Crossing Over

Shit. Sorry- I know I've dropped the ball again on this blog thing...but oh well. Whaddaydo?

Anyway, I just read an article about what happens in those final moments before you die and it sparked my train of thought.

Deep topic- I know. But I daydream about these types of scenarios all the time.

Hmm...maybe daydream isn't' really the appropriate word but you get what I'm trying to say.

I do think about what happens to us in those final moments when we realize this world is ending and we are entering a new one.

I really, truly despise organized religions that spell it all out for us. I believe that if we can be still long enough and exercise a little deep seeded meditation to our own higher power, we can begin to understand what is to come in our own future .....or at least get a little insight.

I don't think there is a person out there that believes when we die

WE. JUST. DIE.

The lights go out, curtain goes down . AND SCENE

Well. Except my dad...he's always saying "That's it. That's the end". But I don't believe in his deepest of introspective moments he really believes that.

There is obviously something more out there. My friend Angie and I were talking once and she said "Albert Einstein said, 'energy cannot cease to exist'".

There's my answer.

We are all (among other things) moving, doing, thinking little balls of energy. How does that come to stop? Even when our physical bodies have? So if it doesn't stop- what happens to it?

Many believe we continue to exist in a different field of vision or existence. I tend to think there's something to that. How do you explain sensing a presence or having a profound dream about a friend or family member that has passed away. Or even that feeling you. just. get. sometimes....you know what I'm talking about.

The article I read discusses that most people in their final moments are carrying on a conversation with a deceased family member or friend. They often reach their hand in the air as if to be pulled up by something or someone assisting them in their transition. Someone that has come to lead them down the path to cross over into the next world.

To me, that seems like such a beautiful and peaceful way to go. No religion cluttering it up with righteousness.

Just me, my loved ones and my next journey.

Namaste

What's in your wallet?

I like to talk about money.

YES, I know it's one of those things "THEY" tell you NOT to talk about.

-Money
-Politics
-Religion

My God! I love all three of those topics...if there was a way I could have one conversation involving all three....JACKPOT!

I've never understood why Money is Taboo.

I make it. I spend it. I need it. And I'm pretty much willing to tell any listening audience how much of each of those I do. I don't think they are going to see me any different. Maybe they do, but why? We are all guilty of it right?


And what I've found in all of my open conversations with friends who also enjoy talking about money is that we are all "for the most part"- in the same boat. We all make and spend around the same amount of money.


That could be for a number of reasons; main one being that we are all approximately in the same place in our careers, homes and ages of our children. I guess if I were to have a comparable conversation with a 50 year old man with no children and a Ph. D. ...hmmm..maybe we wouldn't have as many financial similarities. But again, I wouldn't see him much different other than I would know how much his house cost and how much he spent on his car and I would also realize the reason he had so much more money than me was because of his lifestyle, education, age and status.

A few months ago, I was having an intimate conversation with an acquaintance and she let it slip that she & her husband were starting to get stressed about money. I asked why and she vaguely gave short answers. I kept pressing and could tell it made her uncomfortable. So I stopped and felt bad about myself the rest of the day. I thought, "Why don't you just shut up Randi?"...but it's me, so we all know the answer to that! :) But I thought, why can't she tell me? Maybe I can help or maybe it might be nice to just purge all of your emotions. I honestly am not going to judge you for your financial issues...Lord knows we all have them! But, on the other hand, I guess some things are best kept private between a husband and a wife and I respect that. But don't throw your fishing line out if you don't want to catch any!

Nobody is perfect with their money or budget and I will never be the golden example of saving! I just find it nice to have a common bond with my peers and I guess if that comes through a financial bond of debt or expensive dance lessons then so be it!

My momma always said, "Money; you can't take it with you when you die!"

KinderCRAP

I can't believe it's been almost 2 months since I posted last. I guess it was a pretty busy 2nd half of summer. We drove to Washington (not as bad as you think- about 9 hrs. 45 mins...okay so 10 hr drive) to visit family and hit both Cort's family reunion and mine. Oddly enough, the reunions were 1 weekend apart, so I ended up taking about 12 days off from work!
After we came home, it felt like a whirlwind holy-crap-quinn-starts-kindergarten-soon-are-we-ready? I guess because the day after we returned was Quinn's registration and then from there I can't remember much...and here we are Sept. 4th...labor day weekend.

