It's official!

1. My last day working for USA TODAY is OFFICIALLY May 4th. I become a full time nanny and a maid for my husband after that.
2. My husband OFFICIALLY has a spending problem. He bought another gun after promising me no more simply because his man friend was buying one and he didn't want to be the only husband in West Jordan not getting any. Compassion, my friends, compassion.
3. I am OFFICIALLY a prude. This week at 12 year old girl soccer practice I unintentionally eavesdropped on conversations about April 20th being the OFFICIAL Get High Day. These were kids that were not on the soccer team but they were there watching their friend who is our goalie. These kids are 12. And they were either acting real big to impress or they really were high the entire day at school. I also was privy to the dialogue between another team player and my very own "sweet" daughter. Some of the girls were playing around being geeks and pulling up their shorts as high as Napoleon Dynamite. They were being called "cameltoes" by the other 12 year young girls. Ryan innocently guffawed at that not knowing what that meant. And then the other 6th grade girls laughed at her for not knowing what it meant. The team was called out to another drill before they shared the true meaning of the term with Ryan. 6TH GRADE! I am officially and now publicly disgusted.
4. I have OFFICIALLY signed up for my first quilting class ever. Starting on May 4th, I will start learning how to actually put together the 500 quilting squares that I cut from my missionary dresses back in Thailand over 10 years ago. Procrastination, my friends, procrastination. I am excited!
Anything you would like to officially declare today? This is the place.

Whoops!

Cooper and Lily were in the car with his grandfather Nolan Peterson's wife and grandfather Nolan's oldest daughter, Carla.
Cooper was telling Lily all about raccoons. different kinds and how they lived and how they took care of their babies.
Lily who is 4 years old as well: "Cooper, how do you know this?"
Cooper: "My grandpa told me."
Lily: "Grandpa Nolan?"
Cooper: "No, my other Grandpa.
Lily who lives with her single mom: "Grandpa Nolan?"
Cooper: "No, Grandpa Chuck. The Grandpa that knows everything. Grandpa Nolan doesn't know anything."

Luckily Grandpa Nolan's wife and daughter were laughing when they told me that story.

Spring

Hey! I was driving home from dropping Chase and the "angels" (his three blonde girl friends) off at school and I saw SPRING actually begin! Forget that equinox thingy. Or the tides or the moons. Spring starts when they start draining last year's water out of the pool and cleaning it for this year's water! Oh the joy!

Whatzup?

I have 6 blogs that I habitually check on every day to see what is going on with them. Some of these writers are consistent daily writers, some are not. It is like a random prize if all have updated in one day. However, today none, nobody, not one single one had posted to their blogs. So I have to carry the weight for all of us today.

I don't know if a Chase story is enough content for the 7 of us.

The kids, the dog and I went for a walk/bike ride with another family of kids on Sunday. We decided to walk on a city trail that is very popular and it was a beautiful day so we knew it would be busy. We were walking along the secondary water canal and when we finally stopped at a park, the older kids found themselves in the water. I was so happy that they had stopped complaining about where we were going that I didn't care. Ryan and Chase were both wearing jeans and they were completely soaked. On the way back Chase, wet up to his shirt hem, was walking with my friend and I and her 3 year old daughter. Everytime somebody would pass by on their roller blades, bikes or feet Chase would greet them. "Whatzup?" He would shout with his arms outstretched and a grin on his face. It was fun to watch the expressions of people and then their subsequent actions. Most people would greet him back. Some would only laugh. Some would look him in the eye and talk to him. He was so proud of himself for getting them to talk back to him. We also have that proud feeling when we get the trucker's to honk their horns at our car. We told Chase he looked like he had peed his pants and they were just feeling sorry for him. "That poor little mentally challenged boy who had peed his pants on his walk and was talking to everyone on the way home." He maintained his attitude and his actions. We passed a grandma and a grandpa and they laughed with us for a moment after Chase's greeting. It was a sunny day and everybody was just happy to be outdoors. We had walked a long way and it took us four a long time to get back to the starting point because the 3 year old decided she wasn't going to walk or ride her big wheel that we now had to carry as well. As we reached the parking lot where our cars were, there were the grandma and grandpa again coming around for a second time. They were coming toward us. Flanking Chase, all of the sudden, the grandpa jumped in front of Chase, arms outstretched and yelled "WHATZUP?" Chase maybe at that time did truly pee his pants, all the other kids who had been far in front of us were shocked into silence but the three of us (my friend, the grandma and I) just laughed uproariously. Boys will be boys even when they are grandpas.

