Dear Parents,
This is just a reminder that the Arch Bishop will be coming to our school tomorrow. We are asking that the students uniforms look especially nice for tomorrow. Please make sure the uniforms are clean, no grass or dirt stains.

This is an actual e-mail that I just recieved from my childrens' school.
First thought: do they have the right to do that? Are they really that dirty that this needed to be sent?

Second thought: is the Arch Bishop really going to notice a few dirty kids in a group of 850 or care for that matter? They are kids, right?

Third thought: oh crap! I guess I'll have to scrub knees, stain treat, iron, spit and shine so my kids don't stand out as the dirty bunch!

Momentary loss of motherhood

First, Let me put this out there: I’m not a perfect mom, never was, never will be- frankly sometimes, I am pretty second-rate.

I never frequented the playgroup scene- I tried. Initially, I must admit, it was so I could get out and socialize. When there, I realized they were too hoytie- toytie for me and I didn’t have the energy to be something I wasn’t just for a little conversation! Sometimes I feel that my last attempt at perfect momdom (so not a word) was when I breastfed my daughter. I did it for 13 months- I was prettty damn proud of myself, but she’s 3 now and I can’t ride that forever! Lately, I’ve been feeling like I need to step up my game.

Here are just a few case studies that are supporting my recent mothering inadequecies:

Said 3 year old is potty trained. Yeah! At first, her accomplishment alone was enough. I was proud of her, but quite honestly, I didn’t care if she peed and pooped in a plastic baggie- as long as I was off of diaper duty, I was thrilled! Three months later, she will still only go on the little portable seat (you know the kind with the cereal bowl underneath) because she is afraid of falling in the big toilet- even with one of those smaller seats. My gag reflex is getting the best of me lately when I have to dump the “cereal bowl” and clean it out! Beggars can’t be choosers, but come on, how long must this fear of falling in the toilet persist?

My 7 year old has allergies. She gets through the days fine. She could get through the night fine, if she would keep her head on a pillow. She likes to sleep laying flat, though- no pillow- which causes all this lovely drainage to ensue in her passages and she coughs up a lung! I went to fluff, fluff, and re-fluff (again, probably not a word) and prop her up a total of 10 times in 2 hours- she would slide down flat as soon as I turned my back. I felt like I was trying to manipulate the dead guy from Weekend at Bernie’s!

Apparently, I was a horrible teenager. My 13 year old son is now giving my mom what she always wanted- paybacks. As if the constant talking back and rolling eyes weren’t enough, yesterday he brought home his mid-quarter report: 2 “D”s and an “F”! A good, patient mother might have tried to find the reason for the plummeting grade report- not me- I cried! I also threatened military school, took everything out of his room except his mattress and a sheet, and e-mailed his baseball coach to tell him that he wouldn’t be able to play this season. Did I over-react? probably. Do I regret it? Not really.

Essentially, I’ve been losing my marbles and my patience all over the place. My compassion is wearing thin. I’m hoping it’s just a phase and for my kids’ sake, I’ll get back to being that mediocre mom I’ve always strived to be. Or maybe I’m just not cut out for this mothering thang, after all!

I’m wondering if there is a point in a stay at home mom’s life where your nurturing instincts just fly out the door. Where, even if just a little, you feel a bit of resentment to your own loss of life? Where it finally dawns on you that not getting paid for all this crap you do, really sucks! If so, I’m at that point.

For me, I’ll call it the “10 year itch”. I have stayed home with my kids for 10 years and, although I wouldn’t take it back for the world and I think that we are all better for it, I am counting down the days until I can feel like a grown up again! Showering on a regular basis, wearing clothes without elastic, having real face to face conversations with other adults- not at the school pick up, and no more slave labor are all things I’m looking forward to. I do plan to see it through, though- so I’m looking at 2 more years until my daughter is in Kindergarten. (At which time the anxiety of getting a job and being a real grown up again will set in- yeah neurosis!)

My husband’s dad died early this morning and, as I’m writing this, my kids came home from school with sweet notes to put in his coffin: Grampa miki I will miss you. I am glad you are with Jesus. Sharing with me that they didn’t have “intentions” today, but they told all of their friends to pray for him! Um, forget everything I just wrote, I guess I’m doing OK!

