously kids -- get OUT of the way of a stroller. YOU have much better control. AND if you think that STANDING in MY way is getting you any sympathy, darlin', you're so wrong.) (Also, it didn't help that I'm in the throes of hormonal-caused madness and near homocidal-ness-essence.)

Michael did remark some funny things:

• "Maybe we shoudn't go anywhere the weekend that you're on your period."
  (No, really. He's allowed to say these things. And he's right. Unless I get a good dose of Valarian in my system, I'm rather ... bwitchy. I can be honest about it. ... And I'm not a huge fan of crowds.)
• "I never used like hippos much. But since Carl (Bucket's stuffed hippopotamus), I'm really offended at how people talk about hippos."
  -- As we ate out lunch, watching the hippos, EVERYBODY who came to see the hippos were all, "WOW, Those hippos are FAT!" "Look at how FAT those things ARE!"
  ... Since, as I've mentioned, I'm not at my most Christ-like and philanthropric point of my personality, I ALMOST said to one of the boys who was talking about the rotundity of said mammals, "Wow, genius. YOU'RE one to talk." ... But you should be SO proud of my restraint. I try not to make Jesus cry.

But, yes ... having children can change a person.

Also -- completely random -- I think it's HILARIOUS when Michael says "Damn." ... He wasn't even cussing the last time he said it. (He barely EVER says it. Which is why I find it so funny when he does.) ... He and I were reading a webpage and someone had misspelled it "dam."

But his inflection!! It was so great.  ... And so I sniggered and giggled, "You said, 'Damn!'"

(Because, yes, I am JUST that mature.)

Yesterday, my Ginger-cat ... my seventeen-year-old, geriatric baby-cat smacked me.
Okay, maybe it was just a love tap. But it was because I wasn't holding her.
It made me laugh. It's like she's all, "ExCUSE me? I want to be held. In your lap. NOW. Thank yeeeeeew."

Also, the kiddos really love the cats. They like to carry Ginger. And it's so funny, since they know to hold her bottom so that it's supported ... and, like, half of her is hanging over Bruise's or Bucket's shoulder as they (kid and carried cat) walk away. And Ginger is just looking like, "What? I didn't ask for this .... Oh well."

So, yeah, even though I'm all pissy, I still find a lot of humor in things. 

Like how, ... Okay, first, let's get this straight. When this happened, it was late. And we were tired.

BUT, as I was saying, we had gone to bed after a longday of cooking dinner and things. Michael made carne asada burritos for dinner. I made monkey bread/sticky buns.

As we lay down in bed, Michael started to say something, caught himself, and was laughing. 
So, OF COURSE, I HAD to know what it was.

He snickered that he had almost called the dessert 'monkey balls.'
Hee!!!

So now I'm SO tempted to text him (and he's probably in a meeting now) "Sweet monkey balls!"
(It's almost up there with the TV edit of the famous line from Snakes in a Plane ... I haven't seen the movie. But I have just that clip here for your viewing. And it's totally SFW [safe for work].)

Seriously, that makes me SO bust up. Don't know WHY totally. It just does.

Here are some more links that I've wanted to share with you.

Cute stop action movie ... music video, really:

SFW  (and hella cute!!) - How babies are made:

Silly - Pregnant women are smug:

(I thought it was funny. And for my pregnant friends/recently pregnant friends, I'm not 
saying/thinking that it applies to you. I just think it's funny.)

Not-so-safe for work - Kindra Sutra (What kids think about sex ... or what adults thought
when they were kids.)

I was not one of these. I was precoscious. I read the encyclopedia entry about sexxoring when I was in first grade. I was shocked that they, the Encyclopedia people, would use such language
as "v@gin@" or "pen!s." ... Yeah. My mom was SO thrilled. (Not.)

Also less-safe for work: "I Remember Andrea BETTER"
(Andrea hated her high school experience. So she sent a stripper to her reunion, pretending to be her. I thought it was funny. There's no nudity ... there is a bit of a striptease, down to undies.)

It really made me snicker. And briefly consider doing the same thing.
Except that I don't know any strippers. And I don't have a film crew. Or, to be honest, the moxie to actually DO it.)

And, to close up, ADORABLE piano duet.

"Humiliation Galore!"

This is not a story that I really relish sharing ... because it'll ruin ANY mental image you have of me being the dainty and feminine creature that I do *try* to be.

But it's just so funny that I'll share it anyways.

