Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

I'm tired.

I'm at work and I'm tired.

Maybe it's because I went to bed at 1am.

Perhaps it's because I ran farther and faster today than usual.

Could be because I only ate dinner. Busy day. I forgot.

Maybe all of these. Maybe none of these.

But whatever the reason, I 'm tired and falling asleep at work.

I usually just get myself a $.99 Diet Coke from McD's and I am good.

But I'm trying to kick the Coke and see if there is something else that can keep me awake at night until 12:30am.

Any suggestions?

Keep in mind I am a good Mormon girl so alcohol, coffee, tea, pot...not options for me?

I'm seriously looking for some help here.

Because falling asleep while interpreting for someone isn't good.

I''m tired.

Really tired.

Help me!

Kicked me some tire butt!

Do you have moments when you are so proud of yourself you could burst?

This is me bursting! Not literally. That would just be...well...besides disturbing it would be the end of me.

Why am I considering ending myself? Is it because I found my way to the bottom of the laundry pile? Nope. Am I done Christmas shopping? Not quite. Lose 10 pounds? I wish.

Nope. None of those.

The other night I had to take the mom-mobile into work. I normally take the smaller, cooler car but because I had to go in early to work and Hubs still had the car the family wagon is what I commuted in that day. When I pulled into the parking lot and got out I hear this...

"Hsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss..."

"Oh boy. That doesn't sound good, but I don't have time right now to figure out what is going on. Could be the tire, could be the engine. But nothing was on fire or smoking, so it can wait." I went into work and proceeded to do just that..work... for 3 hours. 

Luckily I got off early, about 8pm, and came out to see a flat tire. Seriously? Why does this always happen to me. I could do a week long marathon on all the bad car situations I have been through. I am not even kidding.

Hubs, on the other hand,  hasn't had a flat tire, broken down car, or any issue with the cars in the past 12 years. Okay, I lied. The car wouldn't start for him last year. Poor little dear. Humph!

Me? I can't even count how many times I am the one stranded, trying to figure out what to do.

So I call Hubs. I quickly tell him of my predicament and you wanna know what he says?

"Ummm. I'm in the middle of cooking hamburgers. Can you wait til we are done eating?"

(Insert song) "I need a Hero! I'm holding on for a hero 'til the end of the night. He's gotta be strong and he's gotta be fast and blah blah blah-dah-de blah."

Yeah, not so much.

To be honest, I wasn't upset. If he was to come and save me he would either need to find a sitter or bring all the kids with not enough seat belts.

What was I to do? I could sit and cry and wait for Mr. Hamburger to finish up. I could go back into the office and have the only working man come out and help me. But that's just plain embarrassing!

I am a mother, of 5 children no less. I run a household for Pete's sake! This is one tire. One. Surely I can do this. I remember learning how to change a tire when I was 16 from a Young Women's activity (a youth class).

"First loosen the bolts. Don't take them off. Loosen them. Jack up the car. Then remove the flat and replace it with the spare. Put on the bolts and tighten a little. Let down the jack then tighten the bolts...a lot...then voila. Changed tire."

And I did it!!!. (I did have to call a friend to find out where the jack was and where I was supposed to put the jack. No use destroying the car over a flat tire.) Simple.

Oh yeah baby! Bring on the throw-up! Bring on the poopie diapers!

Mama changed a tire on the van! All. By. Herself!

Booyah!

Participating in Jenny Matlock's and Mama Kat's prompts. Tons-o-fun!

So I Married a Deaf Man: Hold on

I am a cuddler. No, really. I am.

I like to nuzzle up close. I love to hold hands, have my back tickled, feet rubbed. Am I making you uncomfortable? Yeah, sorry about that.

Point is, physical touch is one of my love languages.

Another thing about me is I like to talk. A lot. Shocker, I know. How else would I be able to blog 5 days a week. Every week. What can I say? Or more particularly what can't I say?

The best scenario for me? Holding hands with someone and talking to them at the same time. How awesome would that be?!?

You see, Hubs and I can't really do this. Hands are needed for talking. Holding hands stifles the talking. Talking messes with the holding hands.

Holding hands and signing is like trying to talk to someone while they have their hand in your mouth, clinging to half your tongue and cheek. Messy. Uncomfortable. And someone is bound to get hurt.

It's the same with hugging. You can't really whisper sweet nothings into the ear of someone who can't hear you. And it doesn't help to sign to someone who has their arms around you and is looking at your backside.

So in our relationship, we have to choose. Do we want to talk or hug? Hold hands or chat? Rub feet or discuss? It is a tough choice, sometimes.

But other times, it's a no-brainer.

"Shut-up and hold my hand already!"

What's wrong with your face?

My throat is sick. Throat and lungs. Nowhere else in my body is sick.

I woke up this morning and when I went to talk I sounded awful. But isn't that always the case in the morning. We just sound a little off. Then add the throatsick and it sounds monstrous.
Well this morning, as always happens, my children file into my bed one by one. I croaked my "Good Morning!"s and gave them a cuddle.

My oldest asked me, "Are you sick?"

"A little," was my reply, hoping for some sympathy. "How could you tell?"

"By your voice. It sounds weird," was his answer.

He started to walk away, stopped, turned around and walked back to my bedside.

"Also your looks." He turned and left the room.

Huh.

Okay, so my sickness is not simply in my throat.

It has apparently spread, not to my face, but to my looks.

Heaven help me!

Justice and Mercy

I love my third child.

He is the child who forces me to my knees every morning and every night. And several time in between.