A Better Place

Early this morning, my husband's father passed away. He was diagnosed with leukemia just last week. He had been unexplainably bedridden for nearly 4 years, though. He was put in the hospital about two weeks ago because of his questionable blood levels. He had a sore on his back side operated on because it had turned necrotic. In an effort to try and stop the bleeding from this wound, they attempted to graft it last night and the surgery turned out to be more than he could handle.

My husband has great memories of his father, he adored him and constantly yearned for his attention and approval. Sadly, those good memories are mostly from his childhood. In the 13 years that I observed their relationship, I'm afraid that his dad didn't reciprocate much. He was often dismissive to him and seemed preoccupied. There is no doubt that his father loved him and wished the best for him, but he clearly had emotional issues that may have held him back from expressing his true feelings.

I had no relationship with him. During our visits, he avoided my husband, myself and our children. He would go to his room and hide while we would visit my mother in law. I would guess maybe a total of 50 words had been spoken between he and I in the time I knew him. I was always resentful that he had no interest in getting to know his grandchildren. My heart ached for my husband's pain when he felt rejected by him.

I don't what caused his pain and probably never will. I do know that his sisters worshiped him, much like my husband. He was so loved and I'm told he was a fun and charming man "in the day". With this knowledge, I tried to not hold animosity and see his emotional struggle for what it was-severe depression.

My husband and his family sat next to his bedside watching him struggle for his last breaths of life. This image is now haunting my husband. His father's weakness and fear at that moment will be imbedded in his memory for a while, I'm sure. I think maybe this was God's way of showing, in a tangible way, the invisible pain he had been suffering for so many years. I know it's cliche, but he truly is in a better place- a place without physical or emotional pain.

only skin deep

So I hosted a "spa party" the other night. It was one of those direct sale - tupperware-type shows that some women are suckers for- the others hate them! I am one of the suckers because I am cheap, poor and like nice things.

The age of 35 has morphed me into a horribly vain and superficial person, as of late. I thought a skin care product party was just what the dr. ( in lieu of a dermatologist or plastic surgeon) ordered. We wore a skin mask, did some feet and hand treatments. We were able to try a microderm abrasion contraption that they sell, followed by a few more cleansers, toners, and lotions on our faces. My face was feeling as soft as a baby's butt- no kidding! I felt my wrinkles and pores shrinking as sure as I was living and breathing!

Yes, I worshiped the sun and frequented tanning beds throughout high school and college, who didn't? I learned the error of my ways. I have been very good about wearing sunscreen everyday for about 5 years, now. So now, armed with all of my new products that promise to help me "fight the effects of aging from the inside and out"- I'm ready for my skin to look like it did when I was 20, right?

The skin care consultant then says she has one of those ultraviolet lights if anyone is interested in seeing the sun damage on their face. Now, before she got there- no way would I have wanted to see! But she has me all pumped up on adrenaline and energized that my skin is being taken care of and it feels so smooth! I'm also thinking that I have worn sunscreen for 5 years- how bad could it be?

First, let me say, those lights are a thing from hell! There's no reason anyone needs to see that! It's just plain depressing! Talk about bursting a bubble! I didn't have sun damage spots- I had a couple spots that were NOT sun damaged! Then, to add insult to injury, my eyes!!! They were surrounded by jet black circles. I didn't know about that and frankly, I was so scattered and deflated at this point, I didn't even hear her explanation of why I looked like Rocky Raccoon!

Why do I care about that light? I have no idea? It's not like me or anyone else can see what that light exposed, but I fell for it hook, line and sinker. I ordered everything in her repertoir! That sneaky skin care consultant!

Look! I'm a black beauty

In an effort to gain back some confidence- like I had pre-babies- I have been on this trek to try and lose weight. I won't bore with details, but I have lost about 15 lbs- give or take- I'm a yo-yo. Anyway, when I start noticing my face thinning, I play on a website I found via some people on Myspace. It's too fun, you must try it.



Today, my face seemed a little less chubby than it has, so I snapped some shots of myself with my camera and uploaded them. I then let the computer do its "magic".



