My Favorite Christmas Picture

Tonight I found a facebook contest that asked it's followers to post their favorite Christmas picture. I LOVE a good fb contest. Before I even looked to find out the prize, which, BTW, I now know is a gift basket, I was scrolling through old picture posts to find THE best Christmas picture EVER.
I found it. I found THE best Christmas picture, 10 times...

I couldn't pick just one. Each picture was my favorite for different reasons. Each picture was my favorite for the same reason, it made me smile and laugh thinking about the memories behind the picture.

Here is (are) my favorite picture(s). Not in any particular order, because I am obviously bad at picking just one to be my favorite.

1. Over it

A3 was done with pictures. She threw a fit. We ignored it. We begged for one more picture. She gave us this ornery pose. It may look sweet to the unknowing, but for those who were there, 

IT WAS NOT SWEET. 

2. Get me outta here!

A2 is sometimes shy. This is one of those times.

3. What do you mean sit still?

Sweet sibling moment? Nope, they were terrorizing me. We were pressed for time to get that one perfect picture of all three girls. I wanted a Pinterest worthy Christmas card. Our fabulous photographer did catch the photo I was looking for, but most of them looked like this...

4. Testing. Always testing.

A2 was told the elf would report any bad behaviors to Santa. She wanted to see if it was true. I know for a fact Santa was notified of the beating The Ringing One received. (It was really a strong poke, but I wanted to be dramatic.) A2 was so proud of her challenge to authority. That was the same year we caught her standing in front of the elf saying all the bad words she could think of; butt, stupid, shut-up.

5. Side eye

A2 did not trust that jolly mad in red. She gave him the look to prove it.

6-9 The Years of Tears

Anyone who has spent a great deal of time with A3, knows she loves to cry. It is a hobby or maybe even a talent. We have all learned to roll with it. At least, until we can't take it anymore. 

10. Whatcha lookin at?

This special moment between A2 and Santa is not what is seems. She was telling him she didn't want to be there. Her tights were itchy.

If I had to pick one that was my favorite, it would be number 10.

***Just kidding. I found another.***

11. Pure Joy

Ok. So I have decided my favorite is this one. How in the world we captured this moment of pure joy and innocence is beyond me, but here it is. Forever. My favorite Christmas picture. Until I find another one. 

Warren Luck

When Mac and I first got engaged his family would joke about "Warren Luck" and if I was ready to handle all that comes with it. Basically, this luck or curse was their own version of Murphy's Law; anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.

At the time I laughed it off. After 16 years I get what they're saying, especially now that I am raising three Warrens. I have learned to be prepared for anything, but not the normal things. I don't usually carry band-aides in my purse, but I do keep permanent glue, bobby pins, and assortment of oils, crayons, and sometimes bubbles. I have always been a flexible person, but now I have mastered the art of "go with the flow" and thinking outside of the box.

A2 is a walking, talking, real life example of the Warren Luck. If something strange is going to happen, it will happen to her, every time. She is my real life Junie B. Jones. This Warren Luck isn't all bad. A2 has learned to roll with whatever happens. She turns in a pumpkin person, the eye falls off, "Oh, well. Now she is winking." Trying to make stress balls for mom, balloon busts, flour ALL over the kitchen, "That is ok. Let's make pictures in the flour on the floor and the table and the counter, and the sink, and the refrigerator, and the mirror." A2 is the awesome go with the flow gal that she is BECAUSE of the luck.

A1 somehow has figured out a way to escape the Warren Luck so far. Maybe this is the only thing she got from me...

A3 seems to have caught a major case of the Warren Luck. Usually it involves health. Someone sneezes across the store at Walmart? Amelya will catch their cold. Uneven sidewalk? Amelya will find it and trip. Last night Amelya's luck landed us in the ER. She decided to sleep on Addelyn's top bunk. For some reason, she fell asleep at the edge of the bed where the ladder is, basically the only spot that isn't enclosed by a railing. Well, as her luck would have it, she fell out of the bed. She hit the landing and then the bookshelf, followed by the floor. Mac and I ran upstairs as soon as we heard the crash. We found her standing in her room screaming. A1 and A2 woke up and were trying to console her. Mac and I inspected her for injuries. There was blood, so much blood. I was covered in her blood. She was covered in it. Her hair was soaked. We found the gash on her ear. We knew right away we needed to take a trip to the ER. She is only 4 and she has already had 3 major catastrophes that required a visit to the hospital.

Thank goodness for my parents living close to us! My mom went along for a midnight adventure with the A Team. (Have you ever been to an emergency room at midnight on a Saturday? Crazy Town!) By the time we got to the hospital the bleeding had stopped and the crying increased. We were quickly taken to a room. The nurse was practically waiting for us when we got there. We had the best service. In a matter of two hours, A3 had her ear cleaned by a doctor, a CT scan, ear cleaned again, and then her ear glued back together. Being the champ that she is, she hardly complained the entire time she was there. She enjoyed the live hospital entertainment. A3 only got mad once and that was when the nurse closed the curtain, blocking her view of the wild hospital life.

Today she hasn't complained much. Her head isn't hurting. Her ear only hurts when her hair touches it and unfortunately her hair has a mind of it's own. Last night she fell out of bed because of Warren Luck. Last night she was saved because of Warren Luck. Anyone else would have been injured much worse, but A3 was lucky, Warren Lucky. After all, luck is what you make of it, right?

Election Rejection

I can't wait for tomorrow to be over. I have never been so excited for an election to end! I don't even care who will win. No matter which way the election turns out we are getting the short end of the stick. This is just my opinion. I am sure someone somewhere will be happy, no matter who wins. 

What bothers me the most about this election, even more than the candidates we have to choose from, is the way people are treating each other. It is like we have all forgotten how to be kind. We have taken on this mentality that our own opinion is more important then the opinions of others. We have become so intolerant of ideas that aren't our own. We have made it a mission to shout our opinions and then stick our fingers in our ears to shut out the opinions of others. Worse than sticking our fingers in our ears, we are attacking others for thinking different. We are using dirty tactics to try to get people to take our side. Name calling, threatening, destroying property, ending relationships: we are better than that.

When I told a mom-friend that I was undecided on who I would vote for, I received a lecture. I was told I was doing a disservice to my children. I was sending a message to my daughters that I didn't think a WOMAN should be president. I was telling my girls they weren't good enough to be president.

HOLD-ON-ONE-MINUTE!

I could be wrong, but I think it is more important to vote on the issues and not which bathroom the candidate would use, if he/she happened to use a public restroom. I am pretty sure if I voted for someone ONLY because she was a female would be sending the wrong message to the girls. Isn't that the same as someone voting for the other person only because he ISN'T female. Only the opposite...

As far as me telling my girls they aren't good enough... well, that is a bunch of poo! I actually know A1 is more couth than one particular candidate, and she is a smart mouthed pre-teen with a quick temper... I know she would handle situations with more grace and understanding. She is smart and a great problem solver. A2 is wonderful at seeing both sides of every situation. She is a master at compromise. She is somehow able to make sure everyone is happy with decisions and choices. She would be an awesome peace keeper in the oval office. A3 is a superstar decision maker. She sets her mind to something and somehow it happens, always. She doesn't give up. If she made a campaign promise, you had better believe she will follow through with it! Do I think my girls are good enough to be president? Absolutely.

