What Am I Thinking!?

Not posting for so many days!? It's been a crazy week, but I also haven't felt very blogose.
However, I have some great news. We are now officially only buying one size of diapers. Ben just suddenly decided it was time. I kept being hesitant in believing he was trained, but I think the true proof is in when he stops to go to the bathroom while playing outside, and at restuarants, and in the play area at the mall. Or when he says to a van full of older kids and adults, "Everybody here goes poop and pee in the toilet now!" Or when he pushes the trashcan in the bathroom at McDonalds over to the sink so he can wash his hands, because his mom is busy chatting and doesn't even realize he's left the play structure to go to the bathroom. Yeah, I think it's safe to say he's trained.

I watched my friend's little 16 month old daughter all day Tuesday. We went over there since I vainly thought my kids would sleep anywhere, and better to keep the little girl in her element and let my kids adjust. Avery spent the entire attempted hour of nap singing, crying, with intermittent yelling that I am certain she was calling me names, and was undoubtedly saying, "are you kidding me lady? This is NOT my bed, NOT my dark closet, and you will NOT be bragging about my sleeping versitility to anyone." Break for song. What I was interested to learn was that my precious little peanut is not only michevious, but a little bit of an antagonizer. Sweet little, twice her size, 16 month old Reagan tolerated Avery's tyranting, then decided she need to let others know about it, and then finally started to hold her own with my little princess bully. I don't think Avery is innately a bully, I think she's just learned certain behaviors from Ben. Or so I will tell myself.

In the meantime, I am grateful to not have stairs in my house. I could not keep her off the stairs and she booked up them in record time, as though to get as much stair climbing under her belt as possible, before I snatched her away to "safety". Inititally I had a lot of patience with her fascination with the stairs. That was until I saw her dart off from the play area to the stairs, stop just in front of them and look back to see if I was coming after her. I didn't let her see me watching her, and she just waited, peeking her head around the bend to see if I was coming. After watching her peer around the corner at me for a minute or so, taunting me with her little dimpled legs set to zip off at moment's notice, I got up. Then and only then, did she dart up the stairs. I imagine she had some thought process like this, "Okay, okay, Oprah's on, the kids are playing loudly, mom's definitely not going to notice, on 3 I'm making a break for it. One...twooooo......THREE! Run Avery, run, you can do it! Fyoosh, I made it without her saying anything. Okay, now I'm here, let's see, I wonder how far up these stairs I could get before she grabs me. Hmm, I think I'll make this interesting, I'll even wait until she sees me and then I'll dash---that will be the real challenge. Just propelling my 27 inch body up these stairs at lightening speed for kicks is getting boring. Oh! Here she comes.... AHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!!!!!!!"

Jay has been home all week, but will resume his rigorous schedule of traveling next week. He's actually been working from home for the last two days and I'm one of those people you give an inch, I'll take the entire distance of Texas. "Hey Jay, the baby is sleeping, would it be okay if I just take Ben and run to the bank, I'll be back in five minutes?" An hour and a half later, I call from Target, "Could you debone and skin the chicken on the counter, cut up some potatos and season them with that marinade, the recipe for the marinade is in the recipe box and you'll have to actually churn the butter for the marinade because it's just better that way. Oh yeah, and there are two half finished thank-you notes on the counter, could you finish writing them and walk them to the mailbox? Make sure Avery's diaper is changed and she's had 2 servings of veggies and 1 protein and at least 3 oz of water. I'll be home soon, kiss kiss!"
Maybe Jay LIKES traveling.

I got an exercise ball and a video called "Core Secrets" and did it the other day. I was on the gigantic exercise ball and Ben did the exercises right alongside me on his oversized purple ball from Wal-mart. I loved exercising with Ben. For the first time in all the times I have worked out with someone, I was the more coordinated one. Anyway, it was an awesome workout. Relatively easy, as far as manuevering, but quite a work-out, muscularly. I think Jay secretly rolled his eyes (in his head) when I said how sore I was the next day, because he saw me doing parts of the workout, and it LOOKS really easy. He did it TWO days ago and guess who can hardly haul his hind end off the computer chair without loud groans of "agony"? Yep. Love that validation.

What do you think?

Sometimes when I sit down to write, I don't have anything in mind. Other times, when I'm just going about my business, driving, shopping, bathing the kids, I have a million blogging thoughts going through my mind and I can't seem to get to the computer fast enough. I'm gonna let you guess what type of blog this is...

So anyway, not much going on here.

Just kidding.

We had a great weekend of rest and relaxation. I got a total of 5 hours worth of naps in over the weekend. It was a good thing too because I caught a little bit of a bug and I think it really helped to sleep it off. And because I love to sleep.

We went to some people's home on Sunday night for dessert with a few other families. Since we are the newbies around here, the hosts asked us to share the story of how we met. Jay deferred to me (because I can embellish seamlessly and because last time he told it was the first time he told it and I told him never to tell it again) so I told the story. They were curious about Jay's version of the story. Let me just outline my story, and then Jay's. You'll see why he's banned to silence on the subject.

Jay and I met in the summer of 2000, when I had graduated from college and detoured through Independence on my way to grad school in St. Louis. Jay was home for the summer.
We became fast friends and spent a lot of time together that summer. We were only friends. He went back to school, I moved to St. Louis. We kept in touch with emails and IM messaging (on late Friday nights when Jay was secretly pining for me and I was pining for a law school snob with whom I shouldn't have even bothered).

