Hardest time

Mother's Day is a horrible day, sometimes, you know--not just for the childless.

Tonight I'm really having a hard time because I have given up so much to be a mother. I never really deserved the things I gave up, but I'm sorry for them nonetheless. And the kicker? I'm not even very good at it--being a mother, I mean. You'd think the more you gave up, the better you'd be. . . oh well.

I also have this horrible feeling of resentment. I want some sort of special recognition for all of the work that I do day in and day out, for how difficult it is to accomplish my personal goals--if possible at all. It seems perfectly reasonable to have a holiday to celebrate mothers, doesn't it? Isn't it supposed to be the hardest job in the world? Even secretaries have a day to celebrate them. I don't want this holiday to be about the sorrows of not being able to have children, as it often is. In fact, I'm dreading it.

I found out tonight that in all likelihood, I will not be able to graduate with a normal degree. All of my life I'm going to have to explain what a BGS is, unless I just lie and say I majored in English. It shouldn't be a big deal, but it really is to me. Seriously, I've been in tears over this almost since I found out. Before I had children, I was on my way to graduating with honors, and taking a study abroad to an exotic location. Instead, I have to watch others do these things, over and over again (even that wouldn't be so bad, except that sometimes it also comes at my expense), while I'm at home--failing--on so many different levels--and the failures just keep multiplying. The only success I feel I can really lay claim to is the fact that I can have children. I can have children really well.

And on Mother's Day, I won't be special. I won't be recognized any better than the next woman, even the next young woman, because we all have the same divine potential, whether or not we have made the same sacrifices. I'm not saying that I don't want others to be recognized. Maybe I'm not sure what I'm saying. I just want the people that aren't able to fulfill their life-long dreams to know that they aren't the only ones with unfinished dreams. . . and I wanted to say how I felt. Maybe I should become a secretary.

Oops, can't catch up like I'd hoped. And the abridged pregnancy story.

Looks like we didn't put some of the pictures on our external hard drive that I'd thought. So St. Patrick's Day, Birthdays, fish and frog huntings, will just have to wait until later.

But do not be dismayed. I've finally decided to post a giant long post about how we were and weren't and were pregnant, etc.

I'm pretty sure none of you actually have the time to read the whole thing--so here is the abridged version:

Kept hearing a phantom baby.
Spiritual experience=really excited even though it wasn't part of my plan.
Hinted at birthday party.
Other primary presidency members asked when I was morning sick during my sharing time.
Despite morning sickness, bloating, the inextinguishable desire to sleep, and that pinkish spotting I've only gotten when pregnant--all 4 of the actual diagnostic tests were negative (including the one at the Dr.'s).
I finally get some heavier brown bleeding and decide it's my late, light period.
Had to write an embarrassing email telling other presidency members I was NOT pregnant.
Thought up all of the reasons why another baby right now was more than wrong for our family.
Missed next month's period too. Called Dr. Nurse said it was normal for up to a year after weaning!
I had another 'light period' only a few days late after strenuously exercising. Figured the Dr. must be right.
Some clothes stopped fitting me.
Upped my exercise and diet program (I had been doing really well previously).
Decided my hormonal problems from puberty must be making me sick. Got really depressed.
Nearing my next period, wanted to avoid the uncertainty and didn't want to call the Dr. again.
Was certain I was NOT pregnant, but took a test anyway--just to see if I needed to see a Dr. for other reasons.
The test was immediately positive. I cried and called Robert.

New Year's Resolution

I sat down with Robert for like half an hour trying to figure out how to perfect our lives by setting 'realistic' goals. . . only one pencil was thrown and I don't even think it hit him (okay--I'm exaggerating a LITTLE bit). But we did make a long list. I really think we'll do better this year (especially on the get to bed by 11 one ;D--Don't look at the time this was published, please).

