I Got This

It's amazing to me how you can be having a day, a moment, a minute, where you're world is happily right side up, where you recognize the very substance and purpose of why you are where you are. You won't forget this. They won't forget this. Near perfect. Precious things.

Then something happens--you can fill in the blanks from your own stuff right here--and you're jarred, right where you stand, grasping for something to hold on to. You can't look, but you know it's there--life continuing, right beside you. The sun, still shining, the sky, never more blue, everyone lightly walking, laughing, the music doesn't skip a beat...you know this. You can't understand how this can be when you can't even move, you are so stunned, blind-sided, brokenhearted, dulled and numbed. How dare you let your guard down.

I've been through this many times and it just never gets easier. I am counting on the place where I exhale, where experience comes in to play. We are resilient creatures.  We lift our heavy bodies, and push forward ever-searching for the other side. We calculate, make lists, flip pages, pray and ready ourselves for a battle of truth and clarity and balance and peace.

It will come.

What I'm Writing About Today

Today I am blog challenged to write about my 10 Pet Hates, which I assume is the same thing as Pet Peeves, cuz who could name 10 pets they hate?  You gots the bad juju if you can, and you should work on that. I don't really want to focus on 10 things I hate, cuz it's Sunday, it's raining, it smells like breakfast and it feels like harmony in my house, so I'm gonna focus on 10 things I like...a lot. (p.s. this is an incredibly small list.)

Let's start here.  We use every single bit of our home.  This little cozy nook is sharing space in my laundry room.  I don't think this old bread table has ever been so happy.

My back yard. Totally, one of the best spots of my life.

I love when my kids are kids.

A dear friend of mine GAVE this dollhouse to me.  It's been a dream of mine since I was probably eight-years-old.  Thank you, Mrs. Joanne Weaver for that one. She had the most beautiful dollhouse I've ever seen. It was huge and took up half a ping pong table.  I would spend hours looking at and taking in the tiny rugs in their tiny wallpapered rooms, tiny chandeliers and lights throughout, that actually worked, tiny plates, goblets and silverware, tiny baby cradles...oh, it was so special.   I'm 40 and it still gives me the warm fuzzies remembering. I am in no hurry to finish up this one. It's something I can go to, to "get-a-way", make my own, share with my kids, and eventually pass down.  I hope it gives my children the warm fuzzies when they are 40.

Our dogs. Seriously two of my best friends.

Our kids. 4 plus 2. I don't think I've been more proud of anything in my life as I am of these ones.

May they always crave childhood.

I love my job.  You have no idea how fortunate I KNOW I am to say this.  This is what we did on Friday with all of my grandmas and grandpas.  CycleCars.  Really.  This is what I GET to do.

This guy.  Life is so full of surprises.

I could live in FALL forever.

For my Instagram Challenge I'm supposed to post something funny.  I think I've Instagramed the ever-livin' out of you today, so I will draw from my Pinterest files for this one.

How much does Google save your life?  I question whether my entire education was a trick, because every time the kids bring homework home and ask for help, I seriously feel like crying, cuz I.Know.Nothing. I'm a flipping idiot, apparently.  I paid thousands of dollars for what exactly?  Do you even knoooow how much I Google?  Yes, you do...cuz I'm pretty confident, you're right there with me.  Tell the truth.

Yesterday, one of the daughters asked me if you can get HIV from mosquitoes.  Alarming question, #1, as I had the little freak out as to WHY she was asking me such things.  And after further investigation into that one, and a conclusion that kids are curious and very random, I answered a confident, "no," and then, of course, immediately questioning myself.  I mean, I know that somewhere, buried in my brain, I have stored that answer, and then logic made an appearance, but I still felt like I had to back it up with, "Go ask your dad," and then a Google search. Before you go Google the answer yourself, let me assure you (insert laughter) everything is okay, everybody.  You cannot catch HIV from a mosquito.

And now this:

Rinse & Repeat

Well, I made it to six days of blogging so far!  Or at least, writing sooooomething.  In college, one of the five things I took away from my major in English, was to write something every day. Even if it's just a word.  I don't know why I can't just do that.  I always feel like I need to have 546 words following that one word.  I need to explaaaaain the word. I need to keep you interested in the word.  Geez, I've been blocked for a couple years, for what *I think* has to do with all the shit I've been through and how idon'twannatalkaboutTHAT, when really, it probably would have helped me tremendously to write down the word, "SHIT", underline it, circle it five times, point arrows to it, cross it out, write it again, rip it up, tape it together, rinse and repeat. I think I really need to let it sink in that the ONE word is more for me than you.

Don't get me wrong, I am here to entertain you. I do think about you when I write.  I want to make you laugh.  Share my stuff, cuz when I share my stuff you share yours, and I'm like, "Oooooh, I am not the only one that feels this way, yells at my kids this way, loves this way, makes a fooool of myself this way, etcetera, etcetera..." You feel me? I DO want you to like me.  But dang, I've known for years and years that writing is MY best therapy.  Just like when I'm angry, or sad, or happy...I can't contain it.  It always comes out.  I express myself WAY better in writing than I do talking.  I've been in many conversations where I've felt like saying, "Ah crap, let me write what I just said down and get back to you."

