Mood swings and other things.

Stress and I aren't the best of friends under normal circumstances, throw in a growing fetus and I'm a freaking mess, incapable of handling a hang nail much less anything needing inner strength, patience or whatever you people use for coping mechanisms. I hate to admit it, but I've always been a little jumpy or easily agitated in tough situations. Mostly those of the emotional kind, not so much the get things done kind.

I had a meltdown last Friday at dinner. This was after two solid hours of shrieking baby hanging off from leg. I was in the thick of needy toddler time and I won't lie and tell you how pleasant it is to be needed all day every day because it is not my favorite part of parenting. I like watch from afar while happy children play quietly with books or listening to be sure they aren't shaving the cat or eating rat poisoning kind of parenting.

Needless to say, after those two hours of what felt like having the hair on my toes dug out with a potato peeler, I was a little touchy and I might have freaked out a little bit completely lost all composure and sanity. I would like to add that I am frightfully ashamed of my behavior and mortified that I let myself get so upset rather than just counting to 10 like good mothers do. But to be honest and fair I am not going to sugar coat the severity of my craziness because I know for a fact that I am not alone. Mothers lose it and they lose it bad sometimes. We are always expected to be everything, the shining example of perfection all day every day and to look good while doing it. All so we can be subtly reminded that this isn't a real job.

So I mentioned it was dinner time, right? Dinner at my house isn't always fun unless I'm making tacos or chicken. Neither of which I had that evening because I hadn't done a real grocery shop since our Christmas hiatus at the in-laws. I had fish sticks, or fish sticks. My 7 year old wasn't impressed but she reluctantly agreed since there was the slightest hint of desperation in my voice.

I'm juggling a starving baby, french fries, fish sticks and 5 binks, so when I tell you I was not excited to see her holding her nose while her aforementioned dinner was sizzling in the oven is an understatement. I pleaded with her to please not give me a hard time, I needed her to give mama a break this one time and get over herself just this once. If she ever loved me and wanted to show it, now was the time.

I guess she wasn't feeling the love because I got the eye roll and the play with her food while on the verge of tears until I gave in and let her eat effing Captain Crunch for dinner. Well guess what? We were out of Captain freaking Crunch on Friday and mama wasn't budging.

I guess it is becoming clear when the meltdown began, hmm?

My voice got a teeny bit louder as I exclaimed to her that she was to eat those freaking fish sticks right now and not give me any shit about it or I was going to have to walk out the door. I meant that I was walking out the door to take a brief break, she took it how any 7 year old kid would take their mother freaking out while loudly telling her that I've had it and I can't take it anymore. Of course she started to cry which only made matters worse for me and I continued to ramble on and on about how horrible it was to be me and all kinds of other damaging things that I didn't mean but would certainly trigger counseling later on.

Lucky for us her father arrived right then and alleviated the stress I was showering upon our innocent child, thank GOD! I held my composure for maybe two minutes and started to bawl. I cried for S because she didn't deserve to take the brunt of my pent up annoyance, I cried because I was failing at being a mother, I cried because I was ashamed for allowing myself to fail in such a miserable way and I was crying because I couldn't be what everyone needed all the time. I hated what I was capable of and despised the fact that I couldn't just walk in the other room for a moment and regain control. I threw a tantrum to make any two year old proud except that I am the grown up and supposedly had outgrown such horrific actions.

Of course I apologized and explained and cried and apologized again and reminded her that none of that was her fault, that was not about her and her fish sticks and more about me and my imperfections that I am not proud of. I held her tight in my arms and kissed her perfect forehead and told her that I loved her and no matter what she said or did I would never leave her but damn it all I can't take it back. No matter what I say or how hard I wish and try, it happened. It wasn't fair or right, but it happened. I'm her protector, the person to build her up so outsiders can't tear her down and there I was casting stones at her fragile structure and creating bad memories that I couldn't take away.

I never claimed to be perfect, but I hope that I'm never that ugly again. If I am, I hope and pray that time and love can minimize the damage done. We joke later about how mama freaked out about fish sticks because making light makes it easier to swallow but it still really sucks that she has that in her memory bank.

