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

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

Misery loves company, right? *overly bright smile*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And I kind of hate that, too.

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

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

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

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

I don't know.

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

..... ..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, yeah.

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

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

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

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


...

.....

...

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

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

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

That's wack. And not wiggety-wack, just the regular kind.

Today started out fine ...

Got up, showered, dressed.
Had devotional with the kids, dropped Bruise off to track club.
Bucket got on the bus. I finished getting ready ...

Then, when Bubbles and I got into the car to go into town/shopping ... I go to plug in my iPod ... and then the car won't start. When I press on the brake, the dashboard clock fades away to nothing.

I don't know my neighbors well enough to feel like I can just go ask them for a jump.
mi...
Okay, I was going to say that Michael isn't picking up his phone (so I also emailed AND shot him a text), but he just called back.
And he'll come home at his lunch break, figure out stuff and we'll figure out what all needs to be done.
If nothing else, he'll stay home long enough to pick up the kids from strings (which means he'll just be staying home for the rest of the day) ... and we can either walk to pick Bucket up from her after-school running tomorrow. We'll see.

I'm hoping it's just that either I shorted out something that's easily fixable OR that Bucket just didn't close the stupid door quite well enough (it has a crappy sensor anyways) and the battery was just run down a bit.

Okay. I'm going to figure out dinner and read a book and go soak my head or something.

EDIT: And watch a bazillion episodes of Teen Girl Squad. And read my scriptures for the day. And probably do my Duolingo. Distractions galore!

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.

Fifteen Days Later ...

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

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

What else has gone on ...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I should figure out dinner.

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


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

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

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

Blergh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She never took me up on either offer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like I said, "blergh."

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

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

Hey jealousyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy ...

So, I came to the realization that the reason why I was so down yesterday and why I'm taking this so hard is that ... well, that friend doesn't seem to be taking this distance that hard.

I know that she's busy and has every right to be happy and have her own friends and a life that doesn't depend upon my friendship being there.
(Only child problem #1: Realizing that it's NOT always all about YOU.)

But, dang it, it sucks for me. Because I have to realize that this isn't all about me.

And that -- as satisfying as it would be for her to look/sound as miserable as I feel -- isn't being at all realistic.

So ... I have to admit to myself that I had more invested into that relationship than maybe I should have.

Not that I've ever BTDT before. Oh no.
(Oh, yes. Like, nearly, EVERY crush I had before Michael. Ha ha ha. Bad habits die hard, right?)

So, yeah. I seem to have lost a sister-friend. And I'm just going to have to put on my (proverbial, not literal) big girl panties and DEAL with it.

Because, I have to face it: there are things in life that suck.
This, apparently, is one of them.

I have other friends who still love me. I have family that loves me. It's not like I'm some friendless orphan without any resources of my own or anything literarily tragic like that.

I can deal with this.
Apparently, it's going to take MONTHS and MONTHS to do it.

BUT. I'm just going to keep telling myself that "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and -- DOGGONE IT! -- people LIKE me!"
(Maybe more or less than I might deserve ... but I'll take it.)

In other news, I woke up feeling a lot better.
(Having a cry while actually ADDRESSING my FEELINGS and managing to put some stupid, tundra-esque storm into words with Michael, who sagely made Firefly-quote proclamations, did help. As did sleep. And prayer. ... I guess I just needed to find a reset button. Crazy body with  its brain full of FEELS.)

I should totally clean up the house. And I'll make an effort ... around a couple errands that NEED running today.
And I might paint Mom's and my toes. Something happy and bright and fun.
If I didn't have Bubbles, who isn't the best as sitting still for an hour or so, I'd take Mom to see Austenland ... if it's still at a local theater.

But ... yeah. I'm going to be okay.

And, obvs, I'm not immune to jealousy or the mean reds or all that.
As much as I'd like to be able to pretend that I'm totes all over that ... but it wouldn't be honest.
So ... yeah.

Today is another (hopefully better) day.

---

So ... just tell me

... am I a ... um ... what's a gentler word for f*ck-up?

I mean, I know I'm a bit of a hot mess right now.
Kind of hard to deny that when you're sobbing as you paint your toenails, and berate yourself with an inner monolog of, "Just paint your toenails. Just do it. You've kvetched about it enough on your blog. Might as well do SOMETHING with your life. And try not to screw THIS up, m'kay?"

