Domestic Mischief

Tiffany and a series of very bad, no good days... pt. 1

2013-05-11T15:04:00.003-07:00

Don't worry... this will be a super heavy picture laden post and I will attempt to balance out the ugly with the beautiful. PROMISE.

My Grandmother died. I went to bed early for a change and woke up to my Father shaking me... shaking me. Holding my shoulder and shaking me awake. "Grannie died, she's gone... your Grannie just had a heart attack. She's gone.... she's gone."

For a few years we'd watched her deteriorate mentally. Going from friendly to frigid to frightening in 60 seconds or less. She didn't know who Logan was. She thought Lillie was still an infant. She would seethe with anger over a vacuum cleaner she knew my Father had stolen from her. People were watching her, she'd say. My Dad and I consistently made plans to find a way to have her taken care of, for someone to watch her and monitor her. I couldn't do it by myself. I couldn't bring myself to call her towards the end, because it was no longer her on the other end of the line. I'd make excuses and honest to God forget about her, because it wasn't her. And now? Now she's gone. My therapist asked me what my Grannie would say to me if she saw the person she'd become towards the end. And to be honest? She'd say something along the lines of, "Look at that crazy bitch!!! GIRL, THERE AIN'T NOBODY WATCHING YOU THROUGH YOUR BACK DOOR!!!" And she would forgive me. I know she would. I know because she left me over 70 pairs of handcrafted shoes from the 70's and 80's still in their boxes with their matching clutches. All in my (our) size. I know because she had a box full of pictures. Pictures of me, the kids, postcards I'd sent her from all over the world. She would forgive me, and that gives me great comfort.

Grannie the Fashionista

Grannie and her #1 girl... that would be me. Obviously.

I worried myself sick over the location of this ring. I worried it had been stolen, worried she'd been buried with it, again worried it had been stolen. This ring really belongs to Lillie as she was named after my Grandmother's twin and they share a birth month (January.) There's a garnet on either side of my Dad's birthstone representing his Mother and Aunt.

Grannie and her #2 Girl. She loved the fool out of that baby, even though she only got to see her a few times. Each time it was as if she was meeting her for the first time again and again...

Even though Grannie died the week of the Diva Dash, I owed it to her to keep living. So I ran. I ran, I pushed myself over/through/under/around obstacles. I hefted logs over my shoulders and ran through mouse mazes. I ran uphill and downhill through the mud and then finished off by running through an ice cold creek that left my lady parts more than a little frosty. Sometimes it's a bitch being vertically challenged. I even spent the night before at a friends house... WITHOUT CHILDREN. I broke all my own neurotic rules and pushed myself. Believe me when I say it took a good two days to recover mentally and physically. I still can't believe I made that muddy hill my bitch. I OWNED THAT SHIT.

It was cold as fuck and it literally stopped raining MINUTES before we arrived. Mother Nature is a cruel cruel woman.

Friends since '05 y'all! Only took me 7 years to convince her to run with my lazy, non-athletic ass. I don't run for time, I run for fun and to push my body and remind myself that I'm stronger than I think. I prepare for races the same way I prepared for tests in High School, I just don't.

Who needs a spa for a mud bath? Needless to say these shoes went directly into the garbage. I'd only owned them since before Lo was born... you know, it was time... Nobody should use the same running shoes for over 6 years unless they're Forrest Gump.

And then there was the fire. Just a typical day at work... vendors were coming in and out of the office, we were having a small meeting post-lunch... and then the phone rang. The voice on the other line yelled out that our building was on fire. It didn't seem real. I repeated it back to him to make sure I'd heard him correctly. My Property Manager and Maintenance guys ran like Hell out the front door, seconds later running back in to yell "CALL 911 CALL 911, IT'S BURNING FAST!!!" I started calling everyone that lived in that building all the while calling my Sister from my cell. She wasn't picking up and I just kept redialing. It was the building her and her roommates lived in with their 5 cats. It was my sister's building. Her apartment. Her fur-babies. I moved her in. The guilt rips through me like a hot knife. I am hyperventilating and sobbing and a resident is helping me as I scream at her to "Hurry, please hurry, your building is gone. Your cats are gone. Everything is on fire." Minutes later her roommate walks through the office door in her pajamas with only one shoe on. Tears streaming down her face. The cats wouldn't leave the apartment. She went back for them. The maintenance guy went back for them. Each time they would dart back under the bed. All of them, gone... weeks later we still looked for them in hopes they ran out. I still hope I'll see one.

Hardly anything survived that fire. By the grace of God, all children with the exception of one were at school. My Property Manager and one of our Maintenance men pulled an old lady out of her apartment, the same Maintenance man caught my daughter's friend and her mother from the second story window. Every last pet perished. Including an 80 pound black lab that I often confused for my own. The month it took to clean up the aftermath was the worst month ever. I passed it daily to get to/from work. The smell gave the Husband flashbacks of nearly every call he ever went on as an EMT/Fire Fighter. Things were pretty rough... but there were also quite a few God moments that surprised us all.

Moments after the first call.

This window looked into my Sister's bedroom.

My Sister's patio furniture that sat in her breezeway next to her bedroom.

The bathroom tiles in her shower looked as if they'd always been that black. Tools from two stories above were in her bathroom as if they'd always been there. I am so grateful everybody was out of the building when it collapsed.

I began posting on Facebook about all 10 families losing everything, with only a few having renter's insurance. Donations started pouring in. We could barely get into the other half of our office through the sea of clothing, toiletries, bedding, furniture, etc. A local storage complex ended up donating 3 storage units and a 14' covered trailer for us to transport donations to residents.

We had some odd and end gift cards that were awkward when split 10 ways (between the 10 families) so the kids and I put together 10 gift baskets with items most people wouldn't think of when settling into a new place. I.e., extra hangers, toilet scrubber, tissues, toilet paper, air fresheners, chip clips, etc... We had over $2000 worth of gift cards donated from strangers for Walmart, Target and Chick-Fil-A that I evenly distribute between the baskets and secured with the chip clips.

And then the demolition really began... Baby books were found, fireproof safes, fire arms, 10 untouched Coach purses (go figure, right?)

Amazingly enough, my Sister's artwork survived. They were all soaked, but practically untouched.

As was her boyfriend's tool chest.

To be continued...

Calculated Risks.

2013-03-11T12:54:00.001-07:00

A few weeks back on the way to drop the kids off at school.

Lo: "Mommy, there's our house! Are we going to get it today? Are you going to go see the man about the house?"
Me: "Maybe, baby. Maybe. Mommy still doesn't know what God has in store for us. Mommy's going to go look at a few cars today because Mommy and Daddy REALLY need to have our own cars, but if God doesn't show me a car that's right for us, I promise you I'll go see the man about the house."
Lillie: "I want my own room." ((Insert bottom lip out so far birds could perch on it.))
Me: "I know, Peanut. I know. I want you to have your own room too, but we're not going to get upset if we don't get the house, it just mean God has something so much better for us in store."

I spent all of my off day that week from 10-5 car hunting. Nothing felt right. I started getting excited that maybe I was meant to be in my dream home. The dream home I'd found shortly after the kids started school. Yes, it was for rent... BUT, it had a lease/purchase option. It was built in the early 60's, had all the original hard wood floors refinished, built in bookshelf in the third bedroom (Lillie, our reader's, room), a huge formal dining room that could be used for crafts/play/computer stuff. I've been smitten ever since I stepped into the musty Grandma smell of that house directly across from Lo's Elementary school. The same Elementary school I went to.