Don't try to use my girls as a tactic against me. Trust me, I put a lot of thought into all of my decisions and the girls are always the first and last thought when I am figuring things out. I promise you I have thought of them and don't tell me I am a bad parent if I choose different than you.

I told another friend I was probably voting for a third party candidate because I didn't feel good about voting for someone based on my hate for someone else. If I vote for someone, it is because I support them, not because I dislike the other one more. To me, a vote is a stamp of approval. I am not comfortable giving that stamp to either of these candidates.

She told me that was a dumb way to look at it. She said I might as well hand my vote over to the democrat. We discussed it further, but she wasn't budging and I wasn't either. I chose to change the subject.

I told another friend it was looking like I would be voting for Johnson. Again, I was told it was a bad idea. I was what was wrong with America. There is a reason for the two party system and I am ruining things for the future of our country. Then he said I might as well vote for the republican.

WHAT??

How could my vote for the Libertarian Party be a vote for both a republican and a democrat? That doesn't make sense. I am pretty sure these two friends are trying to belittle me and make me feel bad about who I want to vote for in hopes that I will vote for their person.

I don't want to unfriend people who think different than I do. The world would be boring if we all thought the same. It really bothers me every time I read or hear someone say they will unfriend someone if they hear they are going to vote one way or the other. How about instead of unfriending them or making it your personal mission to publicly attack them, you just chose to walk away. Make the effort to love that person for making a decision and having passion, instead of hating them for thinking different.  I happen to know one of my besties is voting for Clinton and another one of my besties is voting for Donald. They both have their reasons. I respect them. They respect me. We can move past our differences, because we are more than the person we are voting for.

The truth is there is a higher power in charge. Someone greater than us. Someone greater than any of the candidates. Someone who is ready for us to love one another and stop being rude.

I am making the choice to live with kindness, vote with my heart, and to show my girls that they do have choices. I want to show my girls they don't have to go with popular beliefs. They can, and should, go with what feels right. Even though my candidate probably won't win, I can go to sleep at night knowing I made the decision that didn't hurt my heart. That means it was the right decision for me!

Now, can we please get back to being nice?

***I have already voted so there is no need to try to convince me to vote for your candidate.***

Fish in a Tree

You know how sometimes you read that one book that really speaks to you, the one that makes your life make sense? I am reading that book right now. I didn't expect this book to touch me so deeply. I picked it up because it is a Rebecca Caudill book and I want to read at least 3 to my class, so they are eligible to vote in March.

Quick summary: Ally a middle school student has always been misunderstood in school. She always found herself accidentally in trouble and was labeled as a trouble maker. To make matters worse, her dad was in the military so her family moved a lot. She wasn't ever in one school for very long. Through out the course of the story we learn that Ally is dyslexic. This story beautifully illustrates how a person with a learning disability feels in a variety of situations. 

I have been reading this to my jr high class. The students in that class can all relate to Ally and what she is going through. This book has sparked so many awesome discussions. I am amazed by the way the students are hanging on every word and usually are bummed when the chapter is over. Yesterday we read about the class student counsel election. It brought up a lot of current event topics. I am so impressed by the connections my class is making between this book and real life!

Last week the book hit me in the feels. Ally described how it felt living with a learning disability. I actually got choked up while I was reading.

It made things so clear. I couldn't help but think about A2. This is her struggle. Every day.

Then I thought about my students. This is their struggle. Every day. 

This book gave me a new sense of importance and urgency in my job. I could be the "lifeline" for these struggling students. I want to be that person. I want to make learning easier. I want to make learning make sense for them. I want to help them keep their bikes together while they ride. 

I hope every teacher adds this book to their personal reading list. It is Y.A. It isn't a challenging read. It is probably a a 4 hour uninterrupted read. This will give a whole new perspective on those kids who need more help than others. 

I can't wait to share this book with the A Team!

Clown Invasion

Late night writing can only mean one thing... I have something on my mind. Let me tell you, I do!

What do I have on my mind?

Clowns. That is right. I have clowns on my mind.

In light of the recent clown outbreak that seems to have taken over the entire country, I can't stop thinking and worrying about clowns. I am anticipating having one show up out of no where. I look out the kitchen door and expect to see a clown sitting in our back yard, watching and waiting for us to come out and play. I look past our fence and imagine a puff of menacing red hair poke out the the corn field. I drive down the road and search for clowns in the distance, clowns on porches, clowns in ditches, and clowns crossing the street. I can't stop thinking about them.

I started sending clown siting updates to friends. Every time a new clown incident pops up on fb, I forward it on. I was half laughing at the clowns until I read a fb status that clowns were spotted walking along a cornfield 10 miles south of us and then another report of clowns walking through neighborhoods 15 miles north of us. I feel surrounded.

I decided I needed to warn the girls about not talking to clowns. I thought it would be best to tell them if a clown shows up in the cornfield behind us they need to run. Obviously, this was not the best idea, since I have answered 500 questions about clowns in the last 20 minutes and my parents both reported there was constant clown talk ALL NIGHT LONG. I simply wanted my super trusting children to be aware of the dangers associated with the large shoe wearing, giant makeup smile painted creatures. I don't want them to be the next victims of clowns.

I am now officially obsessed with clowns. Like a for real, full on obsession. I am completely consumed with clown thoughts. Tonight while I was sitting out dealing with ulcer pain while the rest of my friends danced the night away, I figured out what is going on with the clowns...

We are dealing with a clown revolution. Clowns have been treated badly for years. Ever since the movie It, clowns have gotten a bad wrap. I believed the only clown you can trust is Ronald McDonald. Then out of the blue it dawned on me, he is the leader of this clown-invasion. This clown-coop has been in the works for years, even BEFORE the movie It. Ronald's entire mission involves two steps. First to trick kids into trusting clowns. "Love me and my crazy giant red shoes and I will give you fries." "Trust me, I will give you junky toys that break before you get home in your happy meals." Then after Ronald has a nation of kids loving clowns, he feeds them unhealthy food. Step two is to fatten up the children of America, so they can't outrun the clowns. With childhood obesity at an all time high, Ronald's plan is a success.

Now the clowns have gathered in secret clown clan meetings. They have organized. They are ready to take over the country by any means necessary. Clown cells are emerging from the underground lairs they have been inhabiting.  We are under attack. No one is safe from clowns. No one.

Until clowns are stopped, I will continue to pass on the sighting information. I will continue to watch for clowns in parking lots, in the back of my car, and in the pew in front of me at church. I will not take this laying down. Mostly because the heartburn is really bad right now...I am going to be ready for a clown ambush. I am not going to leave my house without being armed with makeup wipes and a spray bottle. (Without the makeup, a clown is nothing.)

I won't be a victim.

I can't wait until the field behind us is plowed. I don't even care that I will be sneezing for days. Allergies are better than clowns. 

Floundering Flutist

*Warning you are about to read the ramblings of mom on the brink of losing it. Thank you 5th grade band.