Yeah ... how much of this is menstrual-related and how much of it is just my own crazy ... I don't know.

But ... yeah. There it is.
Tons of fun ... NOT.

At least Michael was a rock star (when he's telling me to stop trying to fix everyone's problems and to stop feeling guilty when I CAN'T fix everyone's [or, apparently, anyone's] problems) and set up a bath for me, complete with a bottle of bubbly (in our case, that's sparkling cider, not champers ... Yeah, I've been reading a little too much over at Forever Young Adult, huh?) ... which I was able to prise open using manicure tools, since I don't keep a bottle opener in the bathroom. Yup. Didn't even mess up my nails. woot.

Still ... I feel like a jerk.
When I finally let a friend know how I feel ... and I tried to do it all in a tough-love-but-emphasis-on-love-because-I-wouldn't-care-if-I-didn't-love-you-so way ... and, well, there are some underlying problems on that friend's side. ... And I'm trying not to be hurt that this friend was keeping that from me. I'd have been more understanding and ABLE to do some stuff IF I'd known about this underlying issue.

So ... yeah. We'll see if things are able to blow over or if I've screwed this over too much.

So, yeah ... so I FEEL like a complete and total screw-up/mess/jerk.

Is that any better than feeling like your friend is constantly blowing you off? Or that the friend is flaky or irresponsible?

I ... I just don't know.

Can I just go back to Disneyland now?
Or to sleep?
Just maybe?

Brace yourselves ...

No, it's not that winter is coming.
(Not with the crazy humidity that's been going on)

No, it's because Shark Week, iykwim (aityd), is upon us.

And, well, I kind of had my mental well-being, well, crash on me.
About as much as I ever do ... I'm a pretty chipper person, overall.
So, when I feel down or frustrated, I turn into Chicken Little -- running about (no, not in real life) and freaking out that maybe I'm depressed and nothing's right and I'm a mess and I suck at friendships and people are going to hate me, etc., etc., etc.

I should paint my toenails. That usually helps me.
Except that I don't have the color that I'd like to use ... I want a multichromal rainbow-type polish on my toes. So that it's all silvery, but when the light hits it -- POW!! -- RAINBOW, y'all!

Yeah, my life is hard.

The new dishwasher is still amazing. I heart it. And it's easier for the kids to remember to help load/unload.
If I can just get Bubbles to stop trying to climb on the door, when it's open. Grr.

Bubbles had her 15-month appointment. She's still tiny, but staying on her own curve, growth-wise. So the doctor isn't worried.
She also has a viral ear infection, which explains the PLETHORA of snot ... But she wasn't ill enough to forego the immunizations. She didn't care for them. Oh well.
Heck, she wasn't wild about the whole check-up. Hates being put on her back and being touched/held in place if it's not HER idea (don't get me wrong, Girl LOVES herself a snuggle or a ticklefest ... but, apparently having her temperature taken --under the arm, mind you -- WORST THING EVER. ... Well, besides her shots).

Though, since that was last week, she might be over it. I hope she's over it. She's a lot less grumpy and snotty. I prefer it when she's not my snotter-daughter. And it's easier on all of us when she's not grumpy.

Michael, his dad, his brother (C), and the neighbor kid cut down the one tree in the backyard. We (and we "we," I mean Michael)'ll be taking the wood to a gal in the ward. And they ran a wood chipper so that there's a shload LESS of old branches in our yard. ... Now, do I try and make our yard look nice NOW? Or do we figure on getting a different manufactured home (with MORE than two bedrooms) to put on our lot? (I wish that this was a NEAR future thing ... except for the having to pack up everything bit.)

Bruise and Bucket had basketball this week (Three hours, total, that is). They enjoyed it.
Yesterday, playing Sharks and Minnows, Bucket really surprised their coaches by how fast she is.
Coach Riley: Wow!! (And this gal is a leggy gal in good shape ... and Bucket was able to catch up to her and tag her out.)
Coach Amy: Yeah! I was running and I noticed that there was someone running next to me. (To Riley) I thought it was you! Ha!

Bruise wishes that I'd gotten a video or picture of one of his first throws on Tuesday ... He had shot a basket. Then he looked about for his ball. BONK! It bounced off his head. BONK! ... I almost yelled (from the stand where I was sitting with Bubbles) to him that it's BASKETBALL, not soccer!!