Quittin' Day

Well, I did it. I told my boss who is really no longer my boss that I am quitting. It wasn't as tough as I thought it was going to be. Although I did have a panic attack last night. I have been doing this breathing exercise after reading an article on oxycising. Exercising by breathing. No, I don't think I am going to lose weight doing it but I was made aware of how shallow I breathe. I am trying to use all of my lung capacity. At least 5 minutes of each day. I can believe that it helps the memory, the energy, the endorphins, etc. I could not even take a full breath last night. It was painful. And it was the panic. The worry. I understand why they call worry a burden. Eventually I fought my way through it but it was weird. I survived and made it to work today to do the deed.
Musical support from the radio on the way here: Nine to Five by Dolly Parton. They won't have me where they want me after April 28th!
Living on a Prayer by BonJovi. That and Bart's paycheck only for a little while.
Let's hear it for the Man from Footloose. Bart is being very supportive through all of this.--Emotionally and now especially financially.
Give a Little Respect by Erasure. Now I will only get disrespect from my children. Not from my corporate heads.
No, really those were the songs on the radio as I was coming in.
So now I have to just make it through 2 more weeks and 1 day.

Wednesday

Anxiety level: astronomically high. There is a little lady running around in my head screaming her bloody head off. She is pulling at her hair. Scratching at her face. And sobbing. But she is locked in behind a smile.

Two more days until I give my two weeks notice. This morning my boss gave his two week notice. I was speechless.

This afternoon my husband told me that he wanted to buy a new $11,000 snowmobile. I was speechless.

This evening my children fought all the way to the evening’s activity. I was speechless.

The lady in my head is not speechless. She may continue screaming all night long.

12 seconds of New York City fame for the Petersons

1. Towers that were in the “Ghostbusters” movie where the keymaster and the gatekeeper lived. 2. The bull statue on Wall Street that was in the movie “Hitch”



3. The office building where it all started for Will Smith in MIB.
4. Mike Myers walking across the street when our caravan was stopped at the red light. Nobody had the guts or the quickness to roll down the window and call out “Mike!” but I know it was him. He walked like Shrek.

5. The area in Central Park where the pigeon lady talked to McCullay Culkin in “Home Alone.”
6. Rockfeller Center ice skating rink that was still open to skaters where John Cusack laid down on the ice in “Serendipity.”
7. The Washington Bridge where Kate and Mathew shot scenes on the weekends for “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.” Shalene’s father is a bridge inspector and was there on the bridge for all the shooting. He has confirmed that Mathew is not just a hottie, but a pleasant young man.
8. The U.N. building which looked exactly like it did in “The Interpreter”….or did the building in “The Interpreter” look exactly like the U.N. building?
9. We were up on top of the Empire State Building. I wanted to pretend that I was right smack dab in the middle of “Sleepless of Seattle.” I wanted to look around for Tom Hanks and pretend that he was looking for me as well. However, I have to say that unless there is a secret service elevator it was not shot up there. There is no elevator that comes straight out onto the open deck of the Empire State Building. How disappointing.
10. Macy’s store windows where Will Ferrell and his green elf suit showed us the meaning of Christmas.
11. Of course, we talked about X-men and the Statue of Liberty part of the movie but mostly we talked about Hugh Jackman.
12.

