A Different Frequency

The funniest things strike me as funny. Funny ha-ha. What I mean to say is that I realize I'm funny. Funny strange. I would be doomed if I couldn't laugh at myself.

I'm forever stumbling upon my own weirdness...and mostly, I really think it's cool. Despite what anyone else does, thinks, or says with regards to "normal", I'm inevitably always about 45 degrees off the beaten path...and that's fine with me. My kiddos will certainly come to be aware of this one day, and that one day is just around the corner. It's all good though, because it's all in love and I'm sure God knew what he was getting Jackson and Noah into.

Yesterday I was talking with a friend about Jackson's birthday, what I was doing for it, and the presents I would give him. I mentioned the MP3 player and that I had been loading songs on it. My friend asked me what kind of music I was giving Jackson to listen to. And without even the slightest hesitation I revealed "alot of Bob Dylan, the classic Dylan."

The look on her face could only be described as stupefied. She didn't say anything and didn't need to because her expression said it all. I'm pretty sure she wasn't expecting to hear Bob Dylan at all. But even in the same moment that I said that, I realized that it was a little kooky. I started laughing...I couldn't help it. That uproarious kind of belly roll that tosses my head back and reaches full volume in the same breath. I laughed at myself. I laughed and laughed and cried and laughed some more! I really enjoyed that laugh. I laughed at myself because of how I was laughing. It became a therapeutic laugh and like the medicine it is supposed to be, I actually started to feel better. By this time she was laughing too of course, and I couldn't speak for laughing.

When I finally produced words I exclaimed "I thought he might learn something!" And for that I again laughed at myself. Not because I was joking...I wasn't...I actually really must have meant it...and I loved myself for wanting to teach Jackson to chill and appreciate Dylan's poetic philosophy.

Later that night I came home and modified his play list. I added lots of OC Supertones, Ghoti Hook, Newsboys, Beastie Boys (clean), Chris Rice, and Aretha Franklin. I also added some Van Morrison, Gnarles Barkley, Citizen Cope, Willie Nelson, Steve Miller Band and even a little Death Cab For Cutie...because that's how I roll. Now he can feel like a normal eight year old! (*giggle*giggle*)

Ghoti Hook - I knew these cute boys, back in the day

Steve Miller comes to OK every year...GO!

This IS one of the greatest albums of all time!

The whole point of me deciding to buy the MP3 player was to keep him away from the trendy CRAP that pollutes the airwaves of this generation. Music that means absolutely nothing except to prove that it is over produced and pointless. Am I a music snob? Not really, I just can't tolerate the Top 40 very well...so if that makes me a snob, then YES, yes I am!

Don't even think about sending Jackson a Kids Bop CD...I might explode!

Happy Plates

After my last post I thought I should show this photo. A meal that the children happily ate.


After the weeks, upon weeks, of mealtime fiasco's with Noah, I finally gave in. I have momentarily abandoned my best intentions...I'm settling for smiles tonight. Let's face it, I'm tired, and I don't want to argue, or discipline. I fed them homemade pigs-in-a-blankets with fries for dinner. (*shame*)

Pretty soon the Mother Of The Year award will show up in the mail. I just know it! Okay, maybe not. I am hoping for an E for effort on my report card at the very least though. I'll deal with the ramifications of enabling junk food junkies tomorrow.

Torturing a 3 year old?

I am. I make him eat dinner.

The horrible meany that I am.

This is a progression of the agony of Noah eating dinner if it's not pizza, or spaghetti.

Or, if Jackson finished first and he has to sit there longer than him.

What's going on?

It must be a phase...it's wearing me out. Terrible 3's? No, he's always a sweetie, he just won't eat. Even after he says he's hungry.

My sweet sad Noah,

Mommy loves your guts!

COOLEST MOM EVER!!

For one day only!

This event will occur Friday night. My oldest son is turning 8 and I'm having a big slumber party at my house...ten other little boys will be here aside from my two. I've never done this before. I think I will just fade away into my happy place and let them run the house, because I probably won't have a choice.

I'm setting up the game cube on one TV, the play station on another, and will be playing skateboarding DVDs in a constant loop on the other. There will be pizza, candy, coke, cake, etc...enough to drive them into sugar overload.

I got Jackson an MP3 player because he's been begging for one and also because, and I quote "Music is the coolest thing in my life!" I think he had his dad roped into getting him an iPod, but with my forthright red flag prompter prodding me like a branding iron, I decided I would sleep better if I could control the music being loaded onto it. And the only way to do that is get him one myself. So I caved. I got this MP3 player by CREATIVE called the ZEN V. Never heard of it? Me neither. But it was only $50, it holds 1G, and I can put pictures on it for him to show his friends. Plus it has a volume restriction that I can set. I think it's a pretty cool little doodad, but as with all forms of modern technology, I am anticipating the migraines from trying to figure it out.

I also had a graphic designer make this poster for him. It's soooooo right on! He will flip out.

Why am I doing all this you ask? The reasons are threefold.

First: This is the first time in the 3 1/2 years that I've been a single mom that I've been able to afford to throw him a birthday party, so I'm doing it to the best of my ability.