I'm glad that today is Friday. I got to sleep in and I don't HAVE to get anywhere at a certain time (well, until this evening) ... which means that I don't have to sit in the stands and try not to cry (Thanks, Mother Nature. I hate you.) today.
It also means that Michael will come home so much earlier. I like that.
I especially like it during the school year, since then he and I (and Bubbles) go out for a date.

But, yeah, you're probably wondering what I'm upset about.

The gist is this: I've tried to help a friend. And I feel blown off. Repeatedly.
And, worse yet, this last time, there's more than just me burned.
And I hate that I put OTHERS into that position.
I can handle being out my own money and possessions ... but setting up something where others can get burned ... when I'm a hostess for this?

A real hostess protects her guests. I'm not freaking Lady Macbeth.
Which, really, is how I'm feeling ... and we all know how THAT ended up
(If not, go check the Wiki ... although, unlike Lady M, I am not consumed with ambition. I just wanted to help out a friend. And ... well, I just need to take a step back.)

I have another friend who's in the midst of medical issues. And she's doing a bit better. She's so sweet ... and independent -- that she hates the idea of putting anyone out. Which makes it a little hard to know how to help her. But she's a sweetie. And she makes me laugh. And I make her laugh (which makes me feel useful).

We have a dinner to attend Sunday. I'm bringing a dessert ... I figure that I'll try something new that sounds yummy. I'll let you know how it goes, eh?

And I've been getting a slew of scammers/telemarketers this week.

With one (scammer), when I called her out on it, she's all "Oh, really?!? You think you're SO SMART! But there are HACKERS out there because of PEOPLE LIKE YOU!!"
(Next time someone accuses me of thinking that I'm "SO SMART" when I know I'm right? I'm gonna be all, "Yeah, baby. I AM that smart. How's about you go think about your life, m'kay? All I know is that I'm able to sleep at night with a clear conscience. Because, face it, lamby cakes, I don't have to use etiquette when I'm dealing with a criminal.")

Another guy (different company) kept talking over me as I refused and refused his spiel.
Finally, I just stated -- in a voice as serious as a heart attack, "If you make me wake my baby, I will track. you. down. and. kill. you."
Yeah ... he didn't talk after that.
Smart man, don't you think?
Be even smarter if he chose a better career, no?

This last dude (from the first scammer company) was treated to my white-girl-gangsta-rappin' skillz when I rolled off the first half of Macklemore's "Thrift Shop," with copious amounts of editing (Hey, I work at not cursing. And I had munchkins in the house, to boot).

He did compliment my singing (and I really should have said, "DON'T patronize me.") ... but he hung up after about a minute of me (and Bruise and Bucket) doing randomly-spaced ambulance noises.
(If you have NO IDEA what I'm talking about, watch Night at the Roxbury. Or look up "Night at the Roxbury, ambulance" on YouTube. You'll TOTALLY understand it ... but, yeah, probably won't understand why. ... I'm mysterious like that. ... "Mysterious" in the sense of "batcrap crazy," that is.)

But, yeah ... until we break down and get Caller ID, I figure that I should brush up on "Ice, Ice Baby," "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air," some Beastie Boys, and -- the big guns -- "MacArthur Park," baby. Which is NOT rap. At all.

Maybe I should learn some LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGG, hella long, Italian arias.
Because, hey, if I'm going to try and waste their time and see how long they'll stay on the line, I might as well get an impromptu karaoke party out of it on my side, right?

Maybe I should find where to get an accordion ... then I can serenade them with the complete works of Weird Al. Especially featuring "You're Pitiful." (Which never was released on a record since Blunt's recording company is STUPID ... but, hey, it led to the great success of "White and Nerdy." Which I should totes perfect for these scammers. If nothing else, they'll learn some good music, right?)

Out of Clever Ideas for a Title ... Blah

So, lately, I've been NOT making it through all of church. On a consistant basis.
Which sucks.

I can assure you that it's not because I have any doubts about the Church being true or that our leaders are called of God or anything like that.

