Future Gymnasts

Well, looks like we've checked another future career off the list at our house.

Gymnast has gone out in a blaze of rope burns and fetal positions.

Today Ms. Els and Cadie Lu had their first class at the local gymnastic school.  Somehow in their brains I believe they have switched up the word "gymnastic" with "spastic" and just think the more they spaz out, the more successful their efforts have been.

When I picked them up - after getting the boys' hair cut and stopping for a drink - they were all smiles and happily reported that they'd had a great time.

"Although,"Cadie Lu began, "I think we've figured out something our family is just not good at."  I won't pretend that I was surprised when she stated that rope climbing didn't seem to be something her and her sister would excel at. "All the other kids would get up to the top, but Els and I would get up like five inches and then just give up."

Yep, sounds about right.

See, even when I was their age, and their size, I've never been able to haul my keister up a rope.  I neither saw then, nor see now, the point.  I've always gone with brains over brawn and been sure to surround myself by men with some muscle. I've been happy to let them scramble up the side of a cliff and then turn to pull me up.  In fact, one time I ended up hanging off the side of a ledge holding on to Hubs's big toe.... ha ha ha... but, that's for another post.

"One time, in gym class, I ended up stuck on the rope climb."  Els piped in.  I asked for a little more info.  "Oh, man, I was SO embarrassed...." she said.  All good stories in my family start with that line.  I'm happy to see her coming into her gene pool so gracefully.  "I got up and then I got scared because a ball accidentally got kicked into me and the rope was swinging around.  Then my hands got all sweaty and it was like they stuck to the rope.  So I was just hanging there, stuck, for a while.  Finally I started screaming and the whole class got quiet and was staring at me.  And then my teacher came in to get us and she yelled and came over to help me down.  Not the PE teacher, my class teacher."

Awesome.  Welcome to the fold Els.  Get comfy here.

"Ya, and one of the teachers today had to help Els get over a bar, " Cadie added.  I gave Els the old one eyebrow lift that says, 'do continue'....

"Well, my legs are really long, but apparently their natural inclination is to ball up close to my chest like this."  She demonstrates by rolling into fetal position in the car.

Before we finish that, I'd like to point out that it's pretty much Sweet Moses that my 10 year old said the phrase, 'apparently their natural inclination'.  I've never been so proud.

"So," she continued, "I kept yelling at my legs, 'straighten out legs, straighten out', but they didn't want to.  So the teacher would come straighten them out for me to get over the bar."

Uh.... nice.  Ha ha.  I am willing to bet that my almost 5 foot tall, size 7 (woman's) shoe wearing, "baby" was about the same size as her teacher.  And she was stuck in fetal position.  Let's also grin for a moment about her shouting at her legs....nothing strange about that!

All in all, a success.  No one tried to catch a bar with their face or ran backwards into a pole.  Although I should share that as I was pulling up to the building they insisted that they are now old enough to go in alone - even on the first day - and would find where they needed to be.  Apparently that involved them standing in a corner crying when it didn't go as planned until Els wiped her tears and said, "This is DUMB!  I'm going to find some help" and she found an employee who guided them to the right place.

Do I feel guilty that my babies were crying in a corner?  Heck yes.

Am I proud that after a moment of weakness that girl got down to business and fixed things?  Double yes.

Now, if only she could use that same stubbornness to get those legs of hers to straighten out....

My Gift to Me

Some of you are probably familiar with my tradition - starting on my 30th birthday - of giving myself a birthday gift each year.

It isn't anything tangible, more something that I give myself "freedom" from that helps make my life more enjoyable.

It started when I was about to turn 30 and I read somewhere that the 30s is your decade of self discovery.  I laughed, because I foolishly thought that at 29 I had myself all figured out, but decided that in an effort to kick off my 30s I would come up with things that I wanted to change.

Some of my gifts over the past years have been:

Freedom from "downer" friendships
Freedom from camping with little children
Freedom from singing solos
Freedom from crafts - ick!

All these things have made my life more enjoyable and helped me realize that, indeed, I am free to choose the things that will make ME happy and not try to fulfill a list given to me by the outside world, or even given to me by preconceived notions of how I thought my life would go.  It's been lovely.  I always encourage my friends to do this and it's kind of a joke now.... what do we want to be free of in the future.

Well, this year I shocked even myself with the direction my gift took our family.... in fact, I didn't see it coming until about two weeks before my birthday.

This year I'm giving myself the gift of freedom from debt.

I'm the money handler in our house and so I get the pleasant task of working the finances.  It's such a bummer job. Anyhow, I started looking over student loans, surprises that have come up {all new HVAC} etc. and realized that if I just keep trucking along doing minimum payments we won't be done paying off all our debt (obviously some things aren't included in that) for about 6 more years.  Eliana would be going on 17 and Jasec 8.

Say WHAT??!!

Then I began thinking back on my childhood - all those family trips taken as a teenager that cemented my bond with my family.  Braces, my first car, dances, music, sports....And I realized that I'd miss out on all that as a mom if we remained in the trenches of debt payments.

It really hit me that we are coming up to some pretty crucial years in the lives of our children.  Years where we want to be "free" to go and do and see and experience before we send them off to create families of their own.

