Here's Your Life- Welcome to It!

Remember that time you had the flu?

2014-01-05T18:37:00.002-06:00

Do you remember how your entire body ached, and no matter how much time you spent in bed, you never felt rested? Do you remember how many times you said, "I wish this would hurry up and pass? I wish this would just be over?" Do you wonder where I'm going with all this ;) ? I'm going to tell you about my flu that never ends. My chronic pain that has been diagnosed as Fibromyalgia, although fibro isn't supposed to be progressive, and I just keep getting worse. I'm going to tell you about it, because I need to. I need to get this story out of me, and I need to try to make people understand what it's like to live with chronic pain. It's barely living at all. This blog probably isn't going to feel like or sound like me, because it's the 'me' that I don't like to show you. I need to get over that too...

I really didn't make a New Year's resolution so to speak. I have lots that I hope to accomplish this year, and so many things that I want to change, but resolutions always seem to be broken, and this feels way too important to break. All I really want to do is accept myself, my body. That doesn't mean accepting the fact that I seem to gain weight daily now and that I can barely walk to the mailbox without my legs feeling like jello, but accepting that the person I am now isn't physically the person I used to be, and learning to love and take care of that person anyway. I want to eat more healthy. I want to exercise more. I want to move away from my endless supply of motrin and aleve that I take like candy and try to find more holistic approaches to my health. I want to stop being so angry with my body, and start trying to care for it. I want to remember that I'm only 38, and I have (Lord willing,) so many, many years left. I want to stop being sad when I think about the future, because my body already feels like it's 80. I can't imagine physically being that age and still feeling like this.

I've always had issues with chronic pain. I started having migraines when I was in middle school, and then degenerative joint disease (DJD) in my 20s, followed by endometriosis and adenomyosis in my 30s. At one point I think I went years without a day that my head didn't hurt... But I dealt with it. I'm a fixer. If something is wrong with me, I fix it. Migraine meds for my head, surgery for my DJD, (both knees, the left side of my jaw and my right foot, so far), and a total hysterectomy for the others. All of those things made a difference. My knees don't hurt now. My jaw doesn't lock up and hurt. I don't have abdominal pain for three weeks out of the month. But now my entire body hurts, daily. And I can't fix it... I don't sleep well at night... One of the most painful things I do is hang up laundry. Who knew that the act of putting clothes on hangers would be so, very painful? Really though, everything hurts. I'm actually crying as I type this, because I'm working on laundry today... I'm not crying because it hurts, I'm crying because I'm so frustrated. How am I supposed to work out, when I can't hang up a freaking load of laundry without having to rest?? Don't feel sorry for me though, that's not what I want. What I want is to get this out. What I want is to learn how to live like this. What I want is to stop feeling oddly embarrassed because I have a chronic pain disorder. What I want is to start being honest. What I want is for you to not look at me and others with chronic pain the same way that I used to look at people who had it before. Karma, baby.

I used to work in a doctor's office and I remember people coming in with chronic pain disorders. I remember thinking that they just wanted painkillers... That's half the reason that I refuse to take anything stronger than aleve. The other half is I'm only 38... If I start taking prescription meds now, what do I have left to fall back on? Where do I go from here? I need to be present for my kids. I need to hold it all together. So I just hurt. On a typical day, my neck and lower back hurt. My upper arms, lower legs and feet. All four quadrants of my body, pretty much all the time. You don't even know how frustrating it is. If I sit too long, it hurts. If I stand too long, it hurts. Everything hurts.

I have to make a confession, and I know this will sound awful. I feel awful saying it. You may understand why I'm saying it or you may judge me harshly. Either way I need to say it so you understand just how devastating this is starting to be for me. I told Thomas the other day that sometimes I actually wished that I had cancer... I normally don't tell Thomas how I'm feeling. I usually sugar coat it like I try to do with everyone. He's my partner, but he's in another country, trying to do his job. He doesn't need to worry about me. He doesn't need to feel like he's letting me down in some way. It's hard enough for him to know that I'm bearing the brunt of taking care of our entire family without knowing that I'm starting to lose my faith. On this day though, he asked the question at a time when I was too depressed to fake it. He asked me how my pain was, and I told him. I told him that I am depressed every day now, because I can't imagine never getting better. I told him that if I had known I would be dealing with this now, I never would have had Jace. Not because I don't adore him, but because I wouldn't have intentionally had another child if I had known he would be an active 5 year old with a mom who didn't feel like she would ever be able to keep up. And I told him how hard it was to have something wrong and to look fine. You are probably wondering if I'm crazy or if I think that this is worse than cancer, or what? The answer is no, of course no- but if I had something wrong with me that wasn't just a chronic pain issue, I feel like more people would understand. People would know why I was tired all the time- it would make sense. People would expect me to hurt. They would understand when I didn't feel like leaving my house, or even my bed. It would make sense when my brain was so foggy that I couldn't even think... People wouldn't question it. It's not about one being worse than the other, it's about one being legit. Cancer is legit. Fibromyalgia is just weird and misunderstood. It seems like an excuse. It's not... If you only knew how much I wish I was the old me, you would understand how legit chronic pain is. Learning to love this new me feels like an uphill battle, and as we all know now, I'm lucky to make it back from the mailbox...

I really don't want to talk about this now. Like I said before, I don't need you to feel sorry for me, I just need to get this out. I need you to understand. I need to move on and embrace my new normal. I need to stop abusing myself and start trying to improve whatever parts of my life that I can. I need to stop faking it, and acting like I'm fine, because I'm not... And if you have chronic pain too, I need you to know that you aren't alone.

Why I LOVE!! and Hate Social Media

2013-06-29T09:27:00.002-05:00

I think it's safe to say that I don't just love social media, I am in love with it. I looooovvvvvvveeeeeee it. Through social media, I stay in contact with friends and family no matter how many years or miles are between us. I use it to vent and to brag. I use it to find out what book I just HAVE to read, and what movie completely sucked. I use it to watch your kids grow and to see how you've decorated your living room. I use it to find tips and to get ideas. I could go on and on, but you get the picture. I love the Internet. As we all know, there are two sides to every coin, and with love there is often hate. This world wide web that I adore to pieces, comes armed with a sharp edged sword. Of all the things that I've learned on my beloved laptop, the fact that I am a totally shitty parent seems to be the one that people feel the need to remind me of most regularly.

Years ago, I joined a site called CafeMom. At first I had no idea what to expect, because I had never been part of any type of message board. As I learned more about the concept, I got excited! Here I was, a stay at home mom, away from my hometown for the first time and in a place where I didn't know a soul. To find out that I could "meet" people without ever even putting my bra on, was like, amazing. A total cure for the loneliness I was completely overcome with when we first moved to Ft Benning. As a concept, it was a good one. As a reality? Terrible, terrible idea. Now don't get me wrong. I have met women on CafeMom who I adore and who I believe I will be in contact with forever, even though I've never met most of them face-to-face. However, CafeMom was the first place that I learned just what a terrible parent I was. So, in the interest of full disclosure, I'm going to share with you the horrors I have committed in my 18 years of parenthood. In no particular order:

1. I let a kid CIO. "Cry it out" for those of you who like me, had no idea wtf CIO meant for the longest time. Yes, my name is Leigh Anne, and I let my poor, neglected child cry himself to sleep in his warm, cozy bed, under our more than adequate roof, with a belly full of milk that I personally created. I had no idea that in addition to providing for his/her every need in life, I was also expected to forever neglect my own sanity when I just mentally couldn't deal any longer. Ok, technically I tried to let all three CIO at one time or another. Will and Parker were pretttttty darn smart though. They could make themselves puke in .5 seconds, thereby ending the CIO and creating more work for my already frazzled mind. Jace however, lacked that puking on command capability.... So, while Thomas was gone to school for 6 months, during which I spent EVERY WAKING MOMENT of my life attending to Jace, I began letting him CIO. After two nights, I was rewarded with a child who put himself to sleep at night, with no tears, and who let me know he was awake in the morning by babbling happy gibberish into his baby monitor in the morning. Clearly, I am the devil.

2. My sons have no foreskins. Yes, I have to confess that I just let those little effers be chopped off willy nilly, without a care in the world. Recently, through my force fed education, I have learned that this can be linked to PTSD in the future. I can only imagine those group meetings. "Hi, I'm John. I have PTSD because I was deployed to Afghanistan and an IED hit our convoy. I watched my battle body be blown into tiny bits, most of which covered my face." "Hi, I'm Will. I have PTSD because my mom had me circumsized. An event that I have ABSOLUTELY NO RECOLLECTION OF." Anywho.. finding out this crucial info had me quizzing both my husband and Will about the loss of their apparently crucial piece of body tissue. Both of them emphatically agreed that they had no interest in having foreskin. I think Will actually said it was "gross". I don't know, don't care. Between this and having Parker's ears pierced as a baby, I have clearly proven that I have no respect for my children's ownership of their own bodies, and they should probably be put into foster care.

3. At times, I have actually disciplined my children if they were throwing a tantrum. You see, when my 2 year old decided to hurl himself down on the floor in the middle of a restaurant because he wanted to cut his own chicken, or he didn't want to cut his own chicken, or he didn't want chicken to begin with, or he wanted chicken, but he didn't want it, because toddlers are completely effing bipolar, I didn't realize that he was merely expressing his frustration with the struggles of being a toddler, and that I was supposed to look on with a patient smile while he worked through this inner demon. No you see, I smacked that ass. It is a small wonder that the older two haven't been arrested yet, or taken me to court for legal emancipation. I should probably suggest that to them...

4. I breastfed with discretion. My kids probably secretly hate me for not just whipping my boob out with absolutely no consideration for anyone else around me, and for attempting to be discrete. My inability to share my areola with the general population, will no doubt be the subject of many a counseling session in the future. I chose to use a blanket, or turn away from other people, or find a nursing area, or hell, even use a bottle when I was out and about. Why did I neglect the basic needs of my child (which is apparently turning his mother into an exhibitionist,) in order to meet the needs of others? Two reasons. 1. I kinda believe that only my husband and/or nursing child should see my nipples, and 2. I thought that being respectful of the people around me was an important part of life. Clearly I should be shot. My kids would have fared better with some enfamil....

