you can't always get what you want..

even though I am kind of used to getting just that.  I had to go and mention irony, and in it's true fashion, it turned around and kicked me right in my ass. Not cool Universe, not cool.
As it turns out, a mere week after seeing the balloon, I wished I had it.  My mother in law was on her way in to hug us goodbye, and hit the road back home to Alaska, when she fell out of the camper (in my driveway... on her way to say goodbye) and broke her femur. True story. The paramedics rolled (you may remember the young hotties that they keep at our local fire department down the road, from when they paid me a special visit on Valentine's day '08 after plunging a meat thermometer through my vegetarian hand..oh sweet irony, you've bested me again. Will I ever learn?!(this is said with reverence, not as a challenge, please understand))
Anyway, sweet young things came to my rescue once again. (sidebar: would it really be too much to ask that once, just once, when I had a need for emergency assistance, that a distinguished gentleman, or woman, would come to my aid? What is with the part time models thinking it's fine to be paramedics?! As if when someone has to cut your pants off, in the driveway, (yes it did), it is too much to ask that they could they just look like my mom, instead of the boy that didn't take me to the prom in high school?! SHIT!) Whisked my mil off in an ambulance, and then with a sideways smile, invited me to Starbucks. Um. Never mind. (my life is so weird)
She goes to the emergency room, and then gets admitted for emergency surgery. Alan meets his folks at the hospital, and calls me later to pick him up there. His car is dead in the parking lot. **shaking fist at irony** Car gets towed from ER parking lot. Etc..Etc..Etc....You are starting to get the picture.
Fast forward to today (since I wish I could). When everything gets all straightened out again, man am I going to appreciate it. Forever. I am sure that I don't need anymore tests of my strength, or mental stability (since I think we are all on the same page there..) 
The sun is supposed to be out tomorrow.  If they served spiked coffee at Starbucks, I might would take Mr. Hottie McFratboy up on his offer for a cuppa. Alas, we are knee deep in school, appointments, and packing to have any time for decompression, so onward. I will take it like a woman. Dominate.  (or hang on by a thin thread, but do it wearing my best jeans, so at least my butt will look good)
Then, when all of this has passed, I will try to look back and laugh, happy to have survived. (then try to forget most of the details)

ps, I also survived the end of the world, which was predicted to be this last weekend.  Guess I'm not done here yet. Although, truthfully I was almost looking forward to it. I am tired.

hello again.

After an on again, off again relationship, where I have been lifted to my highest highs, and plunged down to my lowest lows, where I have been sweetly tempted, and then left feeling depressed, lost many sleepless nights, and wasted so so so many empty calories, it is back on. Coffee, be mine, now and forever. I am sorry that I tried to ignore you, when the whole time, your dark, rich kiss helped me get through early mornings, and hard days. My breakfast is hollow without you, I want to wake up to you every morning. I dream of your smell, and the way you taste in my mouth, the way you make me feel. I think this is the real thing. I love you.

And, in other news.......

Layla had an incident the other day. A mom approached me in the school parking lot visibly upset. She proceeded to tell me that Layla had pushed her daughter in class (this wasn't the first time she claims) and then Layla SPIT in her hair. Um, WHAT?!?!
This mom was shaking and sounded like she could pop a vessel at any moment.

Well, I had just survived a lengthy visit from my in laws and I tell you, if I was ever ready to get into a fight, today was the day. I calmly set down my basket and got ready to rumble. I had so much pent up aggression I could have body slammed "the Rock", this little mousy haired, station wagon driving mama had NO IDEA what she was getting herself into. (I almost felt sorry for her...almost).

I guess she was smart enough to see the crazy in my eyes, or felt like I could handle the situation from there, but she scooted right along, which was a good thing for us both.

Please know that I am no stranger to getting the boot, but looking back, fist fighting another mama over my daughter's bad behavior would probably not send quite the right message. (bonus points for me realizing that, before actually getting us all expelled from the program-yay me!!)

Fast forward to a few hours later after I have endlessly grilled Layla about this entire ordeal. I am shouting (since spitting in hair is totally not how we behave...well, I guess unless provoked. oops) and she is crying. And crying. And crying. I am having a hard time getting past it. Why would she behave this way?! What made her think that her behavior was acceptable. She spends the next 2 days with me spouting questions and expletives in a tourettes fashion, and her looking VERY sorry and remorseful, almost fighting back tears the entire time. Or so I thought.

