Not So SAHM

A fart in a mitten

My brain is running around like one tonight trying to decide what, anything please anything, to post.

This summer every single thing I saw and everything that ran through my head was immediately followed by, “I have got to blog about that.” My husband would even remind me of the blogging necessities when I didn’t mention it myself. I was riding the blog wave, hanging ten, and enjoying the exhilarating rush of hitting the publish button at least once a day.

Now I’m washed up soaking up the rays in a very comfortable beach chair with my toes in the sand and cold Coke in my hand, taking a bloggy break shall we say. I wish I were at the beach. Anyway, I’m having to remind myself every couple of days that my brother is now reading my blog and has threatened to take his readership elsewhere if I don’t come through with great content at least somewhat regularly. Hey Richard, you had better be reading this.

So here are a couple of things bouncing around in that vacuous space sometimes occupied by a brain.

*My cats are freaking huge. I’m not just being a cat snob either. Every person that sees them makes comments about their largess. Ashlyn tries to ride them daily, which is funny because they almost weigh as much as she does and if they had their front claws the balance of power would be different around here. It’s not just that they’re overweight–these things are one step down from the cats you see on Animal Planet. Fortunately they aren’t smart and are a bit lazy, so we’re safe.

*For the love of all things sane and pleasant, please please, Montogomery County, quit it with turning on the tornado siren when there is nothing but a storm in the area! We didn’t have this many tornado warnings when we lived in Missouri and rightfully should have been in the basement every other night. Back there they’ve got about two sirens for the whole town, and by golly, you’d better be down wind when that thing went off or you weren’t going to hear it. Here, we are fortunate to have our own personal siren installed right in our backyard not a football field’s length away at the fire department. What is the mayor’s number?

*That reminds me of the time I called the general’s number at 3:00 in the morning because the neighborhood loudspeaker was located right outside our bedroom window and I was pregnant and it kept on announcing that the big exercise the whole base was doing, was indeed, only an exercise. Fortunately (for my husband’s career no doubt) no one was working in the general’s office at 3:00 in the morning.

*We’re almost out of the 13 boxes of Girl Scout cookies we personally ordered. I haven’t even paid for them yet. Talk about fleeting gratification. What will I have to show for that $45.50? A little more flab in the areas I’m trying to target for that April wedding ON THE BEACH that I’m going to. Wasn’t I on a mission to work out and at least drink more water from January until April?

*Oh yeah, that workout plan. Well, February happened, that’s what. Du is trying to use his Jedi mind tricks though to convince me that I do indeed want to jump back on the low carb, low enjoyment diet and hop back on that Wii Fit. Honey, I did only drink water today…and a little bit of sweet tea. And I only had about eight GS Cookies.

*I had no time to exercise though. I had no time to even string two thoughts together. It was one of those days that makes a SAHM wish she were head of the company and on a month long week long business trip. You know, the ones where it’s so nice to be away for a little while and you get energized just enough to enjoy all the chaos for about 1.36 days when you come back? Satan did not get the best of me though. I did not yell (unnecessarily) at my kids. I did lose my brain though and all that’s left are about two neurons that are bouncing around like…well, see the title.

P.S. I have to cut it off there because I just remembered that I never was able to order those books on Amazon that I was trying all day to order. That’s my next post: Frugal or Fast…Take Your Pick.

My new PA

…pleasure apparatus

What? It’s for my face.

I just had a birthday and didn’t think much about turning older until I opened this present. You know you’re getting old when your mother gives you this machine for your birthday. It’s called a Clarisonic and it’s sole purpose in life is to make my face look younger by making sure it’s as clean as it can be. It vibrates at something like supersonic speeds and even beeps at me to remind me to move it around my face. And it’s waterproof so I can use it in my shower. Which means I’ll actually use it. My mother knows me well.

I’m in love. This is one of those cool things that I’d never buy for myself because I’m so cheap money conscious. I’m all for keeping my youthful appearance but I don’t want to fork over anything to keep it youthful. Looking young takes more than $5 at WalMart and once a month usage. It’s taken other people to give me the things that are best for my face: this and the Bare Minerals.

So, here’s what I look like using it:

Not really. Her hair isn’t blond enough. But that sure is the pose I made in the mirror this morning. Then I used it as a fake microphone and sang my heart out to Cyndi Lauper.

My face has never been happier.

P.S. Thanks Mom!!

Dukes of Hazzard

I guess that makes me Bo Duke (the blond). I’d rather be Daisy but that wouldn’t fit as well with the story. Ahh who cares, it’s my story, I’m Daisy Duke (and although she wasn’t blond in the original tv show, as you would see if you saw recent pictures of me–I’m on the path to become a blond momshell and if I got any blonder I’d look albino).