5. I forward faced at 12 months. I never knew that apparently my 12 year old should still be locked up tight in her rear facing car seat until she is of an age to drive herself. At that point, she can forward face, but only because it is slightly more safe if she can actually see the road. I mean, I know now, because I can barely log into facebook without seeing a video of how to properly latch a kid into a carseat, and which way it needs to be facing. Personally after having watched some of those videos, I think the only real solution is to never leave the house.

6. I let my kids eat McDonalds. And drink sodas. They had solid food before the age of 6 months. I have given them nitrate sticks dipped in ketchup, and I don't buy organic apples. They would fare better in Ethiopia than in this house full of refined sugars and white bread. I do try to limit these things now, but I don't forbid them. I'll be waiting for CPS to knock on my door.

Moral of all this? None of us have this parenting thing down pat. We ALL make mistakes. I guess I just don't see the point of trying to make other parents feel bad just because their choices aren't your choices. Unless they are smoking around their kids, in which case I will join you on the soap box and wonder why we can't bring back tarring and feathering...

Being a parent has been the single best thing that I have ever done in my life, and you know, it comes with a fair amount of guilt involved as well. I wish we could start supporting each other instead of lecturing each other. I wish we could make this whole thing a little less stressful by not sitting back on our high horses thinking that we are clearly doing this thing the right way, and anyone who does it differently is wrong.

I logged into facebook this morning to see that a toddler just lost his battle to cancer. I think about this poor child. His poor family. I think about the amount of pain and suffering he had to go through in order to try to beat this, and I think about the pain and suffering that his parents felt just watching that. I think about all this and I wonder one thing. Why are we not being outraged about childhood cancers, or children who truly are abused or neglected? I get that we all have our "causes", but at the end of the day, I have to wonder why people get so worked up about whether or not my kid has a "intact" penis, when there are children who don't even have food to eat. Who go to bed hungry at night. I guess I just don't get it.... In the meantime, I guess I will just have to be grateful that my kids are healthy, and beg forgiveness for the times that I've failed as a parent. Mostly I'm just going to be grateful. The rest will work itself out in the end.

Lions and Tigers and Sharts, Oh My! (Part 1)

2013-02-01T11:19:00.001-06:00

Subtitled: Ooops, I thought I just had to fart.

As mothers, we all know that there is nothing worse than a sick kid... Other than a sick husband, but we will get to that later. Honestly though, there is nothing worse than seeing your child feel terrible and not be able to make it better. If we are being truly honest though, and we are, then we have to admit that there are others reasons that it completely sucks to have a sick kid. Two in fact. Three if you are married.

The number one reason there is nothing worse than a sick child? Admit it, at some point in between realizing that Little Johnny is done for the count, and feeling terrible that they are feeling terrible, the realization that you are about to have twice the amount of work and half the amount of sleep for the next few days, is invariably in the back of your mind. Girl, you know it's true.

The second reason? You also know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you are most likely going to be the next victim of whatever is going around the hizzy. It's basically unavoidable since you will be knee deep in whatever disgusting substance is coming out of whichever contaminated orifice. Despite this, you will still be responsible for everything you are normally responsible for. At this point that means, twice the work, half the sleep, and the feeling that you might die, or you just wish you could.

Finally, and this only applies to married moms, there is the possibility that your oldest man child (the one you married) will catch the bug also. Prepare yourself for the joys that this can hold. I've had my entire reproductive system removed and still got around better than Thomas with the sniffles :/. Of course this also means that whatever limited assistance your spouse was able to offer, will cease. Time now.

Why, am, I such, a, comma, hog?,

Anywho. Last week RSV, croup, ear infections, and colds in general, hit the Hollen household. Hard. I truly did feel terrible for my little man. He was hacking and coughing, and just generally felt like poo all around. I really knew he was sick when he didn't want his morning hash brown from McDs. What? Yes, he does have a hash brown from Mickey Ds every weekday morning. Don't judge. Anyway, he felt terrible, and I did feel terrible for him, but in the back of my mind I was also thinking, "Effffff.... Emmmmmmm.... Ellllllllll". When Jace gets sick, he coughs. Any action then triggers that cough. Running? Coughing. Crying? Coughing. Sleeping? Coughing. What is the end result of all this coughing? Vomiting. Despite the fact that he has coughed until he vomits at least 4 bazillion times in his 4 years on this planet, he still hasn't made that connection. This means that I will be cleaning up vomit ad nauseum. Pun intended.

Stay tuned for part 2... And there will be a number (errr part) two.

My life isn't a battle

2012-08-10T20:36:00.002-05:00

for politicians to wage- and no one else's should be either.

I'm not a statistic. I'm not a stereotype. I'm just a person. I don't want to get all deep on you, but recent events have made me think more and more about this habit we have of judging books by their cover.

Anyway... this blog isn't really about any of that. It's about a teenage girl who got pregnant when she was 18, and thought she'd never be anything more than a statistic in a world where people passed judgment on unwed moms, and where strangers in church would ask if she was a Christian because she wasn't wearing a wedding ring. It's about being brave when the world thinks you are wrong, and growing up while you are also responsible for someone else who is growing up. It's about making mistakes left and right, but somehow... somewhere... doing something right... because above all else, it's about the perfect, perfect boy that was born to that teenager and about how she could never look at him without seeing God's hand, even though she didn't deserve him... or Him.

I used to wonder how in the world I was chosen to be Will's mom, (and then Parker's, and sometimes Jace's haha). My world was so full of mistakes and yet somehow, I was given the most precious blessings I've ever known. It's humbling. It's also enlightening- for me anyway. Even though I was a sinner, even though the Bible clearly says not to fornicate, I was chosen. CHOSEN. That word is huge in every way.

I just stumbled upon this beginning of a blog tonight. I originally started it a while back. I don't know why, or where I was going with it then, but whatever the inspiration behind it was then, I'm inspired all over again now.

As you know (all 12 of you, my followers haha), I have three kids. Three glorious, hilarious, sarcasticious (what? I felt compelled to keep with the -ious suffix...) loves of my life. They make me laugh, cry, beat my head against the wall, and generally pray for (depending on the occasion,) patience, peace and gratitude. This blog is about my firstborn though. He's going to be 18 this month. The same age that I was when I found out I was expecting him, and more than likely the sole reason for every good thing that has ever happened in my life since he came into it. I was lost for so long- and I won't pretend like I was magically found when I became Will's mom, because honestly that didn't happen for a while, but all of my life for the last 18 years has been measured by whether I was just that girl I used to be, or Will's mom. The honor has been all mine.

Will has been spending this summer in Fort Leonard Wood, MO, at basic training- learning how to be a soldier first and foremost, but also learning how to be a man. If your kids are still small, you can't imagine what it's like to see them as an **almost** adult. When they are born, and someone places them into your arms, your head is filled with what ifs about their future, but ultimately, that life isn't your's to decide. It's theirs. A few years ago, when Jace was brand new, I stood at a funeral for a fallen soldier, and I prayed that none of my children would ever serve our country in this way. At that time, I probably believed that I would do whatever it took to change their minds if they even considered such a route. Life is full of curve balls though.

I truly believe that being a good parent means that you teach your children what they need to know about life, and then you trust them to make the right decisions. This belief has caused me a huge amount of heartache, because it's meant that I've had to say goodbye to Will too many times in the last 6.5 years, because he didn't want to be part of this army brat way of life. It's also brought me peace though, because all I really want in this life is for my kids to have the life they want to live. I can't lie though, knowing that Will wanted to stay close to home (Kentucky), made it come as something of a shock to me when he started begging us to sign the paper work to let him join the military. I'm never truly whole without him here. Now that he wanted to make this move, even though it was with the National Guard, and not Active Duty, meant two things: 1. My prayer that none of my children would ever join the military wasn't going to come true, and 2. Now my time with Will would be even more complicated- scheduled around the 'needs of the Army' in every area of my life. I was a little hurt too. Why did he want to be a part of this world now, when he didn't want to be part of it living and traveling with me? Sometimes all you need is to wake up. Will is going to be 18. Then 19. Then 20. Then 30. and on and on and on. The time had come to practice what I preached. His life has never been about me, and truth be told, I wouldn't have it any other way. As a parent, your first instinct is to protect, protect, protect. Noble desire for sure, but also a noose in so many ways. Let up to me, I would just weigh him down. On his own, he can soar.

So I said ok. I signed the paperwork allowing my 17 year old to enlist with the Army National Guard. (It didn't happen quite so abruptly, but I will spare you the 47 phone calls between his father and I, and the 50 conversations I had with Thomas, and the no doubt, 60 convos between Craig and Lorri, and the million convos between any and every combination of us and Will.) A million times I've signed my name in my lifetime. Never has my signature held so much weight. For 18 years, I have tried to do everything in my power to ensure that Will is true to himself. So far, that's netted me an amazing kid who I can't even believe I'm blessed enough to know, let alone to have given birth to. He's smart, hilarious, athletic, and good. Really good. He's not perfect, but he's mine, and I believe in him. I have to have trust and faith in him from here on out. A watched pot never boils, and nothing can truly thrive if it's not given the space to do so. All of my love, hope, and pride means nothing if I don't shower my children with it. It's in God's hands now. He took a leap of faith in me not once, not twice, but three times. Now I have to have the faith in Him to believe that Will's military career will begin and end and he will have the rest of his life ahead of him for whatever next journey he chooses. Whatever it is, I will be on the sidelines cheering him on, no matter how near or far we are.

Life will never be the same...

2012-02-08T10:50:00.000-06:00

nor will my body for that matter.

Today is Parker's birthday. What better way to mark the anniversary of the birth of your children than by reminiscing about how ridiculously awful their entrance into this world was. Wait- am I the only one who does that? Surely not. I have always heard people say that you forget all about the pain once you lay eyes on those little blessings. I call bullshit. Was it worth it? Of course. Do I remember every minute of the hellish 17 hours of labor? Nope, but neither have I forgotten the pain!