This whole Kindergarten experience has been quite a ride for me. I'm not quite sure where I fit into the public school scheme of things...and boy oh boy do I like to fit in.
Like when can I start to become real 'friendsy' with her teacher so I can keep an eye on all classroom stuff? When can I volunteer everyday? When's the next PTA meeting?

I want to know everything about everything and I feel like right now they are trying to keep all of us over-protective and/or overwhelming parents at arm's length. If I could pull a chair up to quinn's name-tagged desk and hang out the entire 3 hours, I would be there...fixing her backward 9s and Js. I'd let her know not to talk to that girl with the perfectly coiffed hair because I've already sized up her mom and she thinks she is somethin she's definitely not. And I'd tell her that I think she is amazing and I love all of the artwork she brings home and it would be great if she could just stay this age for like 10 more years.

She was in pre-school just 3 1/2 months ago. Where there were 70 kids in the entire school and everyone knew her name. And they would let her get up toward the end of class and perform a Hannah Montana song and dance and the director of the school would come eat snack with her and tell her how wonderful she is. I had her preschool teacher's cell number. We met at Wheeler Farm and played. Her preschool had a thumbprint access code system in order to enter the building. There were surveillance cameras everywhere. Parents were not allowed to volunteer because they didn't want the liability.
Cut to now: Everyday at 12:35p, I drop her outside at the playground with the playground attendant. Who I've never met, never seen before in my life and I'm supposed to drop my little 5 year old off at this new school with this complete stranger and get in my car and drive away. Everyday, I'm left wondering- will she be there when I return?
Wednesday she came home with a worksheet she had done. There was some cutting and pasting involved and I noticed an entire row of dried glue circles with nothing attached. I pointed and asked, "What was here?" and she said "Oh I did it silly and had to redo it". I could feel my face heat up imagining she was told she did it wrong and had to redo her little assignment....at 5 years old....in Kindergarten. I wanted to cry. Quinn didn't care so I didn't say a word but I wanted so badly to send her flying right back to preschool where every assignment is a wonderful expression of who you are! Gold Stars and A + for everyone!
I know I can't keep her sheltered forever. The real world will come knocking sooner or later... but if I could find a way to board up the door, I just may start hammering in nails :)

(art by Quinn: 1st Kindergarten assignment "I"- create a collage of all the things I can do by myself)

Who's the Boss?

I don't know what it is about 5 year old girls, but somewhere in the last few months Quinn has turned into a little person. A short, mouthy mini adult. Granted, she has a little sister and it's instinct to boss your little sister around.
But boy oh boy! Does she give us a run for our money.
The shit I hear come out of her mouth is priceless...sometimes so priceless I want to slap it back in.
Last weekend my parents were in town, we were all just about to sit down to a nice Barbecue dinner when this strawberry blonde 3 foot nuthin Sassy Mcsasserton starts dictating how we are going to have a pleasurable dinner. "Now listen Everybody...we are All going to use our Manners!" She instructs. Then proceeds to critique all of us on the way we are eating our food, speaking to one another and passing the dishes. At one point my mother asked Cort to "please pass the butter" and Quinn jumps in "very good Nana, you're learning".
Whaddaydo? I'm laughing as I type this and did at the time but I also quietly told her to simmer down a little. I try to figure out where she learns it. I guess from us. I know I can be a little bossy but I'm the damn mom! How else am I supposed to be?

Tonight in the car she told us all we were going to play a game called "The things I see" (honestly, she's had me play this game with her before which is a surprise because it actually makes no sense at all and I can't really comprehend how you determine a winner!)
ANYWAY, back to this game "The things I see".
You have to look out the window and then shout the thing you see IE: TREE!
But if you see 3 trees you have to say "TREE , TREE , TREE". Therefore if you see a shitload of trees...this game just turns into a shouting match. And for some reason Cort has been really indulging this bossy Q lately so tonight he starts shouting over everyone as loud AND FAST as he possibly could "CAR CAR CAR, TREE, TREE, FENCE FENCE, FENCE SIDEWALK SIDEWALK"....I was laughing so hard my stomach hurt. She didn't think the game was that much fun after that!
So then it was a NEW Game...The other game she insists on playing in the car is EYE SPY. Again, Cort entertained her games tonight and began playing it with her when we started to notice a pattern. If we were having trouble figuring out the item she was describing Cort would say "is it that thing over there?"
"YES Daddy you got it!"....no pointing at anything, no waving in any general direction...just that thing over there.
Hmm....that led us to our easy out for the rest of the game!
"is it that thing over there?"