However, this afternoon, as I was lovingly watching over my dear little sweethearts, feeding them, reading them stories, bathing them, and ever so gently getting their feces off of their fingers and out of my clothing. . . another thought occured to me. Perhaps I have been setting the wrong goals!

So forget earlier bedtimes and more meaningful prayer--before my life is over, I want to be able to unashamedly poop all over my children and laugh hysterically at the fact (or at least watch my grandkids do it). At the moment, nothing else seems to matter, and revenge is much more 'realistic' anyhow.

Sooooo Warm

I slept with the fan on--in fact, besides the necessities, that was pretty much all I had on. I am SOOOO not ready for this summer. (Just thought I'd start complaining now :D).

I Am Stinkin' Mad--and It's Making Me Dizzy

So far my pregnancy has been pretty awesome. I wasn't super morning sick--Robert knows how to ease some of the back pain (although my pelvis has pretty much split in two, and he can't put that back together). I've done better with my weight gain (although technically I should have gained about 3 pounds less--ppphhhht). And I've completely accepted the fact that I waddle, and sometimes I don't look pregnant--just fat. After the first two, I get it. I've even embraced the carpel tunnel (I got that with Enoch--and it's slowly coming back full force--seriously, worst pain ever [yes, it can be comparable to labor--it just doesn't last as long]).

So. . . I was feeling pretty well off. . . WAS. . . This morning one of my biggest pregnancy fears came true. My glucose test came back "slightly elevated" (4 points out of the good range) and they want me to come in for another one. Ugh. My family has diabetes, I have some of the "susceptible" signs, and obviously my optimal BMI and I aren't best friends--in fact, we stay as far away from each other as possible. I started getting extra dizzy a few days ago--I almost called Robert at school to let him know I might faint--so I kind of figured the glucose test might not go well. At least the baby's probably okay. I just want to be able to drink as much orange juice as I want without getting dizzy--and I'm already a fainter.

Okay, Complain, Complain, Complain. . . I was bound to get diabetes some day--might as well be now. I'm not even sure I have it yet. I shouldn't freak out right now. I'll freak out Monday--I'll probably know by then.

It's A. . .

Mystery. . . still. We went in for the second sonogram today--to check on the spine (and hopefully find out the gender). This time it looked a lot more like a girl--there was a brief glimps at what could have been genitals, but whether or not they were separated. . . well, it beats me, and it beats the technician too. She tried really hard to figure it out for us--and she wasn't training anyone this time. Robert still thinks it's a boy. I would like a girl. I'm going to say it's a girl. . . the technician said, "I'm leaning towards girl." And it kind of freaks me out a little to think that I'm growing boy parts inside of me--so. . . it's a girl. It can be whatever it is supposed to be when it comes out, but right now. . . GIRL.

I'm Laughing on the Inside. . .

Or rather. . . he, she, it is.

So. . . I finally was able to schedule an ultrasound--then I had to reschedule for a week later so Robert could be there. . . I'm almost 24 weeks. It has been hard to wait so long.

We took the kids so they could see the baby, and so they could be there when we found out if they were having a brother or a sister.

So the answer to the poll is. . . It's not Both--It's NEITHER!--(uncooperative/modest/sleeping may also be used).

Fortunately, he, she, it did not let the technician see the spine well enough either--so we get to go back in two more weeks (so long?)--and see if the baby will show something.

I think we might have gone during naptime--no matter how much the technician bounced that proby-thingy into my bladder, the baby WOULD NOT move. At first I was a little worried that it wasn't alive, that is until I saw it had a good heartbeat. Odd, because it likes to kick me quite a lot otherwise.

Anyways--here's the pic we got. (I think UVRMC has higher technology). Does it look like a boy or a girl to you?

CPCC

Cuddle Prevention Committee Chairperson

Robert has given me a new title. Poor guy. When I'm pregnant I can't stand people touching me. It used to make me really sick--now I just altogether avoid it. Occasionally, I'll hold my babies on my lap or give them a hug--but any long-term closeness (*shudder). Maybe it's my ever-growing, uncomfortable body--or maybe it's my heightened sense of smell (when I'm pregnant Joanna and Robert kinda smell weird--at least Enoch doesn't). . . I'm not sure.