Things I learned in New York

• There is a shop called Shoegasm. Do you think the shoes are orgtastic?
• There are 1576 stairs in the Empire State Building. Every year they have a race and let people run those stairs. The world record is held by a 24 year old Austrailian who climbed those stairs in 9 minutes and 37 seconds.
• As of September 11, 2001, the Statue of Liberty itself has been shut down to all visitors. One can go to the top of the stone pedestal that she stands on but no further due to security issues. Damn terrorists!
• After the birth of our country, the capital was located in New York City.
  The New York Times corporate headquarters is new located in New Jersey. That is particularly comical to me in my line of work.
• Although the nearby blocks are seemingly completely revitalized, Ground Zero can still bring a lump to my throat. And seeing the vastness of the hole, it is truly a miracle that only 3000 people were killed.
• Muffins are best if grilled before eating.
• There is no Central Perk---for real.
• Taxis do not stop for pedestrians. There is no right turn on red so green means GO!
• The Statue of Liberty is designed by the same man who designed the Effiel Tower. He modeled her facial features after that of his mother's.

Good bye Utah

HELLO NEW YORK!

I may not be over it yet

This past Saturday morning I spent my time cleaning up spray paint from somebody’s vandalizing “good time” on my house and 4 of my neighbor’s houses. I have to say that I felt more than a little violated even though it was absolutely random and not directed at anyone in particular. I can’t even imagine how people who have had their houses burglarized feel. And how sorry I feel for them. Because my knee jerk reaction was to “start packing and let’s move out of this neighborhood. See ya!” I have since calmed down from that but still. Still. Still I am quite upset at the world finally entering into my little bubble of life. I was going to write how very sad I was that we have so little respect for other people. How society was going downhill. And then I think back on the images on my television set showing Middle Eastern streets where you can’t even walk to work without fear of a suicide bomber. I think back to the documentary on poverty in America where there is a whole town 75 miles outside Chicago with no running water. And I am going to go all ga-ga about somebody spray painting something on my house? And yet, yes I am. I may not be going out and joining the peace corp to go help out in a third world country and I may not be as politically active as I would like or think I should be but I am NOT going out of my way to destroy things of value. I am NOT spending my time writing racial slurs and sailor type profanity on fences for hundreds of children to read. I am NOT trying to make a neighborhood feel less secure and more suspicious of all who walk the streets. And I did not do that when I was younger either. That is a ridiculous excuse.
And it wasn’t the actual defacing of my house, my material possessions that made me so mad about this. (Because Goof Off took it off completely and really fast too.) It truly dismays me that humans are using their precious life energy for vile and vindictive acts. And that people don’t value their hopefully 70 years of life enough to want to spend their time doing those things. I don’t like to think of the world becoming more evil but sometimes the evidence is just too IN YOUR FACE.

Why we go to matinees

This weekend we took the whole fam damily to see “She’s the man” since we still have to wait one more weekend for Ice Age II. (X MEN III----- MAY 26TH! Oh, the joy!) It was cute and entertaining. We have been going to more matinees this last little while simply because it makes me feel better to not pay $7.50 for a ticket and we are courteous realists knowing that we are taking a 4 year old to a theater full of people who want to watch the show. We will continue taking the family to matinees because my 10 year old also has a rough time talking in a whisper and experiences deep down urges to make sure the person sitting next to him really understands what just happened on a 30 foot screenin front of them. I will start accepting your thanks for this considerate gesture now.

The movie started out with Amanda Bynes out with her friends and boyfriend at the beach playing soccer. After a little sand footsie with the ball, she gave her boyfriend a couple of PG rated kisses. In the darkened theater, you hear a little 4 year old voice give way, “EWWWWWWWWWWW! Kissing! Get me out of this movie!” It took us giving him the whole bag of popcorn to convince him to stay. However, at the end of the movie Cooper informed us that he had laid down and closed his eyes during the other kisses on screen. Is it unrealistic to hope this remains a staunch belief until he is 18?