Jay moved back to Independence to help his dad with a business and I would see him when I'd come back home for visits. He came to St. Louis to go to Les Miserables with me (to prove I wasn't in love with him yet, he wasn't my first choice and when my first choice fell through, my friend suggested, "what about that Jay guy---isn't he around?" and I thought, "Hey, that's a great idea, why didn't I think of that, thanks Jen!"). That was the day I fell for him. Okay, this is turning out not to be an outline. But I'm just better at telling my version, I'll outline Jay's version. So, that day I told Jay I liked the name Jackson for one of my sons. He responded with, "Hmm, Jackson Bryner, sounds good." There are several very funny things about that. First of all, if a girl was ever even SUSPECTED of doing such a thing in the presence of a guy, she'd be blackballed. Fo' sho! Second of all, Jay wasn't making a statement, he wasn't "flirting", sending a message, testing the waters---nothing. He was simply talking aloud. One of the many things I love about my husband today. For every calculating, manipulative way I can be, he hasn't an ounce in him. I laughed right out loud at his innocent boldness. We had an amazing day together. Oh yeah, since I'm not sticking to my outline idea---I'll go to borderline too much information---I got REALLY REALLY sick two days prior to his arrival for Les Mis. I don't get sick like that. Ever. I couldn't move, I went to a dr, which I also never do, he gave me good drugs, and I didn't move from my bed for 2 days. I wasn't about to pass up Les Mis so I pulled it together for Jay's arrival. Aside from weakness, I was pretty much okay. What I wasn't okay for was my first meal in 3 days being Mexican. Yes, I spent the better half of our dinner date in El Maguey's cuarto de bano, much to my chagrin.

Something clicked that day, and it was the day I fell for Jay. I continued to fall, and I'm still falling. It seems so cliche to say you love someone more each day. But when you do, you do. He's so much more amazing than I ever even realized when I said I'd marry him. Oh yeah, and he wrote a nice blog about me the other day too. Can't say his motives were all that pure, but still, it made my day! The next year of dating was filled with lots of good times and some heart in my throat times, and frustration, and absolute joy to know I had finally met someone I wanted to be with forever. I just had to convince Jay that I was really as cool as I seemed and not secretly a nutcase, waiting for a wedding to let it all loose. My friend Anita gave me some amazing advice one day when I was particularly frustrated with Jay's commitment fears. She said something along the lines of: If you know he is who you'll marry and you know it will eventually happen, then you can spend the time patiently and graciously letting him figure things out or you can whine and throw fits and be bratty, and the end result will be the same---what do you want him to look back and remember? When Jay told me he wanted to marry me, he even said, "You have been nothing but patient and good to me from the beginning." Isn't that sweet? And isn't that great advice? And isn't it just like a girl to remember all that?

Well, after 1 year and 3 break-ups we got engaged. Funny story about the last break-up. I was 26. Jay and I had been dating for about 9 months (less a week or two for break-ups). I didn't want to waste anymore time on a ship that wasn't gonna sail, so I had to end it. It devastated me. But, I knew I had to---so the day after Christmas, I did it. I had to tell him not to call or write or email, or visit because I had to get him out of my system before we could attempt to be friends again, if we ever did. He was semi-respectful of that request. The reason I tell you this is because, my mom expressed her awe at me being so strong, knowing how much I loved Jay and how I had never felt that for anyone I had dated. One day she was visiting me in St. Louis and said, "Oh, oh, I have a quote that I heard that made me think of you, I even wrote it down for you." She rummaged through her purse but never found it so she tried to recreate it. She said, "It went something like this, 'when you have to wait the longest, and no options for marriage anymore, God will take care of you'." Interesting. The best part was when she found the post-it and it ACTUALLY said, "God saves the best for those who wait for him to make the choice." I put that post-it on my mirror to see everyday because everyday I was reminded of my mom's secret belief of my situation and it made me laugh very hard, and everyday it reminded me that I was in God's hands and if Jay wasn't it, then He had someone else in mind.

Well, Jay was it. And I couldn't be happier. He figured it out in February. Yay.
He was worth every second of agonizing indecision I had to wait out with him. He is a more incredible father, husband, provider, support, and friend than I ever dreamed of having. And I had big dreams!
Nice story, right?

Here's Jay's version:
So, I moved back to Independence to help my dad with a business. Independence basically sucks the very marrow from my bones and I hated it. I had just come from BYU, the land of milk and honey. Angela was the coolest person I knew within 500 miles and I finally just decided she'd be a good person to marry and I needed to get married. Good thing she was around or I'd have had to wait until some high school sophomores came of age.
Okay, I made the last sentence up.
But that's it. Isn't that atrocious? See why he's banned from recounting it?
He needs to throw in a few more "stunning redheads" and "never really breathed before..." and ix-nay on the 'there was no one else around-ay.' Sheesh.

Okay, if you hadn't figured it out yet, this was a "nothing to write" blog. Hope you made it through to the answer.

Here's a conversation I belive I just shouldn't have to have:

"We need to wipe our bums, every time we go poo-poo."
"But why?"

By the way, why do we feel compelled as parents or caregivers to include ourselves in some very basic behavior reminders when WE don't have a problem with it in the first place.
For example, I don't hit my friends, pick my nose, play with my food, pee on the floor, throw gigantic exercise balls at my sister's tiny head, or dump out brand new bottles of shampoo to see all the bubbles it will make---and yet I've said ALL of the above as though I have.

"Benjamin! We don't throw gigantic balls at Avery and dislocate her shoulder joint."
One day he'll say, "Clearly YOU don't mom, but I do."
I take that back---it's Avery who will say that. It's more her style.

Things That Made Me Laugh Out Loud Today

One of the loneliest feelings in the world to me is laughing alone. I don't feel loneliness very much, if ever. I was raised the 8th of 9 children and now a stay-at-home with an incessant talker and an almost-incessant screecher. I cherish alone time. However, laughing alone feels very lonely. That's why I don't like watching funny movies alone. But I did the other day and while I squirmed around guffawing heartily (I am a full-body laugher) at a movie (Prime, by the way) I wished so desperately that my husband was there to laugh with me. Or at me, I don't care---just need the mutual laughter.

But I've gotten used to laughing kind of alone, a lot. These are the things I laughed at today.

Ben announced, "I don't want to go to dance with MuhCindy (Here in Texas everyone is "Miss So-and-So, cuz we're in the south and they do things proper-like here, but Ben is pretty much a Yankee and doesn't know what people are doing adding "Miss" to a name, so he thinks Miss Cindy's name is MaCindy) today, I just want to stay here and not wear pants and watch Caillou and Cookie Monster." Okay, first of all, going pantless---brilliant. It took me 25 years to discover the joys of that. Ha! And second of all, is it normal for a 2 year old to choose to be a slobby couch potato, or is that learned behavior? And third of all, I LOVE LOVE LOVE alliteration, and he came upon it naturally and accidentally. It was beautiful. And I laughed out loud.