FLUTE. Oh flute. Little flute you have caused so much stress in my life. A1 decided before school started she was going to be in the band.  She was going to play the flute. She was going to be awesome. School started. She missed school. She missed a flute lesson. She missed another day of school. She missed another flute lesson. She is behind the other kids in her group. She is finding flute is hard. She refuses to practice. She isn't a natural flute player. She has to work. She doesn't like to work. She wants to quit. She isn't going to quit, I won't let her. I am the worst mom in the world. I am horrible. I am ruining her life. I am the cause of her needing to drop out of school. I am ruining my life. I am ruining peace. I am ruining relaxation. 

Normally my motto is "If it causes stress and it isn't necessary, get rid of it." Is the flute causing stress in my life? YES!!! Is it necessary? NO!!! I am I getting rid of it? NO... wait, what? I have to stick to my guns on this one. A1 has never had a challenge. She is capable of doing anything she has ever tired. This is the first thing she has EVER had to work at and she isn't coping very well. (I am not either.) Tonight we had tears, temper tantrums, and screaming. I forced her to practice tonight. I worked with her. I stuck with it. She stuck with it. She practiced for 30 minutes tonight (that includes all the self imposed interruptions).

My skills are basic at best, but that is what she needs right now so we are good, except I am not the most patient person when it comes to her tween-itude. Eye rolls are my rage button. Huffy puffy breathing is my combat trigger. Stompy feet are my quarrel switch.

Tonight was a rough night. The flute is a major problem in my life. A1 is not giving up on the flute. I am not giving up on A1. She will learn from this. I will learn from this. She has to stick with this until the end of the school year. The school year is almost over, right?

In the event that I don't survive the year with the flute, please promise me no one will play the flute at my funeral! Actually, please everyone do! I hope they pass out flutes and make everyone play Hot Cross Buns over and over and over again. I know I will be laughing. 

P.S. I am very impressed at my ability to play Hot Cross Buns even if no one else at my house was impressed at all!  

Ramblings are over.

Super-mom Is Not a Super Mom

I love this picture.

I love this picture so much.

I didn't remember this night until I saw the picture. We were all playing in our rooms while my mom was busy doing something, probably cleaning up a mess we made. Chris and I were supposed to be watching Caley, but you know what happens when you ask a 4 year old and a 7 year old to watch the baby...

Markers, markers happen, that is what happens.  I also believe Caley left graffiti on the underside of the bunk bed, but we aren't talking about that. I am pretty sure my mom was mad, I would have been. BUT I don't remember that part.

I love this picture, because even if my mom was mad (and she should have been) and her lips probably disappeared, as we came to notice they always did when she was mad, I don't remember her being mad. That means there is a good chance that when they are older the A Team won't remember all the times I have been mad at them . I can stop beating myself up over all the less than patient moments in my life, they won't remember, probably.

I love this picture because it shows normal kids who have a normal mom. I have always thought of my mom as super-mom. The mom who always had her stuff together. Always had her ducks in a row. And always had her floors mopped and laundry washed AND put away. Let's be honest, she always DID have her floors mopped, laundry washed, laundry put away, windows washed, counters cleared, floors vacuumed and basically all the other things my house is lucky to have done once week, EVERY. Single. Day. This picture shows that while my mom is a super mom she wasn't super mom, the fictitious mom character we all strive to be. The one we search Pinterest to find. The one who forgets to put herself as a priority. The one we can never be, because no one is super mom. It just isn't possible. Not even for my mom.

I love this picture because it allows me to be less hard on myself when I don't get everything right all the time. It quiets that voice in my head that says "Your mom wouldn't have done that. You aren't as good as your mom." The voice that doesn't let me fail and forgive myself.

I love this picture because it shows that my girls are normal. They won't grow up to be criminals who graffiti all over town, probably. They will grow up to be successful adults, probably, like the kids in that picture mostly did.

I love this picture because it tells be I don't have to be super-mom to be a super mom.

I love this picture because it reminds me to laugh when the girls pull crazy stunts. Laugh and take a picture. Someday they will want to look back at the time A1 decided to write about her love of Jesus on the wall,

or the time A2 decided to practice writing her numbers on the couch,

or the time A3 decided to put on makeup

and laugh as much as I do every time I think back to the days they each pulled these stunts and many others. 

PS- Mom, thanks for being a great example for me to follow. I want to be a super mom like you. (I just plan on using less bleach.)

Communication Fail

I assume when I talk to the girls about something repeatedly and they answer all the questions with the correct answers, they understand what I am talking about. BUT we all know what happens when we assume.

A2 came home from school one day during the first week mad at me. I had apparently ruined her life once again. It took her a couple of hours and bedtime for her to finally open up about me most recent offence.

"Thanks a lot mom. You didn't teach me my address. My teacher asked me my address and I didn't know it. I was the only one in my class who didn't know and now she thinks I am stupid." A2 spewed at me.

I was confused. She knows her address. She has known it since she went to kindergarten. I didn't want her getting on that big bus without being able to tell someone where she lives, just in case.  I looked into her eyes and said, "Honey, you know your address." She shook her head and gave me a sassy duck/pout face. She wasn't buying it. I had to prove it to her.

"What is your street name?" I asked.

Without hesitation she said, "C___________ Lane."

What is your house number?" I asked.

Again she didn't hesitate, "####"

"See I told you, you knew your address." I was throwing a victory party in my head.

"What!?! That is my address? Why didn't you tell me THAT was my address?" Her anger increased, especially as I started to laugh at her.

Party in my head. Over. All these years she knew the information, but she didn't know what the information was. I would ask her to tell me where she lived or what our street name was or what our house number was. I am not confident I ever asked her to tell me her address. We had a major error in communication. I assumed she knew her address was where she lived. I was wrong. Communication fail.

A2, making me a better communicator since 2009.

I am fine

"How are you today?" asked an unassuming Walmart cashier.

You, sir, have no idea what a loaded question that really is.

I stare at him for an uncomfortable, awkward amount of time. How I am is swirling in my head. "I am tired. So tired. A strange tired that hurts my entire body. I can't decide if it starts in my head or if it starts in my toes. Either way the tired it is everywhere. I can't escape the tired. Even after eight hours of sleep the tired is there, weighing me down. My muscles scream. My joints ache. My legs are heavy blocks I drag with me everywhere. I am winded. I am out of breath. Climbing the stairs at home is my own personal Everest. My stomach hurts now. It didn't start hurting until I stopped drinking soda and starting taking my meds. That isn't fair. Eating hurts. Not eating hurts. My head hurts. Most days it is a dull pain that I can ignore. Some days it is blinding. Today it is in between dull and blinding. And also I have a popcorn kernel stuck in my throat, but that has nothing to do with anything else."

Instead I respond, "I am fine." in a generic socially accepted way. "How are you?" I ask. Hesitantly he responds "I am great." Deep down, I think there is more, but I go on.

After rethinking my generic answer, I realize it really isn't all that generic. I know I am fine. I will get better. Hopefully sooner rather than later. I am actually pretty lucky. I have doctors working to fix me, medicine that will make be better. I have friends and family standing by to support me. Friends who give up their Friday nights to sit with me, chatting the night away (at least until 8:00) wrapped up in blankets on the couch, because that is all I have energy for by the end of the week. Friends who surprise me with dinner and treats just because they know that is what I need. Friends who show up to do the dishes and offer to wash the laundry. (Yes, she really does exist.)