This morning she woke up with her eyes stuck shut, and I find out that the swollen, red eyes she has had these past two days are not from her guilt over her bad behavior, but pink eye. That's right, she has conjunctivitis. Thank you, thank you, I am now going to accept my "Mother of the Year Award".

Whatever, I took her to the doctor first thing, she got her very own roll of paper towels in the bathroom, and her own fancy lavender hand sanitizer, so I am still totally legit. (and we might have had a small talk about karma. that's how I roll bitches!)

It's me!

you might not recognise me though, since I have lost 21 pounds!! (don't worry, I won't steal your man...on purpose) I like to think it is because I have been so good at cutting back on portions, and making good food choices, and literally running and sweating my ass off in hot yoga, but maybe it's because I do not have a free moment in a day to just sit down. Either way, I'll take it for now, and later when I pass out from exhaustion, maybe work something else out. (if it ain't broke..)
I have also been completely dominating the field in homeschooling lately, and, um, I guess that's all.
I had an epiphany recently, life is like juggling. You can, at any one time, keep a couple, or maybe if you are really good, a few balls in the air. If you do nothing else, you can hone your skills and eventually people can throw extra balls at you, that you can manage with ease and make everyone wonder how you do it. I however, never even learned to juggle, so I am pretty much screwed. I am trying here, really I am, but my manual dexterity is questionable, and that, combined with my lack of grace, and my propensity for distraction, makes the whole thing kind of almost impossible. My balls (haha-balls!) are currently: 1) getting myself healthier and 2) home school. I am ROCKING these. I Guess I can juggle after all. (when there aren't actual balls involved, apparently I can figure it out.)(haha-balls) I can do these 2 things. Never mind that my house is a mess, my car is out of gas, and I can't remember what my husband looks like. (lucky for me, Alan has had decades of practice cleaning up after me-literally and figuratively) so he doesn't even notice a difference except that I have a few less chins now. And he likes it. Everybody's a winner.
In other news, I am going to Mexico for my birthday. We are leaving in a month, I think I will start packing. My mom is coming to stay with the girls, and will probably juggle my stuff, add 12 more things, and set them all on fire whilst riding a unicycle. Moms are magical, how do they do that? Shit! Am I supposed to do be able to pull that off some day?! I need a nap.

perspective

It's funny sometimes, how our feelings seem so out of our control. Yesterday I had a blue day, for no reason at all (except the phase of the moon, hormones, holidays, you know, no reason). The sun was shining and it was a crisp winter day, the sky was blue and the kids were even trying to behave. Yet there I was, crying into my shirt about how sad I was. I was very sad.
It is easy to get sucked into the "poor me" mentality. I have to change Layla's pump site and it will hurt her, and it will hurt my heart. I have to have workers here all week to fix a problem that came about all on it's own, with no rhyme or reason,(underground wiring, rain, rocks) and it costs money. I want to eat chocolate, or carbs, or anything but celery, but I know that it wouldn't help me reach my goal of getting to where I want to be. I want my hair to look pretty, and it doesn't, it sticks out, and my face is round, and too pink. The shoes that I ordered don't fit. My chocolate didn't come in the mail...Silly things. Things that don't matter.
Guess what? Last night there was a storm, there was wild wind, and pouring rain, and today the sun was out again. The roads were all messy, trees had lost branches, and the creek by our house was swollen up, full to the very edges of it's banks. I went for a run outside. It is beautiful here. Right here, where I get to live, it is paradise. Sure it is wet, and soggy and covered with moss, but I have a warm dry house, and fuzzy pants. (and today, I have back up at home with me, so the teams are even).
Sometimes it takes a storm to shake things up a bit, make it nice and messy, so it can become clear how lucky we are. In it's chaos, and the destruction that it leaves behind, it reveals the things that are comfortable that we take for granted, every day. Today, in the fresh air, I realised that yes, Layla having diabetes does suck. Bad. It sucks worse than anything else. But also, we are lucky enough that we have money to buy her insulin, and pump supplies. Not everyone is that lucky. Today, I thought about how lame it is to have to pay a bunch of money at Christmas time, to electricians, to fix something that just broke (even though it shouldn't have),but, we are lucky that it will get fixed. (and in time for my parents to get to come stay with us for Christmas). MY PARENTS ARE COMING FOR CHRISTMAS! I ate one delicious (small) muffin, and I remembered that I am looking better every day because of the changes I have been making, and every decision counts. I looked in the mirror and laughed, remembering that it is just hair, and I am lucky to have any at all. (also that pink is a great color to be, it is bright, and healthy and alive.)
It's all about perspective, the way you look at something can change the way it is, to you at least, and let's face it, that's what counts. Today was a good day, I made it that way. I am in total control of my own happiness. (well..today I am, that chocolate better come soon!)