Next: Avery shakes her head "no", for "yes". By the way, completely off topic, but, I've wondered often---if you say "shakes head" doesn't that automatically imply "no" and "nodding head" automatically implies "yes". Right? Nod? I don't know if that's a rule I came up with on my own in my younger years of reading, or if it's a known fact. There are some writers out there who shake things up and get me all confused with their own interpretations of shaking and nodding. Anyone?

So, with Avery's mixed up head signals, it provides some very entertaining conversation. Ben pushed Avery and Avery yelled. I sat down on the floor with her and said, "Did Ben hurt you?" She shook her head. Ben laughed. "Yes I did," he corrects her. I said, "Does that make you want to hurt Ben?" kind of just making up questions that her shaking would be funny to. She shakes her head again and then reaches out and does a rapid fire of swats on Ben's head. I'm not promoting sibling abuse here, I really didn't think she'd take it as a suggestion. Ben squawked and I said I was sorry, I didn't want her hitting him and Ben said, "You're sorry mom betuz I taught her to hit and I'm sorry." That scenario alone got two hearty guffaws out of me.

Driving home from "Curious George" at the dollar theater, in which Ben remained curious for only half the length of the movie, I wondered if Ben knew my first name. I know he knows Jay's because, well, because that's all he calls him. So I started with, "Ben, what's Daddy's name?" He immediately responds, "Pookie---ah hahahahahahaha!"
Boy did I laugh.

Tonight as I was finishing clearing off Avery's tray (don't get excited, my house only stayed clean for 31 hours after that stupid blog.) both kids were hovering nearby. I set the tray down and said aloud, "Okey dokey, let's get this train a-moving" to which Avery responded with a mad scramble to get away from me. When her escape was thwarted by "slippery" tile, too long pants, and undeveloped equilibrium, she simply tucked her arms under her body and surrendered like a sunbathing seal. I told you I like alliteration. I have no idea why she got the idea to run, or why she actually thought she could, but it REALLY made me laugh, that and her defeat stance.

Then, as I was changing Avery's diaper I told Ben to pick out his books to read before bedtime. Usually we do anywhere from 2-5, and he's aware of that. I had my back to him and glanced back once to see a small stack of about 5 books. On top of the stack, his latest selection, was the user's manual to his booster seat, we purchased about a month ago. That TOTALLY made me laugh. Then I turned my back to him and finished with Avery and took her back to her bed. When I returned, about 2 minutes after having seen the manual, this is what I return to:

While I was laughing, I took a picture. Note, empty top shelf.

Okay, these are all Ben and Avery stories, but that's because I had NO OTHER face to face contact with anyone, unless you count the nice Indian man at Wal-mart who not only bagged my groceries, but also loaded them into my cart. But there were two other things that made me laugh today.

This in an email from my mom in response to my blog: "You won't have much to confess at the judgement gate." If I didn't know any better I would think that was a backhanded compliment. But that's not how my mom is, so while I'm certain it wasn't backhanded, I'm not certain on what it means. But it certainly made me laugh.

And this: http://today.reuters.com/news/articlenews.aspx?type=oddlyEnoughNews&storyid=2006-04-20T155023Z_01_N4K350677_RTRUKOC_0_US-BREASTS.xml

As I post this link, I feel a little guilty because I can hear my mom saying, "Angela, it's not nice to make fun at other's expense" or any number of things that are true, but honestly, I CANNOT HELP MYSELF. Go read it, go ahead, I'll wait. I couldn't believe it and it's SO funny and if you just imagine yourself answering the door to this solicitation. What would you do? I would fall on my butt and literally laugh it off.

Wednesday

I have no self-discipline. Not a lick. Okay, that’s not fair to say, I have some, where it REALLY matters. I don't play in toilet water or go outside nekkid. But when it comes to things like dieting, or implementing positive daily or weekly habits I last about 2 hours. I want to change this about myself and I've been pondering a lot on what it takes to become the kind of person who persists in the face of laziness or discouragement. Lumped in with this is keeping my house clean. I'm not talking museum-clean, there's something just as wrong with those people as there is with me. I have been to homes where my liquid refreshment was swiped from my hand as it was being raised to my parched lips. All in the name of tidiness. Not me, fo’ sho! I'm talking about, taking the dirty diaper immediately to the trash and not getting distracted by the videos sprawled on the floor, or a book nearby, or the computer...

My self-worth is not wrapped up in how clean my house is nor do I estimate other's worth based on that. But there is a wonderful feeling that comes with walking into a clean room. I have really been thinking about this a lot and things I can do to help my transition into being a neat person. I don't think there's ever a danger of me becoming compulsive, but I wouldn't mind borderline compulsiveness. These are the things I think will help, and I'd like any ideas or input anyone else has.
1) Delayed gratification. Clean for 10 or 15 minutes or do a workout video before I use the computer or go to bed or read a book or watch tv. I'm all about the here and now since I became an adult and get to choose that if I want.
2) Take care of it as soon as I'm done. Pull Avery out of the highchair, set her down (even though she loves after-meal kisses) and clean off her highchair tray. This sounds SO SIMPLE. But it's not for me. I am the queen of distraction. While I was pulling Avery from her high chair and indulging in some of her affection, I caught a whiff of Ben's newest addition to his Bob the Builder underwear and Thomas swim shoes ensemble.
"Ben, did you poop?"
"Yes mom. (with a dramatic sadness for effect) I pooped on Bob mom, I did."
"Oh Ben (with non-dramatic sadness, for I will be doing the cleaning), why did that happen?"
"Betuz...betuz, change me mom!"

So I go change him, forget about the highchair, and now I'm blogging about it.

