I Pinky Swear.....with fingers crossed behind my back.........

I apologize for not posting yesterday. It was a long day and if you knew why I didn't post you'd feel sorry for me and bring me not only breakfast in bed but you'd also bring us all dinner. Because bed is where I ended up.

Let's just say, before surgery, the Doctor has to make sure all things are good to go and do some major testing that left me in some serious amount of pain. Enough that all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and wait for "this too shall pass"......Enough pain that when I tried to blog I couldn't focus or concentrate so I didn't.

Today I am happy to announce that things are much much better.

This past weekend my parents came to visit. They came for Levi's baptism and stayed with us for a couple of days. After the baptism Dad and Mom wanted to change out of their Sunday clothes into more casual wear. We all did! So we all ran and changed. Everyone was sitting in the family room talking when Dad came in all frustrated still in his church clothes. He asked me if I knew of a good place to go and buy some jeans and then he looked at my mom and told her......she'd packed her jeans for him. Mom started to laugh and asked if Dad was sure. Dad said he'd held them up and they were most definitely moms! He needed some jeans.

I jumped up with new found energy and told Dad, "Let's go shopping!!!!" Dad, Mom, and I loaded up in Dad's truck and off we went to my Dad's most favorite place in the entire world........the mall. As we were walking up to the front doors Mom and I realized we'd lost Dad a few paces back. We looked back and he was standing on the sidewalk with a puzzled look on his face.



He started to chuckle and asked my mom, "Bette! Are you wearing my jeans?" Mom got all in a huff and told him of course not! She was NOT wearing his Levis. I looked at my Mom's butt and asked her if she owned a pair of Levis. No, she didn't!! I informed her barely able to control my laughter (okay, I didn't, I howled) that she was indeed wearing Dad's Levis.

Through tears of laughter Dad said that he didn't need to buy some new jeans after all!



On the way home, with a very grave voice Dad told me that I must swear by my own blood that I would never NEVER let the family know who really wears the pants.

Naturally........I can't believe he felt he had to make me promise!

I Don't Raise Em' Stupid

We had a busy weekend what with Levi's baptism and all which....might I add....was absolutely wonderful. So much love and support from so many friends and family. Those who could come we are so grateful to you and those who weren't able to....we know your hearts were there.

This morning after getting all of The Native's off to school I went back to bed to rest for an hour. I left Mr. J downstairs with his cream of wheat.



When I got up I found this in the sink......



And this as a replacement..........I'm so proud of him!

A Special Day(s) for a Special Kid

We're celebratin' round here. Levi turned eight so big things are happening.



Tonight he has his first Pinewood Derby and tomorrow he'll be baptized.

It really IS great to be eight!

Rebuttal

Remember this picture and this post?

I put myself out there man! I made a HUGE confession. I confessed that I walk around in my flannel jammies and slippers. Do you know how hard it is to put ones soul out there? Right out there on a big billboard for all to see.

Ya well.......that is the LAST time I'm going to admit anything here on this blog. I woke up this morning feeling pretty. darn. good. Until......I read THIS!!! (Click on blue words. It's a link!)

It's okay honey, don't listen to him. We're not crazy. He's the one that's crazy. Yeah! He's the one that's crazy! You okay? Yeah, I'm okay. You? Yup! Fine and dandy. Okay. I'm glad we had this talk. Me too! So, what do you have going today? Sssshhh, do you hear that? I think someone's listening!!

The Attack of the Sweater

I FINALLY finished Henny Penny's sweater. I had yarn left over so I made her a matching hat. It didn't need a hat because the sweater is a hoodie but a matching hat is cool right?



Henny Penny loves it. She thinks it is cool and wears it all of the time, well, that is......until Mr. M!!!

Mr. M told Henny Penny she looks like a tiger is attacking her. After I quit laughing I told Henny Penny not to worry. I'd knit Mr. M a zebra sweater and she could attack him!

There's A Void in the Pilgrim Hat!