Second: I'm so very PROUD of him! He is an incredible kid! The awesomest almost 8 year old skater on the planet! For sure! He deserves a party. This is fact not fiction.

Third: He just had this wretched "appliance" permanently affixed into his mouth today. So, I feel sorry for the kid.




He has had such a hard time breaking the habit of thumb sucking. He really only does it in the nighttime, almost subconsciously. But it's changing his bite, so the dentist threatened him with it about two months ago. I hated the thought of this contraption, so I pulled out the ultimate threat...I told him that if he didn't stop sucking his thumb by his 8th birthday I was going to take away his game cube and skateboard FOREVER!! I've tried everything over the years to help him, but nothing has worked. Even this veiled threat didn't help. So I called the dentist! He will have four days to get used to it before his birthday, and within eight weeks...hopefully...the habit should be a distant memory.

So, my fellow Mom's, tell me about slumber parties! Please. Am I in for it? Have I sealed my own coffin?

Game Boys

Remember this day folks!

This is the day that I caught Jackson being nice to Noah, and helping him too!

Now, I'm not saying Jackson is a mean brother (he's not), but lately it does seem that his toleration level for his kid brother has been at an all time low. This has been going for weeks. It drives me bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S!

I don't know how to handle it very well. I mean I certainly give it a go, and do my best, but I don't know if it's the best way or not. I was an only child until I was 13, so I never dealt with siblings. When my Mom got married, I suddenly got two step-siblings, and that was a nightmare. From one extreme to another! So I really have had no examples of the happy, nurturing, effective way to handle my kids squabbles. What I don't want to do is take sides, or appear to take sides, I don't want to be over-the-top, and I can't just do nothing. Ultimately, I just constantly pray that I'll know what to do for each situation, as it comes, then have faith that God will pick up where I leave off. I can't imagine trying to raise boys, alone, without faith in their heavenly father's assistance.

This parenting gig is no piece of pie!

this little guy is cute as pie!

Girly girl?

I'm not sure what's going on with me...I'm getting all girly. Today I treated myself to a pedicure and manicure, on the same day, at the same time. In my lifetime I have had, maybe five pedicures. This experience today was fabulously extravagant and absolutely worth every penny!

I'm sure this is not a news flash to most of you postmodern women out there, but the foot spa with the messaging chair...OMG! Wonderful goodness. Also, I went for broke and went with RED! I can't stand it, I'm a full fledged girly-girl. What's gotten into me? I'm not totally clear on my motivation, but I am loving the diversion. It's fun!

Honestly though, I will probably become annoyed with it in about two days; much the same way I would become stir crazy in my prom dress after the pictures were taken. It just doesn't suit me. Pretty, yes...Piper, not so much.

pillow in my hallway...

I'm just home from work, and in slow motion, have passed up and down my long hallway at least four times by now. Only just now have I realized that I have been stepping a - r - o - u - n - d this pillow in my way each time. Why haven't I bent over to pick it up?

Does that mean that I am fully acclimated to single motherhood messes? Something always has to be sacrificed it seems. I think that by weeks end, because I'm just pooped out from the constant "go", that I only focus on the major stuff...you know, my job and spending "quality" time with my boys. I think I may, sometimes, let things slide a few days too long though.

It's disconcerting to consider that this pillow has, perhaps, been there a little longer than today. Maybe since the night before last night? Oh brother! If it's not one thing it's another. I can't do everything all the time people! Do you hear me? Sometimes, I'm just doing the best I can. My best is good enough...so there is no shame in my game.

But, isn't it just great that the weekend is finally here! This means I will be able to spend my entire weekend cleaning! I will struggle to relax occasionally . . . and Monday will seem to have come too soon...again.


Lord have mercy!

My Favorite Things

I've been thinking about posting some of my favorite things for awhile now. I promise I won't do it much, but I know that I am a kinda/sorta kooky gal, so you might be interested to see which whatnot's I prize the most. I'll just do a few here and there . . . I'll file them under "reviews."

First of all, my newest favorite thing is:

pocketpal by benefit

...here's why.

Everything about it is scrumdiddlyumptious!

(I think that's a southern term, whatever it is, I come by it naturally)

I love it because I am, essentially, a fairly low maintenance kind of girl. I try to be anyway. What it is, is a tinted stain on one end and a clear gloss on the other. But, it's better than any other stain I've tried before because it's a really lightweight, watery stain and you paint it on...it's not goopey or sticky at all! I put it on carefully, once or twice, let it dry completely, and then either apply the gloss...or a premium balm that moisturizes like Burt's Bee Beeswax Lip Balm. That's my favorite! I get a pale tint, that can be darkened by applying a few coats, and it lasts for hours plus all the goodness of chapstick too. I think the tint is perfect! I believe it has some plumping action, and to me, it smells just like Tea Rose perfume, the perfume my precious Granny wore.

A fantastic duo!

This is two coats of the tint and an application of Burt's Bees, this will last several hours. Love'ems! I recommend this to every low-key or high maintenance babe out there!