I feel bad for Robert. He has to gargle with mouthwash for a good 30 seconds, then make sure his lips are completely dry before I can let him peck me on the mouth goodnight. Very annoying. And he pretty much sleeps on the very edge of his side of the bed--because there is a strict no-touching policy (I am SO warm at night). I'm pretty sure one night I'll sneeze in his direction and blow him right onto the floor.

Well. . . I'm like 21 1/2 weeks along. We're over half way there. It will be better soon. Hang in there, Sweetie.

Wow, I'm Emotional

Well, I tried to call my mom to complain to her, but it was kind of hard to say anything--she was really excited about geneaology, and I had to go take care of the mess the kids were making before she finished telling me about her stuff. So. . . I'll just complain here :D You guys are used to it, right?

I'll spare you Saturday. This will already be too long.

I woke up feeling pretty sick at 3ish am Sunday morning. I gargled with generic listerine, went back to bed, and felt a little better. We have really late church, so I took my time to get ready. I scanned and printed some pictures from the friend for Nana to color, got the kids dressed, and Robert got together a diaper bag. The kids were also feeling ill, but I had responsibilities for primary, and Robert had to play the organ, so we decided that Robert would take them home after sacrament and I would stay for primary and another meeting.

That was the plan.

We took two cars up, and got there 20 minutes early. I was glad to see that the Hunters had already started setting up chairs and were finishing up. I went to the bathroom to try and pull myself together and put something on under my eyes to hide how tired I looked. Just as I was finishing, Enoch decided to climb in the sink and turn the water on himself. His pants were soaked. It looked like he had had the worst imaginable accident. Ughhh. . . well, I took off his pants and left his only-half-soaked tights on (yes, we put our little boy in tights--his dress pants are so thin).

We made our way to the front pew. Nana and I sat down, but Enoch wanted to help the priesthood put out the sacrament--and he screamed each time I picked him up. What?!! He's never done that so much in public before. I went up on the stand to tell Robert we would be in the back. . . but we were only there long enough for wonderful Jolyne to offer Enoch some "maroon" leggings (THANK YOU, JOLYNE). Enoch continued to scream, and we continued to find less conspicuous places to sit. We ended up in the RS room, where Enoch took off the "newsletter" folder, losing a thumbtack (yup, that was us). I got down on my hands and knees (which is getting harder to do every day) to look for the other thumbtack while both of my children escaped the room and started running and squealing all down the halls. I think that's when I lost it. I never did find the thumbtack--I hope it didn't hurt anybody.

It took me awhile to get both of the kids together again, but when I did, all I could do is tell them we were leaving. (We never even had time to get the crayons out.) I put on their coats and gathered all of our things (actually Robert found some of the toys we left later, so not ALL of our things) and started heading out the door. That's when Robert caught me. He convinced me to stay. (He's amazing, and can get so much more done than I can--I think he thinks I should be able to do as much as him--and I should, but I don't). Anyways, he said he'd take care of the kids (they both needed diapers right then. . . that's right. . . I couldn't believe it either). He left Nana with me, and I sat in the dark RS room as she ran out into the sunny foyer to do a little dance. I was too frustrated to care. I was just trying not to cry (darn hormones).