What I'm trying to say (funny) is that most days you'll see the pretty, the fun (my life is a sitcom), but some days, you'll see a tattered, taped up post that says, "SHIT".  I'm really gonna let myself write "SHIT"...more.

dot...dot...dot...

Blog Challenge Today (it makes me write stuff):  Your Five Senses Right Now

I SEE our orchard.  It's beautifully arranged outside the window above my desk.  We have apple and pear trees dripping with fruit that fit in the palm of your hand.  Out there is a hand-me-down trampoline that my kids have always wanted, and now bond over, with flips and toe touches. There's a hammock that sits below a night-sky full, just full of stars that are just out of reach.  The orchard is an extension of our home.  It makes me feel rich.

I SMELL coffee brewing.  One of the most comforting scents of my life.

I TASTE my just-brewed coffee.  Two cups is my cue that the day has begun.

I HEAR quiet.  It's a rare sound in my house. It's the quiet sound of fans whirring, birds chirping. dogs dreaming... Three kids are making noise at friend's and cousin's homes (sleepovers).  Three teenagers are home, cocooned in blankets, taking advantage of a Saturday morning. One man is holding on to the last minutes of rest before another trip. I love this kind of quiet more than I ever have.  I love the chaos of my life, I do, I do.  I wouldn't change a thing.  That said, I absolutely relish the calm.

I TOUCH keys that bring my thoughts to life.  The keyboard is another comfort...this tool. Just like opening a book, turning pages, I never tire of the feel of the keys beneath my fingers. I love letters, real handwritten letters, but I absolutely choose typing, over writing.  There's room for mistakes.  Instant second chances with a "backspace".  I can actually keep up with my thoughts when I type.  I lose my patience with handwriting. Waste paper. Throw it away and walk away. Is it strange that I *feel* more like a writer when I type? I suspect so, but I just let it be strange.

Instagram Challenge:  Books

I absolutely love to read, but for the past year or so, I can't seem to focus long enough to get through anything. Magazines are even tough and that makes no sense to me.  I've been reading, Ask Questions, Get Sales since December.  That one makes sense to me. Let the snore fest begin, but it's like 10 pages (168), I need to get my *stuff* (i feel like i've said "shit" a lot in this post) together. Ridiculous.

I recently ordered Lone Wolf, by Jodi Picoult and Under The Mountain by Sophie Cooke.  Normally, as soon as I would rip them out of the Amazon box, my family would know not to talk or try to make eye contact with me for days.  But there they sit, anxiously waiting for me.

I think it probably has to do with where I am at the moment.  Full-time job, Full-time mom/momager, Full-time girlfriend. 108 residents + 6 kids + 1 boyfriend = MUCH.  I'm pretty sure I'm just exhausted.

Get Over It Already

Today, I'm supposed to share 10 songs I love right now.  I'm feeling pretty "eh" about that suggestion, as well as just feeling "eh" right now.  Let's just say it would be a lot of Pink or whatever song could bring on the good cry.  You know, pissed, followed with weepy.  That sort of scenario.

Pretty happy, eh?  So, you know...I won't do that.  I mean, who has the time?

I do love, love, love this song and will play it seriously like 10 times in a row...today.  And get over it.

Instagram Challenge:  Morning Sky.  This is my backyard this morn.

Fear Not

My blog challenge today is: What Are You Afraid Of?

Oh, I've thought about this one a bit.  It's a question with a lot of answers for me. And they change all the time, the more experience I have behind me, the older my kids get. The list is long.

I really try not to focus on my fear, and especially on things that I have absolutely no control over.  It's mainly the things I do have some level of control over that keeps me up at night. Like teen pregnancy. Like loving these children, making them feel safe and grow confidently, so they are happy, kind, successful adults.  Like food on the table, and making sure bills are paid.   Like loving my partner and meeting his needs enough, that he won't leave me for someone else, eighteen years later. Those things.

My fears have by far graduated from spiders and things that go bump in the night to mainly my family.  I'm very selfish that way.  I fear one of my kids becoming addicted to drugs far more than I fear terrorism, war.  Call me ignorant, but I do feel that so much of "what's out there" starts at home, under your own roof.  I am raising what comes next. I am the example of a marriage, relationships, parenting,  faith, adulthood, love, responsibility, etcetera...that my children see first. I am in their face every day. It's an enormous responsibility.

That said, I wouldn't change this enormous responsibility for anything.  What a gift all of it is, in the end. The reward hugely outweighs the fear.  And I don't live in a constant state of fear.  Worry.  That equals stress and I avoid stress. Downplay it. Pray. Lie to myself if I have to, to make it smaller.  It creates cancer.  Cold sores. It's just when the question is asked of what are you afraid of, it does make you sit and break it down. And I will say, that no matter what I'm afraid of, I will always take that step into the darkness, the unknown. It won't paralyze me.  I have things to do.