First things first: I do not like the fact that I fart. I am a GIRL. Girls do not fart. ... And IF we did, they'd smell of roses and chocolate-chip cookies.

(When dating, you could tell if I was really comfortable with a guy when I'd eat with gusto in front of him [I seriously INHALE food. I eat FAST. Really. I had a girl STARE at me eat my freshman year of high school because she was AMAZED that I could eat that fast without, I don't know, choking or something.] and when I'll use the bathroom when we're together. Because girls don't have bodily functions. We just check out lipstick and hair. *nods* Yup.)

SO, what brings up this story is that (1) I'm getting over a visit from Aunt Flo, per se. My body is returning to normal. But that, combined with (2) my Nana's addictive baked beans ... well, let's just say that I'm not quite my delicate flower self. If you know what I mean. And I think you do.

But, Michael and I and the kidlets are in the living room at Mom and my stepdad's. My stepdad, C, is by the TV, in the chair. Michael is in another chair near the piano and I am across the narrow room, on the couch. The kids are flitting through the room like ferrets on a sugar high (Okay, they're not that bad. But they don't stay in one spot for long). ... And ... well ... you can guess what happened. There was no noise ... but there were some noxious fumes. And I didn't want to bring any attention to it ... A minute passes.

Then C goes, "Woah, you might want to change somebody's diaper!!"

I flush a deep red, but try not to say anything ... and I ask Bruise (because, hey! Maybe it IS time for him to get a clean diaper!), "Bruise, are you stinky?"

"No."

"Did you go poopies?"

"No."

I have him come to me so that I can check (because he doesn't always care to TELL me when he IS  sporting a dirty diaper). Sure enough, he's a clean and fresh as a toddler's bumoley can be.

C, by this time has left the room to go ... somewhere. Maybe to tell Mom how stinky her grandchildren are. I don't know. I confess to Michael that I'm the reason behind the stench.

"Why didn't you say so to C?"

"... I didn't want to have to admit it!!!!" I plaintively bleat.

C comes back, "So did you change a diaper?"

"Oh, it was just farts," I assure him.

"Wow."

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

Later, my mom's back from resting ... C's out somewhere ... and Michael's with us, watching TV.
I confess to Mom ... who about cries with laughing about my status as a gas giant ... and how C had reacted to everything.

Yeah, my mom loves me. And is sworn to secrecy to not let C know that it wasn't the kids.

So, um, don't tell anyone, okay??

Because I'm a lady. And ladies do not have bodily functions. We are delicate flowers. We'd go into fits of vapors if you even insinuated that we might have ... orfices. Ew!!

But, um ... if you do smell something ... well, I'M REALLY, REALLY SORRY!!!!!
*flees in shame!!!!*

Something that raised my ire ...

Yes, I know, I was good. I blogged about thing that made me happy ... I've been on a roll!! 
And now I blog this ...

SO, you know how I mentioned that we had our ward's Young Women in Excellence program yesterday? To, pretty much, celebrate how great our young women are, and to listen to some nice talks, and to see little displays of what the girls have been working on, and to eat some cookies ...

Well, K (YW President) and I worked for over an hour decorating sugar cookies. They looked really good (well, the ones that K did, since she teaches Primary school students about art and all. Mine weren't TERRIBLE ... but I'm such a blasted perfectionist that I never seem to reach my lofty standards for myself ... but I am very proud of one that I did. Because it was ADORABLE. And I do have a picture of it. Which I will get around to posting sometime. Pinky-swears!!).

Since church was over for just about all the wards (since we have two other wards ... well another ward and a branch, which is [in short] a ward-lite.), we decided that I'd take the two trays of cookies, the bags of ice for the water pitchers, and a couple lemons to slice up to make the water look/taste pretty BACK to the church and put them in the serving area there.

Which I did. About 4 P.M., I slid the cookie-laden trays back into the tray-holder/carts (so it wasn't completely obvious that there were cookies on them). I thought about leaving a note, but since I didn't have tape and my purse was in the car (since the trays were HEAVY. The cookies weren't. But those trays WERE.), I didn't.

And I drove home and chilled until 6 P.M., when I went back to the church to help set up.

We set up tables, moved chairs, tablecloths were ironed (NOT by me. I don't iron very much.), and I got the tables set up for the dessert-table. Then I was ready to set out the cookies and slice the lemons (and put the slices in the pitches of ice water).

So I pull out the trays of cookies ... And I look at them ... 