I have a hat. It's a pilgrim's hat. It was given to me by my doctor. True story! Why on earth would a doctor give me a pilgrim's hat? I'll tell you why. Here's how it goes. You see, when you are getting ready for surgery there are certain procedures that take place to make sure there won't be any complications. Blood work has to be checked, your insides scraped, and void.

Void? Definition of void:

1. Containing no matter; empty.
2. Not occupied; unfilled.
3. Completely lacking; devoid: void of understanding.
4. Ineffective; useless

I know exactly what void is. I write a check, I make a mistake filling it out so in big letters I write across it: VOID The check is useless; it contains no matter/money. I get void!

At my last doctor's appointment I was given my pilgrims hat and a piece of paper. My pilgrims hat goes upside down in the turlit and danged if it isn't multi functional. You can use it as a liquid measuring cup! Them pilgrims were resourceful! On the paper it has categories that I am supposed to fill in for the next 48 hours. How many ounces of liquid I drank, what time, how many ounces I void, what time.

Hold on a second! How many ounces I void? I leaned over the counter at the nurses station and in a loud whisper I said, "How many ounces I void. Is that like,....... how many ounces I pee?"

Trying to keep straight faces the nurses nodded in the affirmative.

Maybe it's a good thing I can't have anymore Native's. The space between my ears seems to have a rather large void in it that gets larger and larger everyday. That would be void as in, not occupied; completely lacking; ineffective; useless. The adjective form of void by the way.... Not the verb form....... which would be.......

Hey! Did you know that a pilgrims hat also makes a great flying saucer? Or, you could put it in your garden and cut a little hole in the side and make a little toad house out of it. But then if you cut a hole in the side you wouldn't be able to measure liquids in it anymore and then that would make it void.

Dang I'm good.........

Nick Vujicic :: Attitude is Altitude :: No Arms, No Legs, No Worries

Powerful. Inspiring. I wanna be like him.



Nick Vujicic :: Attitude is Altitude :: No Arms, No Legs, No Worries

Tim's Got Nothing on The SM

Mr. T came home from school awhile back with a paper. A paper that said he needed to make a simple machine. This machine had to have three parts to it which in my opinion made it NOT simple right there. Mr. T informed us that he didn't do so hot on his last science test and since this project was a major part of his grade......it had to be good.

Enter The SM....... Remember the show, "Home Improvement" with Tim the Tool man? Yeah well, Tim the Tool man has nothing on The SM. You see, The SM is not only a sexy scout master.......he's also an engineer. This assignment!! Oh the possibilities!! Out comes the compass and calculator and....are you ready? The graphing paper! Oooo la LA! The only left was the pocket protector!

The SM put Mr. T to work and told him to come up with an idea, a plan of what he wanted and he'd help him.



The two master minds hard at work....thinking.....thinking.....discussing....

Can I just say something here? I mean, it's just me and all, but logically one would think.....if one wanted to get a good grade on their project....building a machine that dumps water on their teachers head when he walks in the door.......might not be the way to go.......I'm just thinking.......but......what do I know?

Test run. Mr. T sets up his simple machine and waits...for his older brother to get home from school and walk unsuspecting into his room where NOT water dumps on his head. I know. I'm no fun. I didn't want soggy carpet BUT, his brothers dirty laundry......

Does it work?

Trying To Make Bitter, Sweet.

When The SM and I got married I knew I wanted a whole clan of gremlins. The SM thought two......possibly three would be nice. I wanted ten! You may all discuss the insanity of my desires behind my back. I'm okay with that because we all know it takes a little bit of insanity (or a lot in my case) to make it through the day with kids and those who think they are sane are only kidding themselves.



I interrupt this program with a funny that just happened:

Mr. J, my baby just came down the stairs in his fuzzy jammies, sleepy eyed, and with a gravely voice said, "What did my friends just have fur bweakfast?" (His siblings)

See? Ten of these. I wanted ten of these.



Change is in the air. A big change. A change that shouldn't be as big as it is but it makes it solid, final, no going back. Because of the WNV I've not been able to have anymore Native's and I realize that Levi counts as like two or three.....but still, I am one of the odd ducks that had huge dreams in life. I wanted to be a mother! Call me old fashioned. The greatest calling a woman could ever have. Done. No more little Native's running around.