So, I’m Daisy Duke and my dad will play the part of Luke Duke. The Dukes lived in Hazzard County, Georgia. That’s funny…my dad and I are from Georgia (although we both live elsewhere now). The theme song of the show speaks about them “being in trouble with the law since the day they was born” and “straightenin’ the curves” and “flatnin’ the hills”. That’s funny…my dad and I seem to be doing that too. We are not, however, involved in moonshine or any type of illegal running…

It seems like we both like to get in trouble with the law. And the law did, indeed, get both of us. I wrote recently about getting a speeding ticket and being horrendously mortified. Well, not a week went by and my dad called to give me the news: he got a speeding ticket one town over from where I got mine. I asked, “was your police officer a young woman with short blond, streaked hair?” No? Oh, they must be on to us somehow. They’re after us. I wonder if the sheriff is named Rosco.

Dad’s officer was more lenient on him. In order to “go easy on him” he charged him not with speeding but with dangerous driving in rain and snow. He was charged more money but it’s not going to go on his record or be reported to his insurance. Are they trying to make me jealous and play the two Dukes against each other?

Not so fast Boss Hogg. I got my ticket taken care of too so it won’t show up on my record (sticking my tongue out). I just cannot get pulled over for six months. So, Daddy Duke, I will not be visiting Hazzard County Arkansas for a little while until my name is, once again, in the clear. And the next step is to weld the doors to the Durango shut, paint it orange and give it a cool name. How about the General V?

DAISY

Mustering Courage

After years of talking about it and years of putting it off Reagan finally did it. I’m so proud of her. She has always said since the day she could talk that she wanted her ears pierced when she was ten. Recently she had started to add years onto that total: “10, 11, 12, 13…I’ll get my ears pierced sometime when I’m older…”

And I haven’t been pushy about it. Ear piercing is a personal choice (once the parents have given their approval) and it wasn’t that big of a deal to try to push her to do something she didn’t want to do.

The thing is, she did want to do it. Reagan loves going into Claire’s. It’s like me looking at purses or shoes…or a kitchen store. Hours could be spent and never counted as lost staring at earrings, hair accouterments, lip gloss and everything else tweenagery. She wanted her ears pierced, she just didn’t have the courage to do it. I hadn’t realized that or let it sink in enough until last Wednesday.

We were all standing around Claire’s trying to convince her that she could get her ears pierced (some more patiently than others…and that wouldn’t be me). We were in the store because she had decided today was the day. And then she wanted to back out. At first I was all about letting her, fuming as I was. “Fine! But you are not coming back in here to look at earrings until you are really ready!” This was said in that low, hushed shouting voice that all mothers perfect around the two-year old stage. A highlight of my mothering career, I know. Then the light went off in Du’s head and he had to impart some wisdom on me:

We have been diligent about teaching our daughter certain things: respect, manners, look both ways, happy plates before dessert, etc. We hadn’t really broached the topic of courage with her though. We had been missing out on teaching her a vital skill that is used throughout life, from ear piercings to telling others about your faith. Today was the day she was going to get an up close and personal look at courage.

I let Du do the talking this time because my attitude and tone would not have instilled courage in the poor girl. His words and the promise of one pair of every earring in the store from Nonna (not quite…but close) sealed the deal. She hopped up onto Nonna’s lap and mustered enough courage to sit through both ears being pierced.

She’s not cured by any stretch of the imagination. If the way she squirms and screeches when I clean and rotate her earrings is any indication we’re going to have to continue to talk about courage for a while, and maybe provide her with some more real life examples to demonstrate. But what this whole dramatic episode taught me was that we as parents have to comprehensive in what we are teaching our kids. Some children are born with courage abounding. Others need a little help learning how to go above and beyond when they truly want something. Whereas other parents have to train their children to be loving or empathetic (things we’ve never had to teach to Reagan) we’re teaching about courage and being daring. I wonder in what other aspects are we falling short?

P.S. Lest any of you think we’re horrible parents for pushing her to do something she wasn’t ready for–chillax. She absolutely loves having her ears pierced and is thankful that we helped her go through with it.

1100 at 1600

I told you last week that my husband had an amazing job interview and asked for lots of prayer. Now I think I can divulge a little more information. The address of the “house” at which he was interviewing is in the title. The location is right there at the convergence of Maryland, Virginia and the Potomac. (You know me and safety. I’m going to let you figure that one out instead of spelling it out for the bad guys).

Du was one of four guys to be invited to interview for the position and when he first told me about his opportunity my first thought was, “uh oh…how deeply will they look at you?” Because what I really meant was me, of course. I haven’t been flattering with my opinions neither here nor on Facebook. Any and everyone can read this blog and I have no doubt there are hackers out there who can get into Facebook if someone “needs to be looked at”.