You'll be addicted to the benefits! Pardon the pun. It's about $18 and I found it at Sephora...ooooh, Sephora! Go get you one! Then let me know how much you love it too!

Noah said...

"Mom, when I pooted in my mouth I pooted out my bottom and then it went back in."

He said exactly those words. In very exuberant exclamation! I've tried to envision this sort of eruption. Then I try not to. All I know for sure is that I didn't have to clean anything up...so, I'm fine with it. Perplexed, but fine with it.

Let it be known to all the world that I cannot stop my sons from being boys. They are all boy! I suppose I wouldn't have it any other way.

No need to knock...

I'm not going to say this and then knock on wood to imply that this will go away simply by saying it. I have a tendency to do that; put something out there and then immediately try to retract it...just in case...and that's silly because jinxing is probably all in our minds anyway. I'm just going to come right out and lay claim to this, because it is a blessing and if I don't treat it as such (speak about it and accept it) then I will not fully enjoy it's benefits.

I LOVE my job! LOVE, LOVE, LOVE! Yes, it's hard, constant (like my mind is working 24 hours a day with this), and challenging. But dribbled slobbery kisses, I really do LOVE my job. I can't believe that I, finally, have a job that I enjoy like I do this job. Let's start with the fact that this job combines all of the things I am good at, networking, selling, creativity, talking, being involved in community, etc. Nobody holds their thumb on me, there is no micromanaging. My job allows me to be as creative as I can be (and I get paid for that!). I work with amazing people, and the people I work for...forgetaboutit...they are undoubtedly the most family friendly, kind, helpful, and encouraging bosses I ever imagined possible. I am so very blessed!

This is such a profound and big deal to me because I have had lots of jobs, more than my fair share, and I have never experienced this before. It's what I have always hoped for, but didn't know I could hope for.

A former happy place, still looks refreshing though...ahh the memories

Oprah and even Joyce Meyer have talked about how true success comes from finding what you are good at and doing it over, and over, and over. Then if you can actually make a living off of that too, then it doesn't feel like a chore. It's exciting. It's an ideal adulthood. Then on top of all that is this blogging thing, aka the cherry on top. I mean really!

Suddenly I've realized that I am spending my days, pretty much all day, doing things I enjoy...everyday.

Mornings with my boys...working with cool people and liking my work...evenings with my boys...blogging...falling asleep with a good book...weekends at the skatepark...blogging...church...etc.

Basically, God is good, He is faithful! And I could go on about that indefinitely. I will too. Just not tonight. The morning will be here too fast, and that's only because the sleeping hours are just not enough time to rest up for the next day of happy energy to be spent. Oh well. I'll work on that. Things could be worse! I am so grateful, so very, very grateful!

Learning to love...

Learning to love FOOTBALL!

Of all things.

I can't help it, I don't really have a choice. The city that I live in and work for the newspaper in is ALL ABOUT football. So all about football in fact, that we are launching a *new* paper to supplement our existing sports paper. It will come out on it's own day, and be completely about the sports in our schools and the major universities in our state. Okay, so maybe football is more than a game in this community, maybe it's more like a religion.

I work with mostly all men. Men consumed these days with one fact alone...12 days 'til football season starts! Woohoooooo!

I have to start loving it! HAVE TO! I have to sell it to advertisers, because that's my job and I am a professional. Me trying to talk about football, and sounding convincingly jazzed about it, is about as believable as me trying to give a lecture on neuroscience to a room full of neurosurgeons. I stand to look like the biggest fool in this town! And I am going to love it!!

In a big launch meeting today, consisting of me and the hype, I actually did begin to feel the electricity. I started to feel this weird sensation that I haven't felt since, oh maybe my junior year of high school when we took state. By "we" I mean the football team which I had absolutely no part of. But that same level of excitement about "team" was there. I'm feeling the vibe!

If you wanna talk skateboarding, I'm good with that.

I'm forging ahead, fearlessly. Looking like a fool has never stopped me from anything before, so it won't stop me now. I'm going to take my boys to the games, and I'm going to learn what all the crap means, and I am going to call myself the "#1 Fan" just like everyone else in this fair city. By week 8 I will be totally convincing, and I might even buy myself a t-shirt or something.

There is no "I" in Team! Here I come though, I am getting in this game...wish me luck or say a prayer. I'll need all the help I can get. If attitude really is everything, then I will be the mascot!

codeword: Busty

A funny something...I put on a Depends for this, just in case!

I have 3 dearly beloved girlfriends; Marisa, Kerali, and Penny. They each came to me at different times in my life, and they each know me very, very well because in each of them is someone like me...however, they are, individually, as different as night and day. Maybe that speaks to the oddball that I am, that I can be so kindredly related to 3 completely contrasting personalities. Whatever it is, it is grand! These ladies each know me so completely, yet each on completely different levels. I trust them with my brain farts, my aneurysms, and for clairvoyant assistance when needed. With these girls I can speak in my own language and without translation they totally get me. That's fantastic!