The Instagram Challenge is:  Leaves

Fall--the most wonderful time of the year!

Smile If It Kills You

Today I'm told to write about my favorite quote.  As with books, music, food, etc...I can't pick just one favorite anything.  But I love, love the quote above. Kindness.  It's huge to me. Something that was instilled in me from childhood, by example, by discipline, by my faith...whatever...it stuck.

I've talked about my mom before.  She passed away from complications of Diabetes when I was 12.  I think God, knowing I was going to lose her so young, gave me the gift of remembering.  I remember her so well.  I would recognize her laugh if I heard it today.  I work in a senior living community and one of my residents smells like my mom used to smell. It's a lotion from Avon. It was my mom's scent. I've told my resident this and she lets me hug her anytime I want. My girls tell me I have a scent too.  When Addy was a toddler, I remember her running across the room to me, smelling my arm, and then running back to whatever she was doing.  She just needed a "fix".  I catch her doing this at random times now.  She's 10.  I hope she does it when she's 30.

What I most remember about my mom was her faith (HUGE) and her kindness.  I would hope the two go together.  She had the huge love for everyone.  Easy.  What is so fascinating to me is that she was completely blind.  I wonder if that was a bit of an advantage for her, compared to those of us with full sight.  How easy we interpret things...judge, by sight alone.  I think she went strictly by how someone treated her.  And even then...she loved.  I can't remember her ever having anything bad to say about anything, anyone.  Even in the worst of her times.  She could somehow find the good.  The reason.  And accept it.  Of course, I'm remembering her through the rose-colored glasses of a 12-year-old.  I know she was flawed.  I know she must've thrown fists in the air at times.  Let her anger out.  I'm her daughter. Half her. But it's what I remember of her.  It's what she left me. Be kind.  Be love.

I work with seniors.  People that have been around for 100 years (give or take).  I learn a lot from them.  They have been through things I will hopefully never know. Real hard times. Real sadness.  Not that I don't experience that, but when I compare my hard times next to theirs, it seems like night and day.  I am a child next to them.  But I look at them every day.  The long lives they have behind them. I see how they light up when I make eye contact.  When I smile at them. When I touch their hand.  Still. I hope they see what they do for me.

One of my residents used to say through her own, wide smile, every time I saw her, "Smile if it kills you."  And I try.  It's the goal every time.

If you let it, kindness can trump the worst. How lucky are we that we can remember a smile, a touch, a word from 30-plus years ago?  I know that it stays with you. It's as good as love.  It's as good as a memory. And I hope that when I'm gone, it's something that I leave behind, that carries forward.  I'm flawed.  I throw fists in the air. I let the anger out.  My goal every day,  is that my kindness, my good,  is bigger.

My Instagram Challenge today is:  Happiness.

I love this picture.  It is a pivotal moment in my life (the calm before the storm), and somehow it was captured.  I was truly happy.  It's a reminder for me that even when your world completely falls out from under you...you will smile again.

You Know Me

Instagram challenge:  SMILE. Once a girl.  Always a girl.

(p.s. i'll do better posting my own pics, i just didn't want to get hung up looking for The Perfect Picture, which was totally happening.)

As far as the blog challenge, something's happening writing-wise for me.  I'm looking forward to writing again. I almost didn't want to type that out loud. I even blogged TWICE yesterday and made myself waaaait to post. It's like Christmas! It's like my birthday!  It's like when I get you a gift!  I can't wait, I can't wait!!! I haven't felt like that in a long time.  It's good.

So, here's my blog challenge tah-day!

20 Facts About Me

(really?  i get to do this?  just talk about myself?)  As a fellow blogger once put so very well:

I'm An Attention Seeking Poodle.

Well, she is.  But I'm stealing it.


Number One:

I have six kids.  Well, I didn't BIRTH six kids.  I  birthed two, but I *have* six kids now.  As of May 2012. The Boyfriend has four and I have two. We all live together in a shoe.  And I am telling you, these kids are just amazing, given what they've all been through. I am proud of them. Even when I've reached my limit. Even when the drama is Code Red.  Even when I don't know what to say, to do. I am proud of them.  I am proud of us. Sometimes I think I'm a mo' better mom/momager of six than I was of two. That said, I'm not good at this. I'm proud of this.

Number Two:

I love old people.

Number Three:

I think I might be a closet introvert. How does one live 40 years and just figure this out? Okay, semi-introvert. I like people.  I suspect this has a lot to do with my GINORMOUS family and how I never get one single second to myself.  I'm just saying, I can totally hang with my self, like 24/7.

Number Four:

I haven't been camping in yeeeeears.  And I could cry right now, just typing that out.

Number Five:

My birthday is Cinco de Mayo, and I seriously love presents.  You should start planning now.

Number Six:

I love to drive.

Number Seven:

My big toe looks like a turtle head and my little toes look like turtle legs. Every time. I can't not see turtles.

Number Eight:

When I hear hip hop and pop, I am automatically choreographing routines in my head.