Let me interject, I am caucasion- sooo white- genetically- rythmically- you name it. When I was very thin and in high school, however, I was often asked by my black friends, if I was black. I loved them! They were so honest. I told them I was white- sometimes they believed me, sometimes not.



I have quite a bit of American Indian in me- otherwise, I'm all mutt. I suppose we could have African -American in our gene pool somewhere, but according to a geneology expert that my mom saw for health reasons- we don't. I usually credited the confussion with my addiction to tanning beds (it was the 80's and not many knew better).



I have not been asked that question in a long time. I had some extra weight for about 13 years now- hmmm a pattern? I dunno? Anyhoo, My skinnier face today registered these results. Yep, most of them are black. They're gorgeous black women! I really don't feel I remotely resemble them at all- but hey, I'll take it!

Spring- Friend or Foe?

Where I live, we have had a rough start to spring. We have had lots of rain, snow, cold temperatures- even the small earthquake! Finally, a month after the actual "first day of spring", I think mother nature has decided that we are due and show us some mercy. I couldn't be more thrilled. I love the mild temperatues, the greening of the grass, and the buds peeking through on my perrenials and trees!

I can't wait to get out and garden- a hobby that I have picked up in my 13 years as a homeowner. I am passionate about it, but don't have a green thumb. Like everything , though, you have to take the good with the bad.

I am persistent and gardening is one of those challenges that I have enjoyed taking on. I am a hard worker and love to see results from my hard work! I am not afraid to get dirty. I have a memory like a steel trap. I can remember names of plants and flowers and their best habitat. I love things to look pretty!

However, I do love instant gratification and that's where I fail dreadfully as a gardener- everything takes time- I'm not very accepting of this! Rabbits eat EVERYTHING in my yard- I am constantly the neighborhood "nutball" as I run out my back door toward them yelling, "get away from my plants!" Birds also like to swarm my grass seed- I use the same exercise for them as the rabbits. Allergies, well, they're not kind to us in my family. Puffy eyes, runny noses, sneezing, and headaches- they are par for the course come April around here. We can't even open the windows on a nice gentle day! And weeds- oh weeds! I am vigilant to weeds- I will try sprays, granules, I pull them, I mulch over them, but they keep coming!

But I digress. I have just taken my first walk to survey the planting beds. The colors, the smells, the new life everywhere reminds me of why I love to garden, regardless of my sometimes less than successful attempts.

I planted a lilac bush last year and it is starting to bloom. I can't wait until I can smell it's wonderful fragrance. That smell will always bring me back to my Grandma's house as a young girl- she had them all throughout her back yard and the beautifully sweet air would flow in the windows and through the house! I can't wait!

For years now, I have envied people that have yards full of beautiful tulips! I have made my attempts with bulbs, the first sign of a new colorful season on the horizon. I have tried to plant them- lots of them. I follow directions, get tips from experts, but nothing! I have tried many bulbs- Crocus, Daffodills, Tulips and others that I just thought were pretty from a picture- never has one come out of the ground to bloom- UNTIL NOW!!! It's a tulip, not the fullest, most beautiful one I've ever seen. It's the only one and totally lame and lonely standing all by itself, but to me it's a success!

I have about two hours of weed pulling ahead of me. I have petunias that have been deadheaded down to nubs by rabbits- just one week after my husband planted them. I have 2 kids home from school trying to sleep off the allergy sniffles- thanks to some Benedryl. I am running the air conditioner, even though it's only 60 degrees outside, in an effort to limit the allergens that are assaulting us. But I take that all in stride thanks to this pathetic little tulip, I will hold my head high and welcome spring.

growing old

I am all about spilling my guts. I can share my war wounds with the best of them. I am not a shy or modest type. I'm honest to a fault. I've always shared my own true feelings openly and used to think that was one of my strengths. I now know when to share and what to share, at least I think I do.

As I've learned, when I was younger, apparently I didn't have the skill of tact, if you will. In my adult years, I have had many friends and family members make mention of "how I've grown"- in reference to my blatent observations, I guess you could say. They congratulated me as if it were a change that I had made purposely. One of my dear friends put it gently as you were "brutally honest" - essentially we all know what that meant, right? I was a bitch!