He is wonderful...in a strong willed, extremely passionate, intense kind of way.

It's how he came. See what I mean, wonderful!

The other day, he comes down the stairs in his PJ's otherwise known as my T-shirt. He plunks himself down in the middle of the floor and announces, "I'm not going to school today."

"No? Really? Are you sure?"

"Nope. I'm not gonna. I won't go."

I could lie and say that I was very patient and took the time to sit next to him and find out why he was feeling like he hated school. Unfortunately, I had worked until midnight the previous night and had woken up with two little boys who were more interested in eating goldfish at 2am than sleeping. I slept in...by 20 minutes.

Needless to say we were running a little late. Quite late, actually, which may or may not have caused me to be somewhat of a meanie.

"Son, you are going to school. Now, you can either go mad and in your pj's and then have to explain to your friends and you teacher why you are wearing your mom's clothes, OR you can go to  school angry if you like or happy if you choose, but in your clothes. It is up to you. But you will go to school today."

I thought those were good options.

In walks Mercy. My kids call him Daddy.

He calls said son into the other room and comes up with a plan. More like a conspiracy.

The next thing I know Mr. T-shirt is running upstairs getting his clothes on. I could have sworn he was smiling, too. Hubs comes to me with a paper and his plan.

"If he gets up, gets dressed, and goes to school for 3 days in a row, then on Saturday you get to take him to Dairy Queen. Alone."

What the... What are we teaching here?

1. He learns refusing to go to school will result in a blizzard at the end of the week.

2. Daddy wants to sabotage Mommy's diet.

3. Mommy is a meanie. Daddy rocks!

3. Protesting kids will be rewarded. So next Monday, all my kids will be standing outside my garage holding up a big sign with big red letters saying, "Shame on Mommy! She makes us go to school...every day...in our clothes!!!"

But the lesson that was really learned that day?

Sometimes it is worth taking the time to sit down with your child and find out why they don't want to go to school.

They may just want some time with Meanie Mommy.

Whoever said Hubs couldn't hear never checked out his heart.

Mercy indeed.

Giveaway!!

Okay, not really. But kinda.

This post is my 200th post. Who knew I had so much to say? Okay, maybe my family, my friends, people in the grocery line, the bell ringers....

But more importantly, who knew that there were people who would actually listen and then come back for more. Thanks for doing that for me. Really. I love you guys.

And because I love you, everyone who reads this post today will get a little piece of me. (or tomorrow or the next day or...well, as long as you want, actually.)

You see, I would totally have a giveaway...a real one...only I am horrible at getting things out to people. I don't. So if I had a real giveaway, one that required me to buy something, package it, go to the post office and send it, you would probably get it by Valentine's Day.

Instead, my giveaway is going to be a list of things I would give away if I had a giveaway.

1. This is my second most favorite Christmas story. The first is the real one and it is in your Bible, Luke 2, in case you didn't remember. It makes me cry every time I read it. I would totally give it to you.

2. I would send you some of my really yummy, delicious, make-you-gain-five-pounds-just-looking-at-it English Toffee. But instead, here's the recipe. (No secrets here. Just use a candy thermometer. That's the trick.)

This isn't my toffee. Mine is gone before I can charge the camera battery to take the shot.

3. I would send you The Carpenter's Christmas album, but most of you probably already have it. So instead, I would send you a burned copy of the Glee Christmas Album. I have never watched the show, but I heard this album the other day. It is fun, upbeat and fantastic!

4. This is what I usually watch Christmas Eve night, way late when I am wrapping presents and Hubs is putting things together. It is the best rendition by far, in my opinion.

5. Finally, I would send you a little something to keep you warm at night. This tastes just like what my mom called "Tang Tea". Most people just call it "Wassail". I call it Delicious!

I know. I know. Someday I will have a real drive-to-the-PO-and-show-you-the-love giveaway. But this way everyone wins. Everyone wins nothing and everything.

To all...

...pieces of me.

Just forget it

My wedding day. The birth of my first child. Graduation. Losing 10 pounds. All great days that are worthy of a scrapbook page. Too bad I don't do that.

However, today I thought I would mention the un-memories. You know, moments I do not wish relive.  Ever.

"I'm sorry. You aren't going to be able to get an epidural this time."

The time I went to change lanes on that 6 lane freeway and got hit by a semi, and did a 360 right into the divider.

Pretty much the whole year after my 4th child was born. Depression hurts everyone. Really.

The time I was in the sun all day and got burned so bad my skin felt like leather and I felt like a lizard. And itchy itchy lizard.  

Last week when my middle child told me he hated me. Sigh.

Sitting on that curling iron.

Falling down and scraping off a layer of skin from both my shins and knees and forearms the morning our softball team left for state. What's worse is that I was the catcher. Ouch!!

That first year of marriage. Don't misunderstand. I loved being in love. But men are so different. Learning to live with one was tough. Lots of tears. Glad we made it through. Still married. But you couldn't pay me to go back.

The time my son threw up 15 times, in the car, on the 6 hour drive to my parents' house. Then had acidic diarrhea the whole way back. Could have done without that trip for sure.

This morning at 2am when my 2 year old son called me "Meanie!" for not giving him Goldfish. It was 2AM!!!

The 2 hours that we thought Mom was lost on the side of the road somewhere. But really she was asleep in her room.

Seeing my child under our fallen piano. Please, never again!

Some things are only meant to be experienced once.

Because once is enough.


Thanks Mama Kat and Jenny. Check 'em out.