3) Make my word mean something to myself. Say it aloud, and stick with it. This is my own made up technique of something I can do and become successful at and later write a self-help book on how to conquer the world, one positive affirmation at a time. If I say I'll do something to other people, I do it. Except with Jay. I often tell him I'll sit and listen to the latest breakthrough of world oil discovery changing the face of peak oil futures indefinitely---I tell him I will, but I won't. And I don't even know if the preceding sentence makes sense. But it's words I hear him say and I can make an educated guess at how to string them together. So, with that exception of Jay and various topics, my resolve and commitment to myself should mean just as much as my commitments to other people.

Today my house is clean. Jay left me with a very clean kitchen before going to New Jersey and I've managed to maintain. I cleaned before I went to bed last night and when Ben got up this morning he asked, "Who is toming over mom?" Who taught that kid to talk!? In addition to my house, my kids are fed and clean. I'm not. Should that be on my list of accomplishments? Baby steps Angela, baby steps.

Okay before I go, I have an anecdote or two that need to be included. Along with my yet unachievable goals of being a slender, super-nutritious, well-read, tidy person being documented, I'd also like to remember the little things my kids do everyday that just make me laugh.

Last night in a late-night foraging I found some candy-filled Easter Eggs in the cupboard that didn't make it to the baskets. I removed the plastic wrap that had SpongeBob on it and tried one of the egg treasures. It was Dora candy and it was horrible. I replaced all the eggs; put the wrapper in a bag of trash by the door to take out this morning. What I forgot, is that Ben is a dumpster diver in training. When he got up, he did some foraging of his own. He found the SpongeBob wrapper in the trash. He immediately brings it to me and the interrogating ensues. "What was in this? What did you eat in this? Who eated this? Where's the rest of it?" I TRIED to blow him off with a vague half-truth like, "It was a yucky snack that's gone now." 2 minutes later he returns to me and says, "Where is the Dora candy you had yesterday?" I spin around looking for the mommy-cam hidden in one of his toys. I try to figure out if he realizes what he's asking or is just hoping to be right. Turns out he recognized the SpongeBob wrapping from when I brought it home 5 days ago with about 12 other bags of groceries. "Yesterday" is any day in the past for Ben.

Avery had a doctor's appointment yesterday and it's almost like she knew the appointment was just for her. She talked almost nonstop (seriously, one of the cutest things ever---she really goes for it and has some consistent words but they aren’t words I've heard from any sober, English speakers) and when the doctor dared to "include" Benjamin, Avery screeched at him and would smack his hand away from Ben. I can't get mad; she learned the behavior from Ben. She also learned to hit back and I can't say it isn’t funny. She reciprocated one of Ben's impulsive shoves with a rapid fire of slaps from her eency, weency little hand. Even Ben laughed.

HOTTER'N ME ON A FRIDAY NIGHT...

wearing my Clinique Peach Goddess lip gloss. That's how hot it is in Texas. And believe me, THAT'S HOT. A group of us went to the park this morning at 11:00 am. By noon Avery had melted down to the 19 and a half inches she was born at, and basically the same color red. Ben was a blob of sweat and sunscreen and smelled so much like boy I almost made him walk home alongside the car. It's APRIL 16TH!! What is up with that!? Well, whatever, I have the next 5 months of our lives scheduled. It will be the swimming pool, slathered in sunscreen or just a full body suit, or the library, and I don't care if you're supposed to be quiet in the library. The problem with being so fair skinned, and marrying the only other person on this planet as white as me, is that when I take my kids outside, I can't say, "oops, I forgot the sunscreen." Because that is tantamount to saying, "oops, I just poured scalding water over my child and now he/she is red and covered in blisters and probably going to die of skin cancer by 12". I love using words like tantamount. I can never pull it off verbally, but in writting, I can do ANYTHING. So, added to the oh-so-easy process of getting out the door, is now the sunscreen dance routine fight.

Shortly after I got back home into our cool abode, Jay called for us to meet him for lunch. I loaded the kids back up and headed off to Best Buffet. An exceptionally creative name for a yummy chinese buffet. When I loaded Avery into the car after our feast of potstickers and egg-drop soup, she fell asleep WHILE I was buckling her. That never, ever happens. I don't have kids that fall asleep in their high-chairs, or while watching a movie, or even while laying in bed sometimes. On the way home, Ben asked why we had to go home and aside from the bustling Chinese waiter who clearly wanted the space cleared for more chicken and broccolli lovers, I told him he had to take a nap. He didn't like that answer. And as a solution to that, he started his own version of a game we like to play while we are driving. There is a restuarant here called Taco Bueno and one of the commercials they say, "I say 'TACO', you say 'BUENO'!" I just had that running through my head one day and said it aloud in the car, and thus the game was born. A few days later, Ben needed variety and suggested I say "pocksabo" (popsicle) and he say peanut butter. So we've had lots of fun variations on that game. Well, on the way home, Ben decided on this new version, "Okay mom, I say, 'Do I need to take a nap mom?' and YOU say, 'NO!' Okay, here I go, 'Do I need to take a nap mom?" I knew, as wily as this little boy was with his new games and whatnot, if I said "No" even once, I'd be held to it until he is 30. So I didn't give in. Despite his persistence. But I did laugh very hard, every time he tried. I cannot tell a lie, the boy got his manipulative attributes from me. I just didn't know it could be inherited.

Of Parks and good parenting, and Britney, and Carpets, and Police, and Excessive Use of Quotation Marks

Does it ever end? When you're a little kid it's inane assertions like, "my dad's bigger than your dad!" like THAT makes you any better than another 7-year-old. It was true in my case and all that has done for me is make me big-boned and hopelessly pursuing the smaller figure of my petite-fathered counterparts. Then when you're in high school it's "I have more stylish clothes" or a car, or a life. In college, it's "I go on more dates than you" or "I have a higher GPA". And NOW, I'm a 30 year old, educated, friendly girl who's day consists of diapers, cut up sandwiches, The Little Engine That Could--and WHY, philosophical discussions on WHAT pooped in our backyard and WHY, and an eternal, endless, circular relationship with the dishwasher and washing machine...do I really need to be one-upped when I take my kids to the park?