And then I told my Dad to pull off at one last car lot. It was a buy here, pay here shanty of a place. I didn't have high hopes. And then I saw the X-Terra. I'd wanted one since High School. I started feeling my heart pound in my chest. After talking to the dealership and transferring money around and talking to my car insurance company, everything just fell into place. I'd talked the dealership down like a champ, worked the maintenance it needed done into the cost of the car and despite the ridiculous interest rate, knew without a doubt I'd be able to refinance it through my bank for much MUCH cheaper in a few months. I'll be able to have it paid in full within a year. A YEAR. Last Fall I was in tears at the bank because they told me even at 30 years old I'd *STILL* need a cosigner on any lease or credit card (yes, even a secured card.) Not because my credit was shit, but because I'd literally built NO credit whatsoever in over 7 years. Why is it, that even though I'd paid off all my debts, left all my accounts in good standing that I was getting shafted? Why is it, you can file bankrupcy and come home to loan and credit card approvals in your mailbox before the ink is even dry on your discharge papers? I just didn't get it, and yet, here I was... approved for the truck I'd wanted forever. APPROVED.

We only need to make a little more financially each month to take on a house payment be it lease or mortgage. So hopefully my review gets me some sort of raise or the Husband can find GOOD employment somewhere. I'd love to say I want a raise, who WOULDN'T want a raise, right? As of right now, however, I'd love to have some sort of relief where I'm not solely responsible for bills, expenses, etc. So here's for the little things. For hopes and wishes and prayers and fairy dust. Lillie needs her own room, Moose needs a back yard, Logan needs a safer environment to run and play, and Mommy and Daddy need a room to express our creativity. Heads out of the gutter y'all, I'm talking about an arts/crafts/computer room. SHOOT, this is a "semi-safe family blog" y'all! I'd like to be able to open those floor to ceiling on days like today where there's a breeze and it can trickle through the whole house. I'd love to open the back door, and yell for the kids to come in for dinner...

I weigh my decision between the truck and the house from both angles often. We needed the vehicle. NEEDED. As much as I love that house, and as much as I want all the little details that pull at my heartstrings... we NEEDED the vehicle. Thanks to my occupation, housing is not an issue, so housing was not and is not nearly as important.

I still wouldn't mind a fresh "home" start.

Snot myself lately.

2013-03-01T21:00:00.000-08:00

You'll have to forgive me, I'm having a rather amazing time rocking this fabulous head cold slash sinus thing right now. Wait, what? You forgot I blogged. Me too there for a minute. I started to miss you guys. I began feeling a void and not knowing or understanding what exactly it was that I was missing from my life. It was you. Shit started getting real and I ditched like a 17 year old boy whose girlfriend's period was 20 minutes late. So here I am, on my knees in front of you, humbling myself and devoting a few minutes to just clear my mind.

I should have named this post "bullet points." But I didn't. So let's move along, shall we?

Risks. Some of you may understand why this is my topic of the hour (maybe month), but we're not going to put promises out there into existence because I don't want to fail. There's always the risk of failure when promises are made. Be it vows, treats for good behavior, discipline for bad behavior, career advancements, etc. I don't want to make promises I may or may not be able to keep. Thus is the story of my life.

Hello, I'm Tiffany and I'm gonna ramble like a mother fucker on fire because this is my first post since JULY of last year. Again, "bullet points" would have been a better title. Helicopter.

Let's play ketchup and keep with the theme all at the same time. If this were a drinking game, we'd probably call it "bullet points." Banana.

I took the risk of taking Lo out of a for sure great school district so we could "spread our wings" and deepen our bottomless "responsibility well" I like to call "adulthood." He now gets in trouble for "inappropriate touching." Apparently hugging a friend or high-fiving a classmate is inappropriate. I call it being a sociable five year old boy. But what do I know, apparently I rock at this whole parenting thing.

I was on the PTO. Was being the key word. I have the shirt to prove I paid the $10 to be a team player. They stopped calling me after I declined working the popcorn table at family move night because my kids were sick and um, hello? My kids go to bed at 8 because we're lame as shit. This movie thing didn't start till 7:30. Do the math, y'all. I did get a little irked when I wasn't informed about the family fun run. Not halfway into the school year and I was crossed off the PTO call list. I guess I should be flattered.

My father moved in with us. So much for living on our own. It benefit both parties though, so I'm not beating myself up too much about it. Shit happens. Shit like my Grannie passing away last week. My inner Catholic (dudes, like everyone else in America, I've got at least a drop of Irish blood in me) feels insane amounts of guilt about her passing. We'll save the details on that for another post.

I bought a truck. An X-Terra to be exact. I've wanted one ever since High School and we needed a second vehicle. I now have one more bill to pay every month, but you know what, I didn't need a cosigner and I feel really fucking great about that. I love my truck. LOVE my truck. Let us not talk about how it's been at the dealership more than my parking spot in the short time since I've had it. I took the risk of buying a used vehicle, but somehow managed to get the dealership to do thousands of dollars of work to the truck without charging me anything extra. It's all being covered in the cost of the truck itself. Which I talked them down to $8k for. Maybe there really is something to having a used car salesman for a father.

If it weren't for the fact that it keeps Lillie entertained for free 5 days a week under the poorly veiled disguise of a pre-k education, I would yank her out of her pre-k program. Even though she's 4 and can do Lo's homework and her 1st Grade "Summer Fun" workbook, she's still got one year of pre-k left before she can enter Kindergarten. I am praying that she doesn't resent me 10 years from now for putting her in full time school so I could work.

Speaking of work. I work 9-6 most days that end with the letter "y." Remember, my children go to bed by 8. I love my job, but I love my children more. Infinitely more. It kills me to the core that I get a total of 3 daylight hours with them on days I work. T-H-R-E-E. It's not nearly enough time. And yes, I miss being the "at home parent." And yes, I am jealous most days that the Husband gets this time with them and not me. It makes my ~~uterus~~ heart hurt. I don't want to miss Lo losing his first tooth (any day now) or taking Lillie to her interpretive dance class (which, note to self, must look into finding a local studio that offers such a class.) Mothers bring their babies to the leasing office and I hold them and smell them and make ridiculous faces for little gummy smiles while their Mama's vent or fill out their checks for rent and my heart aches to be near my own children. Teaching them, molding them, dancing with them. I try not to dwell on it so I organize another filing cabinet or call a thousand million gajillion leads in hopes for a big commission check the next month so I can take Lillie to get her nails did or to make more empty promises of seeing the big stupid rat and eating at his appropriately named restaurant/germ circus. At least they serve beer there... if we ever find time to go as a family that is.

I've also fallen in love with a house. A HOUSE house. The kind with a yard, a history, built in bookshelves, vintage black and white tile and serial killer lighting over the inset medicine cabinets in the bathrooms. The kind of lighting that makes the "ting ting TING ting" noises as they charge to full brightness. I want to rent the house. I want to lease to own. I want to outright buy that bitch and make it mine. That little voice in my head called "logic" knows we can't afford it. Not on one income. Not any time soon. I constantly catch myself looping through pictures on the property manager's website and just as constantly hand it over to God, because I know I can't obsess about it without being tragically disappointed when someone else makes it their home.