Defcon 5

Last Saturday I had a defining moment of being a mom to a budding teenager. And it was awful. Awful. Ryan was in a mood. Her father yelled at her and she went downstairs to her room. I finally went down to span the generation gap and she allowed me to see into the black hole of hormones and junior high suffering. Because of my slight (by the world’s standards, mindfucking by my own) anxiety problem I immediately am horrified by any small symptom that could mean it has been inherited by my offspring. First, she scared the crap out of me. She wouldn’t tell me anything but that something bad had happened to her. I finally had to say to her what I was thinking. “Ryan, you have to tell me because all the things that I am thinking of are so much worse than it probably is and you need to have pity on your mother and her mental state. I am not leaving until you tell me.”
“Nobody can help me.”
“How do you know that? I don’t know everything and I am 37 years old. How do you know that when you are only 12? And if Bart and I can’t help you, we have the resources to find you somebody that can. We have the money, the insurance, the family, the intelligence.” I was spouting but she wasn’t saying anything.
I sat there and I sat there on her bed. Wondering what the right thing to do was. Wishing that I wasn’t the mother in the situation here. Wanting her to be my happy 2 year old daughter again.
“You can’t change the way people think.” She finally said. Apparently, this bad thing that has happened to her is that people think she was pretty in 4th grade and has become ugly. And fat. Can I just say THANK THE LORD?
And yet sitting there in her room and listening to her tell me she was ugly and fat and that she had tried starving herself this weekend was not that comforting.
“Ryan, I know you don’t want to hear this but most women who think back on their junior high years just remember them as absolute hell so all these feelings are somewhat normal. I mean, you feeling abnormal is normal if that makes sense.”
But I remember those feelings. I remember that you really hadn’t even acquired a vocabulary in order to voice your uncertainties, your challenges with your body and your emotional behavior, your moods swinging from tree to tree. I was speaking so very much from the heart when I told her that I was 37 and I still didn’t know everything. Everything about hormones, mood swings, life, women problems.
So, I did what every caring mother should do. I started reading her notes that she left in her pants pockets in the laundry. I went and read her journal. And there is very little guilt in my admission because I now feel qualified to diagnose her with normal abnormality. We have lowered ourself to Defcon 3 and will keep things closely monitored. We also talked about eating a good breakfast every day. That is requiring daily monitoring. We talked about taking vitamins. That is requiring daily monitoring. At this moment, I was guess she is going to live.
I have had to squelch many other remembrances of when my mother was caught reading my journal. I vowed that I would never violate the privacy of a child of mine. That was such a breach of trust. Now, no longer being in the throes of those hormonal mood swings, I feel that it is the right thing to do. And yet, I know what kind of feelings it will evoke if Ryan should find out what I did. What do you think?

Men............and weight

So today I was talking to my male neighbor and he shared with me his deepest darkest feelings that he would not spend the $20 for a gym membership for his wife until she changed her eating habits. Because as long as she ate like she does now, going to the gym even 7 times a week wouldn't help. The spindle popped off my disgust-o-meter. Not to mention that she makes 3 times more money than he so it really is her money and she can damn well take a match to it and burn it up if she chooses. Not to mention that she does all the homework in the house. Not to mention that she works 10-12 hours a day. Truly, this is a day where I think the world would be a better place without men. My previous post was about MY weight gain. I did not say anything about men who think they have the right to add to my guilt about my weight. Or about men who think they should play every Saturday. My disgust-o-meter is already broken, thank goodness. But I digress.

Anyone want a double chocolate brownie?