Today at the park, after following Avery over the play structure as she precariously wobbles near the high edges in her bold statements of independence and watching Ben chase older, uninterested kids, and play with other children's toys for 45 MINUTES I say, "Ben it's time to go, Avery has to nap now." Ben objects, of course---but it's acceptable objections and I'm able to reason with him. But not so quickly that I don't hear the other mother nearby with her two children say, "We're going to go soon too, we've been here over an hour." Well throw me in the bad parent jail. I'm sure I'll sleep better there and I won't have to feed anyone.

It actually kind of made me laugh when it happened. I'm not insecure about myself, so I don't really care about that kind of stuff---but seriously now. If that kind of thing were to bother me, I would have been bothered long before when her brilliant 4-year-old sounded out and then spelled my sons name in the rocks while my brilliant 2-year-old yelled "No, it says SIX, not E!" and my genius 1-year-old wiped her cookie on the bottom of her shoe, intermittent with licking the shoe itself. I happen to know for a fact---that particular behavior is on the MENSA checklist.

My real friends say, "You took your kids to the park? You're a good mom."

So, yesterday I was at the park with my kids, DANG I'm a good mom. And Avery, was cruising along the play structure. I hadn't thought to just get on it with her, and was just standing alongside it to catch her should she need. So she fell off the other side. About 3 feet. Bumped her head twice on the way down. Her cries were more from being scared and a little of "You're a lousy mom, mom"--and not so much pain, so I felt a little better. Also while I was comforting her she climbed over me to get back on the structure. When she's a little older, we're going to have to teach her the whole, "When you fall off the horse, you gotta get right back on" approach to life.

I thought about how the night before on CNN Headline news was Britney Spears getting a visit from DFS and a police officer after her 6 month old fell out of his high chair. I thought how much that stinks for her to have that on national news when my children swallow bottles of allergy pills and fall off play structures and NOBODY knows until I blog about it. That's not the only difference between Britney and me.

So later, while I was online checking prices for airline tickets, Ben decided to redecorate our living room. With permanent marker. On our carpet. Over about a 2 square foot area. Yeah, so I pretty much felt like throwing up when I saw it. I felt sick that I had let it happen, sick for how mad I knew it would make Jay, and sick for how much I'd miss Ben when Jay saw what he'd done. Ben even said later, in his defense, "The cahwpet didn't look pwetty so I made it pwetty." Nice Ben, nice. It's there-goes-your-deposit-and-any-hopes-of-having-guests-over-without-feeling-like-a-slob beautiful. I was surprisingly well-put together in the disciplining of this. In fact, afterwards I thought, "shouldn't there have been more smacking and respective screaming involved for that to have been effective?" I lectured him, Jay made him sit in his room, he didn't get dessert (I NEVER make dessert, and we had it last night), I think he got the message.

Ben was sent to bed for the 20 minutes before dinner was ready, and came out just as it was ready. As we sat down to eat, two police cars pulled up in "front" of our house.

It's actually our back door, but it's out our dining and living room windows, so it feels like the front. I was carrying the noodles from the sink to the table and stopped cold in my tracks. For a second I thought I was Britney Spears. Did I beat Ben? Did I leave any marks? Did I sufficiently comfort Avery when she fell 3 feet in front of my nose and anyone could have seen? I'm not kidding, I ACTUALLY THOUGHT I WAS BRITNEY SPEARS. Turns out there was some problem across the street and the police were a little lost.

Well, our carpet is still orange and green. My friend Amy came over with her super-cleaner and plunked herself on the floor and worked away at it. I have good friends---I'm not sure I am that good of a friend. I would probably come by for the after-cleaning celebration of cheesecake. It's definitely lighter, but still quite evident. If he'd used more earthy tones it would blend better with the chex mix and dried milk. We can't have it all though, can we?

Low Expectations

I have decided that this will have to be my approach in what I accomplish in a day. Yesterday I had moderate expectations and felt VERY frustrated by the end of the day. Those of you who know me well, know that I am not overly ambitious in what I feel needs to be accomplished in a day. I'm okay with a full shower being my greatest accomplishment in a day. Or clean kids. Or a clean house. Rarely all in one day. Unless I have company coming. Anyway---yesterday I had big dreams of getting up, getting all parties I'm responsible for clothed and fed, and going on a nice morning walk with my two angels. Well, by 9 am I was just getting myself dressed finally and taking gulps of a smoothie in between and Avery started her "I'm tired" routine. It consists of trailing me around the house (at an alarmingly high speed) wailing and screeching and persistently grabbing my legs to corner me with her body. So I give in on my hopes of a walk and put her to bed. She sleeps from 9:40 to 12:51. So Ben and I putter around all morning coloring, cleaning, eating, and reading. Ben starts showing tired signs at 12:30 and is asleep by 12:50. For that one minute my children are asleep at the same time, I flop on my bed (after an exhausting morning) and fantasize that I will get to read a chapter, or maybe two while curled up on my oh-so-heavenly-not-napped-on-nearly-enough bed. Avery's gleeful babbles from her crib immediately dispel any fantasy of any sort. I go get her and revel in her first few minutes of cuddliness---she's always so appreciative of being retrieved from her crib.

I tried to do an exercise tape. Anyone who's tried to do that with a 1 year old in the room knows what a joke that is. Avery sees my stretching as an invitation to treat me like a jungle gym. Warm up jog become a staggering and clutching of the entertainment center while Avery hopes for a free ride, clinging to my leg. I put Avery back down at 3 and Ben woke up at 3:10. Avery only took a cat nap so at 3:40 I got diapers changed, bathroom trips, shoes on, and headed out with the kids for a walk. It ended up being a leisurely tour of the grounds as dictated by Benjamin and when we headed back to the trail for a walk, I saw that it was time to start dinner and that Jay was home. I went home, dumped the kids on him for a trip to the park and started dinner.
It was a good dinner. By 6 PM, that was the only verifiable accomplishment I had to my name for that day. My kids were rested and neither were malnourished, or had rashes---but really, that's more like preventative maintenance than accomplishments.