It's because Bubbles is an ACTIVE child. And she's not yet old enough for Nursery (still THREE MONTHS TO GO. THREE MONTHS) ... so I have to schlep her to Sunday School and Relief Society. And ... well, to be perfectly blunt, I have a hard enough time trying to pay attention and LEARN something on my own. Adding a (darling, I know, but) LOUD munchkin who wants to go walking/running around the room or to be fed constantly ... And that's when she's NOT sitting in a (backless, at her height) chair and FALLING BACKWARDS ... It's a recipe for failure.

I can't pay attention. She's distracting others. And THAT distracts me.
So, either I stay and be a complete wreck ... or I take her home and lay her down for a nap.
And it's a total lose-lose situation, because I know that I SHOULD stay and show her that church is important enough to stay there ... and I might -- just might, maybe -- get some wonderful nugget of knowledge that'll help me get through the week/be a better person/wife/mother/daughter/sister-in-law/etc ...

But I can't handle it. And it's stupid to just go wandering the halls, since she demands to walk on her own, won't even let me hold her hand ...

I've tried sitting out in the car ... but the weather's getting too warm to keep the windows shut. And she won't fall asleep ... so she's too loud to keep the windows open.

So, instead, I take her home ... and I feel like a jerk/horrible person for NOT being at church.

And this week, with fasting and shark week and everything ... I was there at church. I missed the Sacrament being passed because I was in the Mother's Lounge. Yes, I was talking to another mom in the other ward ... but still, I missed the main reason for going to church (besides worshiping in general). And Bubbles still wasn't winding down ... And I went back in with her and sat with the family ... and then Michael had to take her out.

Amanda's husband was there at church. He seems to be holding up well. I didn't go up and give him a hug. Because I'd probably burst into tears ... and he doesn't need that. I did smile at him ... and then I started to get all teary-eyed ... Stupid emotions.

But I was there, in Sacrament meeting, filling up Michael's handkerchief. When he brought Bubbles back to sit down, since he needed to be close ... since he had to give the closing prayer in the meeting ... And, OF FLIPPING COURSE, she starts squawking again. So I just told him that I was taking her home.

And I cried the way home. Got her in her bed. Took a shower to clean off the rest of my mostly-cried off makeup ... and, while I was there, did my best to pray ... which mostly consisted of my whining and railing at Heavenly Father that I just don't FEEL right. And I want to be able to be at church ... but I CAN'T manage if I'm going to be crying all the time or not able to even listen, let alone concentrate on the lessons .... And it's just HAAAAAAAARD. And there are ants in our house. And I HATE being crazy on a monthly basis.

I just don't really know what to do.

Which makes me cry more.
And I don't know how much of it is just because I'm on my period so I'm a crazy-hormonal MESS.
I don't know if it's because I suck at grieving ... so maybe I just need to handle that ...
I don't know how much is frustration that no matter what I do, there's ants and the house always gets messed up again.
How much is due to Michael texting me this morning to request that I bring his tablet to church, since he didn't have it. And he said that it's on my desk. And it's NOT. And the kids both proclaim that they didn't touch it. And we looked all over the house, for about five minutes ... which is fine, since it's not a big house ... and I still can't find the damned thing.
And how much is due to the fact that I tried fasting even though I get HELLA CRANKY when I don't have food ... AND it's the same week as my cycle (thanks, Mother Nature, you whore)
And .... and .... and .... yeah.

And now I have a headache from crying. WINNER! /sarcasm

But, yeah ... I mostly just feel that I suck. At just about everything.

• attending church and staying once I've gotten there
• Bubbles is TINY. Maybe because I suck at feeding her.
• Personal prayer ... should be an automatic habit. It's not.
• Same with personal scripture reading. SUCKAGE GALORE.
• I can't control my emotions.
• Our house STILL has ants.
• I haven't finished my library books. And the last one that I DID read wasn't that good.
• My pad won't stay in place. Because, apparently, maybe my body is just not put together right.
• Maybe because I could stand to lose about 70 pounds.
• I can't make and stick to a meal planning system if it killed me. And it just might. But I hate scouring the house around 5PM or so, wracking my brain as to what I can manage to scramble up to feed the family (Which would be easier if Michael didn't hate eggs. Can you work on that honey? A frittata wouldn't take long to make. Just sayin'.)
• The fact that I wasn't able to solve the memory card issue on my own. I LIKE being independent and being able to save money. ... Though, knowing that there's a good place to take it/refer people IS a bonus ... but it doesn't totally make up for not being able to do it myself.
• I can't cry without looking AWFUL. And it's OBVIOUS when I've been crying. Or even yawning. Completely unfair. I wonder, if I had brown eyes, would it be so obvious?