Way back when I was just a child of 19 and preparing to give birth to Will, the hospital where I would be delivering required you to pay for your epidural in advance. Feeling very much like, 'this is what my body was created for', I opted against one. Right before I went into labor, I remember telling my mom that since she had five kids, I knew childbirth couldn't be that bad. Her response? "Oh honey, I was knocked out when you were born. The whole family knew what you were before I even woke up." Yikes. This did NOT sound promising, but again, I fully believed in my ability to give birth without an epidural- and I did. I did have a couple shots of stadol. I'm not sure in what dimension that is supposed to block the pain of your uterus turning inside out, but whatever.... Mostly they just made me see double. At any rate, I not only survived labor and delivery without an epidural, but it wasn't anything that I felt like I couldn't handle. I only lost my cool once- when I overheard my grandmother telling someone, "They might send her home." This was after they'd broken my water and inserted internal monitors. The mere mention of going home without a baby turned me into the exorcist. Sooo things I remember about the day Will was born:

1. Trying to stay focused on my 'focal point' while remembering to breathe. During much of this my sister was standing right in front of me with a sympathetic look on her face while she bobbed up in down in front of what I was trying to focus on. On second thought, she might have gotten snapped at too.

2. My mother repeatedly looking at the blood pressure monitor and then taking off running for the nurses. I had mild pre-ecclampsia. Let's just say, Mom didn't help my blood pressure.

3. Being hungry. Very hungry.

4. Finally having the baby and looking at Will for the first time. I was instantly hit with the feeling that he was his own person. My entire pregnancy I'd thought of him as an extension of me. Seeing him and realizing he was more than just my extension was amazing and oh so scary.

5. Begging for a cheeseburger, which I can be seen eating in the videos Vanessa shot. It was a long day for her too ;) But yes, most of the film from after Will's birth is people passing him around while oohing and aahing, and me sitting in bed shoving a burger and fries in my face while looking like a deer in headlights.

6. And finally, Will being taken to the nursery for the night and me being taken to a room to get some blissful sleep. Instead I stayed up all night waiting to lay eyes on my boy again.... Becoming a mother was sobering and scary, but the single, best moment of my life. It was love at first sight...

Fast forward a few years, and I'm expecting Parker. I'll never forget telling Will he was going to be a big brother, and more importantly his reply: You need to get fixed or something. You know like when we took the dog to the vet? Sadly our dog passed away while being spayed. I'm just going to assume Will wasn't thinking about that when he suggested that I go. I'd like to think that he changed his mind when he first held his baby sister, but I think I'd be fooling myself. Just a couple months ago he said, "When it was just me, I got 100% of your attention. Then you had Parker and I was down to 50%. When Jace came along I got 33.333333333% (I'm pretty sure that's the number he used,) of your attention, so it's a good thing you can't have any more or I'd be knocked down to 25%." That's my Willio... always thinking of others hahaha.

Anyway, while pregnant with Parker, I obviously had no intentions of having an epidural because labor and delivery with Will was fine. Throughout the years, I'd even scoffed at friends that had epi's because I thought they were weenies. It's probably occurred to you by this point that Karma would be biting me in the ass at any moment, and yes she did.

Labor with Will and Parker was remarkably similar. With both I started contracting at around 3-3:30 in the morning. Both were born within minutes of each other that evening. One at 7:39 pm, and one at 7:41. (Don't ask me which was which. These are the things I forget.) With both they had to break my water, and with both I was given pitocin to speed things up. Here is where things start to change- With Will I was ok with no epidural. With Parker, I would have traded her for anything that might possibly numb me. I didn't just think that, I actually said it at some point. Thank goodness no one took me up on the offer. I declined stadol because it didn't work with Will and just made things fuzzy. In the end, I went from 7 to 10 in a matter of minutes. Literally, 5-10 minutes. At some point in there they gave me a shot of something. When Parker came out I was pretty much high and afraid to hold her. I had to put a hand over one eye to try to see just one of her. It was bad business. This is where I start to forget, because I don't have a clue what happened for the next few hours, other than the only thing that was truly important to me was that Will be the first person to see her.

Sooooo after the horror of Parker's childbirth, I was NOT going to rule out an epidural when Jace came along. I hadn't firmly decided one way or the other, but it was definitely staying on the table. With Jace I had pre-e again, only this time worse. I started losing part of my field of vision, and so they admitted and induced me at 37 weeks, 5 days. At some point I did get an epidural, for two reasons- 1. Thomas talked me into it, probably so I'd stop yelling at him for just sitting in a chair eating anything he could find in a vending machine while playing on his iPhone, and 2. Because a lot of what happened after Parker was born was a blur, and I kept hearing these stories about women who had epidurals and had glorious, pain free deliveries and actually knew what the hell was going on. Even with Will, the end was just a blur of pain and 'Please God make it end', so I wanted to see what was different.

First off let me say that so far I universally hate military hospitals. There may come a time when I feel differently, but I wouldn't put money on it. With Jace, first of all no one knew how to hook up the internal monitors. Because I was on pitocin and magnesium for my bp, it was important to be able to monitor him... I don't remember how many people were crouched down there trying to hook it up, but I wouldn't be surprised to find out they were bringing in the cleaning ladies to 'have a go at it'. Then came the epidural man. I had been assured that he was the best in the hospital and I was soooo lucky that he was working. Well I'm not so sure, because it took him two tries to get my epidural in the proper place. He then started accusing me of my spine being strange, because clearly he couldn't have just made an error... I don't know if it is or not, but I do know that you don't accuse a woman in labor of anything if you want to keep breathing. Finally with monitors and epi in place, I drifted off to lala land, and I liked it. I can remember as I was drifting off to sleep thinking, "Why didn't I do this with the first two?!" Famous last words.

At some point they came in to wake me up and check me. I had completely stopped dilating after getting the epi. I'd been at 4 when I went to sleep and now 5 hours later, I was still at 4. They bumped up the pitocin, and that's when things started getting crazy. First the internal monitor started going crazy. I think it beeped for at least five minutes before I noticed because the epi had worn off... Oh yes.... Pain, like a mind-numbing, primal, someone put me out of my misery pain, took over my entire body. At this point they are trying everything to get Jace where he can breathe. I spent what seemed like forever on my hands and knees while they tried to reposition him. I'm positive everyone in the hospital was in my room. There were at least 10 people at this point. The horror of all horrors was the fact that my cervix started swelling, and so instead of dilating I actually went from 8 back to 7. I vaguely remember someone giving me a shot in my arm to stop my contractions because Jace couldn't handle them... All this time the monitors were still going crazy, and when I could think, it was, "Why aren't they just getting this baby out?!" Apparently that's because none of the doctors in the hospital at that time were OBs. Yeah... It was a couple family practice doctors. When the OB finally showed up all I can remember thinking was "Praise Jesus, Hallelujah". I think I kissed the anesthesiologist. By the time I hit the OR, everything happened so fast that Thomas walked in right as they were pulling him out. He was completely purple. Thank God he started screaming and turning pink immediately, but to this day I think, 'What if the OB had been any later?!"

So while Jace was off being weighed and measured and all that good stuff, I was left with the doctors who were trying to repair the fact that they cut through my cervix when the made the incision. Oh, and btw I could also feel them sewing me up. Not like, "OMG I have a knife tearing into my abdomen pain!" But I could feel stinging every time they stuck the needle in and I was petrified it would suddenly get worse. The anesthesiologist insisted that I could not be feeling pain.... Since I begged to differ, his answer was to shoot me up with some versed so I'd shut up and go to sleep. Worked for me. We'll skim over the fact that I was severely anemic in the hospital and yet no one checked my blood again before discharging me. That trip back to the hospital a couple days later to be offered a transfusion so that I could walk up my stairs without feeling like I was having a heart attack was fun. You know in movies when someone is bleeding to death and they say, "It's so cold..." Yes, it is.

Soooo how does all this relate to today, Parker's 11th birthday? Because despite ridiculous pain, having total strangers up in your hoo-ha, stretch marks, ever present maternal guilt, and saggy boobs seems like a hefty price to pay, but it's not. I would have given more. I still would. Each of my children is the best part of me and the best thing I ever did. I would die for them. I will love them forever, without fail. I will immediately think of them any time I count my blessings. They are my everything, and the fact that I have given them life, feels like nothing compared to everything they've given me. No matter how many mistakes I've made, no matter whether I deserve them or not, God has given me these babies and they are amazing and the most perfect children for me. They are funny, smart, and perfectly imperfect, and I could not ask for more.

Long time no blog....

2012-01-20T12:47:00.000-06:00

Hola Amigos! This is my first blog from Texas and I'm still not sure that I'm ready... No matter how batty my kids drive me, since they are pretty much the only thing I blog and/or talk about, you've probably noticed that they are not only vital to my life, but also my identification in general. Moving to Texas without one of them basically makes it hard to breathe. Something about blogging about my life when part of it is missing is just harder than I can explain. The good news is, no matter how many miles are between us, Will still gives me material :)

The good news, and the bad news:

The good news is, technology makes it easier than ever to feel close to someone no matter how far away they are.

The bad news is, technology makes it easier to only call your mom when you want her to transfer money onto your debit card.

Honestly, even though I joke about it, I'll take what I can get. Whether I'm putting money on Will's card or sending him the code to an X-Box card that I just bought, it makes me feel like I'm still vital in his life even though I'm days (and by all appearances,) light years from home.

Speaking of light years, Welcome to Texas! Now that I've been here a few weeks, I have some observations to make. Actually the first observation came about while we were still traveling....

1. Texas is huge. Of the 1200 miles we traveled to get here, most of them were in Texas. I left Kentucky, and passed through Tennessee and Arkansas while it was still daylight. The rest of that glorious trip, (and by glorious I mean me, two kids, and a cat in a vehicle that was so packed I couldn't see out the windows,) was spent in Texas. Which brings me to my next observation.

2. For years I've been reading about how everything is bigger in Texas. Much has been made of it's size... I learned from my friend Jen that you can actually fit Texas into Alaska not once, but twice. You don't hear as much about that though, do ya? Wanna know why? Because much of Alaska is still in it's natural state and Alaska knows that you don't brag about the size of something unless you plan to use it. Which brings me to number 3.