And I blink hard and look again.

And a third of our cookies are gone.

A THIRD of the cookies are GONE.

COOKIES = not all present.

So, I try not to freak out. I scurry (in my little dainty heels and full skirt) BACK into the room we've set up, grab my keys and high-tail it back to my van where I SEARCH the seats and am moving water bottles on the OFF CHANCE that MAYBE the cookies slid off the tray (even though I was CERTAIN that when I put the trays in the cart that one was full-unto-bursting).

No dice.

I pull K aside and tell her, "Not to alarm you, but we have 20 [of 60] cookies missing."

Now, K has been SLAVING to make this night the BESTEST NIGHT EVER. And, if it were me, I'd have collapsed into a puddle of tears and despair. Especially since people were starting to show up and there were a HELL of a lot more than 60 there. (Yeah, we thought we might get, like, 40 people ... We were pleasantly surprised.)

So, I plate up the 40 cookies that are left, noting that most of the ones stolen were the BEAUTIFUL ones that K had decorated (so our thief/thieves do show some art appreciation) ... and slice up the ONE lemon that's left. 

(Dude, you steal cookies from a church AND a lemon?? That's deserving of a hearty portion of WITHER THE FRIES?!?)

But, yeah, people are coming up to me, asking "Who stole the cookies?" And I have no idea. I'm more than tempted to have the bishops of the respective wards/branches read an announcement over the podium on Sunday. That was a FULL box-worth of Safeway sugar cookies! That was $3.99 that went completely to waste! (Not counting the price of the sugar, corn syrup, and milk that I've donated from my kitchen.)

Yeah, I'm rather irked. 

One of the young women listened to me gripe a little. And laughed at the possibilities for signs that I SHOULD have put up:

"Five of these cookies are laced with laxatives. I suggest you DON'T take your chances. Smoochies!! Signed, [Our ward's name]'s Young Women"
"DO NOT EAT!!! These are NOT yours!!!! *insert picture of eyes, because it's been studied that people are more likely to be honest when faced with an image (even a drawn image!) of eyes*"

"Do not eat! Why would you do that? Because you know it hurts my feeling and you know I have a knife!!!!!!! Signed, PMS Geisha of the [Our Ward's] Young Women"

Our ward's Activity Committee director thinks that it sounds like something Young Men would do. It's possible that it could have been choir members who arrived early. OR someone/some people in the Singles Branch (like I said, the ward-lite. Just a smaller congregation).

Now, if it had been a COUPLE cookies ... even FIVE ... that would have been one thing. 

But TWENTY? Twenty FRAKKIN' cookies?!?!?!?

Especially since we had a sign in one of the (most-used) rooms that said there was an activity being held tonight ... *sigh*

It's just irritating. You don't expect that in the space of two hours, you're going to find that you've had one-third of your evening's refreshments stolen.

Yeah, I'm rather peeved about it. The only way it could have been worse would have been if the cookies were going to be for the Primary (the up-to-twelve-year olds). Because stealing food from children? That's just low. And since the Young women are between the ages of 12-18, it's still stealing food from minors/children. And that burns my biscuits (to be tactful).

I almost just want to throw up my hands and say, "Why do we even try?!? I mean, really??" ... and I'm almost tempted to do it in the other wards' meetings ... But I won't. Because that's passive-agressive and inapproriate. We're at church to worship Christ. Not to listen to me rail about thieves in our midst.

The church is still true. But I'm not leaving cookies unattended in the future.
Unless someone REALLY wants me to try out my impression of Alice and her "Fist of Death."

Or I could take the page from the Evil League of Evil applicants and go for PMS Geisha's modus operandi.

Testy, testy ... Oh, maybe I should chillax.

I completed the costume that would not die... aka, my Jem costume.

And, really it turned out well. Even if I accidentally cut the skirt too short (Showing my religion, anyone?) and the blue fabric paint that I used wasn't COMPLETELY dry ... and even though 99.9% of the population at church had NO IDEA of who I was supposed to be.

The hair wasn't quite right, really ... colorwise, it was great. And my eye make-up turned out REALLY well.

My belt isn't quite the right size ... but the fringe turned out better than I thought it would ... especially being hot-glued in, since my sewing machine went bat-in-a-craphouse-crazy on me.