I recall when she said that. I know she meant it as a compliment- that I was better for it. I tried not to look too hurt, but I was. I have never meant to hurt a soul in my life. I never knew that this was the perception of me until I was well into my twenties.

The growth that they all noticed was not conscious, on my part. I wonder if it was truly a growing up experience or if I was at all aware of the alienation I may have been causing. I suppose I edit and hold my tongue these days. I still have an opinion, but I try my best to offer them up only when it's appropriate.

I think as I have gotten older my opinions have gotten, well, older, too. I have become more conservative in some of my thoughts. I think that's a normal progression that just comes with age. All the credit I recieved for "growing", I believe was mistaken for just getting old.

unproductive weekend

This weekend there were no plans. No practices, no games, no birthday parties- nothing to tie our schedule down. For many busy families, this would probably be a welcome change; relax, have fun, catch up. Not me.

I tend to prefer having a working schedule. I've never really been a "fly by the seat of my pants" kind of gal. When my calendar has nothing on it, I start making plans in my crazy little head. I get real big dreams and start making silly lists that are completely unattainable and therefore accomplish nothing.

I normally am quite productive, I guess because I have to be. I have to get the cleaning and laundry done before I bring the kids to school. I have to go to the gym before my daughter's nap. I then have to do my writing during her nap and before school pick up. I must have dinner ready by 5:00 because practice is at 6:00- you get the idea. Without having these perameters, I fall apart. This weekend I was useless. My full calendar is my script and I should just stick to it!

Mother Nature Goin' Crazy

I am in the midwest. We are victim to a whole spectrum of crazy"the world is ending" sort of weather. Tornadoes, ice storms, floods and droughts have become the norm here. Well, this morning at 4:36, my part of middle America was awoken by, yet, another earthly phenomenon- the earthquake.

My husband and I were both born and raised here, so the novelty of our house shaking in the middle of the night, well, freaked us out. He grabbed the kids out of their beds and brought them downstairs (don't know exactly what his plan was with that- we don't know the earthquake protocol). I turned on the TV and went to the internet, searching frantically for proof that our house wasn't being secretly exorcised, but nothing!

(Side note: when we bought our house three years ago, it had cracks in the foundation that concerned us. We had a structural engineer report assure us that the structure was sound and fine, but we've always been haunted by those cracks and have kept that in the back of our mind.)

Since no media had yet confirmed the movement as an earthquake, I ran outside to see if any of the neighbors were out-nope! I reluctantly went to check the foundation. My husband and I both had panic on our faces- it was unspoken, but we both thought the same dreadful fate! We were convinced that our house was sinking into the ground as we live and breathe and we were going down with it! That was a long 23 minutes until, finally, the local FOX affiliate channel came on the air with breaking news- "you're not crazy, yes we did have an earthquake." It only registered 5.2 on the Richter Scale, no real damages to speak of, but it's the talk about town, nonetheless.

My sister called me first thing this morning like she always does. Everyday, we have this odd -hold the phone to our ear and go about our daily business, but discuss not much of anything with real content or meaning - kind of phone relationship. While her kids were screaming in the background, she argues with them about what they would eat for breakfast she asked me what was going on like she would any other day. I found it unusual that she didn't even bring up the night's occurances.

Me: Are you guys dead when you sleep or what?

Her: What? We had an earthquake last night, didn't we?

Me: Well, yah! Why didn't you say anything about it- that was the first thing on my mind!

Her: I just thought I was going crazy.

Me: So you felt it?

Her: Well, I was having one of those crazy dream nights. About an hour earlier I jumped out of bed and ran to the clothes hamper because I thought there was a kid in there. There wasn't. So when I felt the house shaking, I just thought I was going crazy again and went back to bed.

Thanks Kadi!

My new blog page is so pretty! I owe it all to Kadi Prescott, blogger extrordinaire and closeted layout designer- who knew! She always thanks her blog designer, Jennisa, who is fabulous-all the while- has mad skills of her own! Thank you for taking time out of your madcapped world to help little old me!