So, as I contemplate what is going to take place in a few weeks, I am trying to make that which is bitter, something else being taken away, and turn it around and make it sweet. That which carried each of The Native's inside of me for nine months and did such a great job will be surgically removed.



I really can't be bitter. How selfish and ungrateful if I were. There are so many women in this world who ache to have and hold a little one in their arms. I was blessed with several. No, not a time to mourn another thing I am losing. A time for joy that I was able to have so many before the WNV! And the knowledge that this is temporary. Eternity is a long time to have and hold little ones.

Blooooop(ers)!

They say a watched pot never boils. (Who's 'they' by the way.......)



On the other hand.....when it comes to pizza dough and you forget to keep an eye on it.......this is why I will never win any culinary awards.

Levi's Eight!

I have so many thoughts and feelings running through me today as I reflect on the past eight years of Levi's life. Eight years! Do you have any idea how huge this is? Over the past eight years of Levi's life we've not known if he would even make it this far. They've been eight years of worry, hardship, heart wrenching moments, fatigue like I never knew was possible, and yet.......when I look back on Levi's life that isn't what I remember or even want to remember.

I am just grateful for the miracle and blessing that is Levi. For having him in our lives. The laughter and joy that he radiates, the pleasure that Levi finds in the simplest of things, the example that he is to me to be like a little child and live life to the fullest.

Today, on Levi's birthday may I say to you, "Hey Fungus! I'm gonna throw a meatball at your head"! (As I double over giggling and laughing because tickling the tummy comes next..............)

Musings

Out of all of The Native's Mr. T likes the piano the least. If you sat and watched one of his lessons you'd have to take a break half way through. It truly is painful. At least it looks and sounds painful and must be because Mr. T moans and groans and gnashes his teeth and slams his hands down and complains and through it all......his teacher sits here patiently with a smile, every once in awhile letting a chuckle or grin escape....(personally I don't know how his teacher can be so patient, I'd smack Mr. T if he were my student).... because here's the deal.

Mr. T carries on like nobodies business yet take this piece he is playing for example. It is only a small part of the piece. It took him weeks, months to pass off this song. The tears that were shed and the names that the piano was called. The piano still has red cheeks! The piano shouldn't though because Mr. T is always goofing around on the piano doing things like trying to see how fast he can play the above piece. The piece that he hated and was NEVER going to pass off and the piano that he hates playing.....which he can't stay away from......because he is too busy playing all of the songs that he JUST HATES and was NEVER going to pass off......

I'm sure there is some wisdom to this post, like if you work at something hard enough you'll grow to love it. I don't think so though because I've been working hard for years at things like dishes, laundry, scrubbing, and I sure as heck don't love those things and can't see myself ever loving them! (And no snotty comments from the peanut gallery stating the obvious......that I don't work very hard at those things anymore and it is The SM who is now doing them......that's beside the point. I've put in my hours, days, years!!)

What ever the wisdom....I sure get a kick out of seeing Mr. T who "hates it"..... playing the piano.

She Doesn't Need Wings To Fly

Last week the phone rang. It was our neighbor and friend. A woman we love and admire very much who just happens to be a librarian at the Provo City Library in the children's department. Would we like two tickets to the Fairy Tea Party on Saturday? This is a tea party that the city library puts on once a year that I have been told is a lot of fun and I needed to take Miss K to. Every year the tickets go on sale and every year for one reason or another we've not been able to go. This year, our librarian fairy godmother got some for us. Why yes! We'd love to go! Thank you!!!



The day arrived. On the invitation it said to dress in our fairy best or Sunday dress. As Miss K and I arrived it became very clear that I had somehow missed the fairy best part and only saw the Sunday dress part. As we walked to and into the library we were surrounded by glitter and makeup and wings. Even the mothers (and some fathers) were dressing the part.