The seven year itch is here. I'm not saying it's HERE here, I'm just saying this year marks seven years of marriage to the Husband. We finally had our first big test of our vows and our strength as a team. I had to find strength in myself and in my love for him to find forgiveness. There's work to be done there, but we must first work on ourselves. He's trying, and I know God is testing my patience and us, so I'm trying too. I'm trying to find understanding for both current issues and issues from my childhood. I'm constantly reminding myself of how patient he was with me while I lost my shit a year ago. There were times I felt alone in my anxieties, but I know now that he was waiting for me to breathe again. Listening for that sharp intake of breath when I would start holding it all in when my world was imploding on itself. Seven more years will go by faster than the last seven. I am lucky to have him as my friend, my soul mate.

I'm still ticking items off my 30x30, but at a snails pace in consideration to when I first started. The Husband and I ran Ram's Hot Chocolate 5k in Atlanta in January and a group of some of my best girls got together for Shape's Diva Dash last weekend. We've still got The Color Run and Dare to Dash in April. I might make it to 30k by my 31st birthday (2 months, 4 days and 5 minutes... but who's counting?) I'm no longer pressuring myself to mark them all off so quickly. Priorities have changed a bit since then and I'm not going to beat myself up when some things are just beyond my control. That's not entirely true. I will beat myself up about it, but I will forgive myself just as quickly. Last year was all about telling others "no." This year it's learning when to tell myself "no." Baby steps.

Next post will have pictures, honest. Fingers crossed it won't be another 8 months from now.

We should all be so lucky.

2012-07-31T13:31:00.002-07:00

A little over a month ago we moved into the new place. The transition has been easy for the most part. The kids have adapted well to the neighborhood kids and we finally brought Moose home from the in-law's. I've made new friends and inched closer to knocking a few more things off my 30x30. Just a fair warning, this will be photo heavy.

I know Mama Kat requested our summer thus far in pictures, but I obviously need to get some things out of my head as well. Aren't you all the LUCKIEST??? I'm pretty sure I'm breaking all the rules this post. Summer from my kid's point of view... summer in pictures... pretty sure she asked for 5 pictures, it's gonna be more than that. I might break the internet this go around.

One of the first days we were here, two of the neighborhood kids introduced themselves and since then Logan's been pretty much inseparable from them. For the most part. They're easily 2-4 years older than him, so he doesn't quite understand yet why I won't let him go alone up the stairs without an adult to see if they're home. We've had a few incidents already where I've wanted to snatch him inside, but alas, I will not be THAT Mom. Where our last place had a kid or two within a 5 minute walk (big neighborhood, LOTS of the original residents from 30+ years ago, meaning most kids are moved out and on their own elsewhere), our new place has 3 kids Lo can play with just in our building. I'm content with this for now.

Another perk of our community has been the pool. Lillie likes to use the pool for relaxation purposes. She's not picky as to who holds her, just so long as they don't care not having full use of their biceps the next day. Both kids are fishes now. Not yet confident enough to take the swimmies off, but confident enough to jump off the diving board or edge of the pool and going under for a second. Baby steps.

My Boy and his "Gamma" have birthdays 3 days apart, which is super convenient... with the exception of the fire hazard 5 additional candles adds. Because my baby is now 5. FIVE YEARS OLD, Y'ALL. I die.

Little Honey Badger is a big fan of having so much light in the playroom. Lo likes it for early morning Lego building and Star Wars Coloring Book sessions. It's exactly where I found him this morning, quietly coloring after days of chaos (to be explained in *hopefully* tomorrow's post.) My favorite part is the closet (not pictured THANK GOD) where I can literally sweep the toys into the closet at the end of the day if I'm not feeling OCD.

And then he turned 5 years old 3 days after his Gamma's birthday party and I died. I DIED. Why are your limbs so long, BOY? Why do you look so OLD? How is it possible that you've left me hyperventilating in the both the Courthouse as I retrieve your birth certificate 5 years late AND in the Board of Educations registration center because OH. MY. GOD. you are five. FIVE. And they want me to explain health concerns and proof of vaccinations and I don't know how to explain your previous pre-k experiences because I live purposefully blissfully ignorant to keep me from panicking about moments just like this one and OH MY GOD WHERE DID THE LAST FIVE YEARS GO? I die.

I hung up some pictures. Like what I did there? Panicked momentarily and changed the subject? I'm getting good at that one. Anywho. I like the way the kids personalities are portrayed in their fingerpaintings from school last year. Logan so nice and neat, like I can hear in his head, "green goes here, orange here, a little red here, AAAAAND DONE. IT'S PERFECT!" Lillie's is more like, "HURRICAAAAAAAAANE!"

I hung more pictures. Because we just might be the luckiest people alive. Surrounded by love, laughter, screaming and chaos, good words, big hearts, twins born yin yang style 18 months apart with mirrored freckles and mirrored hair growth swirls and complete opposite personalities. We are so lucky. So very very lucky.

I decorated with the purchases I stashed and boxed away all during June. I'm particularly fond of Mr. Pirate Octopus. I'm super tempted to paint him on their vanity mirror. And maybe on ours too. Seeing as how the Husband likes to tattoo (new avenues taken EVERYWHERE, people!!!) I just might have him tattooed on the Husband by the Husband (I'm still a chicken who will never ever nuh-uh NO WAY get tattooed.)

He's five. I die.

Sigh. 18 months till she's five. I DIE.

And then I thought I really WAS going to die. Started off innocently enough as a sinus/allergy type infection. And then everything settled in my lungs and OMGSUFFOCATING! Neat little recipe though to soothe any morbid thoughts from your mind whilst choking on your own mucous. 2 bags of green tea, 1 bag of mint tea, steep in 20 oz of boiling water... add sweetener of your choice and heaven. Go on now, try it for yourself. It's my understanding this crap is floating around nationwide. Pretty sure I just performed a community service, you're welcome.

His.

Hers.

Ours.

Get a damn room already.

A month after we moved in, almost to the day, my kids went and left on their very first trip out of state without me. My womb, I kid you not, cried. I am so screwed when they move away to college or elsewhere. I talked to them every night except one, I sang lullabies in the middle of grocery aisles from over 500 miles away, I listened to my Mother pretty much parrot what I deal with on a daily basis and ached inside to have that noise and normalcy back under my own roof. I prepared myself for their return last night by kicking the Husband out of our room so I could sleep with both of them curled into me. Strangely enough, they both didn't argue when show their own bed. We're still pretty big advocates of "You sleep in your own bed unless a hungry bear is standing over you in your sleep threatening to eat you, and then you can come sleep with Mommy and Daddy." Apparently I taught them too well.

It was nice to wake up to the sounds of Logan wrestling with Moose and talking Star Wars to himself as he colored, waiting for me to roll out of bed and break the silence. Lo rises with the sun, no matter what time he goes to bed. Unlike his Sister who relishes every extra second of sleep she can get. So I cracked my back, made some coffee and hooked Moose up to his leash and the boy and I enjoyed a rare 20 minutes of walking the dog around the complex and catching up on his reunion events and all the naughty little tricks his cousins taught him. Apparently he was taught that squeezing his, ahem, balls would get the last of the pee pee out. This is why I feel completely and totally at a loss as to why God would bless me with a son. What on earth am I supposed to do with a little boy who says things like "balls" and likes to play Star Wars and gets embarrassed because some girls are SO pretty? BOYS ARE SO WEIRD, Y'ALL.