My weighty issue

I watched The Biggest Loser finale last night, like I have for the past 6 seasons (I am nothing if not consistent with my television watching!) Everytime I get goosebumps and blubber like a fool by the inspiring changes they made in their lives. I, like many, I'm sure, think well, if they can do it...so can I. I attempt to use it as a springboard to get off those extra pounds. Just sitting in front of the television last night watching the remarkable results revealed guilted me from reaching for the tub of ice cream- so I guess I'm on the right track.

The struggle that I have with weight is a relatively new one. I was stick rail thin growing up. I was often teased for being too skinny. Until I had my first child, I never weighed more than 110lbs soaking wet! The weight came off pretty easily after #1, but was redistributed in a way that was not kind. My second was very colicky which drove me to eat and really pile on some cushion! Lo and behold, I became pregnant again before I was able to do anything about it. Then #4- you get the idea.

I am not obese, by any means, but having been so thin all of my life, it's hard to adjust to normal size 10 and 12 . It also doesn't help that my mom and sister are very skinny without any effort. I am always around them and at the age of 50, my mom just started having her "issues with weight"-translation -she has had to go up to a size 4 (honest to God!). My sister has had 4 children also and yes, she has been cursed by many a stretch mark and hanging skin and the like on her torso- so boo hoo she can't wear her size 2 bikini anymore! Clearly, my lack of sympathy is jealousy, I'm not afraid to admit that.

I got the short (and fat) end of the stick in the gene pool- my dad's 7 sisters were all small until they had their first child. That sperm worked like a magic pill that permanently turned our boobs into "D" cups, rounded our upper arms to the likes of lumberjacks, widened our hips to balance out the boobs and added a nice spare tire around the middle. I will say this- we all have great legs- we could weigh 600lbs, but our legs will stay small and thin-like a weeble wobble on toothpicks-it's a good look!

So thank you, The Biggest Loser, for getting my fat ass off of the couch and giving me the determination to make a change, hopefully. If it doesn't work out maybe I can seek out new "normal" sized people to hang out with.

sweet sacrifice

I am a stay at home mom. We are a one income family. This is a choice that we have made and as a result we make some sacrifices- here are some things that may differ from me and a working mom- as a bonus, most of them bring humiliation to my kids.

1.)My kids don't have the latest technology-

my 13 yr old's friends have every video system known to man and laptops and my 9-yr old's friends all have cell phones!

2.)I am not going to pay $100 (or more) for my kids to see Hannah Montana in concert-

I will pay my cable bill- watch it on tv!

3.)Our vacation means that my parents generously let us stay at their condo on the gulf for a week! No Disneyworld.

4.) I clip coupons!

5.) My kids bring their lunch to school everyday- generic brands and all!

6.) If I don't get out of the car when I'm picking up from school, it's usually because I have realized that I'm wearing the same thing from the day before.

7.) My kids are in bed by 8pm-now it's my time!

8.) I DON'T necessarily look forward to weekends, spring break or summer break

A long way home

Our first home was in the city, we lived in a great close-knit neighborhood with great friends. Our group of friends/neighbors were a total cross section of "normal" middle (to upper) class America- a dr., an attorney, a banker, an IT tech, a fireman , and a policeman- seriously- does it get more Mayberry than that?

Most every place we went was within walking distance: schools, playdates, library, a deli, and several restaurants. In our group, the wives ultimately gave up their careers to be the ever underestimated and underappreciated stay at home moms- myself included. We could count on each other. We had such similar lives and experiences. We all had kids the same ages that ran through the front yards, rode bikes, ran through sprinklers and had the time of their lives. Sipping on our iced teas during the day and glasses of wine at night we would talk about anything and everything that crossed our minds- pausing every 10 minutes or so to gather the troops and make sure all the kids were accounted for.

Although it was the best neighborhood you could find and safe by most standards, it was in a city of relatively high crime. We fell victim to 3 car thefts and got caught in the middle of another car theft with a shooting. After the first car was stolen, we swallowed it up as bad luck and used "the club". The latter crimes didn't settle too well with us and we started discussing the pros and cons of fleeing our city nest for the burbs.

I remember having the conversation with my mom about whether we should leave or not. One of my reasons to stay was the great friendships we had made. My mom, in her infinite wisdom, pleaded me to not make the decision because of my neighbors, noting that they may just be friends of circumstance and they would eventually move on, as well. She felt the closeness we had stumbled upon and created was such a rare treasure, but not to think it would last forever. I recall the argument that followed her implication that they weren't true friends and that we may have just had commonalities at that point in our lives. I defended them- I was certain that our friendships would sustain distance if it came to that.

