Body...ahem..art???

There comes a point when a mother has to draw the line somewhere.

This is where I draw the line.

Or maybe more accurately put: This is where he drew the line.

Lines.

About fifty of them.

Have I told you how much I love two?

May cause hair loss

There should be a warning label on Avatar: The Last Air Bender movie.

And this is what it should say: MAY CAUSE HAIR LOSS!

I know this for a fact because it happened to me. Okay, not me but to my child which is almost to me. Let me explain.

Last Saturday night, my kids watched Avatar: The Last Air Bender. Not a bad movie. They loved it. Especially my boys. They loved Aang...this guy:

Pretty cool looking hairdo, yeah?

On him.

Fast forward to Sunday morning, about 20 minutes before church starts.

My 6 year old comes down the stairs and asks if I know where his hoodie is. I'm a little distracted trying to gather everything I need to entertain my children at church so I holler over my shoulder that I think it is in the garage.

Thankfully, I happened to look up on his way in and notice something strange going on in the front of his hair.

Can you see it?

No?

How about now?

"Come here for a sec. Your hair looks a little bit.... **gasp** What happened to your hair?" I asked.

"Ummm. Nothing. It's fine. Nothing happened," he fibbed.

"Um, yeah. Something happened. You shaved your head. In one spot. Right in the middle of your head. That's what looks like happened. Do you want to change your story?"

That is what happened. Somehow he got into the clippers and decided on the shortest setting, aside from scalping mode.  

"Let's just go to church. We can take care of it afterwards." was his solution.

"No. This is definitely something we have to take care of now. You will thank me later." 

So a word of caution: If you are going to watch the air bending Avatar, hide your clippers. 

You may not be able to resist the urge to Aang your bangs.

Are we there yet?

One more day. That's it folks. One day.

No, not until the end of the world. In case you missed it, that was last Saturday at 6pm EST. However did we all make it past the end of the world? We must be the righteous ones.  

One more day and then summer officially begins; at least in my house. Summer is not measured by any solstice/ Neither by warm weather, for that matter. Good thing, too, because this year it would have been impossible to tell. Our summer starts the day school lets out and ends the day it reconvenes.

Technically, my kids' last day of school is Tuesday because we are making up a snow day. But I personally think that most teachers are praying that none of their students show up. And so I am taking it upon myself to be the answer to at least 3 teachers prayers. What a giver. I know.

One more day until total craziness goes back to the everyday craziness. I tell you, these last few weeks are wearing on me. And this week especially. I can barely take a breath. Places to go. Things to do.

And wouldn't you know it was this week that the monsters under the bed decided to come out. In full force. And apparently it is the week for midnight bloody noses.We've had a few of those. Accidents.

The other night I came home and checked on my kids only to discover that Brig, my baby, was poopie. Not just poopie. More like "if-this-stays-on-your-rear-one-more-minute-it-is-going-to-blister" poo. It was at that moment, 12:45am, that I thought, "Why do I have to be a good mommy? A bad mom would just pretend she didn't smell it and move on to sleep. But I am not that mom." Dang it!

I guess sleeping isn't vital to my existence this week.

One more day.

I can make it one. more. day.

How much longer do you have?

Freaked out...just a little.

I was in a tornado once. Kind of. Okay, okay. So it was a dirt devil.

No, not the vacuum.

Some people call it a whirlwind, but I think dirt devil sounds a lot more scary. And I need it to sound frightening so that I don't sound like such a wimp when I tell you the story.

Before the story you need to understand a little bit about the players/characters. My older sister was/is tough. She broke a boy's nose playing tackle football once. She was a tomboy, through and through. She once asked my dad if he was glad that she was almost a boy? See, tough.

Next character, Me: I was...well...less than a tomboy. I was more...wimpy? Weak. Sensitive. Scaredy-cat. A cry baby. One summer my sisters gave us all nicknames and mine was Pale Face. Yes, in our family we were builders of each others self esteem.Needless to say, I was un-mysister.

Now for the story.

When I was about 13 years old, my sister and I were walking home from soccer practice. We were on the All Star team together. She had talent. I was her sister. Pretty much the story of my life. But whatever.