One day at work I was very busy and hurriedly replied to an email that Penny sent me, she asked me how my day was going. I typed back "I'm super busy!" But actually, by way of a slight typo, I had written "I'm super busty!" Needless to say her reply was equally as cavalier ('cause that's how we roll) and the joke progressed into the ewy gooey goodness that it is today. When I call her office now, I always ask for "Busty Chesterhouse", that way she knows it's me and if she can't talk she doesn't have to explain to her boss who could be standing next to her, she can just say that she's not available. It's wonderful fun!

Now I will have to tell a funny on her. We met when we worked in the same insurance office, long before my advertising days. Mortgage companies constantly called to get "correct" mortgagee clauses on Dec pages, and this was a pain in the tushy. Mostly because these "clauses" have to read EXACTLY right for legal purposes and banks notoriously make them confusing and complicated as heck! So, when they have Lucy the receptionist call to request a Dec sheet and she relays it, it will be one digit off or one acronym away from "correct" about 99% of the time. Then, Doris the secretary will call to correct it again, with her version, and we would fax another Dec sheet. Then, Larry the loan officer will call at 10 minutes to closing and ask for yet another "correction" A.S.A.P!! And so it goes...the bane of an insurance offices existence.

One day, after perhaps the 8th request that morning, Penny got a phone call regarding the last installment of mortgagee clause mayhem she just faxed off. The gal on the phone says, "um, do you know what you wrote?" It was supposed to read "Bank Of Indiana", but Penny in a slurry of redundancy, accidentally typed "Bank Of Indians."

On my lunch break I went to the dollar store and stumbled upon a little statue of an Indian chief (a bust if you will). When I got back to work she had already left for lunch, so I put it on her desk in front of her monitor, staring at her. When she got back and walked in her office all I heard was a loud commotion, the sound of her startling and falling out of her chair. We still laugh about that, and she still has "Dances with Pennies" in a prominent location in her office.

-

That's what friends are for!

my 100th post it!

"I'm so optimistic I'd go after Moby Dick in a row boat and take the tartar sauce with me."

This blogging business has increased me in so many ways. This voice, speaking into the void, occasionally getting a response from you, has changed me for the better. My life is pretty much redundant, you know, working myself silly in one way or another. Journaling is something I've done my whole life, but this...this is better, it's more fulfilling for some reason. I get to slow down and speed up my thought process in any direction I choose...I get to write, release, and feel smart for conquering fears...for example: my hesitance to really get "online" because I don't think I'm techy at all! and I have yet to break my computer (knock on wood). I am becoming my own hero now! Also, most recently, I've been beginning to overcome fear of opinions and criticism, these are things that have come to me as a result of a lifetime of shame, in one form or another, being dumped on me whether I deserve it or not (long long snoozy snoozy long to try and explain that). Basically, doing this blogging thing has been something that God has used to bless me in many ways, and it's pretty amazing to realize that. I'm so happy! I can't wait to see what my next 100 posts will bring...giddy jumping jacks! You're welcome to come along for the ride. Please do!

ps. 3rd Grade!

Jackson starts 3rd grade tomorrow, and I can't believe it. He's getting into the ages now that I remember memories from. (did that make sense?) 3rd grade!! Two years away from middle school!! ACK. This can't be real. Also, I met his teacher today. Mr. Waggoner. I'd say he's probably 25, but that's being generous. He looks every bit of 21. He was in camo shorts, flip flops and a raggedy Billabong tee. He had that "easy-breezy" look of "fresh out of college". Skip over the fact that if I am correct, and I'm sure that I am because I have a tendency to be dead on with all my wild assumptions (wink wink), this makes him ten, YES 10, years younger than me!! He's another newbie teacher for Jackson. Jackson's teachers, except for the last one in the second half of 2nd grade, have all been first year teachers. Yes, that's correct.

What happened to all the old bags that taught school when I was there? The one's who were no fuss, could handle rambunctious boys with aplomb, and still could teach them the difference between a noun and a verb. Where is Ms. Hainey (Ms. Hiney) who made kids write 25 sentences for saying "shut up."

"I will not say shut up in Ms. Hainey's class."

"I will not say shut up in Ms. Hainey's class."

And then graded them with a red marker (and there was always something wrong with every paper) and sent them home in a sealed envelope to your mom. The sealed envelope of death, it might as well have been certified mail. You knew without asking that she had a telepathic connection to every parent and could order your doom at a moments notice. Are there any teachers left who can still instill that healthy fear? It's good for kids...yes it is.

I hope this Waggoner kid is worth his salt.

We'll see how long it takes for the "I told you so" posts to start popping up in this blog. Count down from 10...starting tomorrow.

Perception vs. Reality

Ever struggle with what others think of you? Do you think that what others "think" about you is all wrong? Do you ever consume yourself with it, trying to figure out how to get others to see you for who you really are, only to be worn out with the process and not really producing any results? I have struggled with that, not so much because I really care what people think of me, but because I hate being misunderstood. In my life I am misunderstood A LOT. Often, in spite of my best efforts, people just don't get me. I have been told, by more than one person and at different times in my life, that I am "different", "elusive", "unique", "strange", "crude", "unladylike" even. That used to bother me immensely. I'm beginning to overcome it now, because I'm learning a lot about the reality of perception. For each of us, our perception is our reality.