3. The entire second day of our trip here was spent in a barren wasteland. As far as I can tell, once you get past Abilene-ish, it's mostly tumbleweeds, and final resting places of big, rusty, metal things. Honestly, I was ridiculously excited by the first tumbleweed I saw. I suddenly identified with Snoopy's brother Whatshisname who was besties with a cactus. When you've spent countless hours looking at nothing but dirt and wind turbines, a tumbleweed passing in front of your car is not unlike seeing the last inhabitant of a ghost town...

4. At some point I realized that I could probably ignore the speed limit and just drive as fast as I wanted. I came to this realization when I realized that there wasn't even a gas station for at least a hundred miles. Which begs the question- Hey Texas! Did you ever consider the thought of posting some sort of warning?! Something along the lines of "Get gas now, or you're about to be shit outta luck"? If you lack proper signage, you could spray it on the side of one of those big, rusty, metal things. I say without a trace of humor that God had to have gotten us to a gas station because my gas light was on for ummmmm an hour? Yeah. I can't remember what astronomical amount I paid for gas there, but I would have paid double. Seriously.

5. By the end of Day 2 two things happened. 1. We were home. Praise God. and 2. I was pretty sure I would never get in my car again.

6. El Paso is huge and I need to learn Spanish. Like yesterday. I practically had to do charades at Wal-Mart one day in order to find out that the checker was ready to close their lane. No amount of smiling and nodding fixes the fact that the checker is telling you they are closed and you are still unloading your cart...

Please excuse me while I go and downgrade my phone to one that doesn't have apps. Jace has been shoving my phone in my face and whining about race cars for the last 8 minutes....

Just in case you're thinking

2011-12-01T09:55:00.000-06:00

where in the world did LA get the title for her blog?? Remember this song?

There's a line in it that says, "Here's your life, welcome to it." For some reason, every time things get especially crazy, that line goes through my head. So now you know, and no more sleepless nights for you :) Now you'll also be able to envision me humming this song on a regular basis. The people around me are so fortunate.

Hold tight people! I'm about to make a shocking announcement!

2011-12-01T08:44:00.000-06:00

What I'm about to tell you has never been said before. Some of you will have trouble believing it- and trust me, I feel you, but it has to be said. **sigh** Here it goes:

Moms are people too.

Yep, I said it. Moms are people, and in prehistoric times they even had their own hobbies and interests... They were able to pursue those hobbies by simply sending the kids out to play fetch with the dinosaurs. Naturally you can't do that today because A) There are no dinosaurs, and B) Someone would surely call social services on you. While the rest of mankind has evolved, moms have devolved. No longer do we include basket weaving and animal skinning in our past times- now it's huddling in cold, miserable rain watching one of our kids sit on the bench, or something like "cooking" which is really just a fancy way of tricking yourself into believing you are pursuing your own happiness, but really you're just feeding people. (Disclaimer: There is no place I'd rather be than watching Will play soccer and I really do love to cook. Coincidence? I think not.)

Ok, so I know some of you are skeptical. I was too. Why just this morning I went out in 26 degree weather to scrape ice off my son's windshield so he wouldn't have to before school. Did I get thanks for this? No. Instead I got that look that only teenage children can give their aging, be-dumb-ified mothers, because of my choice of ice scraper. His deodorant. What? I thought it was ingenious! I couldn't find the ice scraper- there was his deodorant on the seat of his truck, which btw what's that about??! It's not like I had it opened or something and it worked like a charm. I also turned his truck on so it would be warm and toasty for him on the way to school. All that elicited was a complaint about the gas I used. Mmmhmmm. This from the same kid that you might remember wanted me to follow his bus 40 miles with a pair of shorts so he didn't have to tell his coach he forgot them. Not to mention that I give him a small fortune in gas money myself! I said all that to say this: Moments like this make it very hard to believe that mothers are indeed people... It's still true though.

Some of you are not skeptics... You have been saying from the beginning 'of course mothers are people. That's not breaking news!' For you, I offer up more proof that mothers are ranked just above sweat shop workers in third world countries, and that is only because we have better accommodations. It is widely believed that:

1. Mothers' phones charge themselves. That or we don't need phones to begin with. I think it's the former though because how else would they call us 5 minutes before lunch to say, "I don't have any lunch money!!!"? Yes, I know that sounds crazy, but judging from the fact that I have never plugged my phone in and found it still charging when I came back, I can only deduce that that is the belief. Even if my battery is completely dead and someone else's is half charged, they still take precedence. I think the only solution is to get rid of anything in the house that requires my charger with the exception of my phone. Bye-Bye iPhones and iPods! It's a rotary dialer for you until you learn to keep your own charger handy!

2. Mothers don't have to pee when they wake up. True story. Therefore if your current abode only has one bathroom it is perfectly acceptable to lock yourself in there while you spend 12 minutes trying to push down the same piece of hair. If your mom asks you to remove your booty from the bathroom long enough for her to use it, this is the proper response: Why do you always have to pee when you wake up?! **sigh** I don't know, I suppose I'm a freak of nature.... I'm afraid moms are going to continue to devolve 'til the point where they send us out with the dog in the morning. Won't that be pretty?

3. Moms know everything, or they know nothing. It depends on the child. According to the 3 year old, I should be a walking Wikipedia. Which I am of course. We all know anyone can say whatever they want on Wikipedia which means that the crazy answers I give Jace are completely acceptable. Why don't birds hit their heads on airplanes? Invisible force fields. What? It works. Alternatively, I'm pretty sure Parker and Will are amazed that I've even survived this long, what with my limited knowledge of... well... everything.

4. Moms don't get cold. Or if they do, they shouldn't humiliate their children by wearing anything that keeps you warm, yet might be uncool. The other day I made a comment about trying not to embarrass Parker when I dropped her off in the mornings- vague, but you'll get more of the story with number 5- to which Parker replied, "Well I was completely embarrassed when you wore that weird, sweat band thing on your head...." It was one of those knit things that keeps your ears warm. Sue me for having cold ears.

5. It doesn't matter what moms look like. Alternatively, it totally matters what moms look like because the things they wear are always able to make or break the social status of tweens and teens. When I made the comment about trying not to embarrass Parker when I dropped her off in the morning, it was in response to Will's wonderment that I actually want to see myself in the mirror for 20 seconds in the morning before I leave the house. The nerve of some mothers... thinking that they have to see themselves before they leave the house. It's no wonder kids today are so crappy- it's all these selfish moms...

and 6. Moms don't have feelings. If Mom comes home with new hair, clothing, shoes, or make-up, it's a green light for blatant honestly regardless of whether or not Mom asks... Now Parker frequently asks me how she looks- if I say anything other than, "Great!" she's pissed. No matter how nicely I try to say that just because the Disney kids get away with wearing polka dots, stripes and plaid all at the same time, it doesn't translate so well in real life, she is highly offended. I have yet to figure out why she even asks me... At any rate, anytime I get a haircut I feel all cute and awesome right up until I pick Parker up from where ever she might be. Instantly I get 'the look'. You know- the one with the wrinkled nose that either means 1) You stepped in dog poo or 2) You've once again managed to make yourself look like a clown in front of the entire world. Yeah, that look. It's always followed by:
P: (eyebrows raised, disdain impossible to not read) Did you get your haircut?

Me: No, terrible mishap involving a goat.... Ok, I really don't say that. Most of the time. I usually say, Yes, you don't like it?

P: (looking the other way as eye contact will burn her retinas) Ummm... I just have to get used to it.

Translation: Please don't get out of the car for at least two weeks.

I haven't done a very good job of making my case about moms being people, have I? Maybe it's just wishful thinking... Either way, I'm about to let every child in this house know it's true :)

17 years of experience, and yet I still don't know what I'm doing...

2011-11-07T12:25:00.000-06:00

Yesterday I had a nervous breakdown. Just a mini one unfortunately. It would be kinda nice to have one of the major ones that would result in a vacation at the local psych ward where I am sure I would find more sanity than my home offers most days.

Most of my life is spent in a "kumbaya" state of mind where I 'don't sweat the small stuff' and all those other cute li'l sayings that make me wanna vomit on the days when my 'attitude of gratitude' is MIA. Why is it that life can being rolling along nicely and then suddenly you are hit with just an overwhelming feeling that the only thing missing in your life is you?! While 99% of the time I am fine with being known as someone's mom, or SFC Hollen's wife, that 1% of the time when I miss just being me can come out of nowhere and hit pretty hard. Yesterday was one of those days. I really, really hate it when those days hit, because I don't believe in living life wishing for anything other than what I have, but there is a little catharsis in being the one crying, "What about meeee????!!!!!" every once in a while :)

I've been a parent for a while now. Over 17 years to be exact. (Hmmm, I guess "over 17 years" isn't what some might call 'exact', but it works for me, and this is my blog gosh darnit.) In any other 'profession' 17+ years of experience would make you an expert at what you do. When it comes to being a mom, not so much. It's all trial and error, and mostly error. I think most of us have a list in our heads of what we will not do as a parent that is based on our experiences growing up. As an adult, that list shrinks because you realize stuff like having to clean your room isn't a form of torture and/or abuse. There is stuff on my list that I still feel is valid though. I just can't seem to find the middle ground between being the type of parent who would do anything for their children, and being the family doormat. In my quest to try to remember what it's like to be their age, and the value in supporting their dreams even if I know the odds are against them, it seems like I've not done a very good job of teaching them that in this family we are all a necessary part of the team, and no- you are not the MVP. Basically this means I have three kids who have no idea that the world does not in fact rotate around them. My life in a nutshell:

If I lie down, someone needs something. If it's Jace, the older two have either A) suddenly become deaf and can't even hear him asking, or B) help him out but make sure to complain loudly because their TV watching, book reading, game playing, etc. has been interrupted. If I start to jump in the shower, Parker was just headed that way. If I have to use the bathroom, someone else needs to more. If the dog needs to go out, it's ok if I have to completely get dressed first, because Heaven knows that expecting one of your kids to do the same is like a fate worse than death.