Number Nine:

I am far too nice, when I NEED TO GET PISSED.  Like, so much.

Number Ten:

I love looking at the lines on my palms.  I'm so curious and need to know more.

Number Eleven:

I love beards.  I didn't even know.

Number Twelve (this one is for my 14-yr-old):

I have no daughters that look like trashcans trying to look human. The end!

Number Thirteen:

I'm a little psychic.

Number Fourteen:

I can still do toe touches on the trampoline.

Number Fifteen:

I get addicted to things.

Number Sixteen:

I am highly impressionable.  For instance, if someone says they had sushi for lunch.  I will probably have to have sushi.  Like, right now.

Number Seventeen:

I'm a clincher and sleep with a mouth guard.  It's super sexy.

Number Eighteen:

I want to go on a date SO BAD, that I'm about to take myself.

Number Nineteen:

I *choose* to get up at 5:00 every day.  Silence is precious. And the coffee is so much better.

Number Twenty:

I think these kids (mine and his). are my best friends.

Challenge Accepted

I'm starting this new blog challenge to light a fire under these lazy fingers! Apparently I need someone to tell me *exactly* what to do. I'm a follower not a leader. I'm fine with this.

I'm working off of a 30-Day Instagram Challenge (prompts to post a new pic every day) and a 31-Day Blog Challenge (prompts to blog posts every day). See links below:

Instagram Challenge:

http://www.positivelypresent.com/2011/11/zoom-in-on-gratitude-30-day-photo-challenge.html

Blog Challenge:

http://www.lifeasiknowitblog.com/2012/05/31-day-blog-challenge-come-join-in.html

For the Instagram Challenge I am supposed to put a pic of my favorite food. This favorite food stuff is ever-changing, as I am a major foodie.  So here's what it is right now.  Today:

Pico de Gallo, specifically with these:

I will eat the entire bag. And plucking a chip out of the bag *covered* in all the lime spices makes me squeal in happiness. Really. Every time. Whatever.  It's a meal.

For the blog challenge I'm supposed to do an introduction and recent pic.

See that pic up there?  It's of me the other day right before an event we did at work, called "Keep The Spirit of '45 Alive".  I get to be the marketing director (fancy) for Solterra Senior Living at White Mountains.  It's a wonderful place, of which I will talk about a lot on here, because it is a very good chunk of my life.  I love my old people.

Spirit of '45, celebrates the "ordinary" heroes of The Greatest Generation--some of these people that lived through this time are my best friends.  It was a joy to celebrate them, and that we did this past Friday.  We partied like it was 1945, complete with classic car show, The Helldorado Girls (a group of women that circulate parades, charities, etc...basically raise morale everywhere they go, specifically dressed in vintage attire--in this case--military pinup), and a DJ that played all the good stuff from the 40's. We made 100 Shirley Temples and served Spam (with toothpicks!) and other delicious thiiiings from that time (we Googled).  It was a blasty blast, and made our residents very happy. We raided the Helldorado Girls closet and I got to wear this fun getup.  I totally felt pretty.  And I don't always feel pretty.  So there you go.

And now for the intro:

For those of you that don't know me, I'm Sunshine, and I've been through a lot of changes over the last couple of years, which you will totally notice if you go back and read my previous posts and then compare them to now.  I feel you may question whether or not this is the same person.  Well, 'tis.  I promise.

To sum it up:  World Crashed Down. Divorced. Fell in love with my childhood friend.  Moved from Oregon to Arizona. Went from The Three Of Us, to The Eight Of Us. Went from Stay-At-Home-Momma to Full-Time-Working-Momma/Momager.  We all live in a sweet, tiny, crowded house, on an orchard, in the tiny mountain town I (and the fella I fell in love with) grew up in. We are happy. Sad. Imperfect. Beautiful. Mending. Superheroes. Fragile. Loud. Silent. Creative. Good. Crazy. Clever. Real. So Much More. But most of all, we are          figuring         it              out.

See you tomorrow!  Really.

This Is My Child

Tuesday was horrible.  Around 11:30, I got a call at work from Addy's (my 9-yr-old daughter) school that she had two seizures. This has never happened before. No, not never.  Icouldnotgettherefastenough.  It is amazing how your body reacts to hearing such news.  My teeth were chattering, I was shaking so much.  Drop everything. Total tunnel vision.  Must...get...to...Addy.

My phone hates living on this mountain, so it only works never sometimes. The school kept calling and of coooourse, my phone wouldn't ring.  So I had voice mail after voice mail.  The school was about to call 911 and do you think I could figure out the school's number for the ever-living life of me?!  When "411" made me spell out my city I almost punched them in the throat! We live across the street from the school, so luckily Matt (my partner...as I say these days) was off that day, dropped his taco and ran right over to the school.  He's an EMT tech in the only hospital for houuuuurs ER here and it made me feel better that he was there with her as I drove the longest five miles of my life.