And the list goes on. Of course. Because I, apparently, have very little in my system right now besides self-loathing. And I should follow that with a chaser of ibuprofen, since it's given me a headache.

I don't LIKE not being happy. I don't LIKE not feeling like a fun mom. I don't LIKE getting to church and not being able to pay much (if any) attention to the speakers/teachers. I just want to be able to sit with Michael for at least two of the hours and TRY to get something out of the lesson.

While I'm at it, I also want an elliptical that fits in our living room, a house with at least one more bedroom, established scripture reading/prayer habits that I don't even have to think about, a chef, maid and maseusse, and to wake up 70 lbs lighter with boobs that fit in bras that I could buy off the rack ... and that my hair wasn't so porous. That'd be nice, too.

But I'd settle for an elliptical and a child that sits still during Relief Society ... since racing up to stop her from making a run to the front of the room (where the teacher is TRYING to her HER job) is more than a little distracting.

and .... I obviously can't handle it.

Mortality Check

A girl who was in my ward (and then moved, but was still in the area) was killed in a car accident yesterday evening.

I'm a bit blindsided by this.

It's not like she and I were bffs or anything ... with a baby, it's a bit difficult to be as social as I used to be.
But I knew her a bit. Not as well as I probably should have.

All I can think is, "I helped her move."

She was ten years younger than I am.
She'd only been married for a couple years.
She was on the honor roll at the local community college.
She was quiet.
She was kind.
She was always very sweet.
She was willing to serve at the drop of a hat.

In my calling at church, I had asked her on a few occasions to take a meal over to a family (either someone was ill or had recently given birth) or to help pack/clean. And she'd fit it into her schedule.

 ... Like I said ... I feel taken aback and at a loss.

Just some random car accident ... It seems that no one else (of the three cars involved) was seriously injured.
But, by the time that responders arrived, ... she was gone.

I hope that her husband is doing okay.

I first met them as newlyweds ... and it doesn't seem like that long ago, at all.

I mean, I know that she's okay. She's not in pain ... she doesn't have to worry about finals or student loans ...
... But, well, the thing about people dying ... it's sad because it's HARD for the rest of us.

I know she'd have been a wonderful mother.
I suppose that she and her husband were planning on children. ... And those plans are on hold.

He's going to be so lonely. And that is sad.
Very sad.

So ... if you wouldn't mind saying a prayer (or lighting a candle/incense or sending positive energy or whatever) for her family and husband to be comforted ... for those who knew her to be comforted, I'd take it as a kindness.

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?

Sometimes a good day can end as a not-so-good day

So, yesterday, I got up, got dressed, and hung out with mom, got the kids off to school ... and then went to volunteer.

This is the first time that this class (since there are TWO classes in the bilingual program Bruise and Bucket are in. I was in Bucket's class last week, where NONE of the kids remarked on my hair. This group I was with, though, in Bruise's class, is a little more observant) has noticed that I dyed my hair.

Girl 1: Hi, Bruise's mom ... wha... your hair. It's different.
Girl 2: Yeah. What happened to it? It wasn't like that ...
Me: Oh, yeah! You're right. I needed a change, so I colored it.
Girl 2: Like, with markers? *mimes painting her hair*
Me: *smiles* No, not with paint. It's permenant, with dye. It'll stay until I make it a different color.
And the girls were just boggled. It was cute.

Just like, about a decade ago, when I was student-teaching in a Kindergarten classroom. And I had colored my hair ... then toned it WAY down before going to the classroom:
Boy: MizCoz [what the kids called me], did you dye your hair?
Me: *sheepishly touching the ends of my hair* Yeah.
Boy: *matter-of-factly* My mom does that. *goes back to playing*

Kids can be really fun.

Then I went home and Mom headed back to her home. I read a few blogs and got caught up on Facebook, ate lunch, and then went to take a bath as Bubbles was waking up.

(Bubbles did NOT take any good naps on Wednesday. But she was well-behaved enough while we went to a few stores and the book fair at the kids' school ... where Bruise and Bucket made out like bandits. Yes, proof that they are my kids.)