Just like the whole blogging world that has something to say about weight gain and loss, so do I. I believe that most of my passion is coming from the spring weather that coaxes me to try and wear a short sleeve shirt and show off my arms or shorts that look absolutely disgusting on my now thoroughly winterized body. As I read some of these other blogs, I am shocked at how similar our line of defense is. That our internal self image does not match with our true self and only when confronted with a photograph do we have to face our weight gain.
I have been shopping a bit this week and all I can say is YUCK! I knew. I knew that I had been eating way too much and controlling my carbs way too little. I knew that what little exercise I did do was not enough. I knew that I was not feeling comfortable in my body…..or my pants. I knew that I should’ve started on this little fat project long ago but it has been so damn cold and crappy outside that I haven’t. I knew all of that. And then looking in a full length mirror you not only KNOW it but you are living it. You are obsessed with it. You can’t get it out of your mind. You are fat. You are huge. You can’t stop eating. You must stop eating. You will stop eating right after this last cookie. OK, this weekend is your last binge or else you will die of fatness. It just feels yucky. But being lazy feels so good. Not having to control this one aspect of your life helps out when you feel so trapped into routine of getting up, driving kids to school, going to work, driving kids to soccer, scouts, dentists, doing homework, watching TV with one eye while the other is folding the laundry, having to come up with another dinner. If all of these things could go away, you can bet that I would be able to control my eating and exercising. I could.
I am lucky. I have received no negativity from my husband. I can’t imagine having an outside source of criticism. The biggest critic is living just inside your head and is obviously just as fat as you are. Sometimes that just makes it worse though…..for me. Again, so much in my life to rejoice in and here I sit moping around thinking about how fat I am while I am eating a pumpkin chocolate chip cookie. And sometimes they really don’t even taste that good. Or sometimes you are full but you keep eating just to finish off your plate. Or to finish off the table so you don’t have to put another something back in the fridge as a leftover that will never get eaten after today.
It kills me. I like to think of myself of a woman of above average intelligence. However, my ability to maintain a healthy level of weight denies me the proof of the very thing that I would like to take pride about. I have complete control of this thing. It is my body. It is my time. It is my health. And yet, sadly, I can not—no, I mean I have not gained control of this part of my life. Hell, I am now so depressed I might just take up smoking.

March 16

4 more days until Spring and it is so cold and stormy here that it seems like it will never come. Winter is in the process of ruining another perfectly good weekend plan and I am PISSED! I really need to morph into a seed or a bear because truly, I am only half alive during this harsh cold season and it would be best if I just hibernated. I just went tanning and while that helps, it is so not long enough. Oh ho! Long enough for you to wonder and sometimes shiver with fear at how the UVA rays are mutating your skin cells and maybe your eye cells so that you will find yourself with some ugly disease later in life but not long enough for you to forget about the Narnian ice witch just waiting to blow down your neck and whip up your hair into an icicle hairdo like hers just outside the salon.

Fence Sitting

Just 30 more days before I become Sandra Bullock starring in Two Weeks Notice. I hope my boss doesn't realize he is in love with me after that. Good gosh! I hope I don't realize that I am in love with my boss after that. HA! That would never happen. He is the one that is spurring me on to this huge decision in my life. And, ironically, I am grateful for that. There has barely been a moment since I made the decision where I have felt hesitant or uncertain that this is the right thing to do. That is a blessing for me as I am always one loving the tip top of the proverbial fence. No, I have no other plans. I have found a health plan that will get us through until September. I plan on taking the boys and living down in Richfield with Grandpa for a few weeks. Working on his garden, playing with the puppy and four wheeling. I plan on going to the pool a lot here at home. And working out and running with Ryan, Bart and Friday. I plan on actually putting a dinner schedule together each week and sticking to it. I even have a friend who is going to teach me coupon shopping. I plan on starting to look for a job in August. But all these are just that: plans. Nothing in concrete. I am just waiting for May 1 to see what I really want to do.

His real name is Friday Junior

Under the Influence

Things that I thought about while in the dentist’s chair breathing in that…..exquisite……gas.

“Excuse me. Excuse me! Where can I get some of this gas for everyday life?!?!” I need this!