The fact of the matter is that it doesn't matter what any one's perception of me is. The only person who really understands me, or ever will, is God. He created me! He knows me better than I know myself. And on top of that, He LOVES me, ADORES me in fact! He likes me just as I am, the person he created. It hurts Him when I try to deviate from the true me. The Bible says that each of us are fearfully and wonderfully created, and that not one of us was intended to be a duplicate of anything.

So amid all the scattered perceptions of me, what's the truth? If each of our perceptions is the truth for us, then what exactly is the actual reality? The only real truth is what God says about me. That is my true identity.

When it comes right down to it, I am continual work in progress. I will never be perfect. I will probably always put my foot in my mouth and fall short of the expectations I am supposed to match. That is okay! Hopefully, I will always be quick to apologize, quick to forgive, and always allow people to be themselves...whoever that is at this moment. We are always changing, but the one thing I will strive for in relationships is that good ol' golden rule. "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." Allow for faults. Allow mistakes. Allow differing personalities. Understand that there is no such thing as "normal". Understand, also, that's it's not your job to change people. If you allow others to be imperfect, then that will take the pressure off of you to always be on your best behavior. That's a great thing...especially for me. I'm often, seemingly, misbehaved to someone. (a few certain people specifically) Let's build others up! Let's all encourage peoples strengths and pay less attention to weaknesses. Let's be to others what we need others to be to us.

The one thing I am going to stop doing though, is feeling guilty. I'm not going to apologize just for being me anymore. Do you hear that world? I've put my big girl pants on, I'm accepting myself and I'm going to love myself...whether you like it or not!

God has a lot to say about who we are, and this is a short fantastic read regarding just that.

Quotey McQuoterson

"Don't be distracted by criticism. Remember - the only taste of success some people have is when they take a bite out of you."

-Zig Ziglar

Quotey McQuoterson

"Some people find fault like there is a reward for it." - Zig Ziglar

my, my, my.

Gods hand is bigger than you can imagine, and full of surprising blessings at every turn! (I can only partially elaborate on that right now)

Today was spent at the heart hospital, the big day for Papa's surgery. My family was there, not all of them, but a lot of them. I have an enormous family, we pretty much took over the entire waiting area.

Last night was an amazing event too. When I was a little girl I remember having family prayer meetings, where we all got together and prayed for each other. These are powerful memories. I mentioned to my Mom that before Papa went into surgery we should have a meeting again...if for no other reason than it might be the last time we would get to hear Papa pray. He is a retired Assembly of God preacher, he has a deep and thunderous voice, and when he prays you can literally feel that all of heaven is open for business, and prayers are answered. Last night was no exception. Our prayer meeting lasted a good, long, intense 4 hours. Everyone laid hands on everyone, and one by one, God moved in each of our personal circumstances...it was beautiful. Having a family like this is something that I wouldn't trade for the world. Where we started the evening with fear and stress and worry, by the end of the night there was peace. Peace that, no matter what happens, everything is going to be okay, and assurance that God's will would be done. My grandpa has already left a tremendous legacy for his family. Virtually every member of my family is a preacher, teacher in the church, or a missionary. I'm sort of the black sheep...in many ways...and I'm okay with that. I believe that my role on earth is to be a blessing to people, to encourage others; to me though, that is actually a vital role in humanity. Everyone needs edification. I may never be a preacher (and I don't aspire to be), I might never build churches in Africa, but I can use my life's experiences to help people (maybe) and that's what I try to do. I just want to be known as a blessing in this life. Okay...off the soap box now.

This morning I found out that Marisa, my B/F since age 13, was going to be the surgical nurse for Papa's operation. INCREDIBLE! That is so random that I can't even go into it...chalk up one more "God thing." I was thrilled to know that he would be in loving hands as well as capable hands. Papa, on the other hand, was not so excited, at first. In the way that we have a tendency to freeze frame people in the moment we last saw them or most remember them, I think Papa was envisioning the spastic gigglers he remembers her and I being together as boy crazy teenagers. He was happy and surprised to see that, in fact, she is now a 31 year old professional.

Then. Circa 1991

Now.

He had a triple bypass and they fixed a valve in his heart. The surgery went well, but he is very sick and in extremely critical condition. I was a total wreck! I can't go into all the reasons why, without typing 20,000 more words and boring the daylights out of you. (reference click) I'm hanging in there though. I stayed with him until the moment they wheeled him away. I was trembling and sobbing, and unable to form any words to speak...I was very taken aback with my reaction.

Just before takeoff he was talking about how he'd once trimmed an entire house in white sugar pine, how beautiful and flawless the wood was, and how the lady who moved in the house painted all the woodwork dark green. He laughed at that. Then he sang a song I've never heard and said "I'll be talking to you down the road."

This photo was taken just a few minutes before surgery.