Also? After 4 sleepless nights, I took a 2 hour nap cuddled (for the most part) with Lillie Rae today. It's good to have my babies home. I wouldn't change this madness for anything in the world.

Ahem...

2012-07-04T06:47:00.000-07:00

I'm not dead, you guys. I'm totally alive and well and all is great!

The only reason you haven't seen me as of late is because I've been BUSYBUSYBUSY in what is apparently the busiest rental season of the year. We are all moved in and once I get everything unboxed and put away I will post some pics up of the new place. Trust me, I'm as excited as YOU. I'm already smitten with our little apartment and can't wait to share it with you. Something I've been meaning to research since we've moved in is EXTREME mutual deja vu. Last night at dinner I brought it up to the Husband that I feel as if at LEAST 5 times a day I'm getting weird deja vu type vibes ever since we moved in, and he turned and looked at me in disbelief because he has as well. It's so freaky, because I know without a doubt that this move was meant to be, I just want to trust that it's all for the right reasons. Have I mentioned I'm a hopeful pessimist? Have you picked up on that yet? I always always ALWAYS expect the worst and secretly cross my fingers behind my back hoping I'm wrong.

Lo turns 5 on Saturday. I am not excited. I mean, I'm excited to party and celebrate and gorge on delicious cupcakes... but 5??? NOOOOOOOOOO MAH BABY! He's making lots of new friends here that my Husband lovingly refers to as the 1500 gang (our apartment building number.) Now if only we could get rid of this pesky stray cat that likes to pee all over their "clubhouse" picnic table. We moved our "Little Tikes" outside toys yesterday (well... MOST of them) and as I left this morning the stank of cat pee wafted from their play area and LO AND BEHOLD, cat pee... all over the damn table. So, dear readers, just how on earth do I repel stray cats from my kids area?

I've missed you, internet. MISSED YOU. I want to cover you in big slobbery kisses and hug my laptop to my chest with a big sigh of relief. Unfortunately, that will still have to wait a few days as my WIFI router still hasn't shown up. Dear USPS and Amazon authorized retailer who shipped FROM a city in Georgia TO another city in Georgia, way to stay classy. High five.

So let's all cross our fingers behind our backs and be secretly hopeful that Mama gets her router... because I don't know how much longer I'll be able to keep myself from slapping some people around. It's also putting a serious damper on my Bejeweled Blitz playing before bedtime. Apparently I have the worst cell phone service ever in our apartment and the only solution is to link up to the WIFI... of which I have NONE.

Cupcakes. Lots of cupcakes this weekend.

A woman should be lucky to have so many men.

2012-06-17T08:21:00.000-07:00

Happy Father's Day to my readers who are Fathers or who play the part. I'm blessed with many men in my life, some biologically and some through marriage. Some just step in when they see me wielding a power tool or can see me imagining myself wielding a power tool.

My Father gave me life, loved me and continued to pick me up and hold me even when I probably was too big to carry. I was probably 7 when I just stopped asking because I could hear the strain in his spine as he'd loop his arms under mine. I try and remember daily how important that one memory is to me 25 years later as my own too big to carry child wants me to pick him up and hold him. Now, my Father is my taxi driver, shuttling me from one place to another when I'm to anxious to drive there myself. Even if it's just to the grocery store. I like to think that I'm keeping him out of jail and he should be thanking me. After all, some of those girls, DAD, are old enough to be your granddaughter. SIGH.

My Grandfather, though he refused to make the drive, called me minutes before my wedding to give me the same speech he'd given my Mother on her wedding day. Something along the lines of, "think of all that money you could have used towards a new car or a down payment on a home and instead all you're getting is sand in your butt and a piece of paper sealing the deal." He's given us a roof over our head these past 5 years and I hope we've given him that extra spark that went missing once my Grandmother passed. I know "his babies" mean everything to him. I don't know what I'd do without my Pappaw.

My Husband. THAT MAN I MARRIED. I will forever be grateful to him for all the silent support, standing next to me as I slowly lost my mind and held my hand as I struggled to come up out of that hole. For the beautiful, amazing children he gave me and all that he's taught them and strengthened in them. I couldn't be luckier to have married a man who makes such an amazing Daddy to his kids. I hope one day he can see all his children together at the same time, if not for a moment, many many moments in his life time.

Turn it up, THIS IS MY JAM!

2012-06-13T03:48:00.000-07:00

I'm headed down the Atlanta highwayyy!

Her Bad Daughter.

2012-06-10T21:08:00.000-07:00

She cried and asked me if I was happy seconds after I vowed myself to The Husband.
She held my leg as I pushed and transitioned from a Daughter to a Mother.
She forced tissues into my hands as I gasped for air and sobbed in the middle of the Emergency Room when I had no where else to turn for help.
She stops me in my tracks to tell me what a good Mother I am.
She has told me how proud she is of me and my forward movement.
She nodded her head and vehemently agreed that my motto for the year to "just say no" when I can't handle anything else on my plate was a strong and wise decision considering what I've repeatedly piled onto my "responsibility plate" has been too much.

I am overwhelmed.
I am exhausted.
I am at the end of my rope.
I am her bad daughter.

Once again, I am the child who is throwing everything she can get her hands on at her Mother just to make it stop.
Once again, I am the child who just wants validation and to be trusted with her decisions.
Once again, I am standing in the rain moving furniture wondering what the fuck and how did I get myself into this situation and hearing the voice in the back of my head telling me that this isn't my fault and to slink back into the shadows and hope it all just takes care of itself.
Once again, I am shielding the blow of her words after letting my guard down.
Once again, I am following her commands, but only because I really don't have any other choice without disappointing my children. I am very close to teaching them a lesson in love and what we will and won't do for acceptance.
Once again, I am her bad daughter.

I am lucky to even have a Mother. Even luckier to be married to a Man who gifted me with two totally different Mothers. I am lucky to have my Mother. I just don't like feeling like a masochist.

The joy of moving just keeps giving.

2012-06-09T20:12:00.000-07:00

Between now and move day, I have a total of FIVE days off work. FIVE.

That's 120 hours... if you're counting.

I'm counting.

I'm also packing boxes and then realizing ONCE they're full that OMFG this is some heavy ass shit. What was I thinking? WHY DO ALL MY BELONGINGS WEIGH 50,000 POUNDS? I'm pretty sure this is where being a "packing master" has it's downsides. Yes, as a matter of fact I can pack all of our belongings in as few boxes as possible... unfortunately we're going to need a bunch of body builders to move our boxes 100 feet between point "A" and point "B."

I haven't even started on the playroom... shudder. I've only finished our bedroom and the decorative pieces between the bedroom and living room.

120 hours and counting.

Pillow Talk.

2012-06-06T05:27:00.000-07:00

My Husband doesn't believe I need a service monkey.