Bucket (who says that her nickname is now BUNNY ... I'm going to try and remember that) was one of, what, six (?) Cinderellas. She was the glittery-est, thought. (Since I did her make-up. Had to get some use of all the glittery stuff that I don't wear since I'm getting closer and closer to the big 3-0 ... and I'm starting to feel it every so often. Like why I have my natural hair color now. I used to be all flashy ... and now ... I would like to blend into the woodwork every so often...).
Bruise was a very nice Optimus Prime. The YW (well, at least two VERY much) adore him. One of my YW told me that whenever she goes to help out in the Nursery, she plays with Bruise the whole time, if she can. ... He loves him the ladies. ^_^ It seems like EVERYONE knows my son. For an almost-three-year-old, he's developed quite the following. Maybe this is paving his political career? His platform -- More graham crackers, more Hello Kitty, and more robots!
That and going poop in the toilet? Totally overrated.

At the ward party, Bucket did have an accident (one that made me wish I had a bucket!!) ... She was obviously having too much fun and, as we were starting to go, totally let loose. She must have had at least a pint stored in her, poor girl!
And bad-mommy me, I didn't have any diapers or extra clothes in the car. So, as we waited for Michael (for nearly an hour -- he was helping clean up), she sat in her carseat with a cloth diaper I just HAPPENED to have in the car (for wiping the inside of the windshield) under and around her.
She also had to go potty again ... so I held her little half-dressed self precariously balanced so that she could pee and wouldn't pee on me. In the parking lot. Since I couldn't leave Bruise in the car ... *sigh*

We got home, kids took a shower and went to bed. I did a quick hand-wash of the Cinderella dress. We went to bed. And Michael let me play with his tablet. (No, it's not a euphimism. It's his new computer. I played Mah Jongg. And tried some other games. Thought he does deserve lots of euphimism, since he's a super good husband who doesn't complain that I STILL haven't done the dishes. Or folded the laundry. ... But I DID give the cats flea baths and put medicine on them ... so hopefully the flea infestation of 2008 is at an end. *sigh* Stupid fleas.)

It's almost time for me to get the kidlets (and myself) dressed to go to storytime (and turn in our ballots). Maybe my books will arrive today. That'd be really nice. I like books. Even if I won't get around to reading these for a while. Michael will have some spare reading time ... and I know he'll enjoy these. 

Meanwhile ....

Okay, so here's my catching-up blog ... 

Thursday was spent in preparation for traveling on Friday. (Why do I always want to spell 'traveling' with two 'l's?? I really DO want to spell it that way. I wish I knew why.)

We got up on Friday, finished packing, tidied up the house just a wee bit, took out the trash (since we wouldn't be here to put the trash on the curb Sunday night), blah, blah, blah ... got the kids in the car. We only forgot to grab the things that went back to Mom and Dad C (drill, thread) and the power cord to Michael's laptop. Oops.

The drive went well, with my Mom's portable DVD player ... the kids were entertained. However, the unfortunate thing was that the book I brought to read aloud to Michael? It's the third and not the second in the series. :(  (I brought Shanna Swendson's Damsel Under Stress ... I still need to buy Once Upon Stilettoes. *sad face*) I just figured that I'd try to pick up a copy, since we'd be in a rather large town.

Bruise and Bucket enjoyed the Happy Meal toys that they received. Barbies for Bucket and cars for Bruise. Good stuff.

Bruise also really enjoyed Ironman and Transformers. (Yes, he paid more attention to those shows than he pays to me. *sigh* Boys. 

T2 and J came down Saturday and we all went to a farm. Bruise LOVED the pony ride (Bucket wasn't quite the equestrian we thought she might be. She had to hold onto Michael's hand the whole time that a very nice girl was leading around the donkey Bucket was on.) and they both had fun riding in a little pony-drawn cart. They really enjoyed petting the bunnies. And Bucket gave a goat a kiss. They also enjoyed the apples that Grandma bought them (as did I, since I finished off what they didn't eat. Those were some GOOD apples).

Bucket did get the Princess panties that I've promised her. She's been really good about going to the bathroom. And, when we got home, we also gave her her Cinderella cell phone. (I'm sitting on a toy Bumblebee Transformer for Bruise. If he EVER goes poop in the toilet. ... I'm just hoping that it'll be someday before he's THIRTY. *sigh* ... If you have any hints, LET ME KNOW. PLEASE.)