You know our current living situation is little old lady in the shoe meets any given episode of Hoarders, but Parker refuses to believe that she can in fact get dressed in any room other than the bedroom. She fully expects anyone who's in there to immediately stop what their doing and evacuate so she can get her clothes on. Will on the other hand, will drop his towel no matter where he happens to be and just yell for everyone to avoid that room 'til he's dressed. Both of them seem to believe that taking their clothes to the bathroom with them and getting dressed there after they shower is foolish and emotional abuse. Jace is just Jace. His middle name is after Thomas' great-grandfather who was nicknamed Boss. Had I known that Jace would feel compelled to live up to that reputation, I would have named him something else... Obviously somewhere along the way I have failed them big time as a parent. What else is new?

What does all this have to do with yesterday's breakdown? I'm getting there, I promise. Yesterday was like any other day. Will and Parker were celebrating the life of leisure that they feel is their birthright, (seriously the princes Wm and Harry probably feel less entitled than my kids,) and Jace was being a holy terror. I had mountains of homework, a house that wouldn't let me rest until it was clean, and a flatulent dog with diarrhea. What happens when you mix flatulence with diarrhea, you might ask. One word: Sharting. FML. Add to that the fact that I am so popular in my home that no one can be more than two steps away from me at any given time, and you get a basket case waiting to happen. As I was trying to get ready to go to a movie (Footloose. Funny stuff, though I'm pretty sure it wasn't supposed to be. Angry ballet, anyone?) the dog needed to go out one more time so I asked Will to take her out. Cue scene of dramatic collapse:

Will: Ok, but I'm not going in the yard because I don't want to get my new shoes dirty.

Me: Well you have to go in the yard because she uses the bathroom in the very back.

**I look outside and see Will trying to figure out a way to hovercraft himself to the designated bathroom area. By all appearances he thought he could simply Go Go Gadget the arm holding the leash and Molly would be able to reach the back of the yard. In a move that pretty much sums up my entire parental shortcomings, instead of making him prance his ass out there, I succumbed to my usual, "I'll do it myself!" huff. So now I'm back there trying to get Molly to go to the bathroom- btw, what is up with all the turning and sniffing??!! Anyway, as I'm at the back of the yard with Molly, Jace decides he has to have a ball that is dangerously close to Molly's 'bathroom'.

Me: Jace, don't go back there, you'll step in dog poop.

Jace: I have to get this ball.

Me: No, you don't. We are getting ready to leave. Go back to the house.

Jace: But I 'meed' it.

Molly- turning, sniffing, turning, sniffing, turning, sniffing.....

At this point for some reason I start crying. Not full fledged boo-hooing, that came moments later. I give up on Molly using the bathroom, tell Jace to get in the house, and I sniffle my way across the yard. The only good thing is that even though Jace wouldn't stay away from the ball, he didn't step in poop. The only bad thing? I did. Wth? By this point, I'm on the front porch, where I am full on sobbing, while kicking my shoes off and hurling them across the yard. Parker, Jace and Will are staring at me like I've grown another head. If I could have heard the thoughts going through their minds, I'm sure it would have gone something like this: Ok, is Mom hurt, or is the nervous breakdown she's been threatening for years now? Which totally reminds me of the other day. Apparently anytime my kids are fighting I say either, "I'm running away, or I'm gonna blow my brains out." (Go on, add that to the parental failure list. See if I care.) This particular day, I used the brain blowing threat to which Will replied, "All talk, no action." Ahahaha, yes. Retched little monsters that they are, I love my kids..... At least they "get" me.

Anywho- so while I'm lying in bed sobbing hysterically and saying stuff like, "I can't do it all myself, and I never have a second to myself," Jace is on top of me saying, "Aww Mommy, it's ok." Cute in retrospect. Parker decides that she should get Jace off me and let me have my tantrum in peace. After a minute I pull myself together and start trying to undo the mess caused by my torrential downpour. Like it really matters what I look like. I'm barely even human... I'm the mythical creature known as a mom.... Anyway, I look out the window and there is Jace getting that effing ball that he was after in the first place. In between my first thoughts of "who will watch my kids while I go on an adult's only all inclusive retreat" and my gut impulse to beat my head against the wall I hear this:

Jace: Ewwwwwww!!!!! There is poop on my toes! It's diarrhea!!!

Which brings me to my final parenting bummer. In every other situation in life there is such joy in saying, "I told you so." Not so for a mom. All it means for a mom is that there's another mess to be cleaned....

If only all this had happened after I watched "Footloose". I could have avoided all the tears and just stomped around pulling at my shirt and tossing my hair. Added stress release if you can find a chain hanging from a ceiling somewhere that you can swing yourself around on with lots of smoldering drama.... At least it seemed to work in the movie. **sigh**

Hey Kid! Yeah, you in the blue- go clean your room!

2011-10-27T13:45:00.000-05:00

Growing up with four older siblings, my mom called me a variety of names. The only time I can remember being truly offended is the day she called me "Kevin". I mean, calling me by one of my sister's names was one thing, but my brother's? Not cool. My grandmother Parker was just as bad. I think I briefly thought my name was "Heather Amy Leigh Anne"... Both mix-ups were understandable though. My mom had five kids, and my gramma enjoyed her vodka. These are both handy excuses for being a li'l forgetful.

(I'm fighting my urge to go off on another tangent at this point. I'm really working on my ability to focus on one subject at a time, but I'll just say that if you wanna live to be 95, forget all those vitamins and that healthy living BS. Vodka, Charles Chips and Breyer's Ice Cream is the way to go- at least it worked for Gramma Parker.)

Back on track! So while I know that it can be normal to call your kids by the wrong name from time to time, I really thought I'd be able to bypass that hoopla. I mean I'm sure my kids will have enough material for their therapist someday without having 'Mom used to call me by the cat's name' on the list. Yeah. Here I was offended over being called my brother's name and my kids are lucky if they get called by a human's name instead of an animal's... My personal favorite is when I start to call one of the kids and my mind goes into what I call russian roulette mode. It just keeps spinning and spinning, but unfortunately no bullets are in the chamber. That's when this happens: Hey, um.... Wwwww... uh.... um... huh. Um, Hey kiddo! This is usually followed by a look from the kid that is along the lines of, "WTF?! Did my mom really just forget my name?!" Sad, but true. I blame my self-diagnosed ADD. What, you didn't know I was a doctor? Honey, in the days of google and WebMD, everyone is. Now if only I could write prescriptions...

Now I'm totally thinking about that joke where the woman has a bunch of kids and they all have the same name. When someone asks her what she says when she wants to call a particular kid she says, "Oh I just call them by their last name." Ahahahaha. I so shoulda done that. I mean if you're gonna be dysfunctional, you might as well have fun with it, right?

We did recently add a new family member. Thomas rescued a dog he found on the side of the road, so please welcome Molly Molly Bo Bolly Banana Fana Fo Folly, to the Hollen family. So far she is the most well behaved member we have. I'm considering dropping the kids off in the woods for a couple days to see if they come out with good attitudes too. What? I'll go back for them, jeeze. Some people are so uptight... Anyway, the only issue so far, is that Molly and Harpo like to fight. I have to admit that I laughed hysterically today when I saw Molly walk by the couch and Harpo lean down from where he was sitting on the back of it, to slap her upside the head on her way by. I could just do without the times that I'm trying to concentrate on something and they are stampeding through the house like it's the running of the bulls. I mean, isn't it enough that Will and Parker fight like it's their job?

--another tangent-- would it be shocking if say, a mother were to rip the television of the wall, and throw it out the front door while yelling, "Bet you wish you could have agreed on a show now, don't you?!"? I mean, I don't know anyone who would ever do something like that, I'm just making conversation :) -- end tangent--

Anyway, so remember that I'm currently living in shoe box until we move to Texas in a couple months? Right- so now there are me, Will, Parker, Jace, Harpo and Molly in said shoe box. Last night I actually slept in a full-sized bed with Parker, Jace and Molly. I'm not sure if you've ever attempted to sleep with a paw up your rear, one kid upside down in the bed, and the other with their foot on your face, but let's just say that it's not what I would call a 'restful' sleep. More like one long night of thinking to myself, "is this really happening, or am I getting punk'd?" For reals, I'm going to start wearing make-up to bed, just in case Ashton Kutcher pops out of somewhere... When we get to Texas I'm going to lock myself in my bedroom for at least three days where I will attempt to deprogram myself. Really. It's not natural for a 36 year old woman to believe her favorite shows are "Wizards of Waverly Place" and "Good Luck Charlie". It's like a Stockholm Syndrome type of thing where I've just acknowledged that I will NOT choose what is on the TV as long as we are living here, so I might as well convince myself that I love it.

My eyes are drifting shut as I type, so Peace Out What-cher-names!

Kids. Can't live with 'em...

2011-10-17T09:29:00.001-05:00

can't afford to put them in boarding school...

Soo there has been a drought in the Hollen House of Hilarity, (Horrors or Hormones. Pick your own "H", they all apply.) Either my kids haven't been as funny lately, or my sense of humor has been MIA. More than likely it's just me, right? As usual though, when it rains it pours so here is the blog that you've been eagerly waiting for. By you I mean you, Jen ;)

I think a country musician should start singing about parenting. I have a list of possible song titles:

Acorns in My Dryer

There's a Reason You Never Get Those Cute, Li'l Photo Cards From Me at Christmas (Seems long but this is country so it works.)

Why, Why, Why?

There's a Tear in my Yoo-Hoo

What About Me???!!!!!

What Shoes Should I Wear?

You Were Adopted

Don't See Me

and my personal favorite-

You're Mom's Favorite, No You're Mom's Favorite

Now I'm no professional writer, so I don't do lyrics. However, I do have some story line suggestions :)

**Acorns in My Dryer? Naturally this song would be about all the random things you find in the laundry when you have kids. The list should include:

1) Acorns. Especially if your 3 year old has a thing for "nuts". Yeah. Do NOT attempt to empty his pockets with his knowledge. The end result is tears, trauma, and a host of other "T" words like tantrum. **Shudder**

2) iPods. It is important to note however, that if expensive electronic gadgets are found, then this part of the song should include something along the lines of, "Mom is an idiot... She doesn't check my pockets." Alternatively, this song could also be about wives in which case you would substitute, "Mom" with "Wife". At no point however, should you EVER even so much as imply that the individual who put the said object in their own pocket should carry any responsibility. Only Mom/Wife. The chorus should include the phrase, "Quick! Throw it in a bag of rice!" Catchy, isn't it?!