Last night after turning off the lights and wrapping myself burrito style in my comforter, I started thinking about how relaxed I get when Lillie plays with my hair... kind of like a monkey would "groom" it's companions. So I broached the subject about how beneficial it would be to everyone in the home for me to have a "service monkey" to help with my anxiety. He sighed and the conversation went a little something like this:

Billy, "I'm not even going to get into the reasons you DON'T need a service monkey."
Me, "You don't love me."
Billy, "I love you, and that's WHY you don't need a service monkey."
Me, "You really must not have read up on all the benefits of having a service monkey around."
Billy, "It's not like there's a "servicemonkey.com, and anyways, we are NOT having a conversation about you, a monkey, and this family. Conversation over."
Me, "You just don't understand how this anxiety thing works. You know how I immediately relax when Lillie does my hair? He could "groom" me and we would be best of friends. HE WOULD GET ME."
Billy, "You probably don't even qualify for a service monkey. I'm going to sleep."

***5 minutes later***

Me, "What about a service alpaca? They're really fluffy and we could name one Tina like in Napolean Dynamite."
Billy, "That's not even original, and where would it sleep?"
Me, "In our bed, like a giant hairy pillow."
Billy, "WHAT? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?"
Me, "They make sweaters out of alpaca fur, it would bring in income AND comfort."
Billy, "There is no fucking ROOM for an alpaca in our bed, and I don't even let that CAT sleep in bed with us."
Me, "That's because you are selectively homophobic against my cat. I don't know if I can be married to a man who's homophobic only against cats."
Billy, "He doesn't even do anything to benefit the family. He doesn't kill anything and all he does is scream until you follow him to the bathroom so you can watch him pee like he's a damn exhibitionist. At least Moose (our dog) serves a purpose, he's a great guard dog."
Me, "It's like you don't even know me. Ollie is beneficial to my all around well being. And he LOVES YOU. He likes it when you chase him and beat him."
Billy, "Love taps. On the butt. I don't beat animals."
Me, "You know who would understand me and my anxieties? A service monkey."
Billy, "Conversation. OVER. Goodnight."
Me, "My monkey would get me. I would name him Mr. Wiggles."
Billy, "GO TO SLEEP."
Me, "If I suffered from seizures, I bet you would deny me a "seizure monkey" too."
Billy, "There's no such thing, and you're right, I would."
Me, "Just so you know, this is going in the blog so everyone can see how unfair you are."
Billy, "Sure."
Me, "Just you wait, buddy, just. you. WAIT."

And that's the logic behind why I can't have a service monkey. I think he really just doesn't understand how this whole "service animal" and anxiety. How is it possible we've been married 6 years and he still doesn't believe I need a monkey in my life?

Nuggets of Joy.

2012-06-04T04:06:00.000-07:00

While at work, I can only imagine what happens while "Daddy Day Care" is in session. Most days I come home to what appears to be Lillie running the show and the boys are dressed in drag. I don't judge, but I think perhaps maybe there's an obvious confusion of roles. Perhaps she knows the woman of the house is in really the one in charge? If so, my job here is done.

The new place is coming along. Still needs a few things, you know, like appliances would be nice. But the floors are phenomenal and I am so stinking excited with all the decorating possibilities. That right there? Is the sunroom/playroom. It has a walk in storage closet (carpeted) off of it so big, I plan on putting one of the bookshelves in there along with some bins so the kids can PICK UP THEIR DAMN TOYS when they're done and put them in the closet. Hell, I don't care if there are days where they just open the door and kick them inside the closet. So long as I'm not stepping on the bulk lot of Legos I just picked up on Ebay for Lo's birthday... which is a month from tomorrow... he will be FIVE... hold me.

Click the picture for the link, but I think it's really awesome growing up hearing of the feud first hand from my McCoy family. My Grandmother's Mother grew up during that era. If you haven't clicked the link, you'll find my Great Grandmother (Cora Rae McCoy) listed under the children of Addison McCoy and Elizabeth Estep. And yes, Lillie Rae was named after her. Now that I've seen the 3 part series on the History Channel and read up some more on the McCoys, it seems only fitting that our scrappy little Honey Badger was named after a McCoy at all.

Yesterday we celebrated our 6th anniversary. I got him a dresser, but he's only allowed to use one drawer of it. Love, it is a maple dresser with a giant mirror attached. No, but really, six years... as of Memorial Day we had been together for 8 years. When this next Christmas rolls around, we will have been friends for ELEVEN years. I love that Man. (Obviously.)

Grateful.

2012-05-25T20:14:00.000-07:00

I am grateful to be exhausted as I post this up before bed. 11 p.m. is the new 2 a.m. for me. I can barely keep my eyes open as I write this.

I am grateful that my employer took a leap of faith on me and are willing to work with me as a "first timer" in this profession... and no... I didn't take to stripping. I didn't get THAT desperate. I DID stick to my guns to find a job that would not only bring income into the family but would also help us to move out into the great big world as *gasp* ADULTS. Adults with CHILDREN and RESPONSIBILITIES. For the first time in 5 years I finally feel as if we're moving forward and out of the endless cycles we've created for ourselves. Wasn't it Einstein who said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again yet expecting different results? Our new home will be ready to move in shortly after the beginning of July. I chose a home off the board of rentals that nobody wanted to touch because it needed so much work. And yes, I did that on purpose. New carpet, new paint, new appliances, new water heater, new beginnings for everyone involved.

I am grateful that my Husband is flourishing and adapting well to his new role as "Haus Frau" as he so lovingly refers to himself. I'm not the only one going through this transition and trying to find my footing. We'll get there. And I know it will take patience and persistence.

I am grateful to my family for being so supportive of us and for recognizing after their initial concerns, that my taking a job truly was for the best. Even though my Grandfather thinks I'm trying to prove to the Husband that he needs to be careful what he wishes for. Insert "lol" here. Yes, I might have had that thought in the back of my mind as I accepted the job, but I'm ok with that and with my Husband knowing that. I also know that he busted his butt working when he could and that he needs time to get his head straight and to enjoy the constant running monologue that is our little Honey Badger and having to talk Lo off the ceiling when he gets anxious. He's getting pretty good at that last one since Lo is ME in a little boy body.

I am grateful to that man, who took my hand on our long drive home 8 years ago this weekend and has stood strong beside me ever since. He is honest and big hearted, coming out of his comfort zone while I'm hyperventilating to rub my back and force conversation out of me like a BOSS. He's learning, you guys, and I couldn't be more proud.

I am grateful for my Mom who worries about me so much she can't see that I'm doing enough worrying for the both of us already. I don't need help in the "worry" department. I worry like I'm getting paid to do so. Oh if only... I'm grateful that she takes me shoe shopping to find the world's most uncomfortable shoes so I don't get written up on my first week at work. I'm grateful that she takes the kids for a few hours when she can and treats them to the forbidden fruit of McDonalds after church. I pray (no pun intended) that it's only because Chick-fil-A is closed on Sundays. McDonalds is the devil. End rant.

I am grateful for YOU. For my blog followers who sit idly by while I lose my mind, take a job, and then take a job while losing my mind. June is going to be full of awesomeness. Each post is going to be a nugget of joy, THAT I can promise you without crossing my fingers behind my back.

The times, they are a changing, and for once... I am not just anxious, but GRATEFUL for the opportunity and ability TO change.

Day 1.

2012-05-22T19:19:00.002-07:00

Today was my first day at work. AT WORK. Y'all! Mama got a job! Hopefully this explains my hiatus from NaBloPoMo. I feel like I'm quitting all my writing goals, but I'm super happy right now. I HAVE MY OWN DESK AND AN ENDLESS SUPPLY OF OFFICE SUPPLIES. It is an "office supply junky's" dream. I'm loving what I do, and it's only. day. one. My 30x30 list just keeps looking better and better.