We were walking home and it was a little windy. We were talking about something. I looked up ahead and there it was. The devil. Spinning, picking up dirt and momentum as it circled towards us. I think there was also an empty potato chip bag and candy wrapper of some sort whirling around in there. I think that is called debris.

It was headed straight at us. There was everywhere to run and nowhere to run all at the same time. The only crevice to jump into was the sink hole that I had heard about when I was in elementary school and I remember being told that if you jump in there you will never come out.

Sink hole...not an option.

It was getting closer. What was I going to do? Yes, I know the twister wasn't strong enough to do anything but blow dirt in my eyes and rat my hair a little. But the whole idea that it was strong enough to pick up anything was scary to me.

So I did what any other scaredy cat would have done. I sought protection. Behind my sister. I told her to save me. Yes, I really did. And being the wonderful protector sister that she was, she did. She stood in front of me and took the blow.

Literally.

Yes, this is a letter F post inspired by Jen Matlock. F is for freaking out, funnel upside down and family sacrifices. See.

So I Married a Deaf Man: Beam me up!

When we lived in AZ, I worked at ASU most evenings. I would get home from work around 10:30pm. These were the good old days when Hubs would spend hours and hours playing computer games be awake when I got home.

These were also the days when we could park our car in the garage. Heck, living in Mesa AZ you were crazy to not park your car in the garage. If you left it un-garaged, the steering wheel alone can give you third degree burns. And let's not talk about the metal part of the seat belts.

Well, this particular evening my garage door opener was not working. Annoying, but whatever. Not a big deal. Or so I thought. I walk to the door and realize that I do not have a key to the house. What?!? Wonderful.

I peek through the side window of the front door and I can see Hubs sitting there at the computer. I don't ring the bell because that is pointless. He can't hear at all. (Yes, I know they have flashing light doorbells but that would require handyman skills and neither of us have any of that.) I pound on the door, hoping he will feel the vibrations. No luck. I try all the doors. Locked. I'm shocked because I am the locker.

By this time I am so tired because, of course, I am about 7 months pregnant and it is now about 11pm. What was I going to do? I could break a window, but then I would have to pay for it later. I could sleep in the car but I didn't have a death wish.

Then it came to me.

I got back into the car, backed out of the driveway, pulled onto the front yard...which was made of rocks, and started flashing my brights at the windows.

FLASH-FLASH-FLASH

It didn't take long for that front door to open.

I've never been more thankful for beamers.

Your fav's please!

For whatever reason I just can't seem to find my creative bone. So I am totally copping out and am going with some of those annoying questions that you get from your emailing friends. (Sorry if you sent these to me...ahem.)

Also, because it is so late and because I am so tired, I am going to skip the coloring tonight. So sorry, but we all have those days. Mine is today.

But before you continue with this longer than usual post, can you tell me some of your favorite posts that I have done. I am going out of town next week and don't want to leave you all  stefless. So I thought I would re-post some of your favorites. Awesome!

What is your middle name?

Lucky for me I do not have one. Growing up I felt cheated because 4 of my 7 sibling got middle names. I guess we know who my parents loved best.  Whatever!

How big is your bed?
Not big enough. The other morning I woke to Hubs, sleeping on half the bed, and me and two of my children squished on the other side. But I dare not ask for a bigger bed, seeing as I have 5 children and if there is room in the inn, they will be coming in.

What are you listening to right now?
The voices in my head saying, "Forget about your 'no eating after 7pm' goal and find yourself something salty." I wish they signed.

What was the last thing you ate?
I am not sure. 7pm was a long time ago...thanks for the reminder.

How is the weather right now?
Crazy! I am feeling for you friends who are living through some pretty horrible storms. God bless you! Know you are in our prayers.

Do you want children?
I think it is a little too late for that question. But, yes. I want all the children that I have and we did have them on purpose, even if a few of them were surprises in timing.

Hair color?
Not what it used to be. But I did highlight my hair for the first time a few months ago and it was fun. Doing it again on Wednesday! Whoot!

Do you wear contacts?
I wear proof that I have been contacted by my childrens' dirty hands, mouths, and sadly noses. So, yes...I wear contacts.