Well, my godsend came in. Lacey was heading toward the mother's room and could tell I wasn't doing so well. She sat by me and told me that she would be able to handle primary, so I could go on home. I really hope she was okay by herself. I feel bad that I had to go. Robert came back with Enoch, and I did go home--with the kids. I'm not sure I was stable enough to drive, but we made it safely home--with Nana crying the whole way for Daddy and for juice (I kept giving her juice on the ride home from the temple Sat, but there wasn't any left). I put a chicken in to roast (I didn't worry about spices, so it was a little bland), monkeyed with the winkflash pictures for the ward valentine dance (you can too--we finally got them up), got Nana some juice (She was really cute--she kept bringing me two cups to fill, one for her and one for me--then she'd get two more. . . of course it wasn't as cute when I found out that she was taking them out of the sink instead of out of the dishwasher like I'd thought), called my mom (as I mentioned), and found the kids swimming in a pile of chocolate syrup on the kitchen floor, and drinking a cup full of the same. They were so cute, especially Eenie with his chocolate goatee, that I ran and got the camera. I was still on the phone with my mom through all of this (she probably would have let me go earlier if she knew what the kids were doing), so I couldn't handle the camera as well. It fell on the floor and broke. That's right. . . that's the second camera in less than a quarter--at least this one was only 60$. The words from the phone at that moment, 'The blessings that have come to our family as a result of doing this geneaology. . . ' That's when I had to say goodbye. I put the kids in the bath and started washing the chocolate out when Daddy came home. He asked me what I was doing when the kids got into the chocolate, and I lost it again. He finished dinner and helped get the kids out of the tub. I spent the rest of the evening getting stains out and fixing the camera (I think I fixed it--we'll see). I hope I never have to lose it so much in one day again--my eyes hurt, and it doesn't help my runny nose.

Okay.

I promise my next post will be a happy post.

Great Weekend

'S'me again. I think having friends is kind of like drugs (at least for me this week). The highs are great--you're rockin' with your pals, feeling happy, life is good, little mishaps don't get you down because you're on top of the world. . . The lows are LOW--you don't feel like you're heard, nothing (compared to what you would have liked) gets done, everyone is rockin' without you, life stinks, there is no such thing as a LITTLE mishap when you're feelin' down. However, you keep trying to be social for the sake of those wonderful friendship "highs."

This weekend I had a bit of an epiphany--you don't have to be friends with everybody. Duh. What was my problem before? Saturday night was a great night--I was totally in love with Robert and I was able to hang out with a bunch of my friends (and I knew that there were plenty more that would have come if my house were big enough to invite them). I wanted every night to feel like that (I didn't have to try and win anybody's friendship, or get closer to them, I just had to hang out--it was AWESOME). I vowed that I wouldn't use as much energy trying to make better friends out of the people I don't mesh with as well, but rather I would hang out with my real friends more often. Duh, again.

Hosanna!

I don't know what I did right, but things are working out so much better than I thought they were. God is obviously happy with me for something ;D. I FOUND MY WEDDING RING LAST NIGHT! I was sure that one of the kids knocked it off the counter and into the garbage.

ENOCH'S BIRTHDAY PARTY WAS A SUCCESS! I was a little worried that I wouldn't get everything done (and technically, I meant to scrub the bathroom and empty the diaper pail, but that didn't happen), but Robert helped me to do it all (too bad nobody really got to see his awesome volcano cake--I almost had him go out and buy a cake, but I was able to make a German chocolate bundt cake from scratch, and he filled it with chocolate cool whip and cherries. It was really good. He even was able to find grenadine for our imitation mai tai's! I wonder if we could have found it so easily in Utah. . . We never were able to find all of our luau decorations, though, and we forgot to use the mini umbrellas in the drinks. Oh well. It looked like everyone had a lot of fun, and people were really generous. (I was also a little worried that we invited too many people to an indoor kids' party, but now I wish we could have had more of our friends come).

I'M GOING TO BE READY FOR CHURCH TODAY. (Unless I just jinxed myself?) This is amazing in and of itself. I'm often on time, and even early since church starts so late in the day, but today Robert had to go to Cory's ward conference (he left at 7am), and I'm on my own with the kids until maybe the third block at church. I also had a ton to prepare for primary today. We have a teacher training meeting--and I need to give a "lesson," we need to have invitations for next week's activity, I need to update the bulletin, We're presenting CTR rings. . . and I'm probably forgetting a trillion other things. . . but I think it's going to work. (Sacrament without Robert. . . that's another story. . . )

Does anybody here know my old friend, John?