When I was 21, turning 22 I was on my mission at Temple Square. My mom sent me a letter a few weeks before my birthday giving the advice of keeping my expectations low and I won't be disappointed. This is really sound advice in some situations. Not so sound in other situations such as, let's say, choosing a spouse, or medical care, or personal hygiene. But in this situation, it was great advice. I thought my mom probably gave it so not to have to feel bad when "all" she sent me for my birthday was a brand new outfit and a silky Victoria's Secret nightie (I'm not kidding, it was in my color, so I got it---on my mission, from my mother). Well, I kept my expectations low and it was truly one of the best birthdays of my life. We had a rehearsal for the songs we were going to sing for the ground breaking of the new Conference Center. So at 7 am I arrived at the tabernacle where over 100 sister missionaries were already seated and broke into an impromptu, but heavenly rendition of Happy Birthday--- as I walked up to my seat. Now really, how many people do you know have gotten to experience something like that? Later my friends surprised me with a pre-breakfast party with chocolate cupcakes. So low were my expectations going into this party, that when I opened the cupboard the day before and saw an entire plate of chocolate cupcakes hidden inside---I only suspected my roommate who was "dieting" with me, had found her weakness and was hiding it. She totally thought I was just acting dumb and knew it was for my birthday, but it wasn't until she pulled them out, frosted, for the party, that I put two and two together. My love of asian food had somehow made its way around the mission and about 5 different Asian missionaries made me their country's version of fried rice. SOOOOOOOOO yummy. Laotian was my favorite.

Another birthday I had that I didn't follow my mom's advice---was shortly after I was married. Jay and I got married ON Jay's birthday. So, he had a pretty sweet birthday. Mine was 3 weeks later. I had all kinds of hopes and dreams of being spoiled and overwhelmed with gifts and tokens of Jay's affection and adoration. To his credit, he DID make me a cake (but it wasn't chocolate--how little he knew then) and he DID make me dinner---but I had expectations and they were not met. When I wept, "just one little gift, you couldn't get me just one little gift?" Jay's eyes bugged and he turned around in our tiny studio apartment, his arms sweeping about and gesturing to basically every corner of our house, laden with gifts from our wedding. "Our entire house is FULL of gifts Angela, what more could you possibly want?" Yeah, that didn't go over so well. The fact of the matter was, I was married to a wonderful man, and really had no needs or wants---but I went into the situation with expectations and was disappointed.

So today, my expectations are low. And so far, Avery needing a nap hasn't made me want to swear, and if I don't get a walk in the morning, there's always this afternoon, when the sun is blazing and the bugs are swarming.

On a completely different note, Ben has started using his hands to gesture and enhance his WHY'S. He shrugs up his shoulders and puts his little hands out palm up, somewhere up by his ribs. Seriously, it's adorable. Do kids go to some secret cuteness school to learn these things?
Yesterday I DID get to go on a walk with Ben after dinner and while we were on it, some rollerbladers passed by. Benjamin informed me that Jacob had told him he couldn't ride on those skates until he was bigger. He then did the cute gesture with his hands out and said, "But I AM bigger mom, why Jacobs says that?" I told him when he knew how to properly conjugate 'say' he'd be big enough.

RANDOM

I told Jay Sunday night I was going to exercise everyday this week. I would walk with the kids or go to the weight room/gym each day. Monday: I get up with the kids and got hit by a mac truck so I went back to bed. I have no idea what happened, but at 11 AM I couldn't keep my eyes open, and Avery had the same problem. She got to go into a dark room with a binky and soft blanket and sleep all her problems away. Oh wait, she didn't sleep them away, I dealt with them. I tried at noon to get Ben to take a nap with me but he was too busy building the tower of Piza with his new library books. He's actually got quite an architectual knack...
I actually fell asleep for 50 minutes while Ben was wandering around the house. I have never done that before. Ben was really good, so I'm going to pencil myself in for a 2 hour nap today while he holds down the fort.

I'm less inclined to blog when Jay's around. It's not so much that he's oppressive as it is he's a good listener.

We're getting ready for summer here, and I think all my rave reviews about Texas are going to go the way of all good things that aren't what they appear to be. I said to some Texas veterans about some summer clothes I bought for Avery "It's a little big because I didn't think she'd need something that cool until July or so." They responded with hearty guffaws and mutterings about poor stupid importee. Meanwhile, it's really hot here---already.

We're on Day Two of potty training Big Ben. He had one accident yesterday that appeared to surpise him as much as me. We started a sticker chart with fun Thomas stickers and the promise of a prize at the end of 14 stickers. I showed him the prize bag so his mind would be filled with all things wonderful and thus compell him to use the toilet. It sort of worked. Our conversations all day revolved around the prizes.

Ben will you pick up your crayons so they don't get lost or broken?
Yes and then I can have a prize?!
No, you get a prize after you fill up that whole row with stickers from going potty.

Ben immediately runs to the toilet, even if he was just there 5 minutes before. He earned 4 of his 5 stickers before noon.

Well, Ben is yelling/sobbing from his bed, "I'm not tired, I'm not tired" in a rhythmic chant that is putting me to sleep. Too bad Avery is going to be awake in like 10 minutes. Grrrrrrrr.

WHY?

For some reason I thought I had another year or so before it hit. I thought for sure I had at least 6-9 months to get my bearings and learn every possible response. I thought I could cling to the tiny threads of sanity remaining for just a season longer. I was wrong. The WHY train has hit.

Why did Callou's tar bweak?
Well, something in the engine broke and they had to get it fixed.
Why?
So that they could drive their car again and because that's what people do when their cars break down.
Why?
Well, cars get old and sometimes need repairs so they have mechanics to do that.
Why?
You know how daddy goes on airplanes and works at an office; other daddies are mechanics and work on cars. (I'm not so PC that I even felt remotely guilty about saying daddies do it and not mommies)
Why?
Because cars break down sometimes.
Why?
Didn't we already have this conversation? Ben, tell me what you really want to talk about because I don't want to do this why thing anymore.
Why?
Because I'm so tired of it.
Ohhhhhhh. (sympathetic pause) Are you sick mama?