I am fine. I got a nap. I got an infusion. I will get another nap while I wait for the headache.

I am fine. How are you?

Political Conversations

If you stop by our house anytime between now and November, there is a good chance you will have to discuss politics. For that, I am sorry. It seems the A Team has taken a bizarre interest in politics. All of them. Well, kind of. A3 mostly repeats what she hears the other two say, but she has been campaigning hard for Mermaid.

The interest started with a school project for A1 and it blossomed from there. A2, following in her sister's footsteps also got interested. A2 isn't quite as fanatical though. A1 is ride or die for her guy, while A2 is more interested in questioning and debating. Now, don't get me wrong, A1 is more than happy to debate, but she is just firm on her pick.

I have heard countless discussions on the candidates from the girls. They don't discriminate on age. They will bring up politics with anyone who can talk. A few weeks ago A1 had a friend over and of course they had to talk politics. It was pretty entertaining to listen to the doom and gloom coming from these 10 year olds. Both agreed neither candidate was a good choice, but neither could agree on who they would vote for, if they were old enough.

Yesterday, a news blurb come on about the DNC. Our friend, K, started chanting, "Trump, Trump, Trump!"

A2, with her wit and saracasam asked, "So, let me guess, you want Trump to win?"

K, surprised that someone would even question that, "Yes, don't you?"

A2, responded, "I don't really know yet. I still have time to decide. Why do you want Trump to win?"

K, slightly annoyed that A2 just wasn't getting it and that it was 8:30 AM, a little early for a deep discussion said, "Because A2, Hillary is a lair."

A2, wasn't done, "No, I know that. Why are you wanting Trump? What do you like about him?"

K, thought about it for a few seconds, "He has ideas, ideas that are good."

A2, trying to get to the bottom of this, "What ideas are good? What ideas do you like?" Who is this kid? She sounds so grown up, smart, inquisitive...

K, quick with her response, "You know, all of them."

A2, not sure where to go with the conversation, but needing it to go on added, "You know he wants to build a wall?"

K, not sure what to think of this wall, "What kind of a wall?"

A2, ready to share her info, "It will be a big wall. It will be somewhere in Mexi... Mexic... Mexicameria. It is to separate the Mexis... Mexios... Mexicas and the Am... Ameri... humans." Ok, this is where political advice from a 7 year old gets a little fuzzy. I try to stay out of their conversations, but I had to step in on this one.

"A2 the wall he wants to build is to keep Mexicans, who are people just like us, from coming into America illegally." I hoped this simple explanation would be enough, but I knew from past experiences it wouldn't be.

A2, of course, knew more than me and was ready to correct me, "No, mom. Mexicos are aliens. Aliens aren't human. I heard it on TV."

Ok, now I see where she is coming from, "That just means they are from a different place. If we went to Paris, we would be aliens. That doesn't mean they are green people from outer space."

"Oh." A2 was deep in thought and at a lose for words.

K picked up the slack in the convo, "I know Trump's daughter."

A2, absolutely impressed, "You do! How do you know her?"

K, confused, "I don't know her."

A2, really confused, "You said you knew her."

K, even more confused, "No, I didn't."

A2, confused but not ready to move on, "You did say you knew her."

K, confused and annoyed, "I don't know her. I saw her on TV. She has a weird name. Tiki, Kiko, Tovoa."

A2, "That is funny. Wanna play mind craft?"

And that was it.

It seems these two 7 and 8 year olds are just as informed as many of the adults trying to decide who to vote for in November. If you need help making a decision on who you should vote for, you are welcome to come over and talk it over with the A Team, then play a little Mine Craft after.

Passive Aggressive Gossip

The weird thing about being a quiet person is that it is easy to get lost in a crowd and completely over looked, especially when you are at a party of people who don't mind being the center of attention. It can be good and it can be bad. I can honestly say I learn a lot about people by being the quietest one in the room.  I sometimes learn a lot of things I don't want to know or hear. I recently heard something and I can't let it go, SO I must write.

Passive aggressive post in 3-2-1.

Last night I was standing NEXT to a couple of people while they talked about someone I obviously care about. It was a short conversation, but the words were full of such petty hate. It was shocking and, yet, not unexpected. I have sat behind her during shows and heard her trash talk this person when he was the director, as well as the actors she hugged and congratulated after the show. It isn't a secret she has a problem with this person, but to say what she said with me less than an arms length away. What the what?

There is a lesson in this. Friends, don't let friends talk about people in a crowd. Friends, don't let friends talk about people when their spouse is standing close enough to smell the alcohol on their breath. We have all been there. We have all done it. We have talked about people only to have them find out. It happens in all the terribly good after school specials: the mean girls are smoking in the bathroom talking about the new girl, only to have her pop out of the stall. It happens. Most of us learn our lesson when we are in Jr. High. BUT some do not, and that is why we have lifetime movies about it. Friends, don't let your friends become a Lifetime Movie.

Encourage your friend to talk about other people at a more appropriate location, perhaps somewhere the person you are wanting to talk about is not currently present at with his/her family. Encourage your friend to look around before they start to talk, just think of all the drama that could have been avoided if those girls in the bathroom did a feet check! Encourage your friend to write a passive aggressive blog post...

Passive aggressive blog post over. I feel better.

PS. I will not disclose the guilty party to anyone, not even my mom, so don't ask.
PPS. I am serious mom. :)

My Worry, My Reality

Today was the day I had been losing sleep over. The day I had been dreading since May. My colonoscopy and endoscopy. No, I am not 50 yet, but I earned this double procedure because my body decided to reject iron. We needed to do it to try to solve the mystery.

I wasn't worried about the normal stuff; the prep or the actual procedure. I was worried about the anesthesia. I worried myself into thinking something would go wrong. I didn't have any reason to think this, other than it was probably on a Lifetime Movie I watched once or the subject of a Lurlene McDaniel book I read when I was young, impressionable, and into books about death and chronic illness. I hadn't ever had a bad reaction to anesthesia or even knew anyone who did. BUT, it was my worry, so it was my reality.

I think, more than the worry about something going wrong, was the worry that I wouldn't be in control. I have some major control issues I need to work through... I didn't like the idea of me being unaware of what was happening or the thought of losing track of time without knowing where I had been. It is putting a lot of trust in people I hadn't ever met. What if something goes wrong and I wake up months later in a mostly abandoned hospital? What if I wake up to hear the moans of the undead trying to eat my brains? It happened to my friend Rick and things have been rough for him ever since.

I was also worried about the way I would act or what I would say when I was waking up. I had a huge fear of being mean. I was afraid I would be mean to the nurses, they have tough enough jobs, I didn't want to be a jerk and add stress to their lives.  I also didn't want to be mean to Mac if he didn't deserve it. (I only want to be mean to him if he deserves it and I can remember it...) I even had a little fear that someone who had been entrusted to be my responsible driver would decide to record me and I would be the next viral superstar. Move over Chewbacca Mom.