Bucket napped in the van with T2 as we went to a flour mill on Saturday (after we wore them out at the farm). Bruise had a great time looking at the water-driven mill with Grandpa and Uncle D. He also very much enjoyed trying the free samples that were there. (Michael prefers the buffalo jerky, whereas I liked the elk. Probably because my Pop-pop made venison jerky after the menfolk went hunting. I miss that jerky. I miss Pop-pop more.) There were also some fudge samples. There was an excellent vanilla-coffee flavored one. (I'm such the bad Mormon, liking the flavor of coffee. I'm going to Hell. I know. :P)

Michael and I ditched (ha ha) the kidlets with the family and we hied ourself off to go see The Dark Knight. (Excellent. If only all screenplays could be this well-written. But the retainer that Christian Bale wore to disguise his voice as Batman? DISTRACTING! Because BATMAN DOES NOT LISP!!!!!!!)

Then we hit the mall so I could hopefully buy Once Upon Stilettoes. ... The Waldenbooks didn't have ANY of Shanna Swenson's books!! Ugh!! (Or Will Thomas', whose Barker and Llewlyn series I got Michael turned onto.). I felt rather betrayed.

Sunday, after church, T2 and J took off for home. We went to Mount Ashland. We ended up on a bit of a hike. And, oh, it was chilly. Bruise got a case of the shivers. Dad C and Michael ended up bringing the van up to pick the rest of us up. And we found out that we had a headlight out. AND we have something funky going on with the van's wiring. Grr. But we made it back to Mom and Dad C's safely. (Replaced the headlight bulb Monday morning. So we're totally safe and not in danger of being ticketed. Phew!)

Monday, I checked around online for another local bookshop that might have the books I wanted. Barnes and Nobles' site said that they had Once Upon Stilletoes AND THREE of the Barker and Llewelyn series -- including a fifth volume that I hadn't known had come out!! ... So I totally geeked out in front of Mom C ("Mom, you've been holding out on me! There's a Barnes and Nobles TWO MILES from your HOUSE?!?" ... and I did a little happy dance that I could buy THREE Will Thomas novels) ... so, once we were packed up, off we went.

Now, the website lied about having Once Upon Stilletoes. :( But I DID get all three of the Will Thomas books that I wanted. And I'm excited to read them. Michael and I got through about half of The Limehouse Text (and, with my express permission, he has taken it to work to read at lunchtime). He will soon take The Hellfire Conspiracy ... and he'll probably read The Black Hand before I get to it (I have lots of library books to get through. *sigh* Not a BAD thing, really.)

After B&N, we went to a small cheese factory. Unfortunately, due to being in the middle of a remodel, all we could do was try a few samples (Bruise seems like like blue cheeses just fine. And Bucket enjoyed the curds very much) ... then we headed home.

Bucket had done such a good job using the potty that she was still in her Princess Jasmine panties ... and about twenty miles from home, she woke from her nap, crying because she had peed her pants. Oops. So, when we got home, we washed the car seats' covers. (And I finished giving the van a preliminary cleaning this morning, before I hosted our weekly playdate.)

After all the traveling and all, I'm pretty bushed.  I'm almost done with another library book. And I need to finish watching Iron-Jawed Angels. And do the dishes. And a million other little things, really. 

But it was a lovely weekend. I'll try to post some pictures soon.

After I finish some books, catch up on some blogs and comics, nap, do dishes, make some dinner .... *sigh* So, yeah.

Oh, and I'm a good mom. Because when Bucket had to poo and the one bathroom was occupied, I took her outside and held her over the trashcan so she could poo and wouldn't mess up her Princess panties.

Michael says that he'll be sure to include that in my application for Mother of the Year. :P

Things to Deal With ...

First, it's Patriot Day. Have I sat down and explained to my little hellions DEAR children why we can't take our own bottled water on airplanes have this "holiday?"

No, I haven't. And because of this, the terrorists are winning. 

I do remember where I was when I learned about the attack on the World Trade Center. (Just came into the classroom that I was volunteering in ... Leigh, the teacher, was visibly upset. She asked me, "Did you hear what happened?!?" ... No, I hadn't. I immediately prepared myself for one of the first-graders having been in a car accident or something. When she told me, I just couldn't fathom it. To me, Ney York is practically Shangri-La. You hear about it, but it's not anyplace that you GO. [Yes, I am horribly ill-traveled.])