3) Random bits of paper: Extra bonus if any of this paper is later called, "homework".

4) Money. Whatever you do though, do NOT let out the secret that any money found in the laundry belongs to the person washing it. I am slowly building my empire, one load at a time.

**Photo Cards. This song would be about those sweet cards people send you at Christmas featuring their kids and assorted pets all looking at the camera with an aura of love and happiness. Obviously those kids are paid. This is what happens when I try to take pictures of my kids:

Yesterday was a beautiful day, full of sunshine and leaves falling. I thought it was the perfect opportunity to get some pics of the kiddos while enjoying the scenery down at LBL. Fun for all, right?? Wrong. First of all, Parker is the only one who will pose. She'd be happy to be the star and sole occupant of all family photos, but then I feel crappy because the boys are missing. As of now though, I'm over that. Parker is now the "face" of the Hollen family and will be representing us as a whole :) This is what the boys do:

Will: Family pictures? (Said in the same tone you might say, "Worms for dinner?") Why??!!

Me: Because I would like to have pics of my kids. Duh.

Will: Well you're not putting any of them on facebook.

Me: Ok, well A) I'll put whatever I want on my facebook, but I won't tag you, and B) is your family really that humiliating??

I mean really, are we? What is it about having your picture made with your brother and sister that inspires fear of public humiliation? Is Will the only teenager known to man to actually have a family? Is that what it is? Like it's embarrassing for someone to find out you have siblings or **gasp** parents? Gee thanks. I remember being a young mom and thinking that one of the bonuses would be the fact that I would be this young, hip mom that Will would be proud to have. It's obvious now that the fact I even thought the word "hip" eliminated that possibility.

Soo as they say, you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink. Here that translates to, you can force your kid to pose for pics, but you can't make him look normal. 99.9% of all pictures involving Will are one of two things. He's either posing like a pin-up- think hip thrust out with one hand on it, the other hand up by his lips while he makes a kissy face, or he's making some other ridiculous face. Personally, I am no longer going to even attempt to get pictures of him looking normal. I'm going to take what I'm given and then I'm going to put every single one of them on facebook, tag him, make one my profile pic, post on his wall, print out flyers to hang around town, and have announcements made to send to all my friends with small children. "Enjoy them now- soon they'll be teenagers! Blech!"

Then there's Jace. After I'd all but given up my photographic dreams yesterday, I tried to take a picture of Jace from behind. It was completely unposed, he was staring out over the lake and it was precious. He saw me out of the corner of his eye and took off running, yelling, "No!!! Don't take pictures of me!!" Apparently he's Amish and didn't tell anyone. Who knew?

**Why, Why, Why

This is self-explanatory for any parent. If the songwriter could include answers to the 97 bazillion questions that toddlers ask, that song would go platinum immediately.

**There's a Tear in My Yoo-Hoo

Again, self-explanatory. Every event in life does not have to include tears. Not toddler tears, not hormonal tween girl tears.... No tears. Period.

**What About Me???????

What about me... the favored question of siblings everywhere. This song should include something about Christmas cards being sent out with a picture of only one child, while the other two cry, "What about me??" The chorus could be, "Because you wouldn't pose, or I don't love you anymore. Which one is it??!!!" Ahahahaha- sometimes parenting is fun :)

**What Shoes Should I Wear?

This is another favorite question in my house. Actually I'm pretty sure Parker has NEVER gotten dressed one, single time without asking me, "What shoes should I wear?" The funny thing is she generally hates my taste and rejects all my suggestions until I finally list the shoe she wanted to wear all along. I have told her more than once to not ever ask me again so now she does this, "Mom, I know you hate it when I ask, but umm... what shoes should I wear?" Maybe I'll just donate every pair of shoes but one... Sounds like a winner to me!

** You Were Adopted

Will has been trying to convince Parker from birth that she is adopted. I'm not sure what about this is supposed to be an issue, but apparently it is because I can remember my own siblings trying to convince me of the same when I was little. If that's the case, I'm going to start looking for my "birth" parents immediately and pray that they are now filthy rich.

** Don't See Me. This song will be about toddlers who make their parents accompany them to the bathroom, you know to protect them from the "ghosts". These same toddlers don't like to be seen while using the bathroom so they call you in there and then point at a spot right outside the door where they tell you to stand with the instructions, "Don't See Me". It's almost like time-out. My particular station is by the washing machine, so I just look for money in pockets while I wait. I'm getting rich one trip to the bathroom at a time. I'm hoping the follow up tune, "Don't Wipe Me" is coming soon.

** You're Mom's Favorite, No You're Mom's Favorite.

If your two older children are both convinced that the other is your "precious, little angel", are you doing something really right, or really wrong? I've been pondering this for a while now. Just pondering, I don't intend to change anything. After all, even being seen in public with me is detrimental to their social status after a certain age, so what do I care? I feed, clothe, and steal money from their pockets. Isn't that my job? I tuck them in and kiss them good night, although Will has been air-kissing me for the last few years. He's either adopted some European flair, or thinks I have cooties. Speaking of, I just thought of two final tunes:

Everything I Needed to Know About Life, I Learned While Secretly Reading My Teenager's Text Messages

and

I Didn't Know Butt Dialing Could Get Me Grounded

Yeah. Enjoy those toddlers and don't have me arrested in a few years when Parker is a teenager and I won't let her out of a locked closet. It's for her own good, really!

Awww Mommy... it's just Mari-yo...

2011-09-12T11:53:00.000-05:00

I work from home. I have a website called www.theshoppinmom.com- If you haven't checked it out, you should. Really. No now, go on I'll wait. Great!

Now working from home is freaking awesome. It's also close to impossible. For all the benefits of being able to be home with your child, work in your pj's, and keep up with your 12 current games of 'Words With Friends', there's also the fact that you're home where you are surrounded by other things that need to be done and your kid(s) is/are there. **sigh**

Adding a merchant to my site is really easy- it literally just takes a few clicks and then waiting for stuff to load. In reality it goes like this:

*Click download- estimated time says 2 minutes- just enough time to empty the dryer, refill it, and reload the washing machine.

*Click another download- hmmm... this one is only gonna take 30 seconds, but I can't stop looking at those dirty dishes in the sink, so I'll wash them in the meantime. This results in a vicious cycle of: wash a couple dishes/ dry hands/ check progress/ click download/ repeat. Did I mention that Jace is also hanging on my leg during much of this? He LOVES to wash dishes. **sigh**

*Click another button- realize that I haven't folded the clothes I took outta the dryer. Now they're going to be a big flippin' mess if I don't do it now.

*Elapsed time- 27 minutes. Time it should have taken- 4 minutes.

Adding to all this fun is the often heard, "I'm hungry" or it's partner, "I'm thirsty". A new addition is "Come to the bathroom with me" because Jace has decided it's 'scare-wee' in there. Oh, and the dryer just dinged again, so back to that...

I decided the other day that I could get a lot done if I gave Jace Parker's DS to play with. I charged it and then surprised him with it just as he was harassing me yet again over who knows what. This presentation brought much happiness just as I anticipated.... There was a lot of yelling "Yay", jumping up and down, and then this li'l gem of a phrase, "Mommy... sometimes I love you!!!" Sometimes? **sigh** At any rate, Jace went to play and mission accomplished! Only I forgot one little thing... He always needs my help at some point. Cue the phrase, "Mom! Play my game!"

Jace is really pretty good at Mario for a 3 year old- at least I think so. I haven't really polled the 3 year old community for Nintendo wizards, but my gut instinct tells me that my kid is superior, as always :) He only needs help every once in a while.... Like when he's swimming, which naturally is his favorite thing. So I've pretty much mastered the exact timing to get through the world as fast as possible and to the end where I pass the DS back to Jace so he can jump on the flagpole. Story of my life- I do all the work, someone else gets all the glory. C'est la vie... (I really can't even remember what that means, it just seemed to fit. If it doesn't, disregard.)

So inspite of my mad Mario skills, sometimes I die... then I hear this:

Jace: (patting me on top of my head) It's ok Mommy...it's just Mari-yo. Now do it again.

Me: **sigh**

Jace: Mommy, what's wrong? You just jump on the bugs. It's ok. You're good grill.

Then I think to myself, sometimes it doesn't even pay to get outta bed... but then I remember I'm in the bed 'cause I moved there so I wouldn't be constantly distracted by the fact that the kitchen needs to be mopped. Which reminds me that I really need to go mop the bathroom. Apparently people frown on un-toilet training your kid, which I think is lame, but whatev. (I've turned into a high school girl at some point during this blog. I wonder if this is it?! The time I really am gonna lose my mind like I've been telling the kids would happen since they were born. Will I get to go to the looney bin?? Yay!!! A vacation!!!)

Where was I? I don't have a clue, but I did just remember a funny story. Once we were at a church dinner. They had these big, long tables where you were sitting with a mix of people. Everyone was telling funny stories and then Will popped up with this li'l gem:

Will: Mom, remember when you were waving your arms in the air like this and saying, "I'm going crazy! I'm going crazy!"?

Awkward silence. Yeah.

And then one more story while we're talking about my kids humiliating me in public places:

When Parker was about three, we went out to eat with a friend. Parker had this really cute way of saying her prayers at night, and so I asked her to show my friend. Apparently Parker thought this was 'Night at the Improv' **sigh** She jumped up on her chair, and in the loudest voice possible, began to pray:

"God... you're a good God... but you could be a better God... I'd like more toys, and a bigger house..."

that was about the point where I started dragging her off the chair. The rest is kinda a blur.

Ok, well I'm gonna round up this cluster of a blog and attempt to get some work done just as soon as I beat this world, fold those clothes and mop the kitchen and the bathroom. C'est la vie!

I don't want to be the kind of mom who puts a timer in the bathroom....

2011-09-09T10:38:00.001-05:00

but I'm about to become the kind of mom who puts a timer in the bathroom. Seriously.