YES YOU WIN!

Let's get personal

After reading up on a slew of celeb weddings this weekend & last: Jenna Fisher & her office writer boyfriend, John Krasinski & Emily Blunt, Carrie Underwood and her sporty dude(Ican'trememberhisnameIthinkit'ssomethingFisher) it always makes me reflect on what I didn't have.

Obviously, some of you have already heard this story or lived through it with me. And some of you don't know because I don't talk about it a lot. Because I don't want to.

I have to say my wedding day was not fun for me. Not at all.

So a quick recap of everything leading up to it.

Cort & I dated off & on for 3 years. He was usually the one to break up with me because he just couldn't commit to someone who wasn't Mormon. For those of you not familiar with the rituals in the Mormon religion...there's a lot of them. And especially if you're going to get married. Both of you have to be of the faith to partake in all of the rigmarole.

So this went on...for 3 years.

Until. I got pregnant.

Whoops!

Then shit changed. All of the sudden he wanted to get married. And all of the sudden. I was paralyzed. I didn't know what to do. I knew I loved him. I knew he would be a great partner. But I had spent 3 years hanging in the balance...and THIS is what changed it?

And then there came the "we're pregnant/breaking of the news to the families".

I come from a very liberal family that- yes- they were disappointed it had happened this way but it was no reason for us to get married and life would go on.

Cort comes from a very religious, conservative family. They wanted us to get married....and immediately. Every time we went to a family gathering that's the first thing I heard, "When are you getting married, when are you getting married."

It got to be too much. I had them on one side saying "YOU HAVE TO GET MARRIED" and my parents on the other side saying "YOU DON'T HAVE TO GET MARRIED".

And I was dealing with my first pregnancy all to boot.

Emotional combination.

I was torn. And I had too many people in my ear. Don't get me wrong- I was a 27 year old adult. I DO make my own decisions. But at that point I just didn't know what I wanted.

So I sat on it. And sat and sat. I got so tired of everyone barking at me that I finally said to Cort "fine, I'll get a judge and we'll get married."

So that's exactly what I did.

We went down to the courthouse.

They gave us a list of judges.

I picked one at random and called her. We made an appointment for the following week, invited our parents down and my bro & sis-in-law.

And we got married.

In the judge's condo.

6 months pregnant.

It was the most unromantic thing I have done in my entire life.

I regret it.

I wish I would have just told everyone to kiss my ass and plan my own romantic whatever-the-hell i wanted type wedding.

I hold a lot of regret.

I feel like I shorted myself and Cort.

This wasn't the wedding I had dreamed of since I was little. This was a get-everyone-off-my-back-sign-the-goddamn-paperwork-and-be-done-with-it-wedding.

It wasn't fun, it wasn't memorable.

It.just.was.

I guess my lesson is that if my children end up in this situation I would tell them to do whatever they want. Plan the biggest fucking wedding of your dreams. And get married 9 months pregnant. Who gives a shit? You will be happy you did it!

You only regret the things you don't do. Unfortunately for me, that was the wedding I never had.

I want to end this on a positive note which is: Cort & I have been married for over 5 years. We have 2 great little girls and a wonderful life together. He is a spectacular father and our parents are wonderful grandparents. Our life couldn't be better, I just wish we could have started it together a little differently! That's all!

Crazy Mommy

I made Quinn stay up a little past bedtime to go over her counting skills tonight. She's been doing this 12, 13, 16, 17 thing and it's driving me nuts.
I know. If I start to beat her with wire hangers, please someone, call CPS...but then again, maybe that's a good learning tactic?

Oh I know! Just shut up already! I can't help it. She starts Kindergarten in the Fall and I don't know what the expectations are. The Elementary school she'll be attending is not the one we are zoned for. I applied for a permit IN JANUARY to specifically get her into this school, we were approved and damn it we've GOT to make a good impression. When I was there last at the school signing off on some paperwork they said "And she'll meet her teacher August 10th at her evaluation".
EVALUATION?????
What the hell does that mean? Should we be brushing up on Latin? I'm so nervous.

So, as you can plainly see...we canNOT have any of this 12, 13, 16, 17 bullshit at our evaluation!
They might just send her straight back to preschool. "Our apologies Mrs. PahPool errr Johnson err Pool -Johnson but your daughter just doesn't meet the requirements to attend our fancy Kindergarten. Perhaps when she's learned the correct FUCKING WAY TO COUNT she can come back. Until then, there's a mentally challenged school down the road we can put in a good word for you there?"
UGHHHH I'm going to have nightmares about this until August 11th.