Got out of the bath ... and got dressed, got the munchkin up out of her crib, and just puttered around until the kids got home from school.

With a certain monthly occurrence, I also lose the ability to sleep well or deeply. So, yeah, I was starting to really feel fuzzy-headed. But I had the kids help me clean up toys in the front room. And Mom had helped me get caught up on dishes. And I was only a little behind in laundry ... until  (TMI ALERT, but -- well-- I have no shame, so here goes) I leaked through my pad (well, more like, it shifted enough/wasn't in the right place enough) to leak onto the fitted sheet, the flat sheet, AND a down comforter. YEAH. SUCKS.
So (TMI ALERT OVER), I needed to do MORE laundry.

And then, after Michael got home, we had a little flurry of activity

• Make dinner (quesadillas -- quick and easy, for the most part, as long as the pan isn't too hot/cold)
• Take a phone call and help a friend with ideas for a Harry Potter-themed cake, because, as she stated, "I'm a MUGGLE!" (She hasn't read the books/watched the shows, but her daughter HAS read about half of the series and seen a couple of the movies. ... And Michael and I are more confirmed Potter-heads ... So, between the two of us, we're a decent resource. ^_^)
• Report some Visiting Teaching (I NEED to get it take care of before we have vacation. I don't want my sisters to feel neglected!! Especially since two of them are new to me!)
• Get the kids ready for bed ... which is where our next bit of "excitement" occurs ...

So, as we're reading scriptures (1 Nephi in the actual scriptures, not just in the scripture storybooks), I look from where I'm sitting in Bruise's bunk at the shelf ... and there are chocolate milk cartons.

A LOT of them.

The kids are NOT allowed to have food/drink in their room. (They don't throw it away or bring dishes back. And, well, they're messy.)

The kids get chocolate milk to take to school for lunch. Which they always drink it at school. 

I was noticing that it seemed like we had JUST bought chocolate milk (the day before Easter) ... but it seemed like we were running out really quickly.

Because the kids were NOT ASKING when they STOLE them.

Both Michael and I were ... well, to be perfectly blunt, we were pissed off.

This isn't the first time the kids have stolen food.
It'd be ONE thing if they were taking food because they were sincerely hungry and I just wasn't doing my motherly/parental duty ... but this? This isn't because of that. It's because they WANTED chocolate milk and they didn't want to ask and chance me telling them "no," which I WOULD have, because THOSE are for school lunches.

I told them that this was WRONG. We were DONE. And when THEY start paying for food, THEN they can start eating it whenever without asking.

It's so TRYING to get lessons like these to stick in their heads.

I think that I need to get something delicious for them and then eat it all up before they get it.
And buy a soda and drink it all in front of them. Maybe MULTIPLE sodas.

Because just TELLING them is NOT getting through to them ...

But ... is that what I NEED to do in how to teach them?

It'd be a whole lot easier if I believed in lots of spankings. But, for the most part, I don't spank my kids a lot. I might give them a swat on the butt for sassing back ... but not a whole lot of spanking.

My mom gave me cold showers ... and I wish that THAT was still an option, too. Because, face it, discomfort is ... well, it's not pleasant. And you GET, really quickly, that you want to avoid actions that bring it about.

Whereas, with what's left to me ... talking, I have to REALLY work at avoiding just yelling at them or saying anything TOO hurtful.

Hell, I should just burst into tears and let THAT freak them out. But I hate doing that. ... even though, holding it together makes me want to cry for most of the night. Ugh.

Being an adult is haaaaaaaard!!!!
Being a parent is HAAAAAAAAAAAAARD!!!!

But it's not like I can just quit. Which I really, really find a tempting option at times.
But, well, I love my kids. Sometimes I love them a WHOLE LOT MORE than others.
And, let's face it, we can only afford SO much therapy for them.

If you want to say some extra prayers for me and mine ... especially what frayed threads of sanity are left to me, I'd appreciate it. I'd also be grateful, if you don't LIKE praying, if you just send some good muju or thoughts or positive energy or whatever.

Because, between my kids and the angry bees in my head that hate me (Thanks, Mother Nature! Your gift sometimes REALLY sucks! But, for the other three weeks of each month, being a girl is not too shabby!), I am not feeling as fabulous as I could feel.