For the last four years, we've lived in Georgia where we had a 4 bed, 3 bath home. I thought I appreciated the amount of space we had, but now I REALLY appreciate it. In May we decided to move back to my hometown temporarily while my husband is in school in OK. Since we are going to be moving to Texas in December, we went ahead and sent our belongings to be stored in Texas. Thinking it would be better for everyone for us to have our own place while we were here, I rented an apt. A very small apt. It seemed to make sense, especially considering the fact that I had no furniture with me haha. **sigh**

Ok, so it still makes sense. We have borrowed some items of furniture from family members, but no one had enough extra beds lying around to furnish a four bedroom home here, and I'm sure as heck not buying what I already have sitting in storage in another state! There's just one problem. I feel like the little, old woman who lived in a shoe... I actually said that aloud one day which prompted the following comments:

Parker to Will: And you're the bug in a rug.

Will to Parker: Well you're the butt in a hut.

Anywho- while I'm grateful- oh so grateful- for being here now, I feel a little bit like I'm on an extended camping trip. BTW, I'm not a huge fan of camping unless restrooms are provided, and with one bathroom for four people, that's sometimes not a reality....

Especially in the morning. I suppose if we had unlimited bathrooms and unlimited hot water, I wouldn't have an issue with Will and his 20 minutes showers. Unfortunately, neither of those apply. For one thing, people have to pee in the morning. Shocking, I know. In Will's defense, he does set his alarm to get up before everyone else so he can get his business outta the way, but when you gotta go, you gotta go... The scene from this morning:

As I'm squinting, trying to adjust to daylight and the day in general, I catch a glimpse of Parker outta the corner of my eye. She's doing what I like to call the potty dance.

Parker: Mom, I have to go to the bathroom and Will's in there!

Me: Well, I guess you'll just have to wait.

Parker: (hopping from foot to foot with a look of extreme agony on her face, because apparently that helps) But I have to go now!

Me: Ok, well we only have one bathroom.... Are you wanting a bucket, or what? (I'm not so very gracious before noonish.)

Parker: No, I just have to go, but he's in there.

At this point, I'm wondering exactly what I'm missing. I'm tracking that Parker has to pee and Will is in the bathroom... What I'm not tracking is how this is my problem. **sigh**

Me: (knocking on the bathroom door) Will, hurry up, Parker needs to use the bathroom!

Will: (yelling from the shower) Well I set my alarm to get up early.

Me: (puzzled look on my face... wondering what that has to do with the price of tea in China...) Ok, well that's great, but she still has to pee, so can you hurry up?

Will: (grumbling unintelligibly)

I go back to my room... Two seconds later, the potty dance is once again taking place in my peripheral, and I'm debating telling her to walk to the bleepin' gas station haha. I didn't. But I'm not gonna lie, it crossed my mind.

Will finally emerges from the bathroom, grumpy look on his face and all, and Parker manages to get her business done. I'm still irritated though, because quite honestly, I can't even imagine how I would fill up 20 minutes of time in the shower. I mean you get in, you get wet, you soap up, you rinse off. How long can that take??!

Soo yeah... I'm about to set a timer in the morning, and I'm considering investing in a Port-a-Potty. I don't think my neighbors would mind too much... I'm sure this will all result in my kids sitting in front of a therapist someday telling about the atrocities of having a time limit on bathing, but at least it will keep them alive, and quite frankly, I'm sure I've done worse for them to complain about...

This just in from Jace:

Mom, can you help me take my shirt off? (Holds up hands, clearly covered in vaseline which is a MAJOR no!) I have hot dogs on my hands.

**sigh** I'm trying not to feel offended by what he thinks of my intelligence. He is only 3 after all.

What do you do all day??

2011-09-08T13:52:00.001-05:00

and other things that annoy me....

Because I know that all you want outta life is my happiness, a list of things that make me crazy :) :

1. Constant complaining. *sigh** (There will be lots of sighing today.) Look people, no one likes a Negative Nellie. Sure, we all have complaints from time to time, but when you find something to complain about all day, every day, you make me crazy. You know that expression, "Misery loves company"? It sure does. In fact it loves other negative people more than anything in this world. Know what that means? It means if you find yourself surrounded by a bunch of negative whiners, you too are a negative whiner. Not to be all Pollyanna and shiz on you, but you reap what you sow in everything- not just actions, but also attitude. So cheer the blank up!

2. For this one, I've chosen a poem. Perhaps one of my least favorite poems in the world: Things Not To Say to a Military Wife

a. 1. "Aren't you afraid that he'll be killed?"
Well aren't you? It's a legit question. Is it the most sensitive question a person can ask a woman who's hubby just deployed? Probably not, but then again I've said some insensitive things from time to time myself, so I'm not gonna judge you.

b. 2. "I don't know how you manage. I don't think I could do it."

Seriously ladies, just say thank you. It's intended to be a compliment, so just take it that way. If you weren't so busy trying to manage everything on your own, you wouldn't be so freakin' sensitive that a simple statement like this sets you off. It is hard. People who don't live this life probably do wonder how you do it. Just tell them the truth.... lots of alcohol is involved. (I kid... I kid...)

c. 3. "At least he's not in Iraq."

Granted, this one can be a little irritating depending on your man's job. But, the intent behind it is good, and really that's all that matters. It's not necessary to come unglued. Maybe if we work on our PR a little, military wives can stop being considered emotional basket cases by others. Duh.

d. "Do you think he'll get to come home for Christmas / anniversary / birthday / birth of a child / wedding / family reunion, etc.?"

Ummm wow.. This really is a highly offensive question, because everyone who is not affiliated with the military already knows the answer, right? Wrong. I mean think about it. I didn't grow up a military brat. I didn't know squat about this life until I married into it. I'm sure I asked others that same question. It wasn't out of anything other than a sincere hope that they would be able to be around for that stuff.

e. "What are you going to do to keep yourself busy while he's gone?"

Oh jeez... this really offends people? Just get over yourself and answer the question. Whether it's get a job, or sit around and eat bon-bons all day, it's harmless.

f. "How much longer does he have until he can get out?"

Wait. This is offensive? Crap, I just asked someone this yesterday. I had no idea asking how much longer someone had left was a violation, but I'll be sure to add it to my military wives handbook, and try to remember to feel slightly offended the next time someone asks me the same question.

g. "This deployment shouldn't be so bad, now that you're used to it."

Ugh. Ok, yes having your hubby gone for months on end in a danger zone is never fun no matter how many times you've done it. This is the one and only time you can tell someone they are an idiot haha.

h. "My husband had to go to Europe for business once for three weeks. I totally know what you're going through."

In her mind, she does understand. For three weeks, she had the weight of her world solely on her shoulders. For three weeks, she did it all with no relief and missed her man the whole time. She might have worried for his safety. She might have prayed his flight would land safely. She might have sat by the phone waiting for it to ring. So what if it's short term? She's trying to identify, and in doing so let you know that she knows just how hard it can be. Let her. Life is subjective. Again, get over yourself. You don't own the royalties on missing your man.

g. "Wow, you must miss him."

It's called making conversation, and btw let's be realistic, you enjoy not cooking dinner a couple nights as much as the next gal. ;)

h. "Where is he exactly? Where is that?"

Just say I don't know, or be general. Whatever... just don't act all secret squirrel. It's annoying, even to other military wives.

i. "Well, he signed up for it, so it's his own fault whatever happens over there."

Hmmm... has anyone ever really said this to someone? Like face to face? I can't imagine that went over well....

j. "Oh, that's horrible ... I'm so sorry!"

Just say thank you. Or don't. But spare them an hour long lecture on the sacrifices of the military family.

We do sacrifice- every one of us; the service member, the spouse, and perhaps most of all the children; but can't we do that graciously? Can't we do it with a hug or a thank you to people who care enough to even pause to ask how we're handling things? Our men have a job to do, but so do we. We need to be here representing them on the home front. Not with an attitude of entitlement, but just as people who happened to fall in love with a guy who gets to wear that sexy uniform to work every day. So stop thinking you're the star of a hit Lifetime show, and start remembering what it's like to just be a person who sometimes says the wrong thing, just like everyone else.

Who is that crazy lady chasing the school bus??!!

2011-09-07T09:08:00.001-05:00

Oh, that's just Will's mom... **sigh**

So Will is my forgetful child... When I say 'forgetful' I mean to the extent that I've often wondered if one can be born with Alzheimer's. He regularly forgets everything from where to put his dirty clothes, to any and everything needed for school that day. You know the expression, "You'd forget your head if it wasn't attached"? That's Will. Seriously. The fact that Will forgets stuff CONSTANTLY means that people are pretty much fed up with it. At this point, even if it is an honest mistake there are consequences.

Yesterday morning Will texts me from his dad's to ask me about his soccer stuff- half of which was at my house, half of which was at the other. I told him that yes, his red shorts were at my house. A little bit later when Will rolls in for b'fast (welcome to Mom's Diner!!) I show him where I've laid out his shorts. He tells me he doesn't need the red ones because they are wearing white. Ok... well I would go ahead and put them in my jumbo sized soccer bag, but whatever. I go on about my day.

Yesterday afternoon I get the following frantic phone call:

Will: (mumble, mumble, unintelligible,) supposed to be wearing red shorts, (mumble, mumble,) thought they were at my dad's, now I don't have time to come by your house so please meet me at the school!

Me, being the good mama that I am, hop in the car to take them to the school... When I get there, the entire team is already on the bus, so I circle around and pull up behind it and call Will. While the phone is ringing, the bus starts pulling off....

Me: Will, tell them to stop for a sec and I'll run these up to you.

Will: No, they can't, just try to get beside us.

Uhhh... ok... is that even legal? And do I look like I went to the Dukes of Hazard driving school?! But whatever, I think I'll just catch them at the stop sign. So I tell Will to ask them to hold 2 secs at the stop sign. I'm seriously riding their bumper, shorts in hand. Will says, "No, they can't."

Hmmm... at this point, I'm thinking something is a li'l shady. I mean for one, I haven't heard Will ask anyone to hold, and for two, who doesn't have a spare second? At any rate, the bus blows through the first two stop signs. Well, I mean, the bus stopped, but for reasons that can only be attributed to Murphy's Law, there was no traffic, so everytime I got my door open, the bus was taking off again.