So, after much pondering on my role as a mom, and crossing illegal options off the list, I went out and got me a job.  I will now be the newest employee at....

Drum Roll....

Target in Centerville.  (It was that or McDonalds - I think you see that my choice was made for me!)

I'll be working part time nights and weekends doing sales floor stuff and some cashiering starting the first week of August.

So, if you're out shopping and you see me, come say hi.....

And don't forget to wish me "happy birthday" and "good luck" with this year's gift :)

{Also, wish Steve luck as he'll be taking on Daddy duties those nights and weekends!  It seems I may have given myself TWO gifts this year.....}

My Birthday

It's 10:45 p.m. on my 36th birthday.  My sisters keep reminding me that I'm now on the downhill slope to 40....so thanks for that.

Although I've been slacking on the blog lately = BIG TIME = I wanted to take a moment tonight and wax nostalgic a little bit.

You see, when I really get to thinking about why I've stopped blogging, when I wipe away the excuses of "too busy", "nothing to share", "no one blogs much these days", I realize the truth of why I've stopped writing. I think the truth is that I have too much to share.

My 35th year of life was a doozy, friends.  More went on in our household than most people know about.  In many ways it was a year of suffering....physically, emotionally, mentally.  And I think that part of me wanted to share it, to vent about it, and to have a place to put my thoughts down.  But another, bigger, part of me was too overwhelmed by all that I was carrying, and I didn't know where to start, or IF to start.

So, here I am, 36.  I am The Girl Who Lived.

Not only did I live, but I learned.  And I grew.  I stretched and bent and swayed.  I grew some more.

I laughed, I cried, I loved.... I loved deeper and harder than I realized I could.

I prayed to love even more.

As I sit here eating my birthday sugar cookie, the house quiet with sleeping beauties, I want to make my birthday wish.

For my 36th year I wish....

To live more honestly.  To stop telling myself that any choice I make will have no consequences.  To stop lying to myself about the effects my choices make on others.

To love more.  To be gentle with those in my world.

To keep laughing.  Laughter is SO SO important.  Mark Twain said, "Against the assault of laughter, nothing can stand."  Where there is laughter there is hope, and courage, and strength.  Laughter can unite and comfort people.

To keep fighting for my children, my family, and the good life we have.

I can't wait to see what this next year brings.  While I can't anticipate or change what the future holds, I can face it with determination and a sense of humor....

And I can LIVE!!!

It Heats Things Up

It's really no secret that I'm a huge fan of the comedian Brian Regan.

See....

Best date of the year....every year!!!

He does this bit about fridge shopping and how "This model is $900 and it keeps things cold.  This model is $1200 and... it keeps things cold..."  and so on.

I had a glorious conversation with Ms. Els the other day that reminded me of that bit. It brought me great joy.

Our "new" home is only new to us.  It was built in 1977.  By some miracle of machinery {not ruling out witchcraft} the original double oven is still in the house.  And functioning.  Except for the clock.  But I figure twice a day it's right, right?

Please see below photo and try not to be overly jealous of my "vintage" hipness:

Anyhow, the first time we fired that baby up Ms. Els was sitting at the counter and we had this little chat.

E:  I'm not sure I can eat anything that comes out of that.
M:  Why?
E:  I just don't think I can.
M:  It works just fine, what's the problem?
E:  It's old.  It might taste funny.
M:  Um, it's an oven.  It's job is to heat things up.
E:  But what if it makes it taste weird.
M:  But, it's only job is to heat things up.  It makes things warm.  That's it's job.  
E:  Ya, but it's old.
M:  But....it heats things up.  It's been heating things up since 1977.  It doesn't infuse things with taste.  It just...
E:  I get it.  It heat things up!!!

So then I started thinking about how funny it is that I would like to replace it, when all I really need is something that will make things hot, which this does.

To continue this thought process, as I was folding laundry today I began to ponder on fashion and how if we apply the same concept to fashion maybe I'll be having this conversation with her someday.

E:  Um, I can't wear that, it's from Wal-mart.
M:  But it covers your nakedness.
E:  I'd rather have something from {insert place where teenager would shop}.
M:  Well, that shirt can cover you up for $55, or this shirt can cover you up for $15.  It's only job is to cover you up....which this shirt does just fine.

I'm going to have to draw the line somewhere, though.  'Cause, I mean, technically a 99 cent chocolate Easter bunny should get the job done....but I'd much rather delight in the creamy, chocolaty goodness of a Cadbury confection.

Just don't tell Ms. Els I said that.

Revenge

The other day Cadie Lu said to me, "Mom, you sure haven't been busy doing much lately!"

Huh.  Interesting observation....from the blind!  From the child who is blissfully attending school each day.  From the one who freaks out when I ask her to pick up her socks!!!  Sheesh!

{sigh}

Apparently moving, setting up a new home, getting sick twice and just plain caring for a family doesn't count.

So, I'm going the revenge route with this one.

I was saving this photo for embarrassment in the future.  But it turns out I feel like embarrassing her today.