Can you tell me where's he's gone?
He freed a lot of people, but the good die young.
Abraham, Jacob aaAand John.

(This is a song my mom always used to sing [probably still does] that is stuck in my head today driving me nuts! I'm pretty sure the words are wrong, but that usually happens when mom sings :D)

(I think I started singing it when I was pining for my driver's license, wedding ring, and cell phone. . . ugh--where could they have gone!)

Dirty chairs and dirty tables. . .
there is food across the floor.

(That's supposed to be from Les Meserables.)

(Shoot! now that ones stuck in my head.)

Does anybody else's mothers do this to them?

What Would You Do?

Your toddling son runs out of the bathroom at the sound of your voice--hair and shirt-front dripping. . . oh, and you're on the phone. When you walk into the bathroom, there is a pool of water around the toilet.

Do you:
A). Quickly run sceaming and weeping in the other direction after securely closing the bathroom door (for the seventh time that day!--Big sisters! Especially ones that can open doors!)
B). Go back to bed.
C). Call the police department to let them know you are an unfit mother, and then go back to bed.
D). Give the boy a bath and then leave him in the tub while you go vent on your blog.
E). You are actually an amazing parent that would have drained the toilet and locked the bathroom door BEFORE any bad thing could happen--besides, your children never leave your sight.

Okay, okay, I choose D (but to be fair, Nana's with him and there's no more water in the tub--just toys).

Alright. . . I think I'm ready to go back. . . and pick up all of the pearls that Nana just broke off of my necklace before Eenie tries to restrict his air passages yet again.

Tagged. . .

Thanks for thinkin' of me, Machel. . . I was getting bored and needed an excuse to put off my homework :D. Although, I probably shouldn't do this when I'm in such a disagreeable mood. . . oh well. . . So list my favorite to least favorite months. . . okay, here goes.

May: There's my birthday, school is over, it's mostly warm out--but not too hot. . . if only I didn't have to share a birthday with two family members! Of course one of those is my own fault. . . lol
June: No holidays (unless you count our anniversary)! 'Nough said. (and it's nice out).
September: It's no longer hot, and you can appreciate the coolness in the evenings, but mostly, it's the start of school--the real "new year" where you still can get straight A's.
October: I LOVE dressing up. It's still nice enough out to have BBQ's and not so busy that friends aren't available.
July: I DO like the 4th of July--it's probably my favorite holiday--no stress included!
February: It'd be nice if Robert and I didn't always fight on Valentine's. . . lol. . . the idea of the holiday is nice.
March: the weather is starting to get good again. . . finals are still far enough away in the beginning of the month.
January: The weather is gross, and it needs to be warm! It also takes awhile to recover from the holidays.
November: good food, lots of stress
April: Finals, and Easter--bad memories
December: Bah Humbug, but I don't like Christmas. . . I like parts of it, but I hate having everything, like getting together with family (and extended family), hit all at once.
August: Blah, hot. Summer is ending.

Bummed. . .

Graduate school is hard. . . it should come with a *NOTICE* label or something. (One for the spouse, that is. . . ) I am in trouble. I need to finish an Independent study class by March--plan a last minute birthday party for Eenie for next week (Is it really that close? I have no idea who to invite; we've always just had family to our kids' parties)--deal with a bunch of rebate forms--I should use up my CVS ECB's, but I don't want to go out--figure out what is going on with Valentine's Day activities--there's no food in our house beyond ingredients that require imaginitive cooking (meaning I can't just eat cereal all day, because we have no milk). . .