Thankfully, today was smooth sailing. After only a couple hours of sleep the night before, I welcomed the drug induced sleep! I kind of think that is part of the diabolical plan of the colon clean out... they don't really need it cleaned out, they just want you desperately tired so you won't fight the anesthesia... I could be wrong, but I don't think so!  Before I went under, the nurse and I celebrated the fact that I wasn't pregnant. She hesitated for a minute, worried that maybe I wanted to be pregnant. I reassured her that I didn't.

And then I woke up with a Kleenex in my hand asking for a bacon sandwich. I sat up in my bed and the nurse told me I needed to stay a little bit longer then she disappeared. I was a little worried. I remember talking to the nurse or the curtain I can't be positive on this part of the story, "Oh no! I didn't have a baby, did I?"

The nurse or the curtain responded with a laugh in her voice, "I don't think so, did you?"

I was relieved, "Good, I didn't want to watch Paw Patrol." Before the nurse or curtain could respond, I scratched my forehead and said, "Wait, I haven't ever watched that."

The nurse or the curtain laughed and said, "I think you must have had quite the dream,"

I must have but I don't remember, and that is ok.

Mac showed up. I said something weird to him, but I don't remember. I just remember him giving me the look of not sure what to do or say, but trying hard not to laugh. The doctor came in to show us pictures of my insides. The 7th grade science student in me really wanted to take them for show and tell, but I didn't. The doctor said a bunch of things. I know he said they found 1 polyp, but it didn't look bad. He also said my stomach had 3 places where it was bleeding. It wasn't ulcers, but I don't remember what he said it was or could be. I know he said we will find out in about 10 days when the results come back. He didn't seem to worried, so I am not going to worry.

I left feeling optimistic. and hungry, very very hungry. and tired, very very tired. At least we knew why I was losing iron. Now we just need to find out why I am bleeding, but I am not going to worry until the doctor calls and says I need to worry. No matter what google says, even if I had my fingers crossed when I promised my friend I wouldn't try to be an internet doctor detective, I will not worry. I will not worry. I will not worry. I will go eat another meal, I have 24 hours to make up for! 

Addictions

I have always had an addictive personality, which is why I stay away from the recreational drugs (that and Nancy Reagan made a lasting impact during my formative years). Most of my addictions involve sugar and other unhealthy foods. I just can't say "No" to the sweet stuff, especially Easter candy... Brach's Malted Eggs, in case you are new here. Someone brings treats to school, can't say no, gotta eat them. NOW. Mac brings home chocolate from the store, gotta eat it. NOW. I drive by a McDonald's, gotta stop. NOW. I have serious addiction problems.

My sugar addiction has jumped over to something new, something far worse, LuLaRoe, LLR. In case you haven't seen me in the last few months and have no idea what LLR is, well... let me tell you. It is the most comfortable clothes you could EVER own. Think pajama jeans... You should check out https://www.facebook.com/groups/WonderWomanWearsLuLaRoe/ to find out more... 
LLR has become the Brach's Malted Eggs of clothing. I see it, I must have it, I can't walk away. If I am having a bad morning I put it on and I have instant smiles. I love this stuff. I have 3 dresses, 3 skirts, 4 shirts, and 7 pairs of leggings. The girls are even Roeing (that is the cool way to say that you are wearing LLR) A1 has a dress, A2 has a dress, 2 shirts, 1 pair of leggings, and A3 has 2 dresses.

I have learned from buying this stuff my fashion sense is similar to certain 7 year old's style. I am not sure if years of seeing the strange combos she put together has influenced me or if I had a repressed childish fashionista living inside of me all along and she just inherited it unknowingly. Either way I love the crazy leggings the best. I crazier the better. When I pick them up and that little voice in my head says, "Your mom won't go shopping with you if you get these." or "A1 is going to give you the side eye and ask you to change if you wear these." I want them even more, like I would consider selling plasma to buy them.  Sometimes I wonder if I am more addicted to the leggings or the idea of embarrassing my family.

We now have LLR in our monthly budget. It is a real problem. I think I probably should find some kind of a recovery program, but I am not ready yet!

My favorites:

Clearly, I was distracted by my leggings when I put my shoes on!

These are my FAVORITE FAVORITE FAVORITE leggings! Two addictions meet.
McDonalds + LLR = True Love Forever
















Now, I need you to stop being judgy. I know you all have something you are addicted to. It could be Disney, The Cardinals, Musicals, Hamilton, Yankee Candles, Posh, Destiny, Pokemon, The Walking Dead, Norman Reedus, or any number of other things, but I know you have an addiction. Just be honest with yourself, own it, and stop judging. BUT if you don't have an addiction you should really check out LLR. 

Smelling Memories

I spent several mornings last week in a place I never thought I would hang out with the A Team. A place that held so many memories for me. Memories that were both good and bad. It was the place I experienced my first heartbreak. It was the place I experienced that feeling of being a part of something bigger than me. It was the place I embarrassed myself over and over. It was the place I felt pride in myself. It was the place I couldn't wait to go to and the place I tried to avoid.

That place was my high school gym. Not much had changed other than the gym floor now said, "Titans" instead of "Redskins" and the building is a middle school instead of a high school. Everything else felt the same.

Even though I was sitting their watching my girls hit volleyballs into the net, I could hear the faint sound of basketballs balls bouncing off the floor as the familiar smell filled my nose. I was smelling memories. I was sent back 20+ a few years when I decided as a freshman that I wanted to play basketball, even though I hadn't ever played any sport before. I could remember all of the suicides I had to run, all the times I tripped over painted lines, all the times I missed easy shots, all the times I silently begged my couch to not put me in a game, and all the times I cheered in my head when the buzzer went off at the end of the game and I didn't go in.

The truth is, I knew I wasn't as good as most of my teammates. How could I be? I played for 5 minutes compared to the years and years the other girls put in. I didn't care that I wasn't as good. I just loved being a part of the team. I loved having something I had to do after school and on the weekends. I had so much fun that year getting to know people I wouldn't have known otherwise, people who cheered for me when I finally made a shot, people who stood beside me when an older scarier girl thought it would be funny to pick on a random freshman. Thanks to my new people, it wasn't me! I loved having people.

Then, as my back started to ache from sitting in the bleachers for a couple of hours everyday this week, the painful memories started to hit me. I was brought back to my sophomore year when I was one of two people cut from my beloved basketball team. The new coaches didn't appreciate my spirit. The new coaches didn't understand my love of the game. The new coaches didn't see my desire to happily sit on the bench just so I could be a part of the team. It wasn't in the plan. I was offered the role of stat keeper, but my mom said "No way" in a beautiful letter she wrote to the new coaches.

Then out of the painful memory came one that made me chuckle out loud like a crazy person. I remember coming back to watch a game my sophomore year. My friends from another high school were playing my school. They all showed up with tape on their shoes. It was a sticky shout out to me. A way to say they were sorry I was cut from the team. That was a good memory.

It was a good memory that made me jump back to another memory when I was playing the year before. It was the game I scored my first point. We were playing the team with my friends from the other high school. When I scored, not only did my team cheer for me, but so did a few of the girls from the other team. Their coach wasn't very happy... but you can't make everyone happy.