When he brought her home, the relief I felt to see her was huge. She was exactly Addy. Thank God. I mean that so much.  She looked pale.  My baby looked so pale.  But she was "fine".  I had called her dad to let him know what happened and let her talk to him, so he'd know she was okay.  She immediately told him what she wanted for Christmas.  Then she wanted lunch. That made me feel better.  For a second.  We took her to the ER to get her checked out and thanks to my partner working there, I believe we got in and got attention rather quickly.  Really nothing came of this ER visit, except a referral to a pediatric neurologist in Tucson.  The doctor we saw didn't even think she had a seizure.  But he didn't know what it was. WHAT?  I don't get it.  Idon'tgetitatall.

Addy was in the library when it happened.  She was waiting in line to check out a book and while waiting, she noticed and commented out loud to a friend that her head hurt really bad..."Wow, my head hurts really bad..." and rubbed the left side of her head.  When it was her turn to check out, the librarian saw her go down.  She thought she was messing around, cuz kids do that.  To be funny, they pretend they are falling down. Then she heard tapping.  She rushed around the counter to find Addy laying on the ground shaking...her foot was tapping the counter.  Eyes open, rolled back, head, hands, feet, body jerking...the librarian held Addy for three minutes until it ended.  When it was over Addy popped up and told her, "I'm okay...I feel better."  By then the nurse had reached her and was asking her if she was okay.  No sooner had she asked, Addy went into another seizure.  The nurse and the librarian were on either side of Addy and it only lasted about a minute, so she didn't go down on the ground.  Again, Addy came out of it saying, "I'm fine..."

In relating what had happened, this is where the ER doc told us he didn't think it was a seizure.  The fact that she "popped" out of it so quickly didn't make sense to him.  Apparently, she should have been passed out or exhausted.  In other words...out of it.  Also, she didn't wet her pants or bite her tongue, and when she fell for the first one, she didn't fall hard and hit her head. Usually people fall hard.  I guess she went down into a sitting position and then fell back. She also shouldn't have been able to bear weight during that second one (tho I do think that was because the nurse and librarian were holding her).  So after a consult with a pediatric neurologist in Tucson who agreed that it probably wasn't a seizure, blood tests and a urine test, we were discharged with a referral to said pediatric neurologist that we will be seeing next week.  No CT scan.  No MRI.  No EEG.  Sometimes I hate this mountain. What the heck???!!! Listen...I believe him.  I'm sure he knows his stuff, but WHAT THE HECK HAPPENED TO HER?!  And why did it look like seizures?! We went home with no answers.

I'm scared.  I'm praying.  I want answers.  And then I don't.  I want it to be a fluke.  I want it to be as simple as dehydration.  She had PE right before and ran for like 4 minutes...maybe it's that simple.  I Facebooked it all and asked for prayers.  I got them.  Maybe that took care of it.  Can it please take care of it?  I believe. I don't mind driving three hours to hear a doctor tell me it's nothing.  Please let it be nothing.  I never want her to have another "episode" like that ever again.  I'm sure I don't have to tell you that hearing that voice mail...my world fell beneath my feet.  Instantly.  This is my CHILD.

Thankfully.  Thankfully...no more "episodes". She went back to school. She trick-or-treated. She's Addy.  Now we just wait until Thursday and see what the good doc the pediatric neurologist has to say.  And I just try to trust.

Thanks for "listening".

Startin' Over

I read myself to sleep every night.  Usually it's books, and yet my daughter's Hunger Games book sits in it's current untouched spot (for the last three months), waiting for me to finish it. I don't really know how I haven't finished Hunger Games yet and Shades of Gray is a whole other blog post (yet another one I cannot, not, not get into)...it's perplexing in my world, but alas, a season, I think.

Lately (just lately) I find the zzzzz's reading my app's on my phone. I don't know if it's the handiness of the phone or the fact that I don't have to reach over and turn off a light. The mad scramble to find my phone in the morning (at the bottom of the bed sheets) doesn't bother me enough, I guess. And for the curious, this is the order by which the app reading goes: Facebook feed, People, TMZ and if I'm still not in dreamland, MSNBC. I am very current.

Moving on, cuz this is actually a serious post. I've been trying to figure out how to get back over here and write.  A lot has happened since the last time I posted.  Actually, literally days after my last post,  everything changed--to put it incredibly mildly.  If you follow my blog, you know I'm open, that I "say it"...I share too much--almost to a default.  I can't do that right now.  Today.  What has happened has to come out in bits and pieces now, sprinkled into my NOW every day.  I thought about starting a completely new blog, because my old life is just a chapter of the rest of my life now. It's the end of a story. But every time I try to begin a new blog, it doesn't work.  I think because it's not real enough for me.  You have to see all of it.  What used to be and this continuation of what is. 

Back to the original thoughts that got me back to my blog today (stay with me)...