I've also decided that when I go to help people I usually just come off as annoying. I remember once I was nursing Eenie (or was it Nana?) on the bathroom couch in BYU's HBLL and I noticed that there was a pair of feet under one of the stalls that never moved. I also heard sniffling. (I had been in the bathroom for over an hour--my kids take a really long time to nurse--especially when I'm using their little bodies as my writing desk.) I wanted to say something, but I left. I felt bad that I didn't say anything, so I went back about half an hour later--yup, still there. I tried to wait until the lady in the next stall left, but I was running late. So. . . I just spoke out and told the person that I had been on the couch for some time earlier and had noticed they had not moved, and wanted to know if they were okay. I am pretty much an idiot. Can you imagine what the person in the next stall must have thought? I hope she didn't think I was talking to her. . . 'Ma'am, I've noticed that you're taking a really long time, and I wanted to know if you were okay.' Of course, I never got an answer from either of them. For all I know, the lady that was in there for almost 2 hours (or more?) was just reading a really good book, and because of her cold (thus the sniffling) wanted to be near some tissues. It's one of the things I've done that haunts me every once in awhile--although I still can hope that I made someone feel a little more loved than they did before (if there was any room for any other emotion after all of the awkwardness).

Now my point--I KEEP DOING THIS! Someone will totally act like they need help (like with the sniffling), and I'll do my best to do something for them--sometimes it's hard, and sometimes I have fun doing it, but it pretty much always ends up getting me down (at least lately--and I've screwed up SO MUCH like this in the past week or so). I feel so awkward and awful and depressed that I do such silly things--ESPECIALLY when I was having fun doing them. It happens too often! I guess I'll keep "helping" people, but now you've been warned--you may feel really awkward when I do. . .

Irreconcilable Differences

Nana doesn't want to go to the potty.
I want her to.

Nana will take off her diaper to mess on the floor.
I don't want her to.

Nana won't sit on the potty seat.
I fail at bribing her.

Nana will run naked through the house all day.
I don't let her.

Nana loves toilet paper.
I'm running out of toilet paper.

Nana doesn't want her diapers, but she also doesn't want the potty. . .
I just want the stink to stop.

My Dreamy Husband--and a Nightmare

Robert is amazing. He does so much for me. I ask him to do a lot, too :D. He wakes up with kids, he takes out the garbage (I think I've only done it 3 or 4 times since living here), he does the dishes, he makes me dinner, he pays for things I buy, he does it all--and then some! His family is cool too. They just left this morning. I miss them so bad already. Grandma Johnson is unbelievable. She watched the kids while everyone else went shopping and out to eat and I went to the doctor's. She took such good care of us and the kids while she was here. I feel like I take advantage of her. I definitely appreciate her, though. I also forgot how fun it is to talk to Julia. She likes so many of the same things that I do. They had to leave too soon. Grandpa was fun too. I love how Enoch always wanted to be held by Grandma and Grandpa--I hope we can see them again soon. I'm way excited for my family to come. I hope we can have just as much fun as we did with Robert's side.

So. . . what about the nightmare? . . . well, I went to the doctor with Robert (like I said, Grandma watched the kids, so we got to go together. It was the closest thing to a date that we've had in a long time, and it was awesome). I love my midwife. She is terrific. There's only one thing wrong with her. . . she put my due date at July 20th! It was supposed to be June 19th, people! LOL. I guess I can look past this little flaw and respect her competency as my physician, but I'm going to struggle a little bit. :D

(History lesson for those of you who do not follow this blog as closely as I probably follow yours--I'm in the process of weaning Enoch, so I wasn't sure exactly when this new baby was conceived, but I was sure I would prefer a baby in June opposed to the sultry summer days of July [which are actually anything but, when you're the size of a half grown beluga in the beginning of winter and nearly as white--of course I'm only allowed to gain like 5 pounds--so maybe I'll be okay :P ].)

Wits End. . .

You know that time, right between Thanksgiving break and finals--more towards the finals part than the Thanksgiving break--that you realize crunch time has passed and you're moving right into judgement day. You seem to recall things like, 'Oh yeah, I was supposed to do that between the turkey and Muppet's Christmas Carol.' Well, people, I'm there.