It is extremely difficult to put this out in black and white for others to read and relate or even judge, but I did it anyway. I did it because I don't want to hide it. I wrote it in hopes that it will remind me when minutes get bad to find a way to deal with my stress in better ways. Maybe instead just get a bowl of Captain Crunch.

Pink?

Good thing I like it. We are being blessed with another girl. We're both okay, I know J really wanted to have a son but I guess that is just not what is meant for our family. Three of a kind......nothing wrong with that.

For those seeking wisdom.

Christmas lights are not that far off from donkey balls.

Before you wonder if I'm alive

Here I am!! I am reading and snooping through everyone else's stuff but I have shamelessly neglected my own world for no good reason. I have no excuse except for blatant laziness. Oh sure, the kids keep me duct taped most days but that shouldn't keep me from my devoted readers.

Truth is my lazy butt has been slumping around the house wearing sweats and eating ice cream sandwiches. I am not a happy pregnant person. I always start out optimistically thinking that I am going to cherish every ligament pain and the enormous swellage of my awesome cleavage, but the real story is I detest the pregnant part. No, that isn't strong enough. I fucking hate it. Pardon my french but I'm am not kidding.

Having said that, I am by no means a hater of cute babies. In fact, the first 20 minutes after birth is sheer bliss. I am in heaven, feeling the abundance of love and bonding with my new child.

Then the little squeeler starts to cry and my life is over.

I'm not ready for another kid right now. Of course I will love this baby and take care of him/her and give her everything I give my other kids and once I see those bright blue eyes looking into mine there will be no turning back. I will be that baby's mother and protect and care for that sweet innocent child until I am rendered dead or they kick me out of their dorm room. But I can't help but feel just a bit of hesitation.

So here I sit in the middle of my 16th week and finally starting to really feel pregnant. My jeans are getting tight, my face is getting puffy, my tummy will reach monstrous proportions in the near future, and I will once again give life to a huge ass baby. I wonder if I will top 10 lbs this time. That is so not funny to me.

I guess there are plenty of reasons I have been absent lately. I'm not feeling the whole anticipation so much so that I want to blog/talk/think about it all the time. I am excited for this to be over and to meet my new darling baby, but I'm really not wishing it were May anytime soon.

On a much more positive note, I have my ultrasound on December 10th and we can finally start labeling the fetus as he or she. Yay! And to top it off I get to have a 3D ultrasound because I am seeing another OB this time and that is the only option they have. Oh poo! Can you hear the genuine disappointment in my words? I may not become blogger of the year up to that point but once get some news I will certainly pass the word on. And eventually, when I am feeling more pregnant and less fat, I'll post a picture of my perfectly round belly. Promise.

Bring on the TIDE

You know what scares me the most about having another baby?

Laundry.

When am I going to find time to be all the things I need to be when I am stuck in the laudry room or in a chair nursing an infant?

It ain't gonna be pretty. I'm never going to change clothes. Ever.

Just a few pics......

just because I'm very lazy right now and having a hard time finding time to write stuff that makes sense....and all these really cute days have come and gone without a single word from the writer and creator of this funny little blog. How dare I neglect my loyal fans...all five of you deserve way more than that. So anyway....to make a long story short...here is a fun day playing in the leaves just before halloween then a fabulous birthday for a fabulous lil' baby girl....I hope you all enjoy. I'll fill in more blanks later. Or I won't.

I'm pregnant, leave me alone.












The end.

I'm here

Just distracted and busy with kids.

The baby isn't at a stage where I can sit and write much right now and night time is bed time for me.

I'm just so danged tired lately. One of the kids I take care of has needed a babysitter more regularly lately and he comes at 6 am. And when he arrives he is 100% on for the day. Usually once he gets here the rest of the house wakes up in spite of my desperate attempts to keep him from running, shouting, singing, or whatever else strikes his fancy at 6 O'CLOCK IN THE EFFIN' MORNING!! Another little girl I take care of doesn't come until 1 pm but stays until 7:30 pm. Those are the long days....I babysit for 13 hours total with 5 kids throughout certain parts of the day for $50.00. It hardly seems worth it when I'm 2 seconds from mental break down for an entire day...but it is what needs to be done to keep us afloat while J is in graduate school, so I do it.