~~Meet with my people. Not like Jesus, but more like my fellow bloggers... maybe even smoosh cheeks European style with the ones I put up on a pedestal.~~ Met the Bloggess 5/16
Run 30k by New Years. (Currently at 6.6: Color Run 5k, All Aboard for a Cure 1 Mile/1.6k)
~~Get back into a career style job.~~
~~Move out of the basement.~~ June 22nd 2012.
Take the kids to the beach, any coast will do.
Really celebrate my marriage and relationship with my best friend, i.e. family might need to avert their eyes.
Pilgrim back to the Drepung Loseling Monestary in it's new (to me) location.
Yoga. And YES, M.... I'm going to need your help on this one because this one is inspired by YOU.
Read 30 novels. (1, Jenny Lawson's "Let's Pretend This Never Happened." 2, Rebecca Woolf's "Rockabye.")
Lose 30 MORE pounds. (Update, I'm at 65 pounds lost as of 7/31/12... 15 more to meet my goal.)
Quit smoking.
Spend more time in my craft room and less time in the kitchen.

Things are getting better every day. There's a huge opportunity with the work I'm doing right now, that we can move out sooner than later. Like, if I wanted to move out tomorrow, I totally could. But there's this little thing called "change" that I require a slow adaptation to in order not to completely LOSE MY MIND AND HOLY PANIC ATTACK, BATMAN!!! So slowly goes it as of now. We'll see how I feel about it next week.

Score one for me.

2012-05-19T21:12:00.000-07:00

I sold a lot of cupcakes this weekend. A LOT of cupcakes. The upside to this is $$$, the downside is I'm working in a kids consignment sale and hello deals... I'm a SUCKER for board games, specifically ones I grew up with, and let's just say this sale did not disappoint.

Not pictured, the copy of "Corduroy" and a random "Veggie Tales" book. And yes, I even scored the Ralph Lauren purse with the books and games for around $10. Yay for half price sales!

Reliving a classic.

When I put the Lite Brite in the car, my Dad laughed and said he hated that damn thing when my sister and I were kids because the stupid pegs hurt like a mother when you step on them. Lucky for my kids, I make them pick that shit up and it goes in the same storage closet as the Play-Doh because I am NOT picking that shit up for days. And then? When I went to get it out of the storage closet to take the swag picture above? I dropped the stupid thing and the pegs went E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E. I woke up the ~~zombie bear~~ Husband. Oops.

I think I'm most excited about the Jenga score. More for the crafting possibilities than anything else. I wonder what I can do with Jenga pieces and Mod Podge...

1 of 30

2012-05-18T21:23:00.001-07:00

"Anxiety is a lying bedfellow. And Tiffany is AWESOME!"

We already spoke/saw that I got to meet Jenny and Copernicus on Wednesday. Last night I finally finished the book. Don't judge! I had great intentions to have it completely finished by the time she signed it, but alas, UPS is ridiculous and I had 5,982 other things on my to do list. This book? Only secured my love for The Bloggess a thousand times over. I get her, you guys. Monday I headed into therapy, book in hand and read her post on being diagnosed with anxiety disorder in the waiting room. It hit home, too close to home seeing as I woke up hyperventilating that morning. I know what it's like to spend days feeling as if the walls were closing in and everyone's breathing your air and OH MY GOD GET ME OUT OF MY SKIN, MY SKIN IS TRYING TO KILL ME. Ok, well, logically I'm aware that my skin is not, in fact, trying to kill me, but that's how my brain works on an every day basis... and I hate that. I hate feeling this way. I hate when my meds don't do their job. I hate when I feel trapped and all I want to do is run and puke and run some more or on worse days, curl up tight in my cold dark bedroom and disappear into myself. I've been there. I've been there and it hurts to admit it as much as it hurts to keep it in.

I wish I had my "brain on anxiety drugs" note that I wrote her on the drive up to the book signing. Instead, you're going to get a (possibly) revised version, because it's all true regardless of whether or not it's the exact words I wrote then.

Jenny,

Thank you. Thank you for being so honest about your anxiety, depression, panic. Thank you from someone who also lives with these three misfits as well. Thank you for putting your words out there and not being ashamed to do so. It's taken me years to release the feelings of shame and guilt for being who I am and for having to live this way. Thank you for not being so "above" your followers that you can't comment on their blogs, even when you're in the grips of panic and anxiety as well, ESPECIALLY when you're going through the same thing. You are such an inspiration to me and to so many others who lay it all out there on the great big internet universe attempting to be honest with themselves and others. Thank you, even though "thanks" seems so small compared to how your words and actions give me hope.

-Tiffany

Commercial Bake Break

2012-05-17T06:03:00.002-07:00

And to think I have two more batches to make AND I have to package them all... before 6 tomorrow night. It's going to be a long... long.... night.

Let's pretend the panic part didn't happen.

2012-05-16T20:19:00.000-07:00

My evening summed up in three pictures:

Due to the fact that I shut down during a panic attack, this was my best defense for those who felt it necessary to get in mah space. Also, on a normal day I don't have to take any of my emergency anxiety meds. On a "normal" bad day I might take one. Today? Three. It's been a long day, y'all. Was pretty sure at one point once we got off the interstate into Atlanta that I was going to have to open my car door and hork all over Peachtree Street. To say I wasn't handling things well was an UNDERSTATEMENT. What pulled me through was knowing that the one person who understands what that kind of moment is like was literally a few miles away.

Mother fuckin Copernicus. I wanted to hold him. Mah preshussssss...

I would take the anxiety any day if it meant I could have hung with her for a little bit longer. Unfortunately, her new celeb status had me clamming up. At least we were able to connect for a second. Lucky for her I didn't have anything in me to hork, I was THAT nervous.

My body is completely exhausted from all the seizing up and freaking out. It's time for bed, y'all. Oh, and this totally knocks another "to do" off my 30x30 list. HUZZAH!

Expensive Background Noise.

2012-05-15T08:12:00.002-07:00

When Logan was born, I spent a lot of time in the middle of the night watching VH1 and MTV (it was the only time they actually showed (GASP!) music videos. The child refused to sleep, and so, I convinced myself that if he was going to be persistent about this whole staying up all night thing, the least I could do was introduce him to the musical generation he was unfortunately born into. Reason number 8,289 I was born 20 years too late. Logan's theme song should have been Led Zeppelin's "Immigrant Song."

His colic screams reminded me much of the beginning Viking "yell." AaaaaAAAAaaaaAAAH!"

I refused to become one of those parents who sat their kid in front of the television during their waking hours, I wasn't one of them. We were just very lonely in that quiet house when he wasn't screaming. So it was just me, Lo and Insomniac Theater. And that's when I discovered the glory of Logan's latin lover... Dora. Oh, and his BFF'S FOR LIFE Moose and Zee. I kept Nick Jr. on as background noise throughout the day as the boy didn't pay much attention to it unless it was one of the little musical numbers Moose was singing and then all bets were off. Once he was in his walker, there was a lot of this going on.

Moose? Is that you? TAXI TAXI RIDIN' IN THE BACKSEAT! OMGMYBFFZEE!