I've kept my cool in front of Q...except tonight she did say "Can we stop playing this game?" UHH NO! Not unless you want to be working the Arby's drive thru the rest of your life. And even there I'm pretty sure you have to know that 14 comes after 13.

Oh Mel! You're one racist kitty kat!

He's like the energizer bunny..he just keeps going and going...an australian drunk energizer bunny...with tourettes

The Boobie Trap

What happened to my lovely lady lumps? Where'd they go Fergalicious? A sistah wants to know? Still got all that junk inside my trunk...rarely is it get- get -getting anyone drunk...but um..what was I saying?

Oh yeah.

I want a boob job.

Here's the thing...or thang as the Black eyed peas might wax....
I used to have really cute boobs. I was cool with them. They were never too big or in the way and they weren't tiny. They were just a nice perky B/C cup depending on my weight fluctuation that day/month/year.
Like I said, we. were. cool. It was probably one of the only body parts through my puberty, high school, college years I was okay with.

When I got pregnant with Quinn, I consciously walked myself through it "okay, I can do this...they'll be fine. I'll have some big boobs for awhile and then they'll go back to normal." In fact, I remember at my very first appointment asking my OB/GYN, "soooo what do you think will happen to my boobs". Ya know, a common question a 65 year old Mormon OB in the heart of Salt Lake City gets asked on a daily basis...I'm sure. (Screw the hum drum "can i hear my baby's heart beat..is everything okay bullshit." WHAT ABOUT MY TATAS??)

Anyway, he was like, "uhh what do you mean?".
ME: "you know, after I have the baby, what will happen...will they stay big, will they go back...what am I REALLY in for here?"

DR.: "well, you're planning on breast feeding so they will stay big for awhile but at your size, we usually see them just return to the same size they were previously".

SWEET. I was cool with that.

But that's not what happened.

ANYONE that has ever nursed a child knows what happened...and you've already "oh gurl"d this story a couple of times.

During the pregnancy, my boobs got big. The kid came out, my boobs got bigger. And then the nursing began.

My boobs became something I had never seen before. King Kong Boobs. They were large and IN CHARGE...of some serious milk supply....

I felt like I was carrying around two other appendages. I would try to boost them up in 2 sports bras and my chin would be resting on them. I had never see so much cleavage in my life. My husband was like "OH YEAHHH!" Until he was squirted in the face...then not so much. They became foreign objects I was attempting to handle every 2-3 hours.

Don't get me wrong, I really loved nursing my kids. And would I do it again in a heartbeat...yes...if I knew a boob job was waiting for me at the end of the milk train.

ANYWAY, after I stopped nursing Quinn and my nipples began to resemble something other than over sized pencil erasers; I could see a slight difference in them. Less perkiness, less firmness, less of the old me.

But I got pregnant again and I nursed again.

After I finished nursing Sloane I remember looking in the mirror, waiting and waiting for that bounce back with the slight change. Yeah...still waiting. In fact, what the hell happened? These sad sacks of mammary glands don't resemble anything other than deflated balloons. Sad, old, balloons, that have given up on life. I think they're depressed. Balloons that, each day scoop themselves into a bra too big for them but they're too lazy to go out and buy a new one. Balloons that in the tanning bed must stretch up so VERY VERY High or else they will have a white line under them. Balloons that have lost most of their helium...and will to live.

So, yes I want a boob job. But I'm not looking for the 20 something porn, buoyant boobies that stick straight out when you take off your bra. I'm just looking to get back a little closer to what they used to look like. That's all. Nuthin more.

And if I can find someone to finance this dream, that would be a perk!

Pissing Match

Christ Almighty.

This kid is going to give me an early death....

What I don't understand is how I can birth two children created out of the same DNA and they can be completely different. COMPLETELY.

The proof was there from the moment she came into this world. My mother has said, "I've never heard a baby crying while still crowning"....and it's true. Embarrassingly true. I've never wanted to crawl up into that delivery bed and hide in my own birthing goo so badly..but damn that child was loud and irritating. I kept apologizing to all of the nurses and she was like -2 minutes old.



And she never stopped.