And did I mention I make a lot of babies? Because I do.

I'm 11 weeks now; almost through the first trimester. Everyone swears this is our boy except for one of my smart, intuitive friends. I am leaning towards her feeling because I just know I'm going to have three girls. I have also been dreaming of boys and that has happened with every single pregnancy. I don't know. Maybe I don't have a damn clue what the sex is but my gut is saying girl. I guess we'll all know soon enough. For J, I would love a boy. He would be a great father to a son.

Another distraction has kept me silent because I don't know enough about it. I know that I'm worried and my gut is telling me for good reason. My birth mother is in the hospital in Halifax as we speak with a tracheotomy and a biopsy waiting for results. She's sick again and it doesn't look promising. They are going to take her voice box this time, her vocal chords will remain in tact so her "voice" will sound as close to hers as possible but she will no longer be able to talk in the way that all of us talk. This is the good news.

I don't know what her test results will show. They are going to do biopsies to see if its cancer again (I'm sure it is) and they are going to do some body scans to see if she doesn't have it elsewhere. I'm worried because she has had a lung infection for 8 months or more. Maybe I'm reading into things but the big warning sign of her cancer early on was her voice. She had "laryngitis" for a year before they finally concluded she had cancer.

So this is what I know to be true. In a couple of weeks I'll know if it is worse than that. All I can think is if she doesn't survive this both of my parents will be dead. I am not ready for that reality. But I'm not burying her just yet. She is a tough woman. I know what she is made of, that Tompkins' blood may be tainted with a little wild...but with that comes a will stronger than nails and if anyone can make it through it is her. If this cancer is beatable, she will beat it. I have no question.

So that's my status and I will try to write more when I get a chance. Those are just few and far between right now.

To my First Born

You are beautiful and I Love You. I hope you know that you are always going to be special. My first baby. I never truly knew love until the moment I laid eyes upon your beautiful face.

I remember every detail of our first meeting vividly as if it were last night. You were born after an emergency c-section and I didn't get to see you until four hours after your birth. It felt like I had to wait years to hold you in my arms. Then finally a nurse wheeled you into our tiny shared room and I held you for the first time.

You cried.

"She has the cutest little cry I've ever heard." I said.

"Tell me that in a few months." said the nurse.

We laughed.

But I never got tired of listening to you cry. In fact I thought it was so cute sometimes I would scare you on purpose (not real bad...just a little rah) just to hear you cry. Then I would hug you and tell you everything was okay because mama was right here.

I never said I was a healthy 24 year old mother. But I was trying my best. :-)

Your Father and I went through this learning process together as young newly weds. We had been married only two years when you were born and half of that he spent on tour in Korea with the Army. We barely knew each other.

You bonded us forever with our shared love for the most beautiful child we had ever laid eyes on. You rocked our world to the very core and life has been so full and blessed ever since you came to us on your bright, shining star.

So maybe I carved your name in your special pumpkin we grew upside down. No matter, you are the greatest gift ever given and no matter how many babies come our way you are always going to be MY first. No one will ever be able to take your place in my heart.

If I could make just a few requests....

I don't want to seem selfish or ungrateful for my beautiful babe screaming bloody murder in the next room, but would it be horrible if I were to wish for one that was quieter this time 'round. One that didn't wail from morning to...well..morning.

Could this new baby have an easier time with teething perhaps?

And maybe this one won't walk at 10 months. Let's shoot for say, 13 months. Just old enough but not so old that I would worry.

I would also like to put in for a mild, even tempered baby. One that cried or talked even for food, diaper or sleep would be great.

Also one that eats whatever I put in front of him or her without much fuss. Would it be too brazen to ask for one that slept through the night at around 3 months, breastfeeding and all? Lets shoot for a 3 hour feeding schedule by day with little to no puke in the face afterward and 5 solid sleeping hours at night, if you could manage 10 straight hours I wouldn't argue.