He still to this day doesn't watch much t.v. and yes... I do still keep it on as background noise because sometimes I just need 5 minutes, 10 minutes tops to not entertain this child. I am not a monkey. I AM NOT. Until Lillie came around though, it was my sole job as entertainer for this child... Unless Moose was on.

We had to make a compilation DVD of Moose and Zee clips, there was one point in his first year where it was the ONLY thing that would get him to fall asleep or soothe him when he was angry. Unfortunately, Noggin became Nick Jr. and more recently Nick Jr. dropped Moose and Zee like a bad habit. I may or may not still be grieving.

Mama's Summer School is in SESSION.

2012-05-14T22:09:00.000-07:00

This time last year, I panicked. Logan was out of school and OMG it was my job to entertain this child. THIS CHILD who can't be entertained long enough to be properly entertained. And so I entertained the idea of Homeschooling the kids. And then I did. Mama does Summer Homeschool. Mama does Summer Homeschool to keep the peace and keep an eye on how the kids are doing academically.

School is in session, y'all. Thanks to the lovely blog 1+1+1=1, and their Animal ABC theme packs, the kids and I should be busy for a while. They've been working with their own "tots" on the Animal ABC's and they release each Alpha pack for free as they use them in their own home. If you need to jump ahead, you can purchase the entire pack for $10 or work slowly through like us slow pokes over here. Today we broke out the old folders with the sleeves we can wipe clean and I slid the new pack inside for playing and learning.

Using Play-dough to form the letters.

Gluing down our 'gators.

Practicing letter formation and letter tracing.

Tomorrow morning I'll make sugar cookie dough, halve it and let them cut out some alligator and "A" shapes. Right after, HOPEFULLY, Daddy takes over Mama's Schoolwork while Mama cleans HER Mama's house. Luckily for him, it's simple letter tracing and coloring their bigger gators. It's gonna be a busy summer. BUSY.

Butterfly Mobile.

2012-05-13T19:44:00.002-07:00

For literal months now I've been meaning to make a butterfly mobile for my Mom's office and while cleaning and organizing the craft room found where I'd spent hours tracing butterflies from the fabulous LollyChop's butterfly template onto pretty papers I thought my Mama would like. I traced them MONTHS ago... I'm proud to say that I finally finished. YESTERDAY.

My poor Mama has been stricken with odd cyclic fevers for nearly a year now. Normally only once every few weeks, but more recently it's been days in a row with fewer "fever free" days in between. We all want her to find out what's causing them as that last thing I wanted to see this morning was that on Mother's Day, her fever is the highest it's been these past few days. It's maddening enough for her children, I can't imagine what she's going through.

So Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I hope you feel better and I'm so glad you liked the finished product as much as I did.

In like a Taurus, out like a Gemini.

2012-05-12T21:17:00.002-07:00

Tomorrow is Mother's Day, so to all of my Mommy friends, milk it for all it's worth. MILK IT. I kid, kind of. I want to sleep in. That's all I really want. I want to wake up on my own without little wants and needs being shot at me rapid fire. Yes, I want to enjoy my children and tend to them... but I just want to enjoy them as they are. As these two wonderful and beautiful hot messes they are.

My heart halved.

It's their fault I'm attempting to better myself this year. Which is why I'm finally getting around to writing my 30x30 post. Today y'all... I'm really aggravated by the quality of the 30x30 button, BUT WHATEVER PEOPLE. Picnik up and quit on me, so there's no going back now. Onward! I'm still in the "rough draft" stage of my list, so it if seems a little frayed in areas, it probably is. But I was confronted with my personality and, of all things, my horoscope sign (signs?) during my interview a few days ago. Hence, in like a Taurus and out like a Gemini. I've been so stuck, so bullheaded in my ways and practices since this horribly dark winter. I was still making my lists and wishing and hoping, but I've drawn inward and my inner voice has grown more ugly and hateful and, y'all... that's not who I am. It's not! Honest! I know that I am beautiful. I know that I am strong. I know that we are nearly halfway through May and wtf, where has my year gone? I've been listening to the voice telling me how worthless and revolting I am, and again... I know I'm not. I look at them (see exhibit A up there) and know the truth. tl;dr

Are you still here? Due to circumstances out of my parents hands, I didn't quite make it to my true due date at birth. Where I was anticipated a Gemini, I was born a Taurus. The beauty of this is, if you truly believe in all this horoscope hibbity hob is that I can carry the traits of both. Yes, we should all just stop what we're doing and feel ridiculously awful for my poor Husband who lives with this nonsense all the damn time. I want to be my stronger self again. I want to shine, dammit! I want to believe that this first portion of the year, this darker me is my Gemini bad twin. I want to believe that I can dust myself off, stand again and fucking SPARKLE come 2013. I WANT TO BE FURIOUSLY HAPPY!!! So ~~I made~~ I'm making a list. Things I can see this sparkly twin doing that my dark, dull, other self would NEVER DO. No judging, y'all... it's my list, not yours. I'll elaborate in future posts. Spoiler alert? Meeting (hopefully) two of my favorite bloggers on Wednesday. This is me peepeeing my pants a little.

~~Meet with my people. Not like Jesus, but more like my fellow bloggers... maybe even smoosh cheeks European style with the ones I put up on a pedestal.~~ Met the Bloggess 5/16
Run 30k by New Years. (Currently at 6.6: Color Run 5k, All Aboard for a Cure 1 Mile/1.6k)
Get back into a career style job.
Move out of the basement.
Take the kids to the beach, any coast will do.
Really celebrate my marriage and relationship with my best friend, i.e. family might need to avert their eyes.
Pilgrim back to the Drepung Loseling Monestary in it's new (to me) location.
Yoga. And YES, M.... I'm going to need your help on this one because this one is inspired by YOU.
Read 30 novels.
Lose 30 MORE pounds.
Quit smoking.
Spend more time in my craft room and less time in the kitchen.

The rest of the list is to be continued... I'm not a quitter, I just want my list to really mean something if not for me, for my kids 30 years down the road.

Joan of Art

2012-05-11T21:36:00.001-07:00

Insert dramatic sigh here...

2012-05-10T20:41:00.000-07:00

The kids had their last day of pre-k today. SIGH SIGH SIGH, DEEP BREATH, SIGH. I love their school, LOVE their school. But I think it's time to move on to bigger and better things for "Baby Genius." There's still a good chance she'll be back at this same pre-k come fall, but things are starting to look much differently around these parts future wise.

I had an interview today. It went so well I almost forgot I was having a massive panic attack seconds before walking through the door. It went so well that I felt as if I'd been working there for months already by the time I walked OUT the door. The chemistry was real, people. Super real. Thanks for the prayers and happy thoughts if you were thinking them. I'll need you to keep those prayers and thoughts going until Monday when I find out if I made up all those good vibes from today in my head. Here's hoping I didn't. As I left the interview site, I passed two Montessori schools within a mile of where I'd be working. Like I said, things are starting to look much different for our future. I'm simply trying to keep my mind focused on everything BUT the interview results until Monday. So your job, should you accept, is to please keep your fingers, limbs, etc. crossed so I don't have to think about it. Everyone else can think about it for me.

Let's look at some pretty pics of my chillins, shall we?