Well, today is a new day. The kids are cleaning their room ... instead of us going to work with Michael.
We had plans that we'd go down with him ... then I'd take the kids to play at a local park (if it wasn't too cold/wet). After a bit, we'd go to a local kids' museum (Bubbles LOVES the ball pit there) and play. Then, after we picked up Michael, we might go out to lunch or ice cream.

BUT, because Bruise and Bucket made a poor decision, we aren't doing that. Which sucks.
Michael and I were looking forward to it.
Heck, I almost thought of cancelling our vacation because things are NOT getting any better.
(But, as Michael put it, "why punish ourselves?" ... And this is a multiple-family event. ... So, yeah, I NEED some more prayers to help me know how to best instill honesty in all things into the kids.)

This is not how I pictured spending my first weekend of being 32.  I kind of thought it might involve a lot more smiling. And less crying and feeling lost at sea.

Anyone wanna run to the store for me? I'm in my jimjams and NEED a couple pints of Ben and Jerry's or Hagen Daaz ... I need to get chip-faced. Maybe I should pull out the big guns and get something with coffee and Irish cream flavours. ... Yeah. It's been a rough 14 hours.

*headdesk*
*headdesk*
*headdesk*

: expletive:
(No, really. I've been taking to saying "expletive" when frustrated. I feel like I'm not TOTALLY cussing. But I don't have to actually USE any swears. And, well, I SHOULD cut down on how often I say "crap." For the children. Punk-butts that they are.)

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.

Ugh

So ... it's 12:30 in the morning and I'm here ... blogging.

I mean, isn't it enough that I had about my worst ever vocal audition in the evening?
(I went first. I hadn't thought to warm up at all. My voice, though Michael assures me I was on-key, was warbly as hell [thanks, nerves! Also, thanks for making me sweat enough that I worried I was having a hot flash! Body, you're AWESOME. /sarcasm] and my voice broke, noticeably, MULTIPLE TIMES.)

Well, Michael's audition was VERY good. He shouldn't have been nervous at all.
Bruise and Bucket who were both GOING to audition, were overtaken by nerves ... so it was left up to us to do it.

Ugh. I'd love a do-over. Since I got to perform THAT badly in front of about 20+ people. Yeah.

Though, thankfully, one of the girls that was there said that I sounded lovely and shouldn't worry.
(Yes, of course I liked her BEFORE she said that. ... Now, really, I would bare her children. Or make her brownies. Definitely owe her some brownies.)

But, the real reason that I'm up is that one of our friends decided to send me a text. At around midnight.
But it was sent, not to my cell, which is set to vibrate as we're sleeping ... but to the house phone.
And it was in multiple parts ... each sent about five minutes apart.

So, first call, we wake up ... I sprint out of bed in my been-asleep-for-maybe-twenty-minutes haze and grab a phone from the front room. Get a computerized voice. Disconnect. Head back to bed where Michael was ALMOST about to put Bubbles back in her crib, after she fell asleep eating in our bed. ... But the phone's woken HER up, too.

I get her calmed down ... in time for the SECOND text-to-landline call to come through.
I text my friend, since I've finally figured out what's going on, telling her that the texts are being sent to the home phone. And it's late. But I hope the house-hunting is going well.

I feed the little girl again, unable to fall asleep myself ... get her ready for crib-time ... and ANOTHER text-to-landline call comes through. I press "one" to respond via voice, since obviously the last text didn't work.
"[Friend], you're texting the home phone. It's after midnight. We love you ... but we NEED SLEEP."

The texts appear to have stopped. But .... I can't fall asleep now.

Seriously ... I managed to keep it together about my heinous audition.
But ... SLEEP. I NEED THAT.
I need to be able to wake up, get showered and dressed, get the kids' lunches together and them onto the bus, go out with a friend (which involves driving ... and we know what a complete wuss I am about that ...), finish the Netflix DVD (one more episode of "The Walking Dead" on it), and go to a bridal shower.

With Bubbles' apparent "I only nap for about 45 minutes at a time," there's no way for me to get a nap.

I think I might have to imbibe in a medicinal Cherry Coke. Or a Vanilla Coke. Or a Cherry Vanilla Coke.

But something's got to give.

I'd say it'd be my sanity ... but that's looooooooong gone. If I ever had any to begin with.