I assumed when I graduated from high school I wouldn't ever step foot back in the gym. It never occurred to me I would one day be in the gym watching my own kids play.

Although, after watching their athletic abilities this week, I will probably only watch them while they attend the camps I pay for... The girls have inherited my skills. Too bad for them they didn't catch any of Aunt Caley's talents! One of our favorite activities this week was to search the trophy cases to find Aunt Caley's name. We discovered a new trophy or plaque every day.

Finding the Right Words

All day long I have been trying to come up with the right words, the best words, the appropriate words to say when you lose a loved one. What are those magical words to say when the people you love are hurting because they lost someone they love? Is there a mystical phrase I can whisper to make the pain go away? There has to be something. 

The truth is, I don't think there is anything to say that hasn't been said. Usually, when I'm at a loss for words I turn to the Bible. The book of Psalms typically is where I find the most comfort.  Right now  Psalm 147:3 is speaking to me. 

Last night my aunt lost a two year battle with cancer. She was courageous and she fought hard. She fought for her life. She fought for her husband. And she fought for her two kids. 

I have been worried the most about what to say to my cousins. One is only a year older than A1 and the other is a sophomore in high school. What can I say to them? I know there is nothing that will make everything better. The only thing that would make this better is if we had a cure and last night never happened, but I can't do that. 

What would I want if it was the A Tean needing comfort? What would I want people to say to them? Ugh. This is harder than I thought. 

I would want my girls to get hugs. Lots and lots of hugs. And then I want everyone to laugh about it, because I really don't enjoy hugs. I would want my girls to know they have a support system still. I would want people to tell my girls how they will remember me. I would want  people to listen to my girls. I would want my girls to know they have people. I would want my girls to that their feelings are normal and should be felt. I would want my girls to know they will be ok someday. I would want my girls to know they are loved. 

With all that in mind and a lump in my throat...

B and G here are my words for you.  

When I see you you are getting a hug. A big giant hug. The biggest hug a nonhugger could ever give. The A Team will also be hugging you, but they don't have the same hugging issues as me. 

You two are going through the toughest thing you have ever gone through. Please know you aren't doing it alone. You have more people than you will ever know standing behind you, weeping for you, cheering you on, and praying for you. If you need anything, even ice cream, all you need to do is raise your hand, nod your head, speak up, or give us a signal  and we will be there standing with you; standing next to you as you travel this unknown path. We've got you. 

I was the same age as B when your parents got married. I have known your mom well over half of my life. The one thing that always stands out when I think of your mom, is her laugh. Her laugh was amazing and contagious. I couldn't help but laugh when I was around her. She would want you to laugh. Find things that make you happy and when you laugh think of her and her beautiful laugh. 

Right now you two are dealing with so much. You are going through things that most us haven't experienced and most of those that have experienced a loss this great didn't do it at such a young age. You will have so many feelings; sadness, anger, confusion, are probably the strongest right now. But there are so many others you will feel and possibly already feel. Your feelings are yours. Own them. Share them. Don't be afraid of them. Your feelings will guide you through the day. I want to know how you are feeling. Send me a note. Send me a text. Give me a call. Even if you just say "Today I am sad. Bye." I want to know. There are tons of people who also want to know. Tell us. 

Things are different now. Things won't be the same, but they won't forever be bad. You won't ever forget your mom. She will always guide you. She will be that little voice in your head telling you right from wrong. Listen to her. You will always have memories of her. You will experience holidays, birthdays, and other special days and you will remember her. You will think of funny things she said and laugh and cry. You will laugh and cry and you will remember. 

B and G, I am sorry you are going through this. I love you and the A Team loves you. Your mom was amazing. It isn't fair and I'm sorry. 

Really, there are no words. 

Double Talking Evil Mastermind

My summer project with A3 is to change her language. Not change her language like an SLP, but change her language as in clean it up. Somewhere a long the way this tiny itty bit picked up quite the potty mouth. No one claims fault, but I feel like some of the older A Team members may have something to do with the evil words she spews.

She has gotten better about catching herself as she says these awful things. Just tonight she was coloring with A2. She told A2 the dog A2 was coloring looked like a "Butt hole." She caught my eye and quickly said, "Beautiful. I mean beautiful." Then she told A2 her shirt was beautiful and laughed. She said I was beautiful and laughed. She said her shoe was beautiful and laughed.  I know what she was calling us in her head!

Other times she will catch herself before. We have been really working on "Hate." At the beginning of June Hate was the big word. She hated everything. A3 got in trouble, "I hate you mom." A3 wouldn't get her way, "I hate you A1." A2 walked in the room, "A2 I hate you." She started getting vinegar for saying it. Now she says she loves everything. She gets in trouble. "I love you mom." A1 won't give her the phone, "I love you A1." A2 walks in the room, "I love you A2." I'm almost positive it isn't love she is feeling for us!

Tonight she looked at me and said, "Mom your legs are really fa-skinny. Skinny like, never mind." This kid baffles me. She is too smart for her own good. She always has me second guessing myself. Probably because she isn't saying what she means and she has me all confused. Her quick thinking and double talk has left my mind in a swirl. I really hope this isn't a sign that she is going to be an evil mastermind, but I kind of think it is. I had better remember to get her ice cream tomorrow to stay on her good side, but only if she tells me I am beautiful. Wait...

***Sometimes she says nice things and she means them. It is just really hard to know when she is being nice to be nice instead of being nice to be mean. You have to look into her eye to know.***

Health "Bump" Recap

I have had a lot of different people ask me what is wrong with me after I posted about my health scare. That made me realize I didn't actually say what was wrong. Sorry. Foggy mind and memory problems is a symptom, as well as, a personality flaw... I didn't mean to leave anyone in the dark. That really isn't my thing.

Last October I started to feel a little ick, so I called to get a doctor's appointment. Apparently my dr retired so I needed to find a new one. I found a new doctor who could see me in January... WHAT!?! That is insane, but I could deal. It was probably just a bug that was leaving me a little out of sorts.

I toughed it out. I was feeling tired, but nothing else was wrong. It was probably just me being mom-tired. I ignored it. A week before my appointment, my doctor needed to reschedule. She could get me in sometime in March. UGH!

I kind of started to panic. I really didn't think I could just deal much longer. My mom-tired was starting to interfere with life.  Sometimes I was so tired it would hurt. I could fall asleep almost anywhere. I was first trimester tired, without the perk of a baby in a few months. I was miserable. I was having trouble doing simple things, like walking up stairs hurt. My legs and lungs were on fire. I would have to sit and rest before I could do whatever I planned on going upstairs to do.  I was dizzy all the time. Luckily, a friend convinced me to find a different doctor. I called and the new new doctor could see me in 2 weeks. Much better than 2 months!

My new doctor was awesome. She didn't make me feel silly when I told her I was just. so . tired. She took me seriously. She did testing. We both thought it was probably thyroid, because I am the only adult woman in my family above the age of 21 without a thyroid problem. Plus, I secretly wanted it to be a thyroid problem, so I could blame the weight gain on my faulty thyroid and not my McDonald's addiction. 