We were seated at the Fairy Godmother table and Miss K whispered to me, "I don't have any wings mommy." It was one of those moments. Those moments when once again I look around and LAME MOM is in neon above my head. We'd come to a Halloween party and we're the only ones not in costume. I whispered in Miss K's ear, "You have wings. Yours are magical. They are invisible!"



Miss K soon forgot that she looked different as food was brought to our table and she and the other guests at the table started to eat. There was a little ballet performance that we couldn't see because of all of the fairy wings sitting in front of us. Kirsten didn't seem to notice. She was busy eating her food....and mine.....and waving her magic wand that was given to her around.

Then it was time. Time for each of the little fairies to get up and take a walk on the runway. The runway where they promenade in front of everyone and curtsy in front of the fairy king who sat in his thrown overseeing the tea party.

At first Miss K didn't want to. She didn't have wings! Then she decided that maybe she would if I went with her. When our table was called I walked with Miss K up to the runway. As her turn neared and she was ready to step up onto the runway one of the royal fairies who were telling/helping the little fairies do their walk asked Miss K, "Where are your wings?"



I told the royal fairy, "She doesn't need wings to fly." As Miss K circled and curtsied in front of the fairy king tears sprang to my eyes. She truly was the prettiest little fairy there. And I was proud of her. Proud of her for not letting being different keep her from flying.

The Highwater Cowboy

Growing up in rural MT where the closest town has a population of 814 meant that when ever there was a football game at home, the town shut down. Pretty much everybody that could, stopped what they were doing and went to watch. It was more than watching the local high school boys battle it out on the field, it was a social thing.

I didn't grow up in town, I grew up in the boonies so going to football games wasn't something I got to do very often but if dad decided he wanted a break from what ever Saturday project he was working on, (usually something in his wood shop) then he'd take me with him. It wasn't until I became a teenager that this became a problem. I was one of those people who was invisible but wanted to be seen, but not for the reasons I was usually seen. The trip and fall moments in front of everybody.

I would find my way to the stands where all of the high school students sat and try to blend in. Dad would do his thing which meant he'd walk up and down the sidelines chatting with all of the other adults. All of the adults did this except not in quite the flair that my dad did. When Dad stopped working in the shop to go to the ball game he came in what he was wearing at the time which was always his 501 Levi jeans; high water and his slippers.

Mortifying for a teenager! Usually covered in sawdust as well. If Dad needed to go into town to get some supplies he'd get in his truck and off we'd go. In his high water 501's and his slippers. No amount of reasoning could get Dad to change out of his slippers. He worked 8-midnight most days in a suit, white shirt, and tie. On Saturday, if he could, he worked in his slippers and we couldn't convince him other wise.

It's funny how things change over time. Looking back what was mortifying at the time is now a fond memory. It might have something to do with the fact that now it is me that is always going everywhere in my slippers......but I don't think so. It's who my Dad is. The same man who likes his slippers walked around back in the day growing up in San Diego, CA with his 501's rolled up wearing All Star high tops! (That was when he'd actually wear shoes. Most times, he was barefoot.)



I'm just so dang proud to carry on the tradition as I walk the halls of The Native's schools in my slippers. So proud, so honored. "L" for LOVE the slippers......or loser if you're The Native's and I happen to be walking next to them in public.

He's Hip!

Because it is Wedneday and not Friday
Because it is cold and grey outside
Because I got a shot in my bahootie
Because this boy turns eight next week
I give you this:

Stripey Socks

Have you ever noticed how uncreative sock photos are in catalogs? BorrrrinGGG! I think they should do more shots where they are all standing on their heads.



Or the "I've just come home from the ballet and want to practice standing in third position" shot.



Creeeepy! Decapitated feet shot. This one would be good for Halloween. It's like someone was walking along and then......Monty Python shot!



Which then scared me to death so I had to go potty shot.



Better stick to the ballet shots.

Haircut of Choice

Choosing a haircut is a very big decision. Some people pour over magazine photos, go on the Internet and have a virtual make over done so they can see how various hair cuts would look on them.........it's a big deal!