Cooper was in the chair next to me getting his cavities filled as well. He was fighting the gas and the novacaine a bit and I could hear the hygienist talking to him telling him to lie back and explaining that the gas would make him feel weird. I could feel myself fighting back from the effects of the gas and focusing on what was going on to my left. I even opened my eyes and looked over to his chair. I was even able to tell her to take off his coat and his shoes and he would be a lot more comfortable. That probably got me 5 extra minutes of gas before they started the procedure. “Here is what mother’s instinct is.” I imagined that my “center” was myself sitting in my chair but that there was a veering, a pull, a smearing of my center that followed Cooper to his chair. I looked down and could see my center that was not just encompassing myself but Cooper as well and I thought how am I going to draw this on the blog. “This is what mother’s instinct is…..to me.” I had to revise that as I thought about all the kids that are abused and neglected. This was a downward spiral of negative thoughts about those horrible mothers and those poor, poor children.

“I wonder if tear ducts can suck back in half formed tears.” I don’t know because they didn’t just stay half formed. They were whole tears. Big fat jiggly tears that started rolling down my face.

“Are you ok?,” I hear from somewhere up above.
“Yes.” I nodd. Luckily, it throws me into another train of thought. Is that why dentist’s have the highest rate of suicide in any profession? They don’t ever talk to their patients because they are all asleep or high and when they do finally get out of the chair where they don’t quite remember what has happened –did they drool? Bite his hand? Fart in the chair? Tongue his fingers? -- the patient doesn’t want to look him in the eye for the consult or shake his hand knowing just exactly where his hands have been for his whole professional life. Poor dentists. How sad of a life do they have? Haven’t my tear ducts dried out for the day? Nurse! Suction!

I realize that I need to pull out of it. I am starting to feel nauseous. The swirling has become frenzied. Whoa! I am a penny twirling crazily on the counter for way too long. If I can just topple myself over I can lay flat. Topple! I cry, but for some reason I can’t push myself down without closing my mouth and the dentist keeps saying, “Open, please. “ I am trying to breathe through my open mouth so I can clear my head of the gas. I start composing what I am going to say to Bart if I make it out of this chair.

“Bart, I want you to focus on what I am going to say next. I know you are having a busy day but this is important. I never want you to let me drink because I will be one big soggy, sodden lump of wet tissues. I think you will find that me under control of myself is the best thing for all of us. At all times.” I can hear him laughing out loud.

“Damn, is everything that I compose in my head this good?” With the gas, yes.

I think absolutely infinity everything might be a yes with the gas. How scary.