As I was saying above about reading myself to sleep, I came across and article on my People app featuring Garcelle Beauvais's blog a while back. I didn't even know who she was before I saw this, but I SO feel like I know this woman very well now. I just want to share her, her story, because her story is MINE. It's stunning to me how universal, how parallel, how same, the walk of betrayal plays out...the wave of it's consequences. Her story is very real. Trust me. It's so good to know...so good to live out the goodness, The Better, that somehow, almost supernaturally can come out of it. I'm happy for her.  I'm happy for me. I think this is a positive story, in the end. Amazingly positive. And it's encouraging to me, as I imagine it is for a lot of us.

Here's the link to her story.  

 http://celebritybabies.people.com/2012/07/24/garcelle-beauvais-blog-parenting-after-betrayal-tips/

Take good care.

The Mom Suit vs. The Bikini Observation

In my last post, I shared a recent girlfriend getaway--

http://sowhatwasisaying.blogspot.com/2011/06/girlfriend-getaway-2011.html

(in case ya missed it)

I left you with *quite* the doozie of a cliffhanger with my observation of The Mom Suit vs. The Bikini.  Let me explain, cuz I know you gotta know. 

The girlfriends and I spent some quality time in the pool over Memorial Weekend.  It was all I envisioned the week before, whilst walking through parking lot puddles in my flip flops during our all too frequent Portland downpours.  It is June, right? I will pay for sun, y'all.

Pretty soon into the pool festivities, I noticed all four my girlfriends and I were donning our "Mom Suits"...which goes a little something like this:

 (that is not me)

Super cute, right?  Totally.  So we were all wearing something like this.  Tankini's with the swim skirts, a.k.a.-- Mom Suits.  Perfectly fine.  I was peeeerfectly comfortable in my Mom Suit, hanging with my girls.  Of course, there was none of this going on in the vicinity either:

or this:

Or even this (and by "even this", I mean lame ol' Tom Cruise, cuz all I can see is Tom Cruise not Maverick nowadays.  And also, Goose frickin' rocks):

(you still with me?)

However, there was a lot of that going on at my brother's house in Tucson (minus the volleyball net and the Kenny Loggins playing in the back ground). 

After my girlfriend getaway weekend, I spent some time in Tucson with my brother and his wife.  It was at the tail end of Memorial Weekend and he may have had a "gathering"...for three days in a row. 

It was *quite* entertaining right off the bat.  Basically, Top Gun central, as my brother is in the Air Force and he and his friends were living every single bit of that Top Gun stereotype, around the pool and hot tub.  Nothing but Goose's and Maverick's and Iceman's eveeerywhere (including "resting" face down in the 3' x 3' patch-o-grass in his desert-ey backyard).  They all had the Arizona tans, the short and tight hairdids, Iceman smiles, and were "regulation fit".  Darn it. 

Here's where the bikinis come in.  Mixed in the ever-playing clip from Top Gun, there were also, OBVIOUSLY-10-years-younger than me, women girls there.  Just-a walking around, all beautiful and bikini-clad, only jiggling where 38-year-old women wearing Mom Suits want to jiggle.

All of a sudden my super cute Mom Suit was a potato sack. I found myself strategically positioning myself in certain ways to downplay my Mom body--crossing my legs this-a-way and that, facing the sun, not facing the sun, obsessively going between sitting on the side of the pool, the step and halfway submerged, as well as sitting and leaning back as far as I could without actually laying down to show that my stomach was *also* flat (darn bikini women).  Could I be any more uncomfortable?  No.  I can't even remember the last time I felt like that, no doubt due to not hanging around half naked with men in uniform (or rather, not in uniform) and not having the security of my kids to strategically cover things up distract me.

It finally occurred to me that no one could really see me through their blurry vision anyway.  I probably looked a'right. For a mom. I'm just going to say that.

And honestly, I would be totally disappointed in Maverick, Iceman and Goose if errrbody was NOT doing all of the above--cuz that's what you do when you're in your twenties, single/no kiddos and are straight out of the movie Top Gun.  Duh.  I seriously would've had to give them the stink eye, if they were all sharing a bowl of popcorn, watching the Twilight series when I got there.  

So after viewing that (beautiful) scene entirely too sober, for a couple hours, I traded in my Mom Suit/potato sack for what I now refer to as my Mom Clothes and declared I was going to leave now (Woooh, the sun makes me sleepy, does it make you sleepy? No?) and get some food, cuz apparently no one needs food when they are in their twenties (hence the bikinis).  I totally forgot. 

As always, the fun was good, Mom Suit vs. Bikini, and everything. And I didn't feel like death the next day.  38-year-old wisdom bonus!

Here's the brother looking just as he should:

And...for your viewing pleasure--The Volleyball Scene (I totally need to watch this movie right now):

http://youtu.be/6GLeMwSwFUw

Girlfriend Getaway 2011

It's been a rough year so far, to say the very least. Lately I've felt the need for some space.  I need to breathe.  And think.  And breathe some more. I've been craving the kind of space that has a lot of sun, blue sky, a pool and three of my best girlfriends. I just want to pretend everything is okay pull myself together, if only for five straight days in a row.  Arizona provides this breathing room for me.  A respite. 

