frazzled & frumpy

(This will be short, as my hubby hates when I blog about him.) When my husband read that last post, he said, "I like the way they look." He's either the sweetest thing ever, or just sick. Because he has put up with me for so many years, I'm leaning toward sweet. I do love my Big Hunk. I'm not sure there are many men who would've put up with all the ups and downs- and I'm just talking about my weight. Then you factor in all the emotional rides and we're living in Marriage Disneyland . It's the happiest place on earth, but some of it is frustrating and even frightening. For him, one of the worst things must be the weird characters who try to hug you. Forget Mickey and Donald, he has to put up with my brothers. There are lots of thrilling rides, but, you usually have to wait a long time before you get to them. And, much like 'It's a Small World', there are children everywhere you look.

Oof! My three year-old just climbed off my lap. Yup, he did it again. Elbowed me. I don't understand why my chest is such a target. I mean, luckily I'm not pregnant, so the girls aren't as tender or sensitive. But, seriously, why is it that whenever one of my kids climbs on me, his arms, elbows, hands, knees or head always seem to hit their mark? It's not like they're big, or anything. They're miniscule, really- I blame it on all the breastfeeding. First, they suck all the life out of them, now they're going to pound them to dust. I'm thinking of investing in some body armor. You know, an elbow-proof vest. Kevlar would surely do the trick. I have dreams of getting them, um, enhanced. I could get them lifted, but that'd be like tacking up a deflated balloon. Not a pretty sight. I'll have to wait, though, till the little monsters are all grown. If they're a target now, imagine what a poke-magnet they'd be at a D-cup.

I'm not talking about 9 months of pregnancy, weight gain, puking, hours of labor, breastfeeding, thrush, mastitis, etc. I could go on and on. I'll let those things slide for today. Besides, when I try to bring that up, my kids just roll thier eyes. The universal sign for "My mom is so weird." I'm talking about the other stuff we do that they just don't notice. This weekend was a prime example. My second son started playing lacrosse this year. This is very new for me. I've never been much of a 'soccer mom'. Our kids have played sports a little, but it's been quite a while. And, they were playing city rec sports, high school is a whole different story. J is on the jv team and Saturday was his first two real games- in Idaho. Yup, 2 hours away. AND, they played two games, several hours apart. We left at 7am and got home at 10pm. When you factor in gas and food, the day cost us almost $100. Of course, those are the kinds of things kids ar

I was walking in the parking lot the other day with my oldest and youngest child. There are 14 years separating them. One is six foot four and over 200 pounds. The other is 3 feet shorter and 160 pounds lighter. It's interesting having children at such different stages of life. It made me think about the differences between having young kids and teenagers. Of course, I still have both, but here's a few observations. Less Spongebob, more Survivor. 8 o'clock bedtime extends to 10. Bottles and sippy cups are replaced by soda and Powerade. "Can I go out and play." changes to "I'm going on Facebook." "What do you want to be when you grow up?" is no longer a fun question, but a serious consideration. Fighting to keep them quiet during church evolves into watching in awe as they so reverently pass and bless sacrament. I can no longer buy them clothes then bring them home. The clothes will either (a) not fit; or (b) be unstylish. Or both.

" Like the elephant, we are unconcious of our own strength. When it comes to understanding the power we haveto make a difference in our own lives, we might as well be asleep. If you want to make your dreams come true, wake up. Wake up to your own strength. Wake up to the role you play in your own destiny. Wake up to the power you have to choose what you think, do and say." -Kieth Ellis

Wal-Mart is not my favorite place. This would seem confusing if you knew how much time I spent there. It's pathetic, really. But, it's close to my house and it's cheap- time and money, two things I have precious little of. So, I go. And, I go. I have a firm policy that I do not take more than two kids with me to the store. (My preference is to go without kids and pretend that I don't have any. Kind of hard to do when you're filling a couple of carts with groceries.) Isn't it funny how almost every time you go to Wal-Mart, you see a fit? I always look with pity on the mother who is dealing with a tantrum in the store. I've been there, sure, but, now, I have teenagers and though they aren't good for much, they are handy when you want to leave the little ones home while you slum it at Wal-Mart. I'm very careful not to be snide or look down my nose at the parent who can't control their child. I just feel very sorry for them and move on.