Last Movie you watched?
Pirates of the Caribbean. Entertaining, yes. Award winning, no. But it's Johnny Depp, people. Fun for sure.

What books are you reading?
I just got done reading "Book of a Thousand Days". Oh so very good. And entertaining. Working on "Cold Sassy Tree" at the moment. Fun read so far.

What were you doing before filling this out?
I have been wiping this dang leaking eye all night. It's annoying. Really.

 Have you ever fired a gun?
To Hubs' chagrin, the answer is still no. Though he asks be often enough when I am going to go shooting with him.

If you could go to any place right now where would you go?
I'm really in the mood for Chili's chips and salsa...I might go there. That or bed.

Are you missing someone?
I hope not. I think all my children are accounted for. That is the question that I ask myself any time I go to a public place with all my children. Once my aunt left one of her children at McDonald's and didn't realize she was missing until about 40 minutes later. By the time they got back and found her, she was already going to a foster home. So, that question freaks me out a little.

Are you hiding something from someone right now?
Besides the secret candy stash and extra baby weight (no, the extra weight has nothing to do with the secret candy stash...besides those things, I am an open book.


3 things you can't live without?
Family. Music. Laughter

Stuck on a deserted island, and can only bring one thing?
Ummm..hello! A motor boat.

What do you usually do when the alarm turns on?
Assuming that I hear it, I usually hit snooze a few times, then off then curse myself an hour later for not getting up.

What do you think about before you go to bed?
I can't believe that he sleeps on the top sheet.

I promise not to email these to you...but if you are looking for something to post, I would love to read your answers to these questions as well.

Adios!

There is no fair in bummer!

"That's not fair that he got a toy and I didn't!" "It's not fair that you rubbed her back and not mine!" "Her job is easier. That's not fair!"

Fair schmair! Who said that life was fair? Because they are big, fat, ugly liars!

Things aren't fair:

You can ask my children. When they say "That's not fair." I always respond, "Life isn't fair. Oh well." It can't be. That's not what life is about.

I can think of a whole slew of things that aren't fair.

Some people can't have kids. Others can't stop.

Some people get pimples, some people don't, and people hate them for it. But not me. I would never.

Some people have ugly feet....cough cough...hubs...ahem. Others of us  are blessed with perfectly pleasant toes.

Some people were born into freedom, others to slavery. 

Some people roll out of bed gorgeous. Others...well, not so much.

Some people work for months and months and months to lose 5 pounds and others hubs can think about cutting things out of his diet and lose 10 pound.

Not really fair that cops can drive whatever speed they want while we get caught going 5 miles over while coasting down a hill.

Not fair that every time I mop the floor, someone is guaranteed to drop something sticky on it within 2 hours. Every time!

Do I understand unfair? You bet your Krispy Kreme donuts I do.

So when my oldest found out that he wasn't going to Florida with his grandparents this summer because 1) there's no way we are letting our 11 year old fly alone on a plane and 2) we have a family reunion at the same time and he cried, "Not fair!", you can bet I understood his disappointment.

It isn't fair. It is disappointing. But that's part of life.

Dang life!!

Eureka!

It fits now. It actually fits. I haven't fit into it since we lived in this house. Not since we lived in this state, to be honest with you.

My kids didn't think I could do it. They doubted I would stick to my plan to make it happen. Hubs is my rock. Without him, it wouldn't have happened.

It hasn't fit since we lived in Arizona which is more that 5 years. I was sure that this day would never come. But come it did. 

On Saturday afternoon I was finally able to fit into my garage, while sitting in my car.

You see, for years and years we have only used our garage as a storage unit in which to store Christmas decorations, camping equipment that we rarely use,  food storage...just in case, boxes and boxes and boxes of clothes to hand down. We found toys that were supposed to be donated years  months ago, clothes that I was saving for the return of Skinny Me. She's not coming back anytime soon....I miss her.

We found my Christmas wrapping paper obsession, books that are worth keeping, books that weren't worth keeping. Every I.D. card that Hubs has ever owned. Socks.

I found pictures. Oh, I was so happy to find them. Pictures from high school. Pictures from college. Pictures from my mission...yay! from my mission. Pictures from my engagement and wedding. Pictures of my kids. Pictures of my life!!