That was a nice first trimester--technically I'm still in it for a few more days--or a month, depending on who's counting. . . lol.

I slept through the "rationally busy, yet prepared" stage, and I napped through most of the "frantically losing my mind in Christmas decorating and house cleaning". . . now I am smack dab in the middle of "The Savior slept in a manger that first Christmas, right?" also known as "what can I get by without doing--does my family really need clean sheets?"

I've been trying to clean my room since the week before Thanksgiving. Our washing machine broke 3 days ago. (Maybe a blessing in disguse, seeing that the poor old-timer must've lived through its lifetime warrantee 3 or 4 times--no joke). Robert and I can't decide on how to do the bathroom, or find the time to do it. His parents are coming in on Wed. My parents will be here 2-3 days after they leave. We planned a bunch of remodeling projects for over Thanksgiving break and accomplished none of them, but started a few of them.

Accomplishment for the day: excluding a present for my parents, and either Becky or Sandi (depending on whom I choose to give what to), I am FINISHED Christmas shopping. (*I know that you're all applauding, and I can hear it loud and clear). Thank you, Thank you. There's something to be said for online shopping :D.

Confession--and an extra dose of negativity

I hate telemarketers.

Really. I'm not sure if I'm going to the Celestial Kingdom because of it.

No, I do not want to support the firefighters/policemen/dying children. Can't you tell by the sound of my voice that I'm a heartless, horrible person that could care less if my meager 20 dollar donation could save the world--I'm keeping it for myself!

So why, I ask myself, do I agree to a "free gift" that's going to cost me 60 dollars after the "free gift" period is over (which happens to be 10 days). For a book about herbal remedies of all things! Excuse me, if I need a "remedy" I'll ask my husband to write me a prescription. (He'll be a doctor by the time I found the time to read the book, you see, which will definitely be longer than 10 days).

The "free gift" thing always gets me. No, I never actually want the "free gift," they just get me to say "Yes" so many times that it's hard for me to say "No" when I need to. Ugh. I think they also purposefully hire people with impossibly thick accents--I'm not incredibly sure why--but the ones with thicker accents seem to get me more often. The call today went something like this:

"These people are willing to send you a free thingy because they want to help your family--isn't that nice of them?"
"Sure"
"Would you be so kind to answer some questions for me?"
"I guess"
"Is this your address?"
"Yeah. . ."
"Is this your name?"
"Yes"
"Are you female?"
"Definitely"
"Do you try to be healthy?"
"Yeah"
"I'm going to record your confirmation: Do you want this thingy?"
"Uh. . . yeah. . . " (D'oh, I can't believe I just did that. Robert's going to be upset. What is wrong with me!)
"Have a nice day!"
"You, too." (I wish you didn't exist!)

I hate telemarketers.

Sorry, I'm really upset, and when I'm upset I blog. Probably should kick that habit. . . . but like I said, I might not get in to Heaven, so who cares.

I LOVE my mom

My mom is so good. I was totally going to blog about how awful my life is, how nerdy I am, how depressing it is to be me. . . (don't tell me you haven't felt that way). Anyway, just before I posted about a page and a half of "it's not worth it to get out of bed," "I'm not qualified to be a wife/mother/friend," and "woe is me," my mom called.

As you can see, I did NOT post the first post.

Mom makes me feel so much better. I feel awkward sometimes--like when people find out how old I am. Especially when they know that I have two kids. I was feeling totally inadequate about being a parent (or anything, really)--and SUPER uncomfortable about facing any new social settings where I would feel that way again.

Leave it to mom. Somehow she took me out of a deep funk of self-pity (seriously, there were tears--and I'm not the type that cries easily), and she reminded me that I am a cool person/friend/wife/mother. I make mistakes (and I really totally am a nerd), but when my heart is in the right place--the rest of me will be too.

I LOVE MY MOM