They refused to keep her in the nursery because they said she was so fussy she was waking up all of the other newborns. I cried and cried. And never slept and cried some more. I begged Cort to let me surrender her at the hospital. Somehow, I'm not sure that would have gone over very smooth. Here's this middle class 31 year old, rolling up with her husband and 3 year old trying to hand over her newborn because she just can't take it anymore. Here, take the bassinet, Avent bottles...even my breast pump...you can have it all...JUST LET ME GO TO A HAPPY, QUIET PLACE!!

I'll never forget the constant questions from friends, family, gawking strangers "what's wrong with her, what does she want, why does she keep crying?" "Maybe she's collicky, maybe she's got reflux, maybe you should analyze her diet".

OH GOD! You're a fucking genius! Why hadn't I thought of all of those things for the 87 Million days, hours, minutes I've had her freaking the fuck out in front of my face...GOD! I'm such an idiot!

Instead though I was polite and would respond with something like, "i think she needs me to make her a stiff drink and tell her how pretty she is".

But I'll tell ya, that first year was something out of one of those Saw movies. I considered cutting off my own leg to escape.

ANYWAY, I digress. We are now 2 1/2 years old, pretty much out of the crying every 5 seconds (a blog for a different time!) and in full potty training mode.....or so I thought.

Oh funny mommy...always assuming shit will be on your schedule and you will be able to exercise parental authority. YOU'RE HILARIOUS!

I'll be honest. I don't read a lot of those "how to" parenting books. Because I think they're full of shit. But I do know that you're not really supposed to PUSH the whole potty training thing...kind of make it their idea or whatever. Because you can SCREW THEM UP FOR LIFE!

So we started very soft and slow. I would comment on how great the Elmo panties looked at the store and OH WOW! Potty chairs! How cool! She'd come in and watch me go and flush for me. Within a few weeks she started to get the message. So she tried it a couple times and it was great- we did potty dances and made a huge deal out of it and things were progressing nicely.

Now let's be clear...I am only talking about Peepee. Poopoo, I have learned takes much longer to get out of the actual diaper and into the potty chair itself. So WHATEVER! Toy Story pull ups will continue to be a part of the pooping ritual. I gotta say, I think it's a little confusing when Sloane will say to me in a full sentence, "mommy, can you get me a diaper I need to poop". "uh sure thing fully capable child". BUT I'M NOT PUSHING IT DAMMNIT! Don't want to give anyone pooping issues! I don't know what those would be...but I've been warned! Don't do it! Maybe she'd be in her college dorm begging her roomate for a pull up so she could take a dump in the back corner of the room? I don't know? Better than a drug problem right? hmmm...maybe not so bad.

Anyway, so things were sailing smoothly....until summer hit. Damn you summer and you're warm sunshine and kiddie pools and bathing suits and fun outside time! It started as innocent as this: our adorable sitter was playing outside with the girls and accidentally locked the front door. They were locked out of the house for probably 15 minutes before she was able to connect with Cort on text message and figure out where the hide a key was etc. So in that period of time I guess Quinn had to pee. So our sitter just told her to pee in the bushes.

That was it. That's all it took. Sloane had found her calling in life.

What a concept. Peeing somewhere other than the toilet. This was AWESOME!

Every morning we would wake up and Sloane would ask "Can I peepee outside?".
No.
We would pull into the driveway from being out "Can I peepee in the grass?".
No

I thought the peeing in the outdoors was it.
Until I was sitting in this exact same spot just about a week ago and in walks naked Sloane and straddles the dog "What are you doing?" I ask.

"I'm going to peepee on Roscoe".

We invited some friends over the other day and all 4 kids are in the kiddie pool. We are lounging in chairs just chatting away and I look over in the distance to a Sloane still in her swim suit, squatting by the side of the pool peeing on the grass. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

"I peepee outside".

In the last week she has peed somewhere in the house once a day and not told a soul. I walked into her bedroom and KNEW I smelled pee. It took me a few minutes to hunt it down and there behind the toy box was a puddle....accompanied by floating, soggy Nemo stickers...poor Nemo.

The victim most days has been our downstairs TV room. Which is very, very unfortunate because it's CARPET! EFFF!

We've dumped gallons of that Pet & Kid spray on it but it doesn't matter, that entire room needs to be recarpeted at this point.

It's one of those things that now when I walk into the house I'm paranoid that all I smell is pee.