I grew up in Arizona, and being away from it for 19-ish years now, makes it quite special to me.  Every. time.  A lot of people close to my heart still live there, so it's easy to feel like I'm a little bit home when I'm there, too.

Last week, I met up with three of my best girlfriends for the third year in a row (thank you Facebook). In 2009 we gave this girlfriend getaway a whirl, and declared it a newfound tradition that is at the tip top of our "Must Have" lists (next to lip gloss and flushable wipes).

Once we got over the initial euphoria of being together again, we gladly assumed our positions (sprawled out over the kitchen counter eating chocolate cake), hunkered down for three days and two nights together (special thanks to their kiddos for letting me have them all to myself--and first choice of the room with the bunk bed).  As we moved from furniture piece to furniture piece, room to room, the conversation ebbed and flowed with stories of where our lives had taken us "since the last time". We took turns laughing and crying--literally toning muscles we forgot existed. We are rocking the Cheeks of Steel right now. I may have said, "I'm blogging this" about 157 times. I even took notes.

Notes:

"Ghetto Housewives" (that is SO us)

"I can't believe people still smoke." (said by one-O-my girls, we will call her The Feisty One--and seriously people--STOP.IT. I want you to live.)

 Midgets Little People.  (nothing but a healthy observation that Little People were several places we were--Safeway, The Sandbar and in a chapter of Tina Fey's book, Bossypants I was reading whilst on the girlfriend getaway--we figured there was huge meaning in this--to be determined at a later time)

Staying "regular" on the girlfriend getaway. (for *some* of us this is an issue and the conversation may have come up several times, proving that we are 38)

Mom suits vs. the bikini (more to come on this observation, darn it)

10:00 p.m. Pajama Time on the first night of the girlfriend getaway (WHAT? Further proof that we are 38. Even more of a big dealie-O when Beautiful Neighbor--also 38-ish--came over and told us about her--just the heck happened--Vegas escapades that were very escapade-ey--you go girl--and how she only slept an hour and a half in three days.  That's a little bit awesome, but also makes me want to go to sleep right this second. Because I'm 38.)

"I don't wanna throw up." (enough said right there)

"I don't wanna go to jail." (good idea)

"We didn't pay our bill, officer." (i'm gonna let you wonder about that one, mmmmkkkk?)

Do you sense a girlfriend getaway theme here?  Let's just say our intentions were real good.  Garage fridge full of Coronas and Mirror Pond.  Don't tell anyone that the total amount of beer consumed out of the garage fridge by four women tired moms over three girlfriend getaway days was exactly FOUR. I laugh at this. We did better when we actually left the house.

We managed to (make ourselves) go out on night two to a hot spot, called The Sandbar. We arrived at 6:30 p.m., ordered a round of margaritas and by 6:50 p.m. (it was then necessary to order our next round before Happy Hour ended at 7:00 p.m.), we were good.to.go. The margaritas were delicious and strong. Like so strong  Noted. Next we ordered chips and queso and a lot of delicious fish tacos and didn't leave that joint for seven hours.  Seven. What? We had a really good table.  When we got our bill our poor waitress had to come back three times whilst we figured that sucker out. Let it also be noted that none of us on the girlfriend getaway are mathematicians--What is wrong with us?! 

Next day (minus throwing up and jail, but plus more cake), we saw Bridesmaids, which is THE PERFECT girlfriend getaway movie.  Put it on your list right now.  Right now. Look Away!

Oh, these girls. These girls keep my 38-year-old self grounded with encouragement, laughter and chocolate cake.  They are so good at this. I am just nothing but grateful.

Next up... I will discuss my observation of mom suits vs. bikinis, darn it. I know, TOTAL cliffhanger.      

The Sum of It

This sums up the last seven months of my life. 



Words

"Song For A Winter's Night"
by Sarah McLachlan


[Written and first sung by Gordon Lightfoot in 1975]


The lamp is burnin' low upon my table top
The snow is softly fallin'
The air is still within the silence of my room
I hear your voice softly callin'



If I could only have you near
To breathe a sigh or two
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
Upon this winter night with you




The smoke is rising in the shadows overhead
My glass is almost empty
I read again between the lines upon the page
The words of love you sent me




If I could know within my heart
That you were lonely too
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
Upon this winter night with you




The fire is dying now, my lamp is growing dim
The shades of night are liftin'
The mornin' light steals across my windowpane
Where webs of snow are driftin'




If I could only have you near
To breathe a sigh or two
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
And to be once again with with you
To be once again with with you


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=06t60Ei_8Vg

Oh, My Stars!

If you know me, you know I love to decorate.  Huge passion.  I wish I would have gotten my degree in it just about every single day.  I absolutely love making my home feel cozy and welcoming.  The biggest compliment you could give me would be to fall asleep on my couch, not out of boredom, but comfort. 

My favorite is the country look, just shy of  true primitive.  I love the lived in feeling of it.  The "life" and story in it.  I think it fits so well with raising a family.  I love filling up and living in every nook and cranny of my home. The girls and I were watching an episode of "Little House on the Prairie," yesterday and I honestly think my love for this look started back when I was about my daughters' ages.  To this day, I would live in the Ingalls' house. 