Thanks for all of your kind words and thoughts for me in this. It means the world!

not that my kids bug me...but

Jackson just gave me a slow, nearly verbatim, play-by-play of an entire SpongeBob episode...which lasted as long or longer than the actual episode. I was a very good listener though, I nodded patiently for most of it, and then excused myself to the restroom. He followed me and kept the oratory going through the bathroom door.

Both of my sons are talky-talky-talkers and big story tellers. I wonder where they get that from?

And now ladies and gentlemen, from the Adjective Queen herself...allow me to introduce you to the writings of Jackson, the Prince of Adjectives.

"On my way to school I saw a snake. It was a green snake. It was a big green snake. It was a narly big green snake. It was an wild narly big green snake. It was a hungry wild big green snake and it was deadly."

Clearly I've rubbed off on my son. I see talent there folks! Don't you? (tee hee)

Then there's this kid.

He whines and dances and begs and suggests food constantly...con-stant-ly! Will he eat the food I give him? No, no he will not.

Patience is sometimes not my strong suit. But I love these little boogers more than life. They are helping me, even still, become the best version of myself.

Someday, when I'm 90, I will be as patient as a slug sitting in it's hidey hole on a day when it's raining salt water. I'm not there yet.

Suddenly I've become inspired to begin posting some of my favorite sayings and quotes. I think I will start doing that, I think you will like them.

House Beautiful hasn't called...yet

But they might after they see these pictures!

Operation Lady of Leisure Day was a success!

Here is a shot of my dining table...with nothing on it but flowers.

Please note:

Unpaid product placement of *refreshing, and delicious* Diet Coke.

(Holler at me Coke people!)

My lovely, lovely, no out-of-place anythings living room...with ugly, old couches that are confirmed eye sores. (they were free once)

My room...

Everything went just fine...in spite of my driving inclination to apologize, repeatedly, for asking her clean my house. She did look at me with majorly curious expressions each time, and eventually told me that this is what she gets paid for. (Sheesh)

(I was moderately concerned when the cleaning lady showed up in a metallic hot pink, early 80's Trans Am...with all of her supplies in a white trash bag. She was something else. I will tell you all about her some time soon. Believe me, it's a story full of very interesting details...stay tuned for that.)

___

something for me

I'm doing something so wonderful for myself tomorrow. Are you thinking yoga or colonics? Guess again.

I've been saving my money, little by little, and tomorrow I'm having a lady come to my house...to clean it! YEEEEEEEE!


Like a deep cleaning, spring cleaning, in late summer...that semi-annual cleaning I intended to do but didn't. I've never hired someone for this before, but with all the hard work I've been doing; mentally, physically, emotionally or otherwise, I've decided I deserve it.

The only problem is that I have no idea what to expect. I feel like I need to clean before she comes, to help her out. Like preparing for a guest. Yes, I'm a big purpose defeater...I'm working on it.

My house is not a pig sty, it's not disgusting, it is highly lived in though. With the laundry alone I feel swamped. I pick up everyday, do the dishes, start laundry...just like all you other mothers, but I need a little help right now, so I'm getting it.

I feel like I'm being very extravagant though, and like I should be ashamed of that. The other part of me feels like I'm being responsible and taking care of things the way I need to for me and my life at this moment. Have any of you ever hired a housekeeper?

I will post photos of the finished product, or at least I think I will. I know I'm expecting too much, probably. For instance, I'm envisioning placing a call to the editors of House Beautiful to schedule a photo shoot for their next issue. I'm sure they will rush right over.

this phase of the moon...

I'm aware that, lately, a great number of my posts have been rather...um...heavy. For those of you who more enjoy the lighter fare, I'd like to remind you of the nonsensical goodness that I am quite inclined to most of the time. This is one of those "serious" periods of time, and for me, periods of time are quick phases that are momentarily here and gone...like a flash, or a waxing moon. What I'm trying to say is that if you are one who's just come aboard, and is wondering what all the intensity is about...it's mostly just a phase. The other side of me is right around the corner, so until this passes you might refer to previous silliness to get your fix.

I recommend anything filed under:

Jibber Jabber

Nonsense

Crazy Antics

Heart Warming

feeling like twig

Probably because I'm a Mom, but a large part of my working inner dialog consists of movie quotes...kid's movie quotes. As I sat down to do this all I kept hearing in my head was...

"and I'm a flower with nothing interesting to say." - Twig, A Bug's Life.

I couldn't find a picture of him being a flower, but you've seen the movie, you remember

Truth be told, I don't really have anything interesting to say. I'm all tapped out. I work really hard at my job thinking of things to say, and lately, come Thursday, I'm dragging like a lead anchor in a mucky swamp. Yet, I feel like posting to this blog is a wonderful use of my "me" time, so here I sit.

Another reason I'm feeling so drained is on account of all stuff going on right now. It's always something, but this is the mother of all doozies.

My grandpa, Papa, is really sick. He raised me as his own child and this is hitting me...when I allow myself to think about it...with a force harder than I stand against. I'm thinking that if I let myself deal with it then I won't be able to function, and not functioning is not an option in my life. I think I might end up curled up in a ball in the floor of my closet for about a week, my eyes swollen shut and dry as Moab because I spent all my tears, my voice burned up from the wailing, my head pounding from the anguish, my heart pulverized into a fine powdery heap.