ain't love grand

Two weeks ago I celebrated 14 years of marital bliss with a boy that came to my 15th birthday. Alan says he knew I was "the one" when he first laid eyes on me. I think he made that up because he knows girls like romantic stuff like love at first sight. (although to his credit, I was a super cute 14 year old, for the record). I say that I knew he was "the one" after we had been married about 7 years. These things take time.
Alan has always been smart, logical, level headed, stable and even. I have always been sassy, silly, naughty, crazy and inappropriate. Over the years some things have changed; the way we look, what we eat, having a bunch of kids, level of debt (you know...everything) but the above character traits have stayed pretty much the same after all of this time. We were basically opposites when we met, and now after living over half of my life with him, I choose to call it "complementary". (It sounds more positive I think).
Sometimes when he does things the absolute wrong opposite way than I would have done them, I sit there, confused, and try to figure out why anyone would do such a thing. A perfect example is making the bed. Every night he strips all of the blankets off until just the bottom fitted sheet is left, and pulls up each layer nice and tight until it is just so. Then the pillow are arranged and he can get in. When I am feeling up to the challenge, I hurry to brush my teeth first and jump into bed so I can yank the covers up all wonky (how I like them), and when he tries to strip the bed down, a tug of war ensues. (With me ALWAYS victorious (thank you very much), after living with me for so long, Alan has learned that you just can't fight with crazy. I told you he was smart.)
It would almost seem to an outsider that I do these things just to be contrary, but honestly, it is just my way, I don't try to label it. I think when we were newlyweds we had to work so hard at being married, that we were a little distracted and overwhelmed, and now that is just the way we are.
We have changed each other a little bit though, over the years. Alan isn't quite as serious as he used to be, and I try to be less insane. (I said try) We don't question each other as much as we used to, we trust more, and share responsibility. Alan tries his best to understand me, and is very kind and tolerant of me and my ways, and tries to support me whenever he can, even when it puts him outside of his normal comfort zone.
He smiles and sighs when I invite strangers over for parties (internet friends are barely strangers), he rolls his eyes when I get 14 boxes of fiber cereal because it is a good price, and he barely even breaks stride when I say things like "I bought a red robot vacuum today." (even though he has never heard of a robot vacuum and they sound really expensive)
When we were out for our anniversary, I realized just how much he has changed over the years. He had taken me to Lush (my very favorite store for smelly stuff) to get some deodorant, a shampoo bar and some dusting powder, and was patiently standing by whilst I made best friends with the cutie with the facial piercings behind the counter. I told Cutie that I was there for my powder and he mentioned that it was now discontinued and what was on the shelf was all there would ever be. EVER. (whoa, I almost cried-seriously) Now I am not a big fan of beauty supplies, or even a high maintenance girl in general, but I like what I like. With out a word, Alan walked over to the shelf and proceeded to load ALL of the remaining powders into the basket. There were 9 little cans.
Does he think I am ridiculous? Absolutely. Did he think I would have left without all of the powders? Probably not. Did he make me super happy and remind my why I love him? Indeed. I skipped out of the store. On the way back to the car, we also snuck into an emergency room to use the bathroom....It was almost too much for me to process in one day. Good thing the next day he was back to his sensible self. I don't even think I will mess with the covers this week. (too much)

I love Alan

I did what?!

this morning there was a HUGE (ok, it was tiny to smallish but whatever, it was really black and had tons of legs and was skittery and offputting) spider on the wall in my bathroom. I grabbed a piece of t.p., and squished it quick, and tossed it in the toilet. We then left for the morning and all afternoon. (flash forward hours and hours until now)