Since I'm asking, one that was potty trained, never sick and talking in complete, polite sentences at birth would be fantastic. If they had a job that would be okay, too. Rent money would help cover the cost of booze that I will need to consume once this child is off the boob. A trust funder would be ideal if you could.

Reaching, reaching, reaching for the stars here, I know. But after the last two years, I'm entitled to a few requests. Any or all that can be filled would be much appreciated.

P.S. Please make my husband lactate this time.

Eventually

I will stop making babies.

We are pregnant.

Again.

The Littlest Thief

My baby is trying to steal someone else's lovey. And if you're childless and unsure of what a lovey is then think of your most prized possession and imagine someone stealing it from you every time they saw you with it. That's what E is doing the the girl toddler I care for.

She has her beloved "Ellie", which is a fluffy elephant she was given on her 1st birthday. Since receiving this special stuffed animal she has carried it around without fail and refuses to sleep without it. It's her special thing that brings comfort and joy to her life beyond compare. Never has she loved another toy as much as her elephant.

And my daughter will not stop taking it from her and hugging it with all her might. Every time the girl toddler arrives her little face lights up and shrieks of happiness and delight fill the house. One would think, aww, she likes to see my favorite girl toddler come to visit.

Nope.

She loves her lovey. And that's it.

The minute she walks through the door E immediately walks over with her hands waving in elation and snags that little elephant right from the hands of the unsuspecting girl toddler. Lucky for me, the girl toddler reluctantly hands over her beloved without much fuss.

Not that she has to, either. This is her special toy and I don't make the kids share everything. They are allowed one or two things that are all their own that they can tuck safely away from the sticky, predatorial hands of the other monkeys. Everyone should have a little piece of themselves that is all their own.

I am very proud of her for sharing her lovey. What a big milestone for her to share something so precious to her. For me, it would be like sharing a piece of cheese cake with blueberry topping and the last person who tried lost a finger. I could take lessons from this young person.

My big challenge now is to keep my youngest from becoming a clepto.

Reality

An excerpt from True Mom Confessions. Not as much a confession as it is a plea...and a valid one at that.

"my sister died last saturday in a horrible car accident. she was driving, wearing her seatbelt, and someone crossed the yellow line and hit her head on. that someone was texting while driving.
my sister was 28 years old. she was my best friend. i don't know if i can go on without her. i had just talked to the day before and i didn't say "i love you" before i hung up the phone.

i hate myself.

please don't ever text and drive. my sister would still be alive if that other person hadn't. and my 5 year old nephew would still have his mommy. now he has no one. his dad died in iraq."


The number of accidents caused by driver distraction is greater than even driver intoxication.

Cheat

I caved.


Animal crackers for snack today.



I know, I know.

I'm an idiot.

S thought it was funny.

My grocery cart

was packed full of fruits, veggies, a few new spices and various types of beans.

I'm so excited for this new change. Like I said, I have no idea how I plan to convert my family over to a veggie table but I'm going to give it a try. I'm not going to kill myself if I have chicken parm and I'm not going to expect those around us to comply with our eating habits when cooking a meal to share with us.

And we're having turkey on Thanksgiving. Because traditions are traditions and I guess you could call me a hypocrite but I feel like any change for the better beats staying the same.

Funny, I asked the hubster last night what he thought we should do and we both agreed one turkey isn't going to deplete the ozone, not even a day later S was all...."are we still having turkey on Thanksgiving?" Hahaha.

I'm not saying to the world that I am all high and mighty about making this large sacrifice for animals or for the environment and that we will be bionic healthy homosapeans and the rest of you will rot the flesh off your bones by poisoning your body with the blood of other animals; that's just not the way we roll here . And I will occassionally indulge. We all will. I don't think I could swear off taco's forever and I'm 100% positive that S won't.

But every little thing you do helps.