That is a miniscule, eency, weency glimpse into the scintillating conversation that makes up my day. I read about 6 months ago that children ask why because they don't know proper conversation skills but they do want to converse. I seriously thought this insight would help me when my kids hit the WHY stage. But the second the front engine of the WHY train hits, I start racking my brain for the real thing he wants to talk about, or a real conversation we could have but, I always come up empty. Personally, I think he just does it to have the upper hand, rob me of even the slightest delusion of sanity.

Well, I need to vent, I have a WHY of my own. I got our first electric bill two months ago at the beginning of February. It was for nearly $200. While I was surprised at how high it was, I had nothing to compare it to and didn't really take the time to study it as a smart consumer would. I made mention of it to Jay and suggested we be a little more conservative with our energy usage. I would cease doing laundry, he could in turn take only luke-warm or cold showers. A little sacrificing for both of us.

Well, bill #2 came and it was almost $30 higher. First of all, we never turned the heat on once---I wanted to see if it would make a difference. We were also ALL out of town for an entire week out of February. I was having breakfast with Oprah. Okay, so I had breakfast NEAR Oprah, but whatever. That left about 24 days of electric usage. So, I get concerned and ask to see my friend's bill who has two children and the exact same apartment as us. Her bill was about $96 less than mine. I see red. Then I see that she has the same Kwh usage as me, actually, a bit less. Still perplexing. It says we both used over 1600 Kwh. Then I see that she is paying nearly 5 CENTS LESS THAN ME. I'm paying about 13.5. So I call to see what the problem is. I get told there's nothing they can do about, I called the wrong number to sign up and my neighbors are under a deal that the energy company has with our complex. Tough luck, I called the wrong number, they won't switch it over and won't fix my past bills. I ask for a manager. I explain I have the number my complex gave me to call, it is the right number, I got transferred, and screwed. In that order. So then she says she'll "review the tapes" of my conversations and do some research and get back to me in about 48 hours. ONE WEEK later she calls and tells me this. And I'm not making it up. 'Your apartment management has an agreement with Direct Energy and the residents get a lower rate than the residential rate. However, your management did not renew the agreement with us until January 17th and because you signed up before that, you didn't get the reduced rate.' Are you KIDDING ME? I signed up on January 9th. So because of 8 days, it's not their problem, and nothing can be done about it. She even tells me, "I can't do anything about this, I know you are frustrated, you need to talk to your management office and see why they didn't sign an agreement earlier". And that would accomplish what sympathically futile Direct Energy employee? I asked her what she thought that would accomplish besides waste more of my time. She says, "I can't really tell you anymore than this, and we can't talk to your management office about it either." So, here's a summary of her weeks worth of "research". Even though we know you fall under our apartment agreement and see your address when you sign up, it's not our fault because you called the wrong number and decided to get heat and light for your family at just a bad time, I can't tell you anymore than that and this won't be discussed at all with your management, but if you want to be dumb and believe what's coming out of my mouth (but didn't originate there) then go ahead, and I'm so sorry, I can understand your frustration of having to deal with incompetent people who are sucking the very life out of your body with the energy bill." Or something thereabouts.

I off-handedly mention it to my office management about a week later, as in, "Can you believe they actually tried to pass that junk off on me?" And the management lady took up my cause and called her connection with Direct Energy who told her the agreement was signed January 4th. Well that just ticked me off. Don't know why, it's not like I thought Miss Maribel was telling the truth in the first place.

So I call again and ask to speak with someone over Maribel. I get a nice lady who puts me on hold after I explain all the junk Maribel made up in an effort to continue robbing us...She comes back with this. Rates are just higher in December and January when you signed up, you get the rate that is offered at the time you sign up. Nevermind that your neighbors could be paying half that---you get what you get, and we decide what that is. So sorry lady, you should have moved here 5 months earlier like your friends. I stopped our account with them. They should be selling poop instead of energy, they are much better at that.

I thought it was done.
We got a bill yesterday. HALF, I repeat HALF the amount of last month's bill, less than HALF the usage, and 1 cent per kwh HIGHER than the last month. Not only do I get a higher rate than my neighbors, who's bill never changes, mine can change to go higher. What in the heck happened? For all you people out there that are math challenged like me, there's a golden opportunity of employment waiting for you at Direct Energy. Probably even management. You need to be able to make up outrageous explanations for why you can't do math though, so maybe just bad math won't cut it.

Probably the most frustrating thing about all of this is when I ask WHY---not one single person will respond with even the slightest effort of an accurate answer.But I got a lot of "sympathy." I might try that method sometime. Sucker punch someone in the face and then stand around telling them how sorry I am for their pain and blood loss.

I gotta go rescue Avery from her self-made booby trap between the couch and side table.

FACTS FROM THIS MORNING THAT JUST NEED TO BE PUT OUT THERE

Avery ate: a handful of Honey Nut Chex, a handful of Apple Jacks, 5 oz of milk, about 3 ounces of water, and 3 ENTIRE eggs.
Avery weighs 18 pounds (What Ben weighed at about 8 months)
Ben ate: 3 and a half Apple Jacks and 1 and a half whites of hard boiled eggs.
Ben weighs more than our 4 year old neighbor.

Breakfast conversation:
Ben: bootie, bootie. boooootie!
Mom: Ben don't say bootie
Ben: You say bootie?
Mom: No, I don't say bootie and I don't want you to say it either.
Ben: "B" (neighbor kid) says bootie?
Mom: He might say bootie, but we don't say it in this house.
Ben: Then I can say it at B's house?

Um, excuse me? Shouldn't I be having these conversations in like....12 years!?!

Yellow

So, I got this in an email from my mom: "I tried to 'educate' myself and looked up 'blog' in the dictionary.....not there" and " I didn't know what a 'blog' was......I've read one now, but, could you also clarify where they go, and what it means, etc". You're never too old to get good advice from your mom, right? Well, for all you 70-year-old, internet savvy people out there who don't know what a blog is....it is a "web-log". I knew the gist of what blogs contained but learned the origins of the word from my husband after casually flinging "blog this, blog that" about in conversation with a friend. She said, "What does blog mean?" and I responded with a blank stare. Jay said, "Web-log" and if he wasn't as mature as he is, I'm sure he would have added, "duh". I just reread the quoted line of my mom's email---she asked me to clarify "where they go". I am laughing so hard right now, I must have missed that. I guess that depends on just how you feel about me or what I've written. For you mom, straight to the heart. I am using this venue of a WEB LOG as a sort of update on our comings and goings---as they are noteworthy, Benjamin and Avery's growth and anecdotes, and my own contemplations.