But, what HAVE I been up to? Let's recap:

• I'm SPEEDING through Breaking Dawn, since I need to get it back to Jenny so another of her friends can borrow it. (on page 561 of 754 -- Started yesterday afternoon. Boo yah, y'all!)
• Took the kidlets to storytime. Managed not to eat them as they kept TALKING to me and not listening to the stories.
• Took the kidlets to Target to buy cat food and stuff to GET RID OF THE @#*%&%! FLEA INFESTATION here. ... Which bring us up to the next story to share:

SO, as I'm paying for our purchases at Target, I look over at Bruise. He's squatting in front of the candy display. Totally normal. 

I run my card through the reader, blah, blah , and look over again.

He's got a giant Push-Pop (think, like a lollipop, but in a little spring-loaded holder. Yeah.) unwrapped and IS SUCKING ON IT! GAAAAAAAH!!!!1!

I manage to NOT smack him or YELL at him about how STEALING is a slippery slop that ends in hard time in the big house, little man!!, or anything much like that. I pay for the #$%#@# Push-pop and throw the dratted thing in the bag. (Which I later ate. By myself. I paid for the stupid thing, now didn't I?)

But, Bruise ... having his treat taken away from him (so it could be rung up and bagged). Just too much. For him ... and therefore for me, too. He's in my arms, SCREAMING as Bucket is giving me her commentary:

"Bruise CRY, Mommy. Why Bruise Cry? Oh!! TEARS! Why Bruise sad? Why Bruise trouble? Why take candy? Mommy, Bruise cry."

(As if I somehow could MISS that SUBTLE fact of having a SCREAMING toddler in my arms as I'm loading up the frakkin' cart.)

So, I tossed them into naptime as soon as we got in the door and I had unloaded the car.

Then I called Michael, who tried not to snicker at my retelling of the woeful shopping trip, to tell me that I'm not raising a hard-core criminal and that it's fine that the kidlets scream themselves to sleep (which it took them, oh, three minutes to do), and that I should take it easy for a while before I really go all postal.

... Well, I need to finish the dishes sometime. And I should fold all our laundry. And vacuum and spray the house with flea-killer. (So gross. I HATE having bugs in the house. First ants [controlled], then fruit flies [in the process of being controlled], now FLEAS?!?!? Gah.) I have no idea where they came from. The cats stay inside. Ugh. Stupid, evil fleas. Just wait. We're going to end up with the plague or something. *sigh*

Well, maybe I can ignore my children help channel my children's energies into something productive so I can finish my book make dinner or something.

About a bridal shower ... and other things. But be warned.

NOTE: Corrected the lightning video link in the post a couple days ago. Sorry about that. Now you can go watch its awesomeness-issity.

It's a week until my sister-in-law T1 gets married. CRAZY. Her bridal shower was yesterday. It was good to see everyone and to meet some of her other friends. (I know some of them ... like B, who I had in a few classes at college. A FUN girl. Totally FUN.) It was a very nice shower.

I won one of the games ... making words out of the letters in the bride and groom's full names. My best ones? "Thief," "Faint," "X-ray." ... I play to win when it comes to word games, baby.

The wife of one of our past bishops remarked, "Well, Allanna. I noticed you had quite a few four-letter words in there." (Like cats, rats, coat, etc.)
And I turn to her and throatily say, "They're my specialty."

Because I am JUST that mature, y'all.

T1 was worried that I'd continue the tradition of a mutual friend (and roommate) or ours in gifting the bride with a teddy bought at Goodwill.

Not. On. Your. Life.

Enless I'm EXTREMELY good friends with you. I can think of maybe two friends that I might try that with. And that would be in conjunction with getting a REAL present.

And that Goodwill teddy I was gifted?
Went back to Goodwill.

I just couldn't bring myself to give lots of prophylactics or manuals or anything in front of Grandma C. She's a sweet lady. She can handle lingerie ... but anything that I'd be tempted to get to be funny/racy/etc ... I am not about to be the cause of anyone's cardiac arrest. (I just totally typed "cardinal arrest." Now I'm picturing a little red bird in cuffs. *snrk!!*)

Well, I should (keyword: should) do another load of dishes, throw some meat in the fridge to defrost, clean the kitchen and bathrooms in preparation for all the company that will be descending arriving next week. And meet with Dianne (who's totally saving my heinie) to discuss all the pictures that we'll be taking on the temple grounds and at the reception.
And I should get a shower. Sometime.