Every time you slow your car by 5 mph you save gas. Everytime you recyle anything you're helping. Anytime you plant a tree. Anytime you take a brisk walk. Anytime you choose to take just one small step in saving yourself, the environment, or even an animal's life you're improving the world.

Anyway, I'm opening the floor for any ideas to helps us along our journey or even a yummy vegetarian recipe you serve your own family. If I try anything super fantastic that you all just have to try, I will post it.

Vegetarianism, it's not just a good idea.

It's about living a lifestyle that promotes not only healthier living but also protects our planet as well as the lives of innocent animals.

Unthinkingly, I clicked on a video from a random person's myspace account. It was her mini platform for why she didn't eat red meat. I have to admit that I was saddened by the contents of the short documentary-like film. And since that day my husband and I have been discussing the big conversion.

I guess I've never really thought of the process for the animals. The birth, immediate separation from their mothers, and crowded living conditions is heart wrenching without even considering their death or the painful procedures they endure. Chickens have their beaks cut off without painkillers, pigs have tails cut and teeth pulled, cows suffer branding, castration and dehorning. The list goes on and on. The cruelty is unbelievable and regardless of organic or free range conditions, atrocities are still occurring every single day by the meat industry.

Now assuming I could ignore the treatment of animals, there are still other things to consider like health problems arising due to the unhealthy consumption of meat. Research has shown that vegetarians are at lower risk for obesity, heart disease and various forms of cancer.

Hmm...you don't say. Personally, I'm not so concerned about the obesity part or the heart disease, but I do notice the rising occurrence of cancer in our country and can't help but think there's a possible connection. Not that the other two aren't serious concerns we should all consider, but I believe genetics and lifestyle plays an important role in the first two circumstances. That's not to say that cancer, genetics and lifestyle don't interact together in some way, but even someone who manages to bypass obesity or coronary heart disease simply by practicing adequate portion control and consuming less fatty meat could still be at a high risk for cancer.

Why? Because of the antibiotics and chemicals pumped into animals we eat in order to make them grow bigger and faster than ever before. This ensures a quicker and larger profit in the pockets of the assholes running the industry. We all know when it comes to money, morals don't always play an important role in the minds of those lining their pockets.

For me, another valid point is the damage, caused by raising animals for consumption, to our environment. I was shocked to learn that nearly half of the water consumption here in the U.S. is used to raise animals for food. Studies show that a vegetarian diet requires roughly 300 gallons of water per day compared to that of a meat-based diet, which is 4,000 gallons. Staggering numbers really, especially since we are at high risk of a water shortage at some point in our lives, if not our children's. There is also the risk of polluting our rivers and lakes due to the run off from factory farms. Farmed animals will produce 130 times the excrement as the entire human population of the United States.

It is also said that high levels of airborne methane due to the waste produced by animals is one of the culprits for global warming. The Environmental Protection Agency has warned that methane is 20 times more effective at trapping heat in the atmosphere than even carbon dioxide.

I will be honest, I have no idea how I'm going to implement this lifestyle into our home. I have been a meat-eater for 31 years and have never had the desire to change until now. And not because I am turned off by the taste of meat since reading and watching video on this subject. I love me a big ol' bucket of chicken and nothing makes me happier than grilling a juicy steak on a summer's day, but I'm fairly certain Old McDonald didn't plan on the above. In fact, I think he'd be fairly disappointed that his pigs, chickens and cows were treated with such disregard. We are taught to treat animals with respect and love them....all except the one's we like to eat.

How's that for hypocrisy??? I just don't think that after learning about it I can honestly feel good about my food choices if there's a big old slab of ham sitting on my plate.

Eight Weeks.

I remember like it was yesterday, walking through the gate and out onto the runway to board my plane. One of the really small planes that had a lot of turbulence. I sat towards the back and had tears streaming down my face as I watched my home fade into the clouds like an old memory.

I walked into battalion in the middle of the night. There were people from all over the country sitting around me Indian style on old worn out carpet. We were listening to more experienced soldiers scare the living shit out of us. I don't remember much of what was said except that there was an amnesty box in the back of the room and if we had contraband, now was the time to get rid of it or suffer the consequences. What those were I didn't know but I didn't have anything to worry about; the person I was planning on turning into didn't break rules or push the envelope.