Ok.. there was one more stop coming up that was still in town, and it's at a busy crossroad, so I felt confident that I could accomplish Mission Shorts Toss. I call Will again:

Me: Ok, tell the kid in the back seat on the left to put his window down and hold his arm out when the bus stops.

Will: No Mom, I can't.

Me: %&$^$#&$ (a word most people probably don't say to their kids, but then again most people don't have my kids *sigh*) why can't you?? Tell him now!

Will: Mom, I didn't want anyone to find out I didn't have my shorts! I'll get in trouble.

Me: (^*&%$(*&()**^%$%#$%#@#$^&(*&)(*)(&*&%%&$$$# tell him to stick his arm out NOW!

Will: Please Mom, just follow us to Mayfield! (20 minutes away, 'cause gas is free ya know?)

Me: TELL. HIM. NOW.

Will: Ok....

Sooo by this point, the bus is stopped, the kid puts down his window, I jump out of my car and run. I've got the shorts all rolled up for maximum flight potential, and I'll be damned if yet again there was NO FREAKING TRAFFIC!!! This is UNHEARD of! **sigh** So here I am running beside the bus, while the entire team is staring out the window (but obviously not the bus driver). My efforts were fruitless, and at this point I said, forget it.

**ring ring**

Me: What do you want Will?

Will: Mom, I didn't want anyone to know. Now I probably won't start and it's all your fault.

::banging head into dashboard::

I'll spare you lecture that followed, including but not limited to, "It's MY fault you forgot your shorts??"

Ahhh Motherhood. The only role one can have in life in which everything that goes wrong in anyone else's life is all your fault. Well, that and being a wife. **sigh**

The Daily Jace: (said to anyone who will listen) The school bus kept running away from Mommy!!!!

No, those aren't boogers on my lips

2011-09-06T14:42:00.000-05:00

and other things that make me sigh...

If you look at pictures of me when I was about 3 years old, in most of them I'm sporting what looks like a kool-aid mustache. The reality is that my lips were chapped, along with all the skin around my lips... I said all that, to say this: At the moment I don't look much different than those old pics... Just a few more crow's feet, but the mouth? Definitely the same. My lips are so majorly, uncomfortably dry right now. I've been putting chapstick on like a mad woman but it's not been helping... Sooo last night as I was trying to fall asleep, I kept licking my lips. I knew while I was doing it that I was going to look like Lisa Rinna this morning, but did that stop me?? Nooooo.... So here I am with my not-so-cute inflated lipped, kool-aid mustache thingy going on. Sexy, I tell ya.

Why do kids have a knack for finding something you are self conscious about and making you feel like your worst fears are being realized? For instance, when Will was small he loved to tell me that my legs looked like "tree trunks". I'm sure it was relatively innocent in his li'l mind, but I felt like a lumberjack and often wondered how I even managed to get around with those massive redwood thighs of mine... **sigh**

So today, as I slather on copious amounts of chapstick and try to avoid licking my lips at all costs, I turn around to notice Jace up in my grill. Here's how it all went down:

(Jace peering intently at my top lip) (I'm trying to set a scene here, but I'm not a screenwriter, so use your imagination.)

Me: What are you doing?
Jace: There are boogers on your lip.
Me: ***sigh** No Jace, those aren't boogers, my lips are just chapped.
(More intent staring by Jace...)
Jace: No, they're boogers. Here, let me get it.
(Insert tiny hand rapidly approaching my lip with it's li'l pincher-like fingers.)
Me: No! Don't touch Jace! They hurt.
Jace: Mom, you have boogers on there, just let me get them!!!
Me: Wahhh... Wahh... (insert sobbing, moaning and gnashing of teeth.)

That pretty much sums it all up. I could go on about the fight that ensued, because that kid is not unlike his dad (a dog with a bone, I'm tellin' ya!) but I'm sure you get the picture. So now I have to get ready to take Jace to an appt and I feel like my lips are about as obvious as the hunchback's, er... hunchback. I don't guess it really matters, since I'm JustAMom after all, but damn.

On the plus side, I've lost 5.5 lbs since Saturday, go me! I only ate one cupcake at the bbq. (If you were there and saw me licking every bit of icing off the cupcake liner, don't judge.)

I'm off to take my sick kid to the doctor, and to perhaps invest in some heavy duty lip stuff while I'm out showing my disfigured self to the world. Enjoy your day~

Target Practice

2011-09-05T10:25:00.001-05:00

or potty training boys... whichever you prefer. Because quite frankly, they are both fitting.
When you are expecting a baby boy, no one tells you to expect to come into contact with their pee at various times in their lives- some more than others. Even now, 17 years later, we still laugh about Will spraying down my mom's entire kitchen- including a colander full of home grown tomatoes. I had no idea that A) a newborn could hold that much, and B) little weinies are not unlike pressure hoses... if you aren't hanging on to them, they're gonna spray everywhere! Fast forward to Jace, 13 years later.... Changing his diaper involved various special ops movements to ensure that air never touched his man part. Air, it seems, acted as an immediate pee-inducing agent. Who knew? Naturally that strange air/pee situation resolved itself around the same time that I perfected the two handed remove and replace. Little did I know what was to come....
I don't remember having such issues potty training Will. I mean, other than the fact that I thought I'd have to send him to high school in adult diapers. Despite a fierce stubborn streak, when he was finally ready, in my memory, it was all good. Jace on the other hand... well it's really typical Jace- not what you're expecting, and just cute enough to keep the edge off my frustration. Jace started off stubborn like his brother. Sad, because the ease at which I potty trained Parker, (in about 2 days the week of her 2nd birthday,) lulled me into a false sense of "Hey, I got this motherhood thing!" Being a parent who tries to choose battles wisely, I would try, have no luck, and then proceed to give it a bit longer before trying again. The joy that came with the knowledge that no occupants of my house would ever be in diapers again, (Lord willing) is slightly dampened, (no pun intended,) by the amount of mopping I'm doing these days... In Jace's defense, he does claim that his "pee pee" is just "too big" to aim properly. Not being a man, I can't be sure how well that theory holds up. From the looks of things, it's a li'l shaky... but what do I know?
We started Jace out sitting down to pee, because he's not tall enough to stand. When it soon became clear that I'd be mopping 'til the day I die, I decided to buy him a step stool to see if standing up would help. Perhaps I should have been more specific about the purpose of the step stool:
Me: Jace, you wanna stand up and pee like a big boy?
Jace: Yes!
Me: We'll get you this step stool so you can reach!
Uhh...yeah... I so wasn't expecting to hear Jace yell, "I peed like a big boy!!" only to discover he'd turned the step stool upside down and peed in it... *sigh* On the plus side, he did hit the intended target. For what it's worth...
At this point, I'm considering leaving him in diapers until he gets married, at which point his wife can take over the mopping. In the meantime, I will take any suggestions, or pointers haha, on how to successfully teach aiming of li'l members- so fire away, but please hit the target.

Beauty is Painful...

2011-09-03T21:53:00.000-05:00

I learned that from watching "Toddlers and Tiaras"... So says my 10 yo daughter Parker :) It's true, she's right, and thank the Lord that I have a daughter who's level headed and beautiful just the way God made her.

Me on the other hand? I could use some work! Today begins the 9 bazillionth dieting attempt. I'm not really sure how I got so out of control, but I am determined to fix it this time. I will say the chocolate chip cupcakes with home made chocolate buttercream frosting that I made today are not helping my cause ;) Fortunately they are for a bbq tomorrow so I'll have plenty of help eating them. *sigh*

Is home made one word, or two? That's really been bugging the shiz outta me today... I keep making it two, but it doesn't look right!

Soo I'll wrap up with another cute li'l story from Parker. She wore a dress to school two days in a row. A girl in her class asked her why she had been dressing up, and her teacher said, "She's trying to find a man!" A little boy in the classroom threw his hand up in the air and started yelling, "I'm a man! I'm a man!" Ahhh, I love kids! I love their honesty, I love their energy and I love their confidence. Here's to little boys who aren't afraid to wear their hearts on their sleeves :)

I'm back!

2011-09-02T18:02:00.000-05:00

Woo hoo! Two in one day! Yes, well I'm bored and what am I gonna do? housework??
Actually I just remembered something my goof ball three year old did last night. We were at the airport picking up Daddy... As we're standing in the baggage claim area waiting for him to show up, my son was hiding behind my legs... I thought he was just being his usual shy self until I felt warmth on my booty. Yeah... he was licking my a$$... in the middle of the airport... *sigh* Does this happen to other people? My 10 yo was hysterical over the fact that I now had a wet spot in the middle of my butt.

The Daily Jace (the infamous 3 year old):

Me: Jace why don't you have your undies on?
Jace: Because they are wet.
Me: Why are they wet??
Jace: Because they were in the ass.

Ummm... I'm not certain that's what he was saying, but I asked him three times to repeat himself and each time it sounded the same. I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to home school him when the time comes 8-0

Well I'm off to feed people. Perhaps it will be Jace's favorite- pb and jellyfish sandwiches!

In The Beginning

2011-09-02T14:43:00.001-05:00

God created Heaven and Earth... I'm not going quite that far back though. I'm not even going to go all the way back to 1975, which is the year I was born. This life begins in August of 1994, when my first child was born. My life hasn't been the same since, and I'm pretty sure I haven't stopped laughing...

Ok, in all honestly, my oldest is 17 now. As far as he's concerned, I stopped laughing about the time he hit puberty and decided I was ridiculously clueless about any and all subjects. While I wait for him to like me again, I'm fortunate enough to have two more kids who make me laugh, including Jace, my 3 yo who is widely (well as wide as my facebook friends list,) known for the stuff that comes out of his mouth on a regular basis. Whether it's mispronunciations that make me giggle- (don't even get me started on the wisdom of naming a child's train "Percy", knowing many if not most toddlers have speech impediments!) or just the quick wit that my kids are known for, I'm such a lucky mom!

The Daily Will (my 17 yo):

Me: Will- did you see on the news where this man has been arrested twice for having sex with a horse?!

Will: Yeah... you know what they say... Neighhhh means neighhhh!

Man, I love my kids!