So, I'm not thinking about it too much.

Monday he's having a triple bypass, he's 86, and he has less than 50% chance of surviving the surgery. He will not survive without the surgery because his heart is only operating at 20%. It's pretty grim.

ANYHOO.....

Jackson and Papa, not too long ago

two kinds of courage...

I saw a documentary tonight about Hiroshima and Nagasaki, it was a really in depth account of the survivors stories. Stories about their own experiences, where they were when, and the lives they've lived as a result. It was horrible. Excruciating to watch, but I watched. I'm always drawn to the hope that other people find, the way people live as a direct result of their choice to survive and live their lives. I'm a big admirer of folks who, at some point in their own life, made a conscious choice to live...live their life I mean, not just exist. I think, sadly, for most of us it takes something big to sway us into real life.

One woman spoke about her family, she had several siblings. She ultimately was the sole survivor in her family, she was 11. She and her sister watched their Mother's body turn to dust when they found her burned corpse in the street...even just writing about this makes me cringe. I would not be a good Stephen King, I'm bad with the gory details. After this horrifying encounter, her sister, so overcome with grief and fear, jumped in front of a train to escape the hell of her memories and reality.

The woman is now an old lady, but you could see the ripe pain all over her. She said that after her sister died, she also went to the train track to do the same, but when the train came she got scared and jumped away. In that moment she said she realized that there are two kinds of courage...the courage to die, and the courage to live. She didn't have the courage to die.

This was a mind-blower for me to have it put in that perspective. It makes me wonder if I have the courage to live my life without limits like I want to. Do I have the wherewith all to stop just going through the motions of my patterned existence, and what exactly does that mean for me? How do I make these moments count as truly lived?

I guess the only real way to do that is to forge ahead with the intent of helping others. Because, truthfully, aren't we always genuinely happiest when our minds are off of ourselves and focused on others? The answer to that is yes whether you acknowledge it or not.

When it's all said and done, what matters most is what we gave in this life. No one is going to stand up at our funerals and tell of our personal acquisitions. . ."she bought a beautiful house and got a mani/pedi every week." They might, however, say. . ."she always had something nice to say to me". . ."she helped me with my kids when I was exhausted". . . "she prayed for me."

Do you have the courage to die? I propose that not choosing to really live your life is actually the same as choosing death...a dead life. Do you have the courage to live?

my hometown hero!

I took Jackson and my cousins son Liberty to a skateboarding competition tonight. I thought we'd just hangout and watch, but Jackson decided to find his nerve instead. He's never been able to drop in a big bowl until tonight, he was scared. He will skate half pipes and street stuff, but tonight was a big personal achievement for him. I'm so ridiculously proud of my 7 year old! He did amazing, he didn't fall, he killed it! So...here's about 2% of the pictures I took tonight...look and see the beginning of greatness...one day you'll say "I remember watching him learn to skate, now he's won the gold at the X Games!" Okay, that's a stretch, but one never knows, it's definitely the start of something great in his life.

on your mark...get set...

GO!

over the bump, into the bowl...

YESSSSS!

watching the big boys...look at the guy in the air!

Jackson and Liberty

I didn't actually notice his socks until just now.

My hero!

the jumping off place...

I'm sitting on the brink of something...

What?

I know it's bigger than anything I've ever experienced thus far in my little ol' life.

The jumping off place.

I know that God is trying to tell me something, maybe not one thing, but a bunch of things, and in His standard fashion, He only reveals bits and pieces and then asks you to trust Him.

Right now He is asking me to trust Him. It's like God is telling me that He will give me everything I've been praying for, you know...my hopes and dreams, but only if I will surrender them to Him and trust Him with them.

Essentially, it seems like God is making a deal with me.

What I want for what He wants...which is all of me.

It's going something like this:

"Piper, I will give you the desires of your heart, I want to bless you because I love you, you are my little girl...but little girl, it's time for you to really give yourself to me, give every little part of you to me, the parts that you think I don't know about, don't care about, and don't understand. Trust me Piper, have faith in me and not in anything else, I will take care of everything that concerns you, I will see to it that your are fulfilled and have joy. The talents I have given you, your favorite parts about yourself, I'm going to allow you to use those to bless the world and me. But, if you keep holding onto the control you think you need to keep in your circumstances, then I cannot bring these things to pass for you. Let go Piper! I will carry you and take you places you've never imagined, but you have to let me."

Does that sound big?

It feels like I'm about ten feet from the summit of Everest and I'm stuck. Like I've been planning this trek my whole life and I've been able to traverse all the obstacles and experience the views of what's to come, and it's definitely been the Lord who has been my climbing partner on this journey. But it's the crevasse in front of me...and I don't have the gear I need to cross it. God is telling me that He's not my partner anymore, He is my only chance to make it past this point, and if I don't recognize that then the only place I can go from here is back down the mountain.