Jay started a blog, and you all probably thought I was joking about the peak oil stuff---I wasn't. Check it out if you'd like. http://peakoilmusings.blogspot.com/

So, are you wondering about my title? It's not my favorite color, it's not how I feel when Jay's out of town and I'm alone at night, it's not even my second favorite color. Jay has been out of town for 6 days. As I was driving Ben to Chuck E. Cheese (just a side-note, until today I thought it was Chucky Cheese) this morning for a birthday party, and getting him all psyched up for it, he squealed when we pulled into the parking lot, "Will daddy be at the party?!" Even with the helicopter ride, tunnels to climb through, twisty-slide, unlimited ski-ball, pizza and soda, and the $15 roll of Smarties we "earned" with our tickets, I am certain, being with daddy instead would have been an even better morning for Ben. Ben is doing so well with his absence, Avery not as well, and me the worst. I hesitate to admit stuff like that because I really should be better at this than I am, and second, I don't want to make Jay feel bad about doing what he does to bring home the jr bacon cheeseburgers (we've decided we like those better than just plain bacon). But it is what it is, I love being with Jay and love getting breaks from the kids almost as much.

When I was about 11 or 12 I used to tune in regularly to the Saturday night country music request lines on the radio. It was around that time that I got turned onto the song, "The Yellow Rose of Texas". My mom had taught it to us when we were younger (her version was definitely based on the traditional version, not the country one referring to "doing hard time"). I was probably just astounded when I heard it being sang with twang on the radio. What I didn't know was that I might have been the only listener within about 500 miles (we were about that far from Texas) that wanted to hear it more than once every six months. One Sunday afternoon was an all request day and my younger brother and I spent the entire afternoon trying to call in to make our request. We got in and made our request and sat by the radio waiting anxiously. 15 minutes would pass and NOTHING. They'd play 3-4 songs and go to commercial. So we called in again. The man said he'd play it. 30 minutes passed, and still nothing. We were very busy 11 and 12 year old children, we didn't have time to wait for every other request to be made. So we called in again. I remember very clearly, being certain that it wouldn't matter if we kept calling in---surely in the large listening area we were calling from, there were other people calling in to hear Yellow Rose of Texas. It never, ever occurred to me that might not be the case. And it certainly never occurred to me that I sounded 12! So, when we called in the 3rd time, feeling incognito through the phone lines, the request-taker/DJ yelled, "You STOP calling me, I got it the first time, I'm not going to play it at all if you don't stop calling here!" We were stunned. How did he know it was us? I don't think he ever played the song---but it might not have mattered---I think we spent the rest of the afternoon trying to figure out how he knew it was us every time.

When I was in junior high I decided that yellow roses were my favorite flowers. I decided pretty early on, and made it a well-known fact among my circles of friends. I believed in covering my bases because if my oh-so-romantic, would-be boyfriend ever wanted to surprise me on the 3-week anniversary of the first time we ever stood in front of our lockers holding hands and were late for class, he'd just have to ask one of my friends and they could say without having to think, "She loves yellow roses". I also loved the roses my dad grew in our yard, particularly the yellows, touched with orange. And I read somewhere that yellow rose was the flower of friendship and I loved that idea.

When I was on my mission, I served with a senior couple that I absolutely adored. They had a daughter named Angela and they nicknamed me their "Yellow Angela". I loved it. It was a tender nickname referring to me being an out-going "yellow" as described by the color code personality test. Yellows are fun-loving, out-going, crave attention, social, forgetful, obnoxious, and irresponsible. I'm only about half of those...
It was a loving nickname, but I would often think, "I'm not really a yellow though, I just seem like it." when I took the test at about 20---I was equal parts yellow, blue, and white, and not ONE IOTA RED. Yep, that's me. A red-less redhead. I believe those results. If I had red in me, I wouldn't have a huge pile of laundry sitting behind me in the hallway, having been there for two weeks, as I happily blog. I'd be going to bed on clean sheets. My kids would have been bathed before going to bed tonight. The presents I took to the two birthday parties today would have been taped with scotch tape and not shipping tape. I would have clipped the stems when I changed the water of the bouquet of flowers I have because the directions told me to. There are so many things I would be or would have done, if I just had the slightest bit of red in me. But that which is upon my head, and the v-neck sunburn on my chest are all I can truly claim.

Well, tonight as I was driving home from birthday party number two (Build-a-Bear with twelve 3-year-olds, aka Hell on a Saturday Night) and sitting in traffic (Because North Dallas has the most amazing shopping malls but not so amazing roads leading to them), "The Yellow Rose of Texas" came on the radio. My mind flooded with memories and I blared it. Yes, there were two children in the backseat, one bellowing along and the other yelling, "Softly mom, softly". I had the windows down and for a second I thought to be sheepish--blaring old country, shamelessly like that, but then I realized I'M IN TEXAS. This is they're language! I am among friends! This realization only escalated the emotions of the moment. I sang along at the top of my lungs for every Texan within a 10 car radius of Preston and 121 to hear, "She's the diamond of the desert, She's the golden flower of spring, She's the yellow rose of Texas, She can make a man a king!" Oh yeah, that was a more than beautiful end to a helatious two hours at the mall with two babies on a crowded Saturday night.

And that's it folks. My experiences with yellow, and The Yellow Rose of Texas and personality tests, and nicknames, and not-so-friendly DJs, and imaginary boyfriends, have brought me to this moment. I have decided to be the Yellow Rose of Texas. I won't go so far as to demand you address me as such, but you will be acknowledged more readily if you do. I am a golden flower of spring, particularly with my new highlights, and I don't need to make a man a king, I'd just like the one I have home in our palace.