Lillie Rae was awarded "Girl with the most beautiful eyes." I am SO glad they decided against, "Honey Badger with the sharpest shiv."

Less surprisingly, Lo was awarded "Most athletic boy." The kid finds his BFF's first thing when he walks through the classroom door and wrestles them to the ground and/or chases them from the time the bell rings till we come to pick him up. As I said, not surprised.

Their faces say it all. If you don't know my children and/or my parenting style, their faces read as so, "AWWWWW SHIT, WE GOT CUPCAKES, CHEESE PUFFS AND COOKIES BEFORE LUNCH BEESHES!" Also, they didn't eat lunch after this. I can't imagine why. I'm pretty sure Lillie wants to hug whoever came up with the Graduation Party food list. She probably even wants to live with them forever and ever amen with extra cheese doodles.

And now I must go make up a cupcake list for next weekend's consignment sale. I really like how our savings account looks right now thanks to cupcake sales, budgeting, extra cleaning cash and birthday money from the fam. Our future, she is changing a little more each day. I see skies of blue... trees of green... blah blah blah... I'll be here all week!

Love and Hope and One Last Day.

2012-05-09T19:51:00.000-07:00

Mother's Day is Sunday. Are you ready? I'm ready. I'm so ready. I'm ready for this to be the best week ever. EVER. If you pray, and even if you don't, can you lift me up in your thoughts sometime around 3 p.m. EST tomorrow? I'd super appreciate it. SUPER appreciate it.

While I know that they didn't plan it on their own, the kids came home from school yesterday with handmade vases. I immediately broke down inside because tomorrow? Tomorrow they "graduate." I will probably cry, but I know that I'm also deep down super excited to not have to get them up and ready for school three days a week and that we can work one on one together for the next 3 months on phonics/math/etc. To help with that, I've been adding books to read to our "We Give Books" library. Have you visit there yet? You really should. I've been finding little lesson plans that I can use in conjunction with the stories, which is awesome! Amazing even, and it makes me feel good knowing that with every book we ready, we're helping others who don't have access to good literature.

And now for something completely different (shuffles off stage!)

Miracle of all miracles, it's rained here these past few days. Bad for the kid's "water day" outside at school today, but they didn't let a little mud ruin their day. I took both of these shots earlier yesterday and then it started to rain. And it rained, and it rained some more, and wait for it... guess what... still raining. A little. I will be glad when the weather decides that it's going to do, but until then, I'll enjoy the 50 degrees at night. Better than 80 degrees inside. One day I will have the last word on the air conditioner. ONE DAY.

Not quite five.

2012-05-08T21:29:00.000-07:00

We are hard on you, and we don't ever mean to be. You've always been so curious, so big hearted and emotional. You never sleep, and when you do, I always get a picture... because it almost never happens. Unfortunately, when you do pass out during the day it's because you're not feeling well. I'm so sorry I can't fix you every time when you hurt. I'm so sorry that I you are our "starter" child so to speak. We learn through you, and Daddy and I both know what that's like because we were the first too. Just like our parents, we expect great things from you because we know you're capable of exceeding greatness. And yet, I know how incredibly unfair those expectations are. You try so hard to please us, and Lo, you don't even have to try. You are our boy, our first creation together, our greatest legacy began with you.

I remember night after night, nursing you and shushing you... begging you to just fall asleep until 2 a.m. became 3 a.m. and slowly we would wake up around sunrise on the couch, groggy and unaware of how we got there. You would look at me with your big not yet chocolatey emerald eyes and smile. It was a new day! For new adventures and discoveries! Carpe diem and boobies and all that stuff! You hated tummy time, loathed it. You would have much rather had your hands in mine so you could push up to stand, ready to run, but no coordination to do so. You wanted nothing more than to be strapped facing out in that ratty old Snugli so you could fuss at me to take you from one room to another. Your eyes weren't big enough to see the whole world and it would literally, and still does at times, frustrate you to no end. And yet, when you were sleeping, it was all I could do not to crawl up in my bed with you and stick your sticky baby fist in my mouth and just savor your scent and sounds. I could only watch you sleep, however, because the slightest movement on the mattress meant party time or that the booby buffet was open for business.

I constantly worried about your developmental milestones. I lied to your pediatrician more than once about your speech and language development because you communicated to me in a way that made me know you understood. You had your own language and I was fluent unlike anyone else. When Lillie came out talking, you began to grasp the benefits of using your words. I sighed a huge sigh of relief knowing they'd been inside your head all that time, but it never seemed to matter enough for you to use them. Your baby features started to melt away almost as quickly as your vocabulary started to grow. I died inside when your thigh chub creases seemed to disappear overnight. I cried alongside you as you wiped out on the driveway repeatedly because you didn't know how to stop running, instead only speeding up and bringing the inevitable closer and closer. Each new scar and scab hurt me as much as it did you. Your baby skin giving way to roughed up knees and elbows, making way for dirt and hairy little boy legs. Your scent changing from powdery sweet to earth and sweat.

When you started preschool, I thought I would be happy to give you more freedom to run and socialize. You are everyone and anyone's friend. Instead I found the silence left in your wake deafening. You were only gone for a few hours a day a few days a week. I learned to appreciate the time it gave me with Lillie, but when it came time to go pick you up, we would celebrate your return to us as you would come running out the door with arms outstretched. Even if there comes a day where you could care less about your parents, I hope you always have your Sister as your best buddy and partner in crime even though most days it's the other way around.

At 4, you are still so eager to please that you stumble awkwardly on words you can't yet understand. You want to help and don't understand our frustrations when you are underfoot. We want to include you and teach you, but we fall back to square one. We don't know how to best teach you or include you. We try hard to be patient, and after 4 years, we are still learning this fine art. Every day you change a little more, you spread your wings a little more, finally finding a new and exciting independence of connecting the figurative dots to make pictures and words. The building blocks to logic are slowly falling into place and I can see the disappointment when you realize something can't go your way because it simply can't. I feel your sadness deep in my heart when you break down in tears because life isn't fair. I often joke that being 4 must be a hard job, but I'm only half joking, because I know it's hard. I was once very much like you, and sometimes I still am. You want to make everyone laugh, you want to love and please those closest to you. You want your space, but can't understand when Lillie or anyone else wants theirs. You are bossy and stubborn and hate when she or your friends don't play Star Wars the way you want them to. I get it. Believe me, I get it.

At almost 5, I can vividly remember waking up in my room at Gamma's house. It's one of my first solid memories as a child. I remembered that it was almost my birthday and we were in a new house and I had a best friend who lived close to me. I was aware, much more than I'd ever been, of myself and my surroundings. I think if you haven't already become more "aware" that the day is coming. I want to whisper all the answers in your ear as you sleep, to reassure you that it's ok to be awkward and it's ok to be you, big heart and all. I want to feel your little arms wrap around my neck as I promise you that we will get through this next year all in one piece, better than when we started... that Kindergarten won't be scary and the possibility of surgery isn't that big a deal, that it's far better for you to be well than take chances. Mommy is not a risk taker, and you know what I've noticed? Neither are you.

My sweet precious boy, nothing can ever change the fact that you are my little lover. I will always stop what I'm doing when you sneak past me to tell me that you love me. I hope that everyone stops to hear you proclaim your love for them. I hope their hearts melt like mine do. You are a treasure, my greatest gift, my sweetest boy, my inner voice.