I guess I'm still trying to work up the courage to jump into the crevasse of the unknown. The unknown being complete and total surrender. Isn't my faith at least the size of a mustard seed though? I know it is. Why am I scared?

the sick pill

I feel like the pill I took this morning was some sort of delirium inflicter, an inducer of the opposite effect you'd like to receive from your multivitamin. My back hurts, really bad. My head hurts, really bad. My ears hurt and my innards are irritable. I've been so sleepy all day, I'm like a ditsy zombie, and I'm grumpy too. I'm uncomfortable in my skin and am increasingly grouchy...I had a flailing of the arms outburst all over my bad attitude son at the skatepark today...remorse and regret, but something needed to be done to get his attention, and if that means that his normally easy going Mom loses her cool to make a point then so be it.

I am refusing to do the dishes or fold the laundry. I do that crap all the time! I'm seriously considering blowing all of my rent money at Target tomorrow so that I can finally get my house decorated like I'd like it to be. Plus I need a new broom and I'd like to have a drill. I also need to buy batteries for nearly every electronic thing in my possession.

I'm desperately in love with someone I can't be with right now and my heart is so heavy that it's taking all my focus just to breathe. The man I can't live without though, my beloved Papa, is 86 and having a triple bypass next week...I'm not thinking about it.

the stories we tell...

Jackson was supposed to go to a lock-in at the indoor skatepark tonight. Well, at least I had told him that I would "think" about it. I really wanted him to be able to go, but at the same time realizing that he is too young to be unsupervised all night long with young teenagers and maybe three of the early-twenties skaters who run the place. I'm beginning to wonder if I'm too soft, too easily swayed by these boys...because I was planning on taking him to the skatepark at six and going to pick him up around midnight...a compromise. Will I bend over my own logic to give these boys what they want?

* * * Snap out of it Piper! * * *

By this afternoon, a few consultations with my associates, and some hefty second-helpings of that still strong inner voice saying "are you crazy?", I had decided that Jackson wouldn't go. Instead he would go in the morning when the younger kids are there...just like usual. The problem, now, would be breaking it to him.

I rolled in the daycare parking lot and see Jackson sitting in the window, staring out and sobbing. I go in and his teacher tells me about my naughty boy, and even though I hate that he got in trouble because he was being ornery...inside I was sooo relieved. Not only did I get out of having to tell Jackson a big, fat, heart crushing NO... oh yes... I also got the perfect thing to take away from him as punishment!

BELLISSIMO! It's probably perfect.

Jackson and Noah finally learned to play game cube together tonight without fighting, I got some extra chores out of a remorseful 7 year old, and Noah wrapped it all up with his own story about his mean Mom.

"Mom, you are a bad Mom."

(whaa?) "I am?"

"Yeah."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because you always do bad things."

"I do? Like what?"

"You make me take a nap."

Independence Day...

The moments in life where you feel completely alive...alive like in every sense of the word, mind and body and soul and spirit...are few and far between. That's the way it is when you grow up. Life has it's demands and schedules and rules. You've got stuff to do, and mostly forget about what you want to do...or maybe it's just called being a parent.

I'm sure you remember that feeling I'm talking about though. The magical moments that fill the air of your youth when you are playing in your own world and the land belongs to only you. Your imagination is the only thing that dictates your reality. The mystical and mysterious moments on steamy summer nights after you get your drivers license freedom; out in a car after dark feeling the cosmic energy of being responsible enough to drive but not actually having any real responsibilities. Or finally feeling the same vibe coming from your crush, when it's requited and suddenly your stomach and head are dizzy with the notions.

And so it was with me on this day...

On July 4th I was on an 8 hour float down the Snake River, through the Grand Teton National Park. Jeremy, Jim, Molly and me. It was my first time in a Fish Cat, and after about 10 minutes I was a pro and queen of the river. I've kayaked and canoed and paddled rafts, a Fish Cat is a super mellow kind of personal pontoon with one seat sitting up out of the water, it has long oars in oar locks and it's really compact, intended for fly fishing, but you can spin it and it rides the rough rapids like a champ. Super easy to maneuver and absolutely one of the FUNNEST things I've ever done. And I've done some fun things! (click here to see one)

The river is fast and slow in spots, there's rapids and braids and different places wear it branches off and you can feel lost on a different river but not be. The Snake is tree lined at times, goes through a canyon and the wild life is plentiful. Did I mention that it runs next to The Teton's? It was hot and sunny and I was alone (but not alone) in the beauty of the land where my spirit feels free to soar. I drank like a fish. I listened to the Beastie Boys and Willie Nelson. I sang and I boogied my booty into a fish cat rockin' frenzy. I prayed, I praised, I contemplated my life, I solved some problems, made some resolves and resolutions. I was a rejuvenated woman, an on-fire free spirit. It was a perfect day! An absolutely God-given day...the way I prayed my vacation would be.

We went home and crashed out. Woke up sun burned and walked two miles to Snow King to watch the fireworks. When it was all said and done, and I was with Jeremy in that moment, life was exactly what I wanted it to be...with a grand and bright finale of booming sparklers in the night sky.