And honestly, I'm not sure exactly what type of discipline to take on this whole journey. My aunt suggested the angle "well I guess you're a baby and you'll need to keep wearing baby diapers all the time, no big girl panties for you". Which is a good one and I'm kind of doing that but Sloaney enjoys wearing diapers and those things are expensive! So right now, we've just kept on her every 20 minutes "do you need to go, do you need to go?". It's the times where no one knows exactly where she is that she takes the opportunity to do it.

In conclusion: I just never saw this coming. Quinn was such a play by the rules kid. She would have NEVER DREAMED of peeing on the floor, let alone her dog! It's comical to watch this complete polar opposite behave...and I guess that's a good thing, I'm not trying to surrender her still.

Going Postal

So lately every afternoon without fail, there is a loud banging on my door by a lovely Post person. As I open the door, I'm anticipating the dialogue, mood, demeanor. Standing in front of me...it's always somewhat the same: male/female in all the postal gear, one ipod ear phone out, holding my mail, kind of out of breath, kinda sweaty "WE WILL NOT DELIVER YOUR MAIL WHEN THE DOG IS OUTSIDE.... SO HERE!". the mail is shoved into my abdomen.
I nod, with a smile and a sarcastic tone say "okay, thank you".
Secretly, I'm pissed.

Let me explain

My Dog is outside. My Bassett Hound/Beagle mix dog is lounging in the front yard. He's so threatening...with his drool and laziness and droopy eyes. Yes he will cut you, rip your head off...he's force to be reckoned with. Seriously?
Secondly, we never have the same postman/woman/person. It's like we are the red headed step child of mail routes...no one wants to deliver in our ghetto Millcreek neighborhood. It's a different person everyday. In fact, when we first moved into this neighborhood 6 years ago we had an awesome post dude...he was a dude. Long hair, tan (kind of my type ;)). He would bring Roscoe treats, pet him and deliver our mail everyday and fortunately avoided any altercation with my easily irritable dog! But these days, I don't know what it is, I've never seen the same person twice deliver our mail. So everyday they knock on the door and think they're telling me something new. I want to be like, "yeah dipshit, the person that delivered the mail yesterday explained your hang up and the person that delivered it the day before that and the day before that...but I'm afraid I'll get myself so worked up I'll papercut their face with my overdue bills.
Thirdly, because of our random bag of players; the mail never gets delivered at the same time everyday. So even if I wanted to make sure my dog was in the house I wouldn't know what time to bring him in. It's anywhere from 1p-6p daily...yeah...so that's cool.
Basically, I don't want to call up the post office and bitch at them and I don't want to be rude to the next person as it may be they're first day of work. I'm not quite sure how to remedy the situation other than right now it's so hot out Roscoe rarely wants to be out there so he just goes out, does his business (maybe kills one human) and then comes back in to relax in air conditioning.
The bigger question here is, why are people still sending stuff regular snail mail?

Baby Hungry or just craving a snickers?

I can't decide. I go back and forth on a minute by minute basis.

The thought of another baby...well, conjurs up more thoughts...

Would I love to have another child to enjoy in my life, nurse, raise, talk to, be entertained by, hold, hug, kiss?

Yes!

Would I love to get pregnant, puke my guts up, get more stretch marks, endure heartburn, give birth, worry about complications, deal with a non-sleeping new born, worry about newborn issues, stress about paying for a 3rd child, stress about paying for my first 2, stress about giving enough attention to each one?

Hmm. Look at that; more cons then pros...that's what I thought.

The romanticism of having another child is what my daydreams are made of. But I can still remember the stark reality of bringing Sloane home and thinking "holy shit, we are starting from square 1 again...with an additional child". And then layer on the fact she's superhuman and didn't require sleep but instead 24/7 one-on-one attention. She's what Post Pardom medication brochures target.

A few months ago Quinn asked Cort for a baby brother. Cort calls me and says "well what do you think?". I responded "I think you try to give your kids everything they want so when they ask you for a sibling, you're ACTUALLY considering it? I think you're nuts, tell Quinn we'll think about it!"

As it stands right now, we are painfully aware of our finances. I'm paying for Dance classes, tumbling and preschool...and that's it. If I bring a 3rd kid into the mix then what? What goes away? The 2nd child took away my daily starbucks fix. What will the 3rd one remove? ...besides more elasticity from my womb and vagina.

Worst Neighbor Ever!