The Joys of Being a Psychology Major

Go with me on this one. One of the biggest problems in our marriage has been my getting out of the car before Bart can get around to open the door or my opening the door for myself when we go into a building. I know you are laughing right now but this is no laughing matter. I mean, this almost brings us to blows even when we speak of it now. I don’t know who is in the right or who is in the wrong but it doesn’t matter. Both of us have strong feelings. In simple terms the argument goes like this: He wants to open the door for me signifying respect and love. I don’t see the need for him to do something for me that I can do for myself. I feel uncomfortable waiting like a spoiled debutante in the car while he walks all the way around to open my door. I could be out and we could be together before he makes it all the way around. He feels that I am being selfish denying him the right to treat me the right way. I counter that if he really has strong feelings about showing respect and love I would feel a whole hell of a lot more love and respect if he for instance, loaded the dishwasher.
Honestly, thinking back this is not something that has evolved with just Bart. This is the way I am. I have never expected dates to open the door for me. I have never expected the male to fork out for the bill every time. Call it independent. Call it stubborn. Call it controlling. I don’t care what you call it. Understand that this is me. These gender roles are not ingrained in me at all. I don’t know if I see these established patterns as creating inequalities between a guy and me. I don’t want to walk behind, I want to walk side by side. (Until, I must admit, we start talking about changing a tire.) I don’t know if I am uncomfortable with the idea of traditional courtship rules. Is it because I don’t want to officially signify that I was actually courting this guy, thereby, shutting myself off for any and all other interesting offers? But that is not a valid theory because it applies even now to my husband who I am publicly bonded together with by 3 children, a dog, a house payment and a 5 year plan. I must go back to thinking that my independence is simply part of my fundamental belief that I need to pull my own weight in this world. Whether it be by opening a door that I am certainly able to open myself and have done so thousands of times before or by bringing home some sort of paycheck to pay for the household sundries. Currently I am contemplating staying home for the summer. Yes, that means quitting my job of 9 years. That decision has already been made. The plan is to stay home for 4 or 5 months and hang out with the kids, see where the wind blows me because I will NOT be pursuing my career in the same vocation. As with any life change, this created some stress. With fascination, I have been able to recognize some very “in the box” thinking that I have been holding onto for years. This is enabling me to make this very decision. But there is still this one independence hangup that leaves me wondering if I will be able to make 4 or 5 months without a paycheck. This has nothing, NOTHING to do with how I view SAHM work. I always tell Bart when he goes and does extra work to buy a snowmobile that he has to pay me double for the caring of his children while he is away for the additional time. And this may be something that is truly a dysfunction between Bart and myself. (I haven’t been married to all that many men to know a difference.) Or maybe it is a dysfunction between me, myself and I. Hey, I have 4 or 5 months with nothing else to do but work it all out. Heh. Heh.

Too Much Wasted Time

This season of American Idol is the worst one I have watched. I have a little hope for the boys tomorrow. And I have to say that Mandisa was the bomb last night. But to only have one great performance for 14 girls, I am so disappointed. I do not watch it for Ryan Seacrest's witticisms, I do not watch it for the interplay between Simon and Paula, I do not watch it for the brief glimpse of Bo Bice in the audience (although it was fun). I watch it to be delighted by people who are getting up on stage and creating a perfect minute with their voice and their body language. I do tivo back the great performances and enjoy them again and sometimes again. And last night I only got one perfect minute. You gotta do better, girls!

I believe

More than 7 days have gone by without a post. Am I getting bored of blogging? Have I satisfied my writing craving? Because I certainly did not go on far away vacation without any internet access or been in a life threatening accident and spent unconscious days in the ICU. I have been composing posts in my mind but they haven't made it to the computer. Does that count? Hardly.
I think that I still view writing as a craft rather than just a way of communicating. So, it is not ok for a post to simply communicate but it must be perfect. I haven't had time to be perfect so I have remained silent. I don't know if that is good or bad. See, even now I am debating that if I will put this one in because technically, what is this all about?

Today at church a man talked about his friend that had committed suicide 20 years ago. He said that the Lord came to him one day while he was working and whispered to him that his friend's temple work needed to be done. In my church, we believe that there must be certain rituals taken care of on this earth for one to progress to the highest echelons of heaven. There is also talk that suicide is some sort of murder and murder, I believe has always excluded one from the highest of high level of exaltation in all of christianity.
I made a friend when I was a missionary in Thailand. His name was Sheldon Wray from Burley Idaho. We were Bangkok together for about 6 months until we were both sent upcountry to other districts. He was a worker who believed in working hard and playing hard. I loved him. I respected him. I enjoyed him. I thought he was going to come home from Thailand and take the world by storm. I thought that he would continue to fight and win against the agnst and I took strength from that. But he didn't choose to do that. For some unknown reason to me who thought I knew him, he came home and a little more than a month later he put a bullet through his head. Wray was completely stubborn and truly, I have believed and will continue to believe that his little bulldog personality would somehow get him through St. Peter's gate and up onto the highest cloud and if he desires, the Lord's new righthand man. I just know that. I just KNOW that. I know that Wray will not sit for something less. I see his suicide as a dumb knee jerk action but an action none the less. He was not one to sit around and do nothing. He was an action man. And when I went to his funeral I just had to accept that fact that once again I had deviated from the accepted tenets and doctrines of my church. I accept that calmly. I have had to do that before but that is another long post. I believe more in my relationship with the Lord and the understandings that we have created than in the organized religion that is run by humans.
However, today in church when I heard that story I was strengthened in my beliefs. Today in the organized religion setting I felt joy as I thought of Wray still progressing-perhaps not the way I wanted to see it happen-and fighting the war. And it made me believe in God and that He loves us all the more.