A few days after my blood tests, I got a call from the nurse. My thyroid is fine. Boo. My B12 is a little low and my iron is really low. I needed a few more tests and I needed to start taking B12 and Iron. No problem. I can do that. I was anemic, no problem I can deal. That will be easy enough to fix. I know tons of people who are anemic. I was taking my iron twice a day and my B12 once a day.  I kept waiting to feel better. I wasn't.

After a month of taking my iron, I had to go back for more blood work. A few days after, I got another call from the nurse. This time she questioned if I was actually taking my iron. I was. She seemed discouraged. I got a little nervous. She said the doctor wants to see me again and she also wanted me to see a specialist. My iron went down since the last appointment.  Ugh! I didn't really know what that meant, but it didn't seem good.

At my next appointment, we went over my symptoms. She told me she was concerned because my numbers should be improving, but they were going down instead. She wanted me to start taking 3 iron pills a day. She was very candid with me. I didn't understand the seriousness of the situation until she told me she was concerned about my organs shutting down because of the low iron. Hold the phone! What do you mean organs shutting down!?! I need my organs running. I need my organs doing their jobs. If my organs shut down, that would be bad news. This is just a little iron problem. I know tons of people who are anemic. Really this can't be all that serious. Maybe she is just exaggerating. I am only anemic. I can deal. 

I went home and panicked. And worried. And lost sleep. And worried some more.

By the time I saw the hematologist, (which is also an oncologist, which made me panic more after I google stalked him) I was in full panic mode. Thankfully, he was awesome. He came in and did not mess around. He was no nonsense. He explained everything in a way I could understand. He praised my doctor for not wasting time and getting me in to take care of the problem right away. He set me up for 4 iron infusions and then more testing. He explained that some people are just anemic without any underlying cause. If that was my case then I would need to come back periodically for more infusions, but he would monitor that and we would deal with it when we came to it.

So basically to recap, I am anemic. My body won't absorb iron, for some mysterious reason, that maybe my Gastroenterologist will discover in the next couple of weeks. In the mean time, I will continue with my infusions and hope they start to work, because I like my organs working.

I know there a lot of people who are anemic. I know there are a lot of people worse off than me. But there is just something about hearing that your organs could shut down, if we can't fix the problem, that sends me into panic overdrive. There is something about being so tired that I fell asleep sitting up, that makes me worry. There is something about having your legs and lungs burn after going up the stairs and not being about to keep up with the A Team, that makes me get discouraged. There is something about being dizzy and passing out that makes me a little concerned. There is something about a little heath "bump" that makes me realize I am not immortal and I am not as young as I used to be.

I know that I will get past this. I will someday stop looking like a vampire. I will stop being so tired. I will be better!

Real Baby Registry Items

It seems like everyday this summer I have a new FB friend popping up saying they are popping out a new baby sometime in the next nine months. Most of these people are first time parents. I feel it is my duty as an experienced parent to guide them, especially when it comes to the daunting task of filling out that baby registry...

Here is the deal. Babies really don't need much. They basically eat, sleep, and poop for several months. Baby really only needs a place to sleep, a way to eat, and a place to poop. (And probably some clothes, but if your kids are like the A Team, they won't like clothes, so save your money and don't buy any) You decide where they sleep, how they eat, and where they poop. That is about all you will have control of from now until forever. Enjoy those three decisions... If you believe this, stop. Your baby will totally have a say in some of this, but you can at least tell yourself you have control over these decisions when you are filling out the registry. 

Beyond the crib, feeding needs, and diapers there are 5 things that are essential for all parents to stock up on before their little bundle of joy takes over the house comes home from the hospital.

5. Fruit snacks: No, these are not for your sweet toothless wonder, they are for you! You will find yourself hungry at the most inconvenient times, like breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Honestly, when you are a new parent your schedule is so off you don't have breakfast, lunch, and dinner at the typical times. You might have breakfast at 4AM, lunch at 10AM, and dinner at 4PM or some other strange combo. Sometimes you won't be able to eat when your stomach says it is time to eat. Sometimes you just don't have time to eat like a normal person. Sometimes you just need to eat right now, no matter what. Eat a pack of fruit snacks and you will have super human powers to last at least 10 more minutes. This just might hold you over until you can a real meal. Fruit snacks are the best. You can fit a pack in your pocket or your purse. It is the snack you can sneak eat. No one will even know if you are new parent hungry because you have these magic snacks. Trust me, you will want them on your registry. LOTS and LOTS of boxes.

4. Dry Shampoo: I didn't have this for A1 or A2, but it was an image savor when I had A3. Let's face it, once you have kids your free time will be given to your kids. And yes, showering is considered free time when you have a screaming little one who needs to be fed, burped, or changed. This will be especially helpful those first couple of weeks when you have well-wishers dropping off diapers and casseroles. You can use this stuff and look freshly showered.

3. Bandaids: You probably won't need these until your little sweetie is a little older, but since we don't have "Toddler Showers" and Toddler Gift Registries you might want these one your baby registry. Bandaids will be magic cures. They will stop tears when those boo boos that can't be seen to the naked eye ruin the perfect skin of your tiny tot. They even become stickers when you are cooking dinner and someone sneaks off discovering a brand-new box under the sink. This may or may not have happened in real life... I can't even begin to tell you how many boxes we have gone through in our 10+ years as parents. Just today we used 4 bandaids on A3. You do the math.

2. Baby Wipes: These are not just for tooshies any more! You find countless ways to use these magic little clothes. During desperate times they are great bathing substitutes. Remember number 4? When you are pressed for time, grab a baby wipe and freshen up! Sometimes we still have "wet-wipe washes" for the girls. The number one rule of the WWW is, don't tell Nana. She wouldn't approve of us skipping bath nights and opting for a wet-wipe washing, but sometimes when the schedule is way too hectic we just have to. Other than personal hygiene, wet wipes are amazing at cleaning up spills, marker on the table, and pencil on the wall. You will most likely get some of these as shower gifts, but go ahead and register for 100 boxes.

The number one essential item needed when baby comes:

1. Spoons: I know this seems weird, but trust me on this one. Tuesday we had all the dishes clean and put away. I went to get spoons for the girls' healthy cereal and realized we were down to 3 adult spoons and 2 kid spoons. Where have all the spoons gone? We are not alone in this troubling mystery. I have heard many parents cry out for their missing spoons. Parents everywhere have a drawers full of forks and knives, but NO SPOONS. Where could all the spoons be? Mac thinks this is part of an evil plan our children have cooked up in order to take over the world. In our short time as parents we have gone through 16 spoons. That may not seem like a lot, but seriously, we had 8 spoons that never went missing during the first 5 years of marriage. Then the kids came and the spoons started going missing. Slowly at first. Then more rapidly as time went on. It became a huge pet peeve of Mac's. The missing spoons were interfering with our happiness. I bought him replacement spoons as an anniversary gift. Those 8 spoons created a few years of happiness, until a couple weeks ago and the spoons started slipping away again. Then we had 3. Mac went to buy more and ran into a friend. Once she saw what Mac was buying, she realized she was having disappearing spoons too. THIS IS A REAL THING! While you are completing your Baby Wish List, add several sets of replacement spoons. It will save your marriage.