And despite what you may think (because you know what I think) I was so excited for the possibility of actually him working and us visiting there. I mean, I could just envision us getting and giving personal tours whenever we had guests in town; the grand balls that I would have to get a new dress for each time; the girls playing with M@li@ and S@sh@ in scheduled and highly secure play dates; the obligatory Christmas photo his boss takes with each couple who works in that special place (that I would photoshop funny faces on); the amazing blog posts I’d be able to write. Some of those might have been pipe dreams, but we’re all being encouraged to dream a little out of our comfort zones right now aren’t we?

During the interview process Du was taken on a tour of the House and “ran into” a couple of people you may have heard about or seen.* His potential boss has a wife (who may or may not have fashion sense, the verdict is still out). Yes, Du saw her walking down some stairs (I didn’t even ask him what she was wearing, shame on me). His potential boss also has a right hand man (or is that left hand man? He is left-handed you know) who uses the term MiamiVice. Yes, that one actually said something like, “how’s it going?” to my husband as they passed in a hallway. He also saw the new amba$$ador to the U N (when he mentioned the name Rice I thought he was talking about Condi at first and almost fainted right then and there). It was a big day, people, for someone who is as much of a political junkie as he is. And it was almost as big a day for me as I lived vicariously through him.

Even though he did his best and even dropped my name a couple of times he did not get the job. Shocking and surprising, I know. I’m convinced they either already knew who they were giving the job to and had to go through the interview process to check the appropriate boxes, OR one of the other applicants is a gushing, sickeningly over-the-top lover of the new @dmini$tr@tion and did whatever he had to do to get the job…or…they really did look into what I was writing and decided they couldn’t take the chance. The world may never know.

So, for now, I am still praying that our next mission field still will be in the c@pital even if it’s not directly right at the heartbeat of things. Living around there, even during the next four years, would be an exciting adventure that I want to ride up front, white knuckled, no seat belt, and no holds barred.

*Whereas “ran into” normally means you actually run into someone or at least casually meet them, here, to me, it means that he laid eyes on them. Doesn’t it just sound better?

Plenty of emotions

and they’re not even related to Valentine’s Day.

My cousin’s son is in the hospital tonight because his white cell count is through the roof and his tummy hurts to the touch. They’re running tests and hopefully we’ll hear something in the morning so we know how to direct our prayers.

I saw the little octuplets on tv tonight and am grieving for them. They’re so tiny and have so many potential health issues. I didn’t care much about the case until I saw their little bodies. I still don’t care much about the mother or her problems; I am praying that God does the best for those babies.

I heard more about the little girl missing in Florida. What the heck is wrong with people? Leave the kids alone and go mess with yourself. Better yet, do the world a favor–get right with your Maker and go meet Him. I’ve also been checking out the $ex offender rolls in the DC area and it’s just depressing. Praying about that situation.

On a much lighter note, Du will be at a pretty cool job interview on Friday. More details to come at a later date, but your prayers would really be appreciated right before and during the 10:00 hour (Central) on Friday (the 13th).

I’m also still emotional about my speeding ticket and am nervous about contacting the police department. I’m wondering if it would be weirder to ask specifically for the officer who stopped me or just plead to the random person who answers the phone. Because what if I ask for her and she’s not there and they ask to take a message: “uh, yeah, I’m the girl she pulled over Wednesday…the basket case…and I was just wanting to stalk her call to see if she could reduce the ticket. Could you have her call me back?” It sounds like we’re either good friends and I’m wanting to chat about haircuts or I’m a desperate nut job wanting to bother her until this thing is taken care of. Or do I call the court clerk first to see if there’s just administrative things that need to be done that could be done outside of the police department? Maybe she could tell me what people normally do in this situation. But the town is so small that she’d probably hang up the phone with me and dial the PD: “guess who just called over here…that basket case you gave that 15 over to on Wednesday. Yeah, she thinks she’s special and wants to know what can be done to reduce her ticket. These losers, they always think they’re the ones who deserve the break.” And then everyone breaks out in smokey-lung laughter. Sigh… if this is the largest of my worries I’m truly blessed y’all, I do know that. However, seeing that this is the largest of my personal worries it’s taking up most of my brain power.

Reagan will be turning seven this weekend. I know! I can’t even remember her as a baby. I have to look back at her baby pictures, and then I have to check the date to make sure they’re not of Ashlyn. We’ve had an amazing seven years together and I just pray fervently that God protects her and keeps her safe throughout her natural life. I’m starting to see signs of her growing up and starting to flex her wings a little: little eye rolls here and there, and a more exasperated tone when she’s answering my concerns. And yet, I still see her innocence and pray that she holds onto that for as long as she possibly can.

That’s enough emotion for today. Can’t I check out and have all of these situations taken care of to the positive and then be woken up?