I do highly covet that title.
Yes. Me.
I, without a doubt am one of the worst neighbors ever. As I sit here on my laptop watching from a hidden corner in the house so no one can see me as my neighbor's 65 year old mother weeds my garden out of the kindness of her heart. Thinking she's going to surprise me.
And frankly I am surprised. But also super guilty.
If I was a decent human being I would have rushed out there 15 minutes ago and said something like "Oh! No No! you don't need to do that! REALLY! Thank you so much but I will get to it! Oh Gosh! You're so sweet!".
Hmph. How perplexing. I mean I would love to go out there and be all nice and whatever, but my ass is super duper comfy right here holding a warm laptop.
mmmmm....in fact, think I'll take a nap. and then I'll be super surprised when I wake up and have the whole thing weeded!
WE BOTH WIN!

Hot Mess

A few weeks ago we went to a BBQ at some new friends' house. We were just beginning the "getting to know you" preliminary chit chat when in walks Sloaney from their back yard, covered in mud, shoeless and peed pants...whining.

Without missing a beat I say "oh she's my hot mess" almost like an afterthought, kind of brushing it off.

S.I.L.E.N.C.E.

Nobody says a word...I'm not sure for lack of an appropriate response or with what I said.

In fact, in hind sight I'm not sure they were familiar with the phrase "hot mess".

Doesn't anyone watch Chelsea Lately? or Clean House?

Hot mess? Foolishness? Mayhem?

Has my crappy cable television watching hobby integrated itself into my parenting?

The answer my friends is YES.

But the answer is also that she is my hot mess. And I mean that in the most loving way. oh and the way where you want to sock her in the face when she won't GO TO BED HOLY SHIT CHILD IT'S 11PM GET TIRED! STOP TRYING TO INDUCE VOMITING!

Anyway, that whole BBQ scenario I have not been able to get over. I am embarrassed by my verbal diahrrea but I also feel defensive like "come on...lighten up!". Nobody has perfect parenting skills...oh but I did forget to mention. The husband? Is a child psychologist!

Yeah. So I'm sure the diagnosis report in his head of mother and child was a fucking novel.

From that outburst on; during the rest of the BBQ I tried to act like June Cleaver...which I'm was entertaining to watch because I have no natural tendencies that are even slightly Cleaver-ish.

I'm more of a Roseanne...with maybe a hint of Grace Under Fire.

Frustration Station

I don't think you can have it all.

I don't want to be a Debbie Downer but it's time for a reality check. For the last 5 years I have been juggling everything...let's just talk about the 2 significant things- work and kids. The older they get, the harder it gets. And the more balls I get in the air, yet still the same amount of hands to juggle them.

I want to be an involved mom and I also want to be able to bring home a paycheck and use my business brain from time to time. But it seems like trying to do both, at some point everyday I'm at my breaking point. Yes, everyday. I break down. Freak out. Lose my mind. At some point during the day, I call my husband, tell him I can't do this anymore, I'm gonna lose it. I yell at a child. I yell at myself. I yell at a coworker.

My cup runneth over. E.V.E.R.Y.D.A.Y.

There are things I want:

1. Alone time

2. More office time during the day

3. To make a perfect breakfast for my kids

4. To not lose it with my child when they throw a fit

5. To be able to drop everything when my daughter asks me to read her a book

and

There are things I need:

1. a paycheck

2. transportation for my children from lessons and school

3. a camp director for all 4 of our lives/house

How come I can't combine all of those and have it turn out just dandy everyday? Or at least MOST days? Why am I always on the verge of breaking down?

My mom told me years ago that once you become a mother/wife/etc you will feel like everyone wants a piece of you. It's true...everyday my phone rings or someone yells to get my attention and I think "now what? What fire do I have to put out at home or work or New Jersey?" Who's question do I have to answer now. Who's life needs a lesson? Who spilled chocolate milk on the couch and needs a 3 page proposal in 10 minutes?

I told my husband that I believe no one takes me seriously. I feel like something is always being compromised...work or home. The scale is never completely balanced and even. Yes, Yes I know everyone says "put family first"...ESPECIALLY IN UTAH. And I do believe that. But it is also true that if I do not successfully perform in my work, I will no longer have a paycheck coming in. I have great childcare for my children when I'm at work so I honestly rarely worry if they are being taken care of or having a good time when I'm away. I just try to make childcare and my absence a fairly rare occurence.

I apologize for this sounding like a poor me song and dance but I truly wish I could figure out a happy medium so I'm not breaking down everyday. Is this pressure of work and family all in my head? Is this the new image of the working mother?

Where's the middle ground?

Where's my sanity?

Where's the beef?