Trust me new parents, the A Team has taught me a lot of things about what is really important, what babies really need, and what parents really need. Most importantly, they need love. (and a crib, diapers, food stuff, fruit snacks, dry shampoo, bandaids, wet wipes, and spoons!) 

When the Kids are Away

A few months ago my parents asked if they could take the girls on a weekend trip, just them and the girls well... my aunt Debbie, her grandkids, her friend, and his grandkids too, but not Mac and not me. NO PARENTS ALLOWED. I didn't not hesitate to say HECK YES they could go! I may have even told a little fiblet that A3 would be fine on this trip. If I am being honest right now, I really didn't know if she was going to be fine. She hadn't ever been away from us over night and she was going through a phase, she is always going through a phase, but this one involved a lot of bad words. When I said she would be fine, I totally had my fingers crossed behind my back because I HOPED she would be fine. And that is the truth. 

As the day got closer to this 3 day trip, I started to create a fantasy list of all the things I would do while they were gone. All the things I imagine adults without children would do on a weekend. My list included:

1. Sleep
2. Watch Outlander without fear of being spied on
3. Sleep
4. Go out to eat at 7:00 PM
5. Clean my house without interruption
6. Sit and admire my clean house without interruption.
7. Sleep
8. Wake up to a clean house
9. Finish my final project for my class
10. Visit with friends
11. Eat a meal while it is hot
12. Eat chocolate cake without sharing a bite, or three
13. Sleep in
14. Stay out late
15. Do nothing

I started a count down. I was so excited to get to be Carrie and not Mom. I couldn't stand it! Then as the day approached I got a brilliant idea: we would redo A2 and A3's room. I started a Pinterest board, a honey-do list, and a shopping list. We were doing this. I just needed to trick convince Mac.

The day came for the girls to leave. I was up at 4AM... they were just as excited as I was.  A3 was done sleeping. As I laid in bed getting kicked in the back by the messy haired one, I made a list of all the projects we would have to accomplish each day in order to finish the room before they got home. I was ready for them to go!

We were actually early to my parents' house, that never happens. We had the van packed in a matter of minutes and they were off. I wasn't even a little sad and that surprised me. I started to worry that I had some strange disorder that made mom's really happy when their children went away instead of miss them. I wonder if I need medicine for that? I plan on googling it later.

Mac and I rushed home to get started on the room. He was starting the bunk bed and I was starting the room clean out. I was almost 4 hours in, and I realized I wasn't interrupted at all. Not once. The sad part though was that I also realized I didn't have much done. The truth, I found out, is that I am a slow cleaner. This whole time I have been blaming the girls for not getting work done, but it is really me. I will never admit to this in real life and never once will a even whisper this to the girls, my cleaning fails will always be there fault. Always. Add that to their reasons for therapy list later in life. 

It was at the 4 hour mark that I realized the glorious quiet was starting to hurt my ears. My mind was needing to be distracted by the whiny demands of a 4 year old. My hands were begging to clean up a spill from an extra messy 7 year old. My temper was needing to be challenged by the tweeniest tween I know.

It was at the 4 hour mark that the pictures from my parents starting coming in. WHY WOULD THEY TORTURE ME? I was really starting to miss the girls and how could they be so cruel and send me pictures. They were rubbing in the fact that they were having fun with the A Team and I wasn't. They were making memories that I could only see in pictures. IT WASN'T FAIR! I am including some of the pictures, so you can understand where I am coming from, feel free to tantrum along with me! 

A3 is looking WAY TOO old here!

They all look happy. Real happy.

A2 is awesome being awesome.

A1 is a happy Tween. No fair.

I wanna go to Holiday World!

 I nearly had a temper tantrum as I started to paint the room. I made the decision to focus on the room. I wanted this room to be just as awesome as A1's room turned out in April. I wanted a room they would be proud to show their friends. A room they would want to keep clean, does that exist? Most importantly, I wanted a room that would be calming and encourage restful sleep. Does that exist? I am not sure if that is a real thing, but it was worth a try.

The room started out "Cute and Chaotic." Mac and I did this room while I was pregnant with A3. We wanted to make a fun room for A1 and A2, because they would have to share as soon as A3 showed up and booted A2 out of her room. We ended up with fun, wild, bright colors that encourage sleepless nights. At least that is the story we are going with...

I started this project the same way I start all of my project; with pictures of things Mac has to create. I need to brag on Mac for a little bit. He is amazingly talented at so many things including building. It is hard to believe that he is able to look at a picture and make it come to life. This time I threw extra challenges at him... I showed him pictures of things that had no plans with them. He had to create a plan for the project before he could even make it. It takes all kinds of talent to build things. It takes even more talent to build things based on a plan, but it takes the most talent to be able to look at a picture combine it with the directions and hand talking I give him, and then make exactly what was in my brain. Mac is the best. He did not write this, I swear! 

This project took us a little longer than our other room in April. Let's face it, we are older now and it is just hard to do this kind of work. I had to stop and nap, stop and complain, stop and eat. Plus, we had to move the "stuffs" of two (Kind of 3, because we discovered a ton of A1's things hiding in the room) kids out of room before we started. The first room was only 1 kid who really didn't put anything weird and extra in her room, like spoons, recorders, and Spackle. These are some of the weirder things we found this weekend. 

Even with the extra time it took for us to complete the project, I am very happy with the way it turned out! It was worth all the blood, sweat, and tears. Blood and Sweat all Mac; Tears all me.  Both girls are thrilled with their room, A1 is even a little jealous. I have to admit, I am a little jealous too!

Mac built the purple bunk for A2. I made the black paint stain on the floor under the rug.
The girls like the chalk board paint. I am hoping this is where they will put all of the vandalism marks. 

Here is the Reading Nook. Mac had to create this from the picture on Pinterest and the picture in my head.
A2 has spent most of the night hanging out in there. She thinks this is the best part of the room. She might be right. 

This is A3' section. Her idea. It has the two paintings she bought at the Art Fair
 and the sweet outfit she wore home from the hospital. All 3 girls have those on display. A1 thinks it is lame.
I don't care. 

I am excited for the bedspreads to show up later in July. Who knew things couldn't be over-nighted from Britain? Duh. 

As for my fantasy list...
I did not experience a clean house.  That just isn't in the cards for me. Maybe if the girls were gone for a month, but probably not. I also didn't finish my final project for my class... Not really in the mood to think. But let me tell you about the things I did do. I slept in until 10:30 one morning. I ate chocolate cake without sharing. I didn't eat hot food, but I didn't have hot food because I mostly ate salads and sandwiches.  One night we even ate at 10:45 PM, but that was because we were so busy working, we forgot. I started to watch Outlander, but I fell asleep, because I was out late. Ignore the fact that I was picking up garbage at the Muni. I WAS OUT LATE! I got to see friends. This weekend I managed to go to a gender reveal party and a bridal shower. I saw people there. Real people. I laughed with them. I enjoyed being with them. I saw my friends. Next time my parents agree to keep the girls for the weekend, I promise me that I will find a way to have a clean house AND do nothing.