We found junk that my kids labeled treasure. Treasures that have become junk. We found it all.

But best of all, after six hours of hard labor, we found our garage. And yes, we can actually park one of our cars in it. My kids are so excited. I am so excited. We are all so excited.

We are easily amused.

It fits!!! 


Brought to you by Jen Matlock's letter E.

So I Married a Deaf Man: I wasn't talking to YOU!

Did your mom ever teach you that it is rude to tell secrets in front of people?

I try and tell my children this all the time. If it is that private, then you should be able to wait until we are in a non-public place to tell me. Unless the secret is that your brother is about to die, or you are going to wet your pants if you don't find a bathroom, then it can wait.

It is pretty impossible for Hubs to tell a secret in a public place. Let me clarify. It isn't hard for Hubs to tell a secret in public, unless it is a place with lots of signers. In that case, it is near impossible. You see, there really is no whispering in ASL. You're either signing or you're not. Granted, you can sign really close to your body and turn to the side. That is like whispering...but not really. Because if someone sees it, they hear it at full volume.

Like the time we were driving with my oldest, who at the time was maybe 2 years old. Hubs and I were secretly signing about whether to stop for ice cream or not. We decided against it. When we pulled into the garage, Kobe says, "Ice cream?" See, no secrets.

This also makes eaves dropping so easy in the Deaf community. You can look around a room, at the different conversations and understand what every group is talking about. It could be sports in one corner, clothes in the next, you in another. All there for the choosing.

It is because of this ease of eaves that Hubs doesn't always remember that I can't always hear what other people are saying in group settings.

Like a restaurant. He and I will be sitting and chatting, and he will look over at the people at the next table and ask me what they are talking about. Sometimes I can hear bits and pieces, but most the time I can't hear a word. Just because they are talking, doesn't mean that I can hear them.

 Because hearing people can whisper.

I think I can...I think I can....

It's official. The May train has taken off. And once it has started, there is no stopping it. At all.

What am I talking about? You know, the we-have-already-taken-the-state-tests-and-now-there-is-only-four-weeks-of-school-left-so-let's-party-every-day-til-the-end-of-the-year! Yes, you know what I am talking about.

I am seriously not kidding.

My 5th grader has three field trips this month. My kindergartner has two. My 3rd grader has one. (Poor, unlucky soul.) Plus we have a end of the year BBQ, an end of the year performance, field day three times, pre-K graduation, Kinder graduation, and class parties. Oh yeah, and for fun, let's just throw in one more science project.

That doesn't include piano recital, dance recital, parties and potlucks.

Don't get me wrong. My kids live for this time of year; the winding down of all things, less homework, more play. Who wouldn't?

Do I go to all of these things. Heck no! I'm always late. When the conductor hollered "All Aboard!" I was half-way down the street, waving my Mother of the Year ticket in the air. Regardless of whether I go or not, I have to remember which day they have to wear socks, and sunscreen and hats and bring treats and bring a special lunch.

I have to remember which days I need to shower and show up at the school, with treats and a smile.

Oh, yes. You know the train. You are feeling it too. It doesn't matter if you have one child or 14, it is the May train and it stops and slows for no-one.

It's around this time that everyone needs a good laugh. I mean a really really good laugh.

That's why I am here. So, just say thank you and enjoy!!



You're welcome!

Just a little gift!

Last night, Hubs sends me a message saying that there was snow all over the floor.

I was a little perplexed because even though I knew it was a little chilly and a little rainy, I was pretty sure it wasn't snowy. And he said floor, not ground. Though in ASL these two signs can be one in the same.

So I responded with an intelligent, "Huh?"

Things must have gotten busy at home because I never got a response from him. I was left wondering what in the world he was talking about. Yeah, that was until I walked down the stairs this morning.

Styrofoam. Everywhere. And I do mean everywhere.

Where did all this magic come from? The other day I bought myself a glass water dispenser. Okay, so technically it was called an iced tea dispenser, but because while it is under my roof it will never house tea, we are calling it a water dispenser. It came in a box and was held tightly in place by Styrofoam molds.

I hadn't yet put the water dispenser back into it's mold....call me lazy, call me slacker, call me busy. All three are probably correct. But whatever the reason, the water dispenser was left un-put-away.