My husband and I eventually decided to be a part of the urban sprawl and head out to the suburbs. The decision was a much contemplated and difficult one. What were we losing? What could we gain? In the end, it came down to safety for our kids.

We were diligent in our house hunt. We wanted the perfect house, yard, neighborhood, community, schools and all of this at the perfect price- I know, tall order, right? We came upon a home in a quaint and peaceful neighborhood with a lake and walking paths. The house had a huge yard and was in great shape and unique inside. It was in the same area as my sister and mom and in a good school district. The homeowner was in the military and getting married and needed to sell fast- pricing it well below its appraised market value. It seemed perfect so we jumped and bought it.

Fast forward three years- the house is still great, the yard is still huge, the neighborhood is safe. The children are in a fine school and are happy. We always hear that children are resilient-this is no exception. They have adjusted to the new life perfectly well.

I , on the other hand, not so much. Coming up on three years now, I still hear myself saying, "we just moved here!" I have not acclimated to the new way of living, the people, or the driving. On a selfish note, there are no stay at home moms anymore for me to confide in, complain to or connect with. Most of the moms I have met are working moms, which is great if it works for you- sometimes I wish it did for us, but it doesn't.

As far my old friends from the city, they have all moved on to bigger and better things, too. We really don't keep in touch much at all (God, I hate it when my mom is right!) I do have my sister and she is my saving grace! Sometimes, though, I feel like I ride her coat tails.

I long for my own set of friends that I can be comfortable with again. I long for other women that I just click with and have things in common with again. I long for that feeling of community again. I long for feeling like I'm home again!

Which came first, the chicken or the bitch?

When my husband and I argue, it gets ugly. He can spew an insult like a dagger through the heart! He doesn't stay away from the taboo either- anything is fair game- insecurities, families, past mistakes- oh yeah- he can play dirty! He will admit that his family argued like this. Sadly, this is how they communicated and then they pretend like nothing ever happen and go about their business- no grudges, no flowers, no I'm sorry- nothing!

I remember when we first started having disagreements that got to that level (a few years into our marriage before the true colors started shining, of course!) He used disparaging words that I had never even heard before! It hurt like hell, but laying back, crying and taking it wasn't the way I work.

I was raised in a semi-healthy home. Sure, we had our share of dysfunction with an alcoholic dad blah, blah, blah. My parents divorced when I was 10- any fighting that I was ever around totally ceased. My mom was only 16 when she had me, so she tried her best to raise my sister and I to be strong women and not make the mistakes that she did in her life. As a part of this lesson, I didn't take shit. I would never start fights, but sure as hell wouldn't take blame for something that wasn't true or just be beat down.

This being said, the way I have come to "fight back" with my husband is shameful! I'm certainly not proud of the crap that comes out of my mouth, but I have to say this in my defense: I am a product of my surroundings. I don't think I am this evil in my actions. I think I am this evil in my reactions. He taught me everything I know.

Elvis is dead!

I was never a huge fan of Elvis- I know he is "the king", father of rock n roll, yada yada, yada... I just never got him- always felt he was a bit dated for my taste.

I married a man who is, not only 8 years older than me, but is an "old soul". I, on the other hand, consider myself a contemporary. I eat up the pop-culture crap. He would rather sit down with my 90 year old step grandfather with alzhiemers and talk about the few things he remembers about the good ole days than someone his own age ANYDAY! Give me a gossip magazine and TMZ or E! and I'm good to go. I have often asked how he became an 80 year old man trapped in a 43 year old's body??? When my kids need some facts researched, he will run to our 20 year old set of yellowed paged Encyclopedias- I will find more thorough info in seconds with the trusty internet. He loves going to thrift stores, goodwills and antique stores -and not to look for deals or actual antiques like I would prefer - NO, to look for old dirty dingy CRAP that has no use (of which he stores in the basement). He loves John Wayne movies, westerns, old black and whites, THE HISTORY CHANNEL (anything pre-Vietnam), and Elvis. I don't do black and white movies, I can't even stand period piece epic-type movies- they bore the life out of me!