Take for example Mr. M. Saturday at our house was hair cut day and Mr. M chose a buzz. "Buzz it all off mom!" No one else chose a buzz. Just Mr. M. He put a lot of thought into his choice because:

A)Mr. M was at a friends house when he was called home to get his hair cut. A buzz would insure that he would be able to return to his friends house quickly. A buzz is a fast cut and no one complains more sitting through a hair cut than Mr. M. "Are you almost done......this is taking FOREVER.......I can't sit here much longer......are you finished?" This is before the haircut has even begun. You can imagine what goes on during!

B)Mr. M, and I quote, (when I'd finished giving him a buzz) "Cool! Thanks mom! Now I don't have to wash my hair!" The showering process that is so quick you wonder if any water actually got on the child is now made faster by the reasoning that he doesn't have to wash his hair. World shattered....you still have to wash your hair when you get a buzz.



C)Last but not least, the biggest perk of all besides getting back fast to playing with friends, (and again I quote) "Well, okay. I'll wash my hair (huge grin) but I don't have to brush it anymore!!!"

Cry Me A River

Sadly, it has come to my attention that I am not the coolest mom ever. While cleaning I came across a piece of paper that confirms it.

My sweet baby girl has dashed all of my hopes. I thought I rocked man! I mean, last week I found on my pillow little drawings and love notes from my baby girl and I knew that she would never see me differently. In her eyes I could do no wrong. I was her hero. She wanted to grow up and be just like me! And then...the paper:

I have the sadist live ever
I have mean parants.
mean brothers,but
nice friends and there
moms are nice NO FAIR

I'm sitting here wringing my hands. I just don't know what to do! I'm beside myself. How could I have fallen so far from hero to zero? It's tragic really. I was knitting her some fingerless mitts. Hot pink ones in fact but now with this blow I just don't know how I can go on ya know? Oh my heart is just breaking. I thought.......we were........friends! Like best best BEST friends.

I bet it was the oatmeal.....Gosh. I should have thought about that before making it again and again and again and making her eat it. Wow! I wish we could go back in time and change things. I just can't stand knowing that our baby girl thinks we're so mean and that her friends parents are so nice! Oh and chores. Yeah. She says she has more chores than any of her friends.

Okay, I have a plan. I'm gonna talk to The SM and tell him we can't make oatmeal anymore or have our baby girl do any chores. She's got tons of brothers that can do them for her! Yeah. That's what I'll do. Then I'LL be the cool parent on the street again. Phew! I was SO stressed over this. Thanks for listening. It really helped, letting me talk this through. Parenting is so tough......good thing The SM and I are tougher!

Jealousy

I realize that after reading about my life lately and the things I get to do some of you are having fits of jealousy. It's only natural that the image of a person sitting in a lazy boy day after day watching old TV re-runs would sound glamorous but I am here to tell you it's not! It is hard work dang it! Really hard work.

Take this yarn for example. It's made from bamboo. I know! Bamboo of all things. Weird! Anyway, I had to take this stuff and actually make something cute out of it! Hours of cuteness! Talk about blood, sweat, and tears.



A scarf. A ruffly lacey swirly scarf.




What's that you say? My baby doesn't look thrilled to be displaying my scarf for me? Noooo, he's not trying to flip the scarf off of his neck. He's dancing. Dancing for joy to be standing there in his jammies with a ruffly scarf about his little neck, crusty left over bowls from breakfast, doing what ever I make him.....



Be jealous of my baby. Not me. My life is tough man!

Life Is Good

All images from "Life is Good" website

Have you ever worn a 'Life is Good' T-shirt? I love em. I love how they feel and I love the reminder that life truly is good.



Even when you go to the doctors and he reams you up one side and the other and tells you that you are no longer able to drive because you still have those pesky seizures that show up at random times and it seems impossible because you have a gazillion kids to drive from here to kingdom come and having yet one more thing taken away from you; your independence. Life is good. I have two legs that work great and a really cool bike! It could always be worse. Life is good.



Even when you have to go to the doctors office once a week for the next two months to get two shots in your behind because the needles are too big to go in your arm or leg. Life is good. I can feel the poke of the needle. It means I'm alive and my butt hasn't gotten numb after all of these years of sitting on it! It could always be worse. Life is good.