Finally the talking ended and we filed into fluorescent rooms with identical double door lockers and rows of metal bunk beds with ancient mattresses that were laden with thin white sheets and green woolen blankets that smelled a little like moth balls. I had arrived at basic training and this was my new reality, the new life I had chosen for myself. A new beginning.

Nothing was familiar. There weren't any comforts of home to be had and any attempt at becoming too cozy was squashed by a DS(drill sergeant)just waiting to drop you on your face.

It wasn't 8 weeks. Basic training was 8 weeks but that did not begin the moment you stepped foot on Uncle Sam's property. I had to be in processed before those 8 weeks started and it killed me. I needed a goal, something tangible to hold onto to comfort me while my footing was no where to be found. Everything was taken from me and stuffed into a bag and vaulted. They literally strip you down to nothing and turn you into a number, and a last name. I was no longer me. I was nothing more than a Private, if I was lucky I was Private Doughty.

The scariest thing to me at the time, scarier than even the possibility of going to war, was the shots. I've got to be kidding, right? I'm not. My heart raced a million miles an hour thinking about it. I asked everyone I dared speak to what it was like. They didn't use needles there, they used guns. Guns that shot liquid into your arm like tiny shards of glass. It was quick and felt like a fire shooting through my arm. I passed out after the first one. Not right away, though. I was standing in line for the second and passed out right in front of a room full of people. I held onto the person ahead of me and started laughing like I was just given a shot of morphine and fell straight to the ground. Thankfully, I wasn't the only one.

A week passed before I climbed aboard the bus that would take us to our new home for the remainder of my stay at Fort Jackson. The place where I would finally begin the 8 week countdown.

Basic from that point on was just that. You're there to learn the basic skills and mentality that you need to survive as best you can if sent to war.

"What makes the green grass grow?"

"Blood, blood makes the green grass grow Drill Sergeant!!!!"

We shouted that response as we did flutter kicks at 3 am. Just for fun.

They teach you about propriety. How to salute, how to stand when in the company of other soldiers with higher rank than you. It is all very political and can be quite degrading. But there was a lot of honor as well. A sense of respect was commanded from higher ranking, at least there anyway.

Some of the soldiers were picked on for being slow or not being able to shoot a gun properly. I was never one of those but I was one of the soldiers who would quietly take pity on the guy in front of everyone doing push up after push up while mail was being passed out. I hated seeing the underdog get singled out.

The food was horrible but we ate it and fast. There was never enough time for chow and they would hold food over our heads as if it were a reward. The DS's would scan the chow hall looking for someone with their hair all jacked up or perhaps someone brave enough to take dessert with their meal just hoping to humiliate them. I never loved cake so much in my life. I could have cared less if I ate sweets before, but the minute someone told me I couldn't have it I craved it like an addict craves his fix. What I would've done for a piece of shitty chocolate cake.

Learning about my M16 was great and I was good with my rifle. Even with a bum eye. I had to use my right eye to find the target then take aim because my left is basically useless. It didn't matter though, I was quick. My DS stood behind and watched one day as the rain poured down upon me. I was flat on my belly, my rifle propped and ready, nailing target after target.

"Now that's the way it's done." he said.

I'd never felt so proud in my life. My self confidence skyrocketed that day; I'll never forget that feeling.

They tell you that DS's are there to break you down to nothing and then build you back up. Their job was half finished with me because I had already been broken. But when I left basic I had a sense of pride within myself that felt better than any high I had ever experienced. I truly felt I was capable of anything.

I'll never forget those 8 weeks. As they came to a close I wished that it would never end. I didn't want this feeling to pass and I certainly didn't want to leave my new found family. But eventually we all left. And gradually, over time, so did the confidence.

A piece of that pride still resides in me, but once your track is laid, you are who you are and it's going to take a lot more than 8 weeks to change that. It sure was great, though, for that small amount of time, to feel invincible.