The kids got bored. Hubs got distracted. And all those millions of compressed Styrofoam balls were ripped from their place and seemed to have exploded all over the first floor of my house. And not just the floor. The couches, the blanket, and yes, even the wall.

Have you ever tried to clean them up?? If you sweep them, the moving air sends them flying in all directions. Pointless. If you vacuum them, you have to deal with the moving air PLUS the electricity that causes them to stick to the front of your vacuum, the couch, the wall, you.

And for whatever reason, vacuuming them up caused my vacuum to overheat. Literally. I thought that they had blown the motor out. And you can imagine how happy I was about that. Luckily, after about 40 minutes of waiting and watching the remaining Styrofoam balls be spread into the rooms I had just cleaned, it started working again. Sigh.

I am still finding them. Under that couch cushions. In the Wii box. My child's diaper. (Don't ask.)

It's the gift that keeps on giving.

You might want to rethink that one....

Discretion: the good judgment and sensitivity needed to avoid embarrassing or upsetting others

This is something we try to teach my children.

"We don't toot at the table."
"Goosing your uncle's rear end, not acceptable."
 "I don't care if you can see your classmate's crack. You shouldn't yell it to her from across the room."

I got a letter last week explaining that my 5th grader would be watching the movie. You know the one. "Your body is changing and let's talk about it...in front of all your friends and peers. Oh yeah, and here is a little package of goodies to go along with it. Please silence your cell phones now." Yes, that's the one. Wednesday night was parent preview night. You bet I signed up. Best sequel evah!

Now, you should understand that we are pretty straight forward with our kids about their anatomy, their sexuality and making appropriate choices. We use the real words. We aren't embarrassed and we tell them that they shouldn't be either.

So when my eldest came home from school Wednesday and declared, "Tonight is puberty night!!!" I busted up laughing. I think if he really understood what he was proclaiming to his family...I mean really understood, he would have been mortified.

Discretion.

We're working on it.


Brought to you by Jen Matlock's letter D.

So I Married a Deaf Man: He ignores me!

I have a preschooler, Camden. My friend has a preschooler, we will call him Nick. They go to the same school. You guessed it. We carpool. She takes. I pick up.

But lately, with all the crazy, Hubs has been doing most of the picking up.

This has been working great for me, because it is one less place I have to run, and Hubs is able to take a break from his studying. The boys get picked up. My friends' baby gets to sleep. Perfect.

Or so we thought. 

Turns out last week, when Hubs went to pick up the boys, Nick tells his teacher that he dislikes Hubs. A lot. To quote, "I hate him!"

Huh?

The teacher called his mom. His mom talked to him. She called me.

It turns out, Nick, for the past 4 months, has thought that Hubs was ignoring him. Nick would say something to Hubs, and Hubs wouldn't answer him.

Of course, it makes sense that a child that young would have a tough time understanding that Hubs' ears don't work. At all. My kids know this because when they yell for dad, he doesn't come. My kids have figured out that it's just better to save your breath.

Nick, not so much.

My friend is amazing. No, really. She is. She was able to teach him what it means to not hear. She explained that Hubs is not choosing to not hear him. He just can't. God made him that way. He seems to understand.

How can I be sure?

Nick signed "Thank You" to Hubs and held his hand to the car the other day.


See...Amazing!

And you thought you were hot!

Things are heating up in the bedroom.

No! Not like that! Why would I blog about that??!! First, it would be weird. Secondly, it would be weird.

I am talking about the temperature. With Spring finally peeking it's lovely head our way, the upper level of our home is peaking as well.

We have fans, thank goodness. In every room. And windows. Gotta love windows. Both wonderful inventions. And the cool thing is when you turn on the fan AND open the windows, on both sides of the house, the unwanted heat is sucked right out of the oven we call "Upstairs."

Except in our room.

You see, I sleep on bed left. Hubs is on bed right. The window on his side of the bed works great, opening with little effort. The window on my side of the bed is slightly out of order. Meaning, it doesn't open. Only closes. That function is pointless because you can't close something that doesn't open. 

But that alone isn't the problem.