One of my most favorite magazines is Country Sampler.  I literally get giddy when it comes in the mail and have to wait until it's quiet in the house (ie. no interruptions), grab my coffee or glass of wine, and kick the cat off the coziest part of the couch, cuz Momma's sitting for a while.  I want to liiive in this magazine every single time.  (see pics above--you feel me?)

You can imagine one of my favorite pastimes is decor shopping.  For a few years I was an Independent Consultant for Southern Living at Home and At Home America. I LOVED these jobs that didn't feel like jobs at all to me. I got to decorate my house at huge discounts and pay for Christmas!  Craig's List was a good friend when we moved here and I needed to furnish my house. I have a great affinity for the stores, Real Deals and Simple Folk.  Momma's gonna have my own store some day.  You watch.

Thankfully I have ONE friend in my life that gets the goosebumps along with me.  She gets me.  I get her. We shop together (though we've made a pact not to garage sale together to maintain our friendship), pick each other's decorative brains, and sit side by side reading our latest issue of Country Sampler together.  It's written on our calendars.  It has status.  Priority. 

Occassionally we get grief about our decor passion from people who don't get the goosebumps.  Rolled eyes. Near-snarky comments.  She mentioned a recent convo to me and I got my back up about it as well.  Might as well've been said to me. 

Side Note That Totally Fits With This Story:  Last night, my daughter decided to count all the stars in our house--"for fun".  Amazingly, she got The Hubbs to participate.  Well, we have just under 600 stars...downstairs. 

So this morn, I was talking to The Hubbs about said convo my friend had and The Hubbs then proceeded to bring up the 600 stars bit to me.  (Oh no you didn't)  He was on the verge of complaining about (gasp) my decor (my passion), the way I decorate (make our home!).  He was very close.  He knew how close I was to bringing up his passion--BEER--and just how much he spent on beer in one pop and oh yeah...did I mention the beer glass collection that makes my head want to explode?  I was very close to doing that.  So you can see--my friend's convo/argument just about became The Hubbs and mine. 

So I took a deep breath and asked him (all sweet like)--what DO you want our house to look like?  When we got married, what did you imagine?  He thought about it for 5 seconds.

Here's what he said:  Battlestar Galactica. 

((faint))

Battlestar Galactica Bedroom

I Just Like This, That's All (and you should too)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gfYkPYFKBXE

Why no,really, Thank YOU...

With every day getting closer to Thanksgiving I notice a lot of (Facebook) friends reflecting on things they are thankful for. Their lists vary from being thankful to be alive to Peppermint Mocha's.  I love it!  I love that there is just always something to be thankful for.  Really. 

So here's my, extremely random and in no particular order, list (thus far...you know I will think of five more things, the moment I click "publish"):

I am thankful for my family.  All of them.  Even the one that says the "f" word on their Facebook status updates. 


I am thankful for my hubby and children. Even though they make gray hairs.  Make me cry.  Make me turn into a werewolf.  Make me long for an island.  They make me happy MORE.  They make me have purpose MORE.  They make me laugh MORE.  They make me want to do better MORE.  They make me believe in God MORE.

I am thankful for my dog.  She's my best friend.  We are ((tight)).  Sometimes I wish I could text her and say, "Hey girl...you watching the house?  Everything good?  Staying out of the litter box?  Good giiiiirl."  But that would be weird. 

I am thankful for my mean old cat.  He makes me appreciate the dog and *sometimes* he likes to cuddle.

I am thankful for "select-a-size" paper towels.  Where have they been all my life?

I am thankful for music that says what I want to say better and can take me away when I can't literally get away.

I am thankful for Jazzercise, cuz it really, really works.  AND I can pretend I'm a ballerina, Blazer dancer or background dancer in an Usher video.  And it really works.

I am thankful for books--especially fiction--cuz they help me go to sleep every single night.  And again, the whole getaway deal.

I am thankful for teachers, cuz every single night when I'm working on homework with my kids (specifically multiplication at the moment), I know I could not be a teacher.  How in the world do you explain THAT at a 9-yr-old's level of understanding? My head wants to explode every time. 

I am thankful for flush able wipes.  (aren't you?) 

I am thankful for a sister-in-law that loves to play Farkle at the kitchen table.

I am thankful for friends that feel like family.

I am thankful for my PTO position.  It makes me use my brain and I love when those kiddos wave and say, "Hi Sunshine!"  They might as well give me money. 

I am thankful for Cracked Pepper Triscuits.  (it's a meal)

I am thankful for Google--it knows stuff.

I am thankful for Dr. Laura.  Even Dr. Laura.  Cuz she *sometimes* says some good stuff.  AND I can turn her off when I get mad at her.  Cuz she can be a real "B". 

I am thankful for forgiveness, cuz I can be a real "B" sometimes too.

I am thankful for Gap's Long & Lean jeans.  They make me feel skinny.

To be continued, cuz there sure is more...