But I was very proud of my little Bucket yesterday. She understood that I had a party to go to for adult ladies. And she let me go without tears. Just hugs and kisses and wishes that I'd have fun. How cute is she?? (Bruise wasn't so keen to have me go. But he took it well. Especially since Michael bribed him with pizza. Not that either of the kidlets ate much of it. But still. It's the thought that counts, right?)

More on the Mr. Roger's Front

So, here's the latest ... I got a reply a few days ago from PBS:

Thank you for writing to PBS regarding MISTER ROGERS' NEIGHBORHOOD.

This iconic series holds an extremely special place in PBS's heart. Together, PBS and Family Communications, Inc. are committed to evolving the role this cherished series plays in today's media landscape, ensuring future generations of children can experience this rich, unique content.

PBS will continue to distribute repeats of MISTER ROGERS' NEIGHBORHOOD to all member stations. PBS stations have the option of broadcasting the series everyday or once a week as best suited for their local community interests. For those that choose to air the series daily, PBS is feeding 185 episodes over the summer, allowing easy access to a library of episodes. For those stations choosing to air the series weekly, they can pick up the weekly feed this fall.

PBS continues to invest in the MISTER ROGERS' NEIGHBORHOOD Web site at pbskids.org/rogers, enriching content with new games, activities and resources for kids, parents and teachers. In addition, PBS and Family Communications, Inc. are planning to preserve MISTER ROGERS' NEIGHBORHOOD content and make it available on demand through Web streaming so families can access it 24/7. We will also engage Fred Rogers' many active fans to vote for favorite episodes, share stories and more.

Kevin Morrison, COO of Family Communications, added, "We've been working with PBS on the details of the distribution of MISTER ROGERS' NEIGHBORHOOD in 2008-09 and are pleased that stations can choose to continue to show the series each day or once a week. Fred Rogers was one of the pioneers of public television and it's exciting that he will now be a new media pioneer on an expanded PBS KIDS Web service. Both PBS and Family Communications have some great ideas to make this a rich resource for children and parents for years to come."

Our support for MISTER ROGERS' NEIGHBORHOOD reaches far beyond the TV series and Web site, including participation in comprehensive viral campaigns such as "Sweater Day" in March and various sweater drives across the country. PBS has carried on the legacy of Fred Rogers through his TV show, the Web and PBS station community outreach activities for years because of the incredible impact Fred has had on children.

Fred Rogers' values are embedded in all the work we do and have been an inspiration to new generations of children's producers. Everyday, PBS KIDS is taking children on a journey to learn about themselves, others and the world around them, a philosophy that's very much inspired by Fred Rogers' work and his dedication to the betterment of all children.

We appreciate your interest in our programs and hope you will continue to watch and support your local PBS station.

Sincerely,
PBS Viewer Services

Well, it's not GREAT news ... but I am a little happier in knowing that there will be 24/7 streaming of Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood ... Now, when I get lots of monies, I need to get a TV set up where I have it hooked up to the computer. Because that would be awesome. And, also, we can all curl up in front of the telly, as a family, to watch Mr. Rogers and learn to be a better neighbor. Because Mr. Rogers is made of awesome. And I pink, puffy heart him. (And not just because he was a handsome young man. Dude, have you seen him in the tapes of when he was speaking to encourage subsidized public television?? Brad Pitt, look out! AND Fred Rogers was faithful to his wife. I'm just sayin'.)

So ... if you do feel strongly about having your local public broadcast station showing Fred Rogers everyday, you really do need to make your voice heard. But if you don't really care ... ... ... Well, you can still be my friend. But not my best.

(Joking!!) (Sorta.)

Besides, I rather like it when, if I have to be awake that early, cuddling with my kidlets in my big bed while watching Mr. Rogers. It's a good way to start a day. Encourages me to yell less and to work harder at keeping my patience with my little hellions dear, sweet bayy-bees. Because I do love them almost all of the time. ^_^ (There are times, I'll admit, when I love them less than they deserve. Because I am a flawed little sinner. Which is yet another reason why I'm glad that we can repent. Because, Heaven knows, I need repentance and the power of the Atonement in my life.)(Just keepin' it real.)

Irritating ...

I spent over two frakkin' HOURS trying to do a favicon (which I USED to have a LONG time ago ... so I know it can be done and that I'm really not too stupid to do it) and I've FAILED.

And I'm about to cry I'm so damn frustrated. (And, yes, I did just say "damn" and I'll say it again, too. I'm so irritated.)

Stupid Blogger. Stupid favicon. Stupid HTML. Stupid my brain.

Ugh.