{Sadly, this will also involve throwing Els and JBear under the bus.... but my hands are tied}

Please gaze upon this picture....

Yep.

Actually, the more I look at this picture the more I think that the person who should truly be embarrassed is JBear.  What, exactly, is he doing?  Who poses like that?  Who even thinks to spoon their sister that way?

This from the boy who just recently was heard to yell, "I HATE TRUE LOVE!!!"

Well, friend, actions speak louder than words.  And sometimes get caught on camera.

Perhaps this photo op was just the thing that pushed him into his place of hating love.  Who knows.  All I know is that I set out to retaliate against Cadie Lu and I've ended up saying disparaging things against J Bear who's only crime was pulling up his pj pants too high and giving his sister a snuggle.

Okay.  It's only getting worse.

Welcome to parenthood.  The place where you start out trying to do one thing and end up doing another thing entirely.

How to Fail at Blogging!

As a self proclaimed expert at failing to blog I thought I'd offer up some tasty morsels to those of you who are interested at becoming a failure in this arena.

(1)  Set up a blog.

(2)  Dedicate yourself to blogging for a few years.

(3) Draw in an audience with your tales of adventure!

(4)  Sell your house and put your computer into storage.

(5) Move in with your parents who are afraid of what "these youngsters" might do to their computer.

(6) Go back to life as a teenager where your parents monitored your "electronic" time and accused you of breaking everything they owned.

(7) Become terrified of even breathing near your parents' computer, which leads to....

(8)  Stop blogging.

There you have it.

I am now working on my next article "How to Return to Blogging" with a sub article titled "Life After Living with Your Parents:  Getting over your fears of using the computer".

Stay tuned!!!

Bad Brownie Karma

Well, folks, I'm here to tell you that sometimes... rarely, but sometimes....karma gives you a little hand in parenting.

Last week there was a box of cookies sitting on my dresser.  These weren't just any cookies.  These were Cutler's brownie mint cookies.  Food of the Gods.  This isn't something that makes a regular appearance at our house.  (Most likely because it doesn't make it that far from the drive-up window!)

A picture of the beloved cookie.  Sadly, that is not my kitchen this pic was taken in!

Anyhow, this particular box of cookies was not for public consumption, and yet the public decided to consume it anyway, and then lie their way out of it.

By "public" I mean Ms. Els.

When I noticed around 7:30 p.m. that each cookie only had like a 1/8 sliver left of it I began questioning the masses.  Most looked at me with a genuinely baffled expressions. They were also a bit angry that they hadn't known about the cookies, and people who have just eaten a cookie are not angry.  So, I believed them that they hadn't partaken.

(Side note:  Now I know how my mom always knew when I was lying.  'Cause liars look like liars!!!)

Ms. Els, being the sneaky little trickster that she is, took herself off into the shadows of the stair case before the inquisition began, thus successfully hiding her face - and it's liar-like expressions - from my view.

I asked her three times.  Thrice she denied any involvement in the thievery.  Only when I decided to punish the entire populace of my home, and the weeping and wailing had begun, did she fess up.  Even then, her confession was lacking in truth: "I'm pretty sure I just took one bite."

In this I will throw her a bone.  When one is caught up in the raptures of Cutler's brownie mint it is quite easy to begin gnawing away at it, in a trance-like state, and come to only to find you've consumed two cookies without even taking a breath.

Regardless.  She stole the cookies and she lied about it.  She was sent to bed.  Two hours early.

When I walked her up to "tuck her in" she asked for a piece of paper on which she could compose an apology.  I didn't want her stinky apology, so I denied her last request before jailing her.

Not long after this a sad little piece of paper made it's way down to me, via Grandpa, with her angst filled apology.  I wish I had a picture of it to post here, but alas I don't.  I can tell you though that it said something like this:

"Dear Mom,
I don't really know what happened.  I saw the box of cookies on your dresser and I tried not to take one.  But I couldn't resist, and I ate them.
Love your daughter who hates herself,
Ms. Els"

Dramatic much?  Although I can understand her sentiments, because I often have a self-hate moment when I see how many Cutler's brownie mints I've eaten too.  But, I don't believe that was the angle she was working when she wrote that.

I allowed her to stay in bed and wallow in her misery.

Late into the night I was awoken by our little lady only to be informed that she'd been vomiting up brownie mint.  It was so rough that she'd actually just made a bed of blankets in the bathroom and was sleeping there.

The next morning she obviously stayed home from school, and was miserable with a stomach ache.

When I had quiet moment her and I discussed her decision to lie to me, and she said, "I think Heavenly Father is punishing me for lying by making me sick."

Friends, this was a critical moment for me.  On the one hand I don't want her to grow up believing that we worship a vengeful God who punishes little girls when they make a mistake.  On the other hand.... I think you know that a part of me was all for letting her think that. Ha ha.

In the end I said, "Well, while I don't believe that Heavenly Father works that way, on the off chance that you're right, is lying worth it?"

She shook her miserable little head and said, "No. It's not!"

It turns out I didn't need to punish her at all.  Whether it was God, karma or just the 4th grade stomach flu, I don't think she'll be stealing any of my cookies and lying about it again....

This year.