For whatever reason, Hubs cannot sleep with the fan on. He says it feels like the wind is slapping his face. Over and over and over again. Really?

"So what's the problem?" you ask?

Hubs is fit as a fiddle, not too much extra weight on him. Plus he sleeps in his undies. Then add the functioning window to the equation. His is a night time oasis. 

Me? I have had 5 kids. Fit as a cello is more like it. Plus, we all know what happens when I sleep in my undies. (Remember?)  It's not good. So I don't do it. Plus, bed left window still non-functioning. Okay, now add no fan, and you have a hot sweaty mama, ready to explode.

That is what happened last night. The sweaty mama, not the exploding.

Then this morning, Hubs says to me, "I was really cold last night. I think we should close the window when we go to sleep."

Exploding!! 

Life....grrrrrr

We interrupt our regular programing for a little thing we call Life.

Why is it that we, as mothers, blame ourselves for everything? Don't we already get blamed for enough?

My 4th child, Camden, has always been small. When I was pregnant with him, my doctor was constantly keeping an eye on him. I had to get stress tests twice a week for the last 3 months of my pregnancy with him. It was glorious. When he was born, at full term, he only weighed 5lbs and some ounces. (Don't judge.) He was healthy.

Since then, his growth has be slow at best, non-existant at times. Last year he went almost 9 months without growing. At. All.

For about 2 years now, we have been testing, watching him closely. He has delayed bone age, meaning at four years old, his bones in his hands were the size of a two year old's. He is very small. When people see him, they think he is 2 years old and say, "Wow! He talks great!" Ummm, yes he does. That's because he is five years old.

He has been tested for siliac, thyroid issues, growth hormone deficiency, heart murmurs. He has seen a pediatrician, endocronologist, cardiologist, nurtritionist, radiologist, and a guy with a really fun monkey outfit. He has been poked, proded, stuck to, drugged, and has a whole butt  load of junk toys to prove it.

We found out that he has a growth factor deficiency. Meaning, according to Stef's interpretation, his body makes growth hormone, but is unable to absorb it. If he continues to grow at the rate he is growing, he will only be 5'2". Not that there is anything wrong with it, but as a boy, that would be hard.

We have been diligently boosting my his calories. Heck, I have zero problem gaining weight. You would think that if he eats what I eat, he would be packing on the pounds in no time.

In his January appointment, he had gained two pounds and grown one whole inch. This was good news, seeing that he hadn't gained any weight or grown any significant amount in 9 months. We were so excited because we were at the point of doing some re-testing and supplimenting. The doctor decided to wait.

Then yesterday at his appointment we found that he has lost weight and has only grown less than 1/4 inch. In three months. Big sigh.........

I can't help asking, "Am I not feeding this boy enough? Should I be giving him something that I am not? What am I doing wrong? I'm his mother. And a mom is supposed to make things all better. Why can't I?" Logically, I know that I can't force his little body to absorb a single calorie. I can't wish five pound and two inches onto his tiny frame. And I feed him right along side my other children and they aren't having the same issue. And yet I frett, and blame, and mull and feel guilty.

Eventually we will figure it out. Eventually. But if we wait too long we will ruin the rest of his life. He will be in a carseat until he is 11. No girl will want to go out with him because despite his rugged good looks, he only comes up to their shoulders. You see the problem?

Mommy guilt. Leave me alone, already!!!

If it wasn't for the CHEESE

I once liked this guy....

He would look for me after class.

He would ask me to dinner.

He invited me to watch basketball game at his house. Who cares that I don't really like basketball. At all. Least favorite sport to watch....okay, not totally true. Wrestling is number one. Basketball is a close second.

Then I invited him to dinner at my house. My sister and I made enchiladas. They were so good! Way better than basketball. He took one bite and proceeded to rave about how great it was. He took another bite, this time leaving a dangling string of cheese on his chin. My sister busted out laughing so much that she had to leave.

I noticed her, then the cheesy chin and then tried, unsuccessfully, to suck in my cheeks and not laugh. I would have said something to him immediately, but my sister had made it extremely awkward to do so. I eventually told him that he had a dangler.

He got real quiet after that.

He didn't call me after that. He didn't look for me in the halls. He didn't invite me to his place.