I don't mean to brag

but my baby is WALKING!! She took her first steps a couple weeks ago at 8 months...but is perfecting at 9 months. This week she has progressed from 2-3 steps to the lenght of the living room.

Next month I expect she'll be repelling down the side of her crib.

111

Because I'm not particularly good at regurgitating what is happening in my crazy world lately, I thought I would post my 100 things. Only I'm doing 111 because that's the way I roll.

111. I say wicked.
110. Usually followed by good.
109. I married a really handsome geek.
108. I like the dark edges of the saltine the best.
107. I like burned popcorn, too.
106. Sometimes I don't take a shower for 2 days.
105. I was in the Army.
104. I gained 25 lbs in basic training.
103. I used to go to church 3 times a week.
102. My feet are gigantic.
101. I'm only 5'2".
100. I don't know if I have 99 more things.
99. I have two daughters, both born by c-section.
98. I felt like a huge failure the first time.
97. The second time I felt lucky.
96. I am not always the best mother in the world.
95. I hate waking up in the morning.
94. I love Johnny Cash.
93. I was born on Johnny Cash's birthday.
92. I do not always walk the line.
91. I'm scared of ruining everything.
90. My mom survived cancer.
89. I have lived longer than my father did.
88. I have a problem believing people like me.
87. I'm paranoid.
86. I cut myself nearly 100 times when I was a teenager.
85. I never did that again.
84. I drank too much when I was in the Army.
83. I regret the time and money I wasted on that.
82. My nickname is Ropie! WTF!
81. At least I married a handsome geek.
80. Okay, that doesn't count again. I'm grasping now, aren't I?
79. I am still friends with some of the people I met on my first day of school.
78. I learned Russian. Zdrasvootye
77. I wish I could remember it better.
76. I like sex and candy.
75. I know all the words to the theme from The Dukes of Hazzard.
74. I have skinny dipped.
73. I've moved 10 times in 10 years.
72. I'm a handful sometimes.
71. I used to be a handful all the time.
70. I am not brave enough to jump out of airplanes.
69. I inhaled.
68. If what they taught me in church is true I'm going to the fiery pits of hell and burning for eternity.
67. I am smarter than our president.
66. I support the troops coming home.
65. I believe in love at first sight.
64. I would rather cuddle most days.
63. My grandmother's name was Bea Good.
62. I still think that is funnier than hell.
61. I take care of other people's children by day.
60. I am a porn queen by night.
59. I mean drama queen.
58. I was a teenage pregnancy.
57. So were my 3 brothers and sisters.
56. I was petrified of demons as a child.
55. I slept with my mother until I was 14.
54. I was a band geek.
53. I don't work as hard as I could.
52. Sometimes I am sad for no reason.
51. I say shit, fuck and damn.
50. I'm over half done this ridiculous task.
49. I started this last night.
48. I like driving fast.
47. I love Harry Potter.
46. I've read all 7 books in the series.
45. I hate sushi.
44. I love to cook.
43. I look forward to traveling when my kids are bigger and money isn't as much an issue.
42. I sing in the car and assume no one is out there laughing their butts off at me.
41. I have a reoccurring dream about buying a big old house that is full of secret rooms and keeps growing and growing.
40. I love when I have that dream.
39. I wear white after labor day.
38. Sometimes I catch my oldest daughter praying. I've never taught her about prayer.
37. I talk waaaaaaaaay too much and sometimes interrupt people unintentionally because I can't stop talking.
36. I was Princess Esmarelda in the 4th grade play and slipped on the remains of a pie I tossed in the face of one of my "court" during a performance. I was mortified.
35. I got boobs first, or so I'm told.
34. In my youth I tried to grow up too fast and now in my 30's I'm trying to stop time.
33. I would get a boob job.
32. I was my maid of honor's maid of honor.
31. Thinking of this many things is tough.
30. I raised money for the French Club my freshman year and gave the money to my best friend for her trip to France.
29. I would have loved to go but there was no way in corn dog hell that I could have.
28. I didn't even ask.
27. I smoked cigs and made out with boys in the woods at bible camp.
26. I picked potatoes and worked on a harvester.
25. Picking potatoes was the hardest work I've done for the smallest amount of money sans mothering my babies and taking care of my husband.
24. I love the smell of a crisp fall breeze.
23. I could talk to my husband for hours and hours and hours.
22. I am approaching 10 years of wedded blisssssters.
21. I am leaving that because I am really corny and find it funny.
20. I love mocha chip ice cream.
19. I wish I could smell gas without killing brain cells.
18. When I was pregnant I had to stay away from gas because I wanted to drink it.
17. I love rock n' roll.
16. I was cross eyed as a small child and had strubismus surgery when I was 3.
15. I think the trailer park boys are funnier than hell.
14. Nethermind about 14.
13. When I go home I immediately start talking like a county hick.
12. Lobster is delicious. But only if it comes from MAINE!!!!!
11. I love building fires.
10. I worked at Sun Glass Hut!!!
9. I love to sing.
8. I am my own worst critic.
7. I wish that I was smarter, prettier and richer.
6. I will be really happy when self acceptance truly takes over my life.
5. I think it comes in your 40's if you work hard.
4. I admire the wisdom of old people.
3. Bea Good would have been 100 years old on her last birthday.
2. I want to RV across America.
1. I am in awe of the universe and all it's complexities...more than my tiny mind could ever even grasp I imagine.