Even when your house and yard is such a mess and you are too prideful and embarrassed to let anyone in the front door. Life is good. At least I have a house, a roof over our heads, and having tons of 'stuff' and toys laying all over means we have 'stuff'. It could always be worse. Life is good.



Were it offered to my choice, I should have no objection to a repetition of the same life from its beginning, only asking the advantages authors have in a second edition to correct some faults in the first. ~Benjamin Franklin~

For Mom

It's my mom's 72nd birthday this week!



I wanted to surprise her so I spent several weeks working on something for her.



She just got it in the mail. I think she likes it.

Happy Birthday mom!

Another, "Only Me" Story.

Image from Lush T Shirts


It's two o'clock in the morning and the realization hits. Anyone that has had one knows......the.......feeling......

Earlier in the week my kidneys had been bothering me. Not enough to slow me down really. I mean, a snail can't go much slower right? Wednesday afternoon hits and the snail that was crawling is brought to a stand still. Back on the couch I go.

The SM and I have a difference of opinion right now. He thinks sugar is not good for me. He thinks sugar is kicking my bahootie and me crashing on the couch Wed and Thurs. proves it! Or so he thinks!!! I AM going to win this one......I digress.

Back to Friday at 2:00 A.M. Earlier in the evening I'd watched a movie on Netflix. Instant movies on Netflix my friends........yeah. Anyway, I watched a movie that made me hate Netflix. It ended in a way I had no idea. Horribly. Tragically. And there was NO WAY I was going to go to bed after watching that cuz.....ya know......shudder. So I fell in love with Netflix again by watching some really stupid comedy until 2:00 in the morning. Time to sneak into bed except wait! I need to visit the washroom. Done. Sneak into bed. Lay there. I need to go visit the washroom. I JUST DID! Yeah, but I feel like I'm going to wet the bed if I don't go NOW!! And then it hits me........NOOOOOOO! Visit the washroom. Drip. Pain, agony. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? And then....I remember the pain I've been having in my kidneys.

No problem. I'm a big girl. I'll just call the on call doctor because that is what they are for right? I call and this sleepy voice answers. I tell him, "I need a prescription and I need it LAST WEEK!" Drugs, I want drugs, and I want them now. I know what waiting leads to and there is no way in heck I am reliving that again.

Mr. Sleepy voice tells me he can't give me a prescription and to come into the office in the morning. WHAT? What the heck is an on call doctor for??? You mean he can't see me now? What is the point? Just give me the dang prescription. Nope. Won't do. Okay, so what am I supposed to do in the meantime? Well, there's this lovely pill you can take that will numb that whole working (or lack of working in this case) part of your body.

I jump in the car and drive down the dark streets passing an occasional car or two wondering what they are doing out and about at 2:30 in the morning. I pull into the 'Marts parking lot and get an all over creepy feeling. Keys in between my knuckles ready for weaponry I dash/shuffle into the 'Marts and head to the painkiller aisle where a lovely lady who works nights (bless her heart) helped me find what I am looking for.

And this, is where my story comes to the 'only me' part. Home again I take the meds and then crash on the couch where I lay there all night waiting for morning to come so I can jump in the car again and see Mr. Sleepy very unhelpful voice. I walk in his office and am asked the question........can I give them a sample?

You see, the painkiller has a lovely side effect. It has a dye in it. Don't ask me why but it does and even when you know what is going to happen....peeing bright orange soda is still shocking!

I head to the washroom and after filling a cup, place it on the counter, and in the process of reaching for the lid to cover it knock the dang thing over. Orange soda......BRIGHT orange soda.....all over the WHITE counter top. Did I mention that the washroom was out of paper towels and Kleenex?

I am by now literally in hysterics laughing my head off (I was tired okay? Trust me, it was funny). I get the mess cleaned up and shaking even more from trying to suppress my laughter I walk out of the washroom, hand over my cup with a few orange drips still left, and trying to act dead serious I asked the doctor, "Is this enough?"

I'll never be able to look at orange soda the same.......