I guess not everyone likes enchiladas.



Linking up with Jen's ABC Thursday and MamaKat's Writer's Workshop.

So I Married a Deaf Man: Look! It's ringing!

When I go out of town, I like to check in with the kids now and then to make sure they miss me, that they are eating, doing homework, miss me, etc.

In the past this has worked out great. That was back when we actually remembered to put the phones on their chargers. Back when child number one was excited about answering the phone. Back when actually talking to a person was important.

For whatever reason, this time around it was so hard to get hold of my kids. I would call and no-one would answer. Hello!! There are five of you there who can hear!!

I finally caught them Friday morning about 2 minutes before my 11 year starts screaming at everyone to get out the door and into the car because he doesn't want to be late before it was time to head to school. I briefly spoke with all of them, except my baby, Briggy.

About 10 minutes later I get a text from Hubs to call Briggy. Super!

I call. No answer. I call again. Nothing.

I text Hubs, "Hey, Briggy doesn't know how to answer the phone. You are going to have to answer it for him."

Hubs: "Okay. Go ahead and call again. We are ready."

I call. No answer. I call again. No answer.

Me: "I am calling. You need to push the 'Talk' button, then hand the phone to Briggy."

Hubs: "Did you call? Call again. We are waiting."

I call. No answer. I call again. Still no answer.

Me: "Where are you? I have called and called. Do you have the phone with you? Are you watching it? Do you see me calling?"

Hubs: "I'm holding the phone, in my hands, but it didn't vibrate when you called."

This was funny to me for two reasons. What house has a phone that vibrates? Does yours? Not mine. But Hubs wouldn't know this because he NEVER uses this phone. Why would he? I mean really. Except when I need him to answer it and give it to my child....and that has happened once. Last week.

Secondly, he was holding the phone. In. His. Hand. And he still didn't know it was ringing.

If that ain't Deaf...

...I don't know what is.

I''m Back

Good golly, Miss Molly! It has been a while.

I am invigorated! I am renewed. I am fresh. (Don't tell Hubs.) Isn't it amazing what a few days away from responsibility can do for a mother.

I don't hate my children. Quite the opposite. Love them dearly. To death. Mine. But it was so nice to not have to make snacks, or lunches, or worry about homework, and Scouts and piano lessons, and birthday parties and...and...and...

It was glorious!

I now have myself a notebook filled with quotes,a mind filled with goals, and a heart filled with God. Who could ask for more?

Ummm...that would be me.

Remember, even though I was away from kids, it wasn't a week for sleep. Oh, no. I was with my mom and my sisters, and it was pretty much a late night every night.

One night, I think I made it to bed by 1am only to receive a text from Hubs at 5:30. In. The. Morning. What was so important that it couldn't wait until awake time? "I'm going to buy Brody a baseball mitt." and ""We caught our third mouse." Really? No, really? 5:30am.

His defense? "I thought it was 6:30am." That was his defense? He should have just plead guilty.

The point of this tangent is, there was very little sleep.

So, on Sunday night when I do my usual Sunday night 5 minutes lay-by's (I lay [lie?] by each child for about 5 minutes), I crashed in my daughter's bed at about 8:30pm. I briefly woke up at 2:30am to use the restroom and learned that Usama bin Laden (I always thought it was Osama, but whatever) was gone forever. Then I headed off to bed...again.

I slept until 6:30am.

That is 10 hours, people. Yes, I know. Hubs would call me lazy for lying (laying??) in my bed doing nothing. But I can't tell you how much sleep...real sleep... long hybernating sleep...did for me. I was able to get so much done today, I amazed even myself.

You should see my bathroom.

You know you're at Women's Conference....

You know you are at Women's Conference if.....

...you have 30 minutes to walk across campus to maybe get into the next class and your treck starts with these:

...one day you see scenes like this

...and then next day you get this.

...you see signs like these on all the men's bathrooms.

....you stay up late into the night with these people.

...if you eat the Bookstore fudge so fast you don't have time to take a picture of it.

(Insert Picture here)

...because you are surrounded by thousands of amazing women. Don't believe me? Just look!

It was amazing, uplifting, fun and invigorating! See ya next year!!