So there's 111 things. I hope it was entertaining.

I am trying!

I want to post. No really, I do...but the words are escaping me. My visit home was perfect. I wouldn't change anything except for that leaving part. It was hard this time 'round. Fo' sho'.

More later. Like funny stories about my scary watch dog defying death by hiding under the covers when her fate was tested. And subtle references to bears and the likes of which I do not wish to meet in the dark late at night, much less sober.

So if you're wondering where I've been all these days there's your answer. Part of it I was having a blast with family and friends and seeing places I haven't been for a long time, especially in the summer months. And part of it I was/am wallowing wishing I could return and get a few more days of old fashioned county fun.

Summer Vacation

So far life has been rather exciting here at the crazy house. Summer vacation is underway and the kids all have permanent flavor ice brain freeze. I just have the plain old losing my mind brain freeze. Life is good.

Wildlife abounds everywhere we turn. Butterflies are fluttering, birds are chirping, slugs are slimming and snakes are slithering. Even baby turtles are making appearances on nature walks. Oh, and spiders are laying their egg sacs in the kid's goggles....


and cool frogs are appearing out of nowhere...


and did I mention that adorable babies are having tea on my kitchen counter??


She's also doing other cutsie things like crawling and pulling herself up. We had to lower her crib mattress the other night and just in time because she's now standing up in her crib. And she's oh so proud of herself. We always cheer her on and give her loud applause when she does something cool. The dimpalicious smile she flashes in return is only the most adorable thing you ever did see.

I must admit, I am very lucky that I'm surrounded by little people. Adorable happens a lot here with the babe, 2 year old girl, 3 year old boy, and even the 7 year old girls manage to kill me with cuteness once in a while. The toddler boy is always making deals and having heart attacks..."if I eat this all, I'm gonna watcha movie!", the toddler girl is melting my heart every day with her baby blues staring up at me. That and the fact that her bathing suit sounds a lot like "baby soup". The older girls are just funny, reminding me daily that even though they seem much bigger than the others, they are still very little. Because they still eat hamgurbers and tell me how that baby's heart sure is beeping fast. Even if they're saying all these things while applying cherry berry lip gloss and flipping their hair over their shoulder.

I'll tell you, I may be losing my mind but it's much more appealing that sitting at a desk in some stuffy office somewhere pounding out mundane chores on a keyboard. I may get sick of wiping fingerprints and asses, but at least I'm loved. Loved in the simplest of ways and without expectations other than a safe place to play and food to eat. Sure, it's a thankless job, but the thank you's come in other forms. Like giant hugs and a quick "wuv you" when they're heading home for the night and tiny whispers begging to "please just let me stay wiff you." That you absolutely will not get from any office.