This is just one of our marital clashes- sure it's minor and I don't think it's going to be the death of us. However, he has brought it a little too far! He has brainwashed my 3 year old daughter into watching and adoring Elvis! She loves him. She distinguishes the videos according to the color of of his scarves and outlandish get-ups, "Dad, can we watch yellow Elvis, today?" She even sings the songs out in public! It's the first thing she asks for in the morning!

I have to listen to Elvis in the background of my day! How fitting, now I hear-Please Release me, Let Me Go!!!

We are an American Idol Family

My kids range from 13-3. With such a wide age gap, it's difficult to find something that we can all do a s a family without complaints of boredom from at least one child, or me for that matter! For 7 years now, we can all agree on sitting in front of the television for Tues. and Wed. for American Idol. We cheer, root on our favorites and boo and hiss the ones that suck. My husband is even bummed when he isn't home on AI nights! I call him and give him updates when someone gets sent home.

We are a somewhat musical family- not that we are talented, but we enjoy music, listening, singing, doing karoake and the such- we are dorks! Last night we watched the "Idol Gives Back" special and even bucked up and called in a donation, minimally as it may have been, it's the thought that counts, right? As cliche as it may be, we are an American Idol family.

Current faves before vote off:
Mom's fave- David Cook
Dad's fave- David Cook
Gabe's fave-Jason Castro
Addison's fave-Syesha
Alayna's fave- Syesha
Genevieve's fave- Syesha (I secretly think she just likes to say her name) & David Archuletta "is my boyfriend"-she's 3- God help me!

My plan for "my therapy"

OK, so I'm totally venturing out of my comfort zone here and going to start blogging. It's not that I think I have something necessarily important or profound to share. It's not that I truly believe I'm going to entertain people. I am doing it for myself. Much of my writings will be quite personal, not deep, just my life! Fair warning: It ain't gonna be pretty! I am married and it's not the perfect marriage, it's probably pretty close to the normal marriage, though. We have 4 kids and I adore them, but they drive me crazy about 75% of the time-that's probably not the appropriate thing to admit, but it's true!

The title says it all: my therapy. I used to write in a journal when I was a young girl. I discovered that old journal in a box in the basement a short time ago and read through it. First, I must say, I was a complete geek, and I'm not sure that that has changed, but hopefully my grammar and spelling has improved, if nothing else. Nonetheless, I wrote about anything noteable that happened in my life at the time. This included a friend not sitting next to me at sixth grade lunch or a certain boy that I had a crush on not giving me enough attention (oh the drama!). There were times, however, that I poured emotion out on the page- pages that were truly water- stained from my tears; my first real heartbreak and when my grandmas died. All of the feelings really came rushing back while reading these. I specifically remember how much it helped getting all of it out on paper- just feeling a little of that weight lift off. I have been a stay at home mom for almost 10 years now. A lot of that said weight is wearing heavy on me right about now. Frankly, writing is easier and less expensive than getting a babysitter and going to see a therapist!

Along with the journal, I found old papers that I had written for my different English, Journalism and Communications courses that I had taken in college. The professors comments were kind and complimentary and I was often encouraged to continue my writing. However, those papers took a lot out of me at the time ( I was a selfish college student with totally screwed up priorities, after all!) I wrote them from the heart and really poured everything into them. I felt vindicated when the good grades came back, but never persued writing beyond that. Now, at 35, I wish I had. It felt good to read through the old things I wrote and to see first hand how I've changed and matured and I realized, in hindsight, how much I enjoyed writing.

My plan for this blog is to, just like in the old journal, write about anything noteable that happens in my life- just to get it off my chest. I also am looking to do something for myself- write. Ten years as a mom can take a toll. I haven't done too much for myself in a long time- and I'm missing me and the semi- sanity I used to have. I don't expect too many people, if any, to read this, but I'm hoping to not get much too much negativity in response. I am not politically correct. I am brutally honest. I tend to have a potty mouth (I will censor). I am very dramatic and emotional and I can be a bitch. If you think you can handle it, warts and all, I'd love to have you along for the ride!