I just had to pee. When I turned around to flush I had a mild coronary infarction when I noticed a spider all smashed on the toilet paper I had just used. WHAT THE?!?!? I totally just crapped a spider and didn't even know it (nevermind I only peed), probably this means I am dying! Oh wait, um, I think that may be the spider from the wall this morning. phew. Crisis averted. (well almost, I am still completely freaked out by the thought that I peed the scary, black, 100 legged spider-even though it didn't really happen, and am feeling a little skin crawly and jumpy.. I am going to try to work through this with some chocolate and probably later plenty of Blue Moon-TGIF!)

hurray for birthdays!

We just finished celebrating Layla's 7th birthday. I am exhausted! Most people have a birthday for a day or 2, or even a week, but we have birthday extravaganzas around here. It's my fault, completely, since I am a birthday princess, but I am good enough to let everyone enjoy the same level of celebrating, so I am kind and fair and just as a ruler. (and I expect a full month of celebrating my own birthday, which is coming up quickly, in case you need to start getting ready for it)
The festivities actually started about a day before her birthday, Maggie and I took roses and cupcakes and Tinkerbell napkins to her art class, so she could experience the whole class birthday love thing (plus then I seriously look like about the coolest mama ever-right?) On her actual birthday we decided to take the day off from school (duh-it was a birthday!) and made special fancy African pastries for breakfast (we are learning about Africa, and got the recipe from a friend who is currently living there). We then got all glammed up and went outside, on this rare dry day in January, for a photo shoot. It went very well, 7 year olds LOVE to ham it up for the camera. (4 and a half year olds really enjoy trying to sabotage the entire effort) Next on the list was lunch out with Daddy and then off to see the latest chipmunk movie. (got great reviews from both girls, who think the squeaky singing of the animated rodents is hilarious!) As soon as the movie was over, we rushed home to tidy up a bit and pick up Alan, then we headed over to Sushi Tsunami for her birthday dinner. Some really good friends were able to meet us and we had a great time, the birthday girl was very pleased. Layla had chosen a 7 layer pound cake and dark chocolate torte from a fancy local bakery for her birthday cake, and we all enjoyed it very much. (second time we sang happy birthday, just incase you are keeping track)
The next day was Friday and Alan brought Layla's BFF Caity home with him from work to stay the weekend. We had a great dinner of pizza and lemonade and craft time. (I am getting tired-thankfully, no singing today)
Saturday started early. 3 girls is a lot of girls. The morning started with some kind of argument, someones feelings being hurt, (can't remember details) and lots of whining and loud talking and high pitch sounds of all sorts, being thrown around by all. It is then that I had my best idea ever. (later proven to not be my best idea ever, but at the time, I was proud and clever) We would go to Chuck E Cheese, where a kid can be a kid, and run around and yell and all that great stuff without making me upset. (right-this is a great idea!) We get to Chuck's place around 11:15 or so, and amazingly, I was not the only adult to have had this thought today. There were about 3000 (give or take) assorted strangers there, ALL running around and yelling and jumping and whatnot. (at this point I start to rethink my brilliant idea) They give us a romantic table for 2 and we settle in and the girls take off. We leave about an hour and a half later so we can go home and eat left over pizza (oh how I love irony) and rest briefly before the birthday party starts. (that's right, now we have a birthday party)
For the birthday event we went to a pottery studio so the kids could paint tiles. It went really well, everyone was pleased, the tiles turned out great (I think, I still have to pick them up) and with happy faces (after treating both diabetics for low blood sugars) we headed next door to an ice cream shop so the guests could enjoy our special birthday "build your own ice cream sundae bar"!! It was really amazing. The ice cream is hand made with all natural goodness and local products when ever it is an option. (can't wait to go back here) The kids got to choose a flavor of ice cream out of about a dozen flavors and then they brought out about a dozen topping options and squirt bottles of chocolate sauce and whipped cream. We were having a double party with our friend Stella, so the birthday girls got a candle in their scoop while we (once again) sang happy birthday. It was so exciting to see all the toppings, and open presents, and get the birthday song AGAIN, that Layla wasn't paying very much attention to things, she was just so absorbed in the festivities. This is when the candle caught her hair on fire. true story. Luckily it was just a little piece, and the flame went out and it just fizzled and singed a bit. She finger combed the burnt bits out, we laughed, and then enjoyed ice cream.
We came home and the girls sang karaoke all night. We took Caity to her Grandma the next afternoon (after more karaoke), and then ended the day with a trip to OMSI and a noodle dinner. I love birthdays-they are about my favorite thing, but the freaking birthday song can kiss my grits. I am not a singer (without any booze in me) and the dang song is so distracting Layla almost lost her hairdo this time.
My birthday is March first but I think I am planning a celebration mid February-that should give me just about enough time to get back into birthday mode. (no singing required)

cheese

I think I have a crush on my dentist. This tells me a couple of things about myself, 1) that I am a masochist (on account of my acute dentist-phobia), and 2) that I don't get out enough.
I had a date, erm, appointment, this morning, here is how it went down: I get there and sign in, and sit down in the lobby and get to read a current people magazine. (ok, well it was a few weeks old, there was a current one, but who cares about Tiger Woods?!) This morning is off to a pretty good start already I'd say-no kids, a tabloid in a quiet lobby, the only thing that would have made it better is if I had a coffee in my hand, and this were the waiting room of a day spa. (ok not really, but as I have already told you-I don't get out much) I get half way through reading about Brittany Spears' recent trip to Bermuda and her current manager/boy toy/baby daddy, and am rudely interrupted by my name being called. ug. I hate the dentist.
I toss the magazine all nonchalant like I am superman, and not at all intimidated by the big plastic covered chairs, and minions wandering around in white coats and medical masks. (seriously-what IS this place?) I have been going to this dentist for years, so thankfully they are well aware of my anxiety and try their very best to be gentle and comforting whilst picking and probing the inner depths of my face. I clench my fists and ram them into my pockets, while the hygienist goes about her business of polishing and plaque removal, all the while I am just waiting for the minute I can get my lips around "Mr. Thirsty", which signals the near end of my torture. Today I tell her my teeth have been abnormally sensitive, so she goes really easy on me (hallelujah!), she praises me on my veritably non existent "build up" (I think she is just trying to humor me since I look like I may burst into tears at any moment) and retracts the giant spot light in record time.
Enter Dr. Paul. Dr Paul is a man who is around Alan's age, balding, and has a mouth full of braces. He is the quietest person I have ever experienced. I sometimes think he may be void of any emotion whatsoever (he IS a dentist after all). He only uses words when it is absolutely necessary. Mostly he just hangs out in my mouth, then walks around the back of the chair, takes notes, and mumbles to the friendly hygienist. I am not a fan of this form of (non) communication, so when I go for our "appointments" I ask direct questions which require an answer. It's like a game for me to get him to use as many words as possible, and I get extra points if he cracks a smile.
This morning we got to chat about my teeth, and why they hurt, and how he can (try to) fix it for me. I tried to keep the mood light, (since I was still at the dentist and I could have a mild nervous break down at any second) as we discussed our options. He thought that I should come back in so he could redo the surface of the filling, I thought this was a horrible idea. He smiled a little, then explained how he was just trying to help me (oh, he is smooth). Then I asked what if his grand resurfacing plan didn't work? He replied with an answer, which is a little fuzzy, since he mentioned the word root canal and after that things got a little blurry and he sounded kind of buzzing and intermittent. I came away with the knowledge that I may have to get a gold tooth (which, by the way I am pretty sure comes with a complimentary wrist tattoo and gang membership) and yet another "appointment" with Dr. Paul. I asked him if there was any way I could possibly schedule the root canal on my birthday since he made it sound so awesome. I actually got a small almost audible chuckle on this one. It was like magic. (ok, not really, but I have to psych myself into going back right?)
So, long story short, I am going back next month for phase one of tooth sensitivity training, hopefully it will work, and I can go back to my bi-annual dates with Dr. Paul. I am actually doing pretty well with the impending dental work, Plan B is that if Dr. Paul's smile isn't enough (or the nitrous), I will pop a Valium and have Alan drive me.
Today I am a winner. I survived my dentist appointment, AND I walked away with a fuzzy fake mustache in a tiny egg (from the tower of treats because I am such a good patient). Who's laughing now Dr. Paul?