Kodak movements

Cameras are the bomb. They capture so much and I completely agree that a picture is sometimes worth 1000 words. However, there are also rapturous things that cameras cannot capture. Or in deference to Spookalot, my camera and I cannot capture them. Remember in Hitch when Will Smith says that 90% of communication is body language or movement? Do you also remember when dude was showing Will how he could dance? The Q-tip. The Q-tip. That was hysterical but I digress. This week’s emotion was evoked by some very poignant motion.
The dog will be 7 weeks next Tuesday. He is definitely feeling more comfortable at our house and out in the yard. Today he actually walked to the edge of his fenced world without looking back to see if I was following right behind him. He loves the rose garden. He joyfully leaps in between the bushes. Like a rabbit. Like a deer. All four paws leaving the earth at the same time and coming down in a sideways motion. Those little hops convey a sense of such complete singleminded bliss. He has no other thoughts except to be. He is reveling in the power that he has over his muscles and his body. He is immersed in the new smells and sights that the world has to offer him. Sigh.
Ryan will be 13 this August. She is definitely entering into the teen phase of her life. I know the hormones are raging and I worry about her more often than not. I recognize the confusion, restlessness and teen angst in her eyes at times. But not at soccer games. Last Saturday we had an indoor soccer game. She is starting forward. Red shorts. Blue shirt. Ponytails. I watch from the sidelines and I see my little girl run toward the ball. Her strides are sure and long. Her body is beautiful. I can’t describe the air of health and growth that surrounds her as she powers up to meet the ball. Her shorts softly mold and encase her brown legs that become a blur in my camera and I can’t capture the moment. And then the kick. Her foot knows how to connect to the ball and she makes a goal. Her eyes are sparkling. Her hand comes up in an arc and slaps Kelsey’s proffered hand in a high five. A connection that says everything. Synergy at it’s best.
Finally, Cooper. Always Cooper. Cooper jumping on the tramp. Cooper catching a football thrown by his Grandpa. Cooper trying to wink and not just blink. Cooper running his fingers through his hair, his method of calming down. Cooper laughing at a joke.
So, in all in all, this week was pretty damn good.

Date Night

Friday night Bart and I went to Jiffy Lube to get the oil in our vehicles changed. We had no kids with us and no puppies. We sat in the waiting room and just talked about nothing. In comes these two nice looking young men. Around 22. Talking about tanning and a road trip. The four of us were the only ones in the waiting room.
Bart and I were talking about motorcycles and stocks for the most part. We were laughing. It was an easy conversation and we were having fun. I could tell the guys were listening to us talk. Bart had to go out and pay for the vehicles and the dark haired guy started in.
“How long have you been married?”
“13 years.”
“That long?.....So you married really young?”

O.K. now that could be the end of the story. I was instantly in love with the two of them.

However, it goes on. I was proud to say, “I married when I was 24.” A two digit number, excellent. A two digit number that starts with a 2, commendable in Utah. A two digit number that starts with a two and does not end in a prime number, almost impossible at BYU. I, then, added “And that was too young for me.”
The blonde guy says “Well, I am 22 and have no girlfriend.” But the dark haired guy was looking for more. “Too young? Why? Is being married hard?”
“Sure. I mean, it is good too but I would say our first 7 years were the worst.”
“Why? How? Financially? Emotionally?” He pushes further. I could tell they were really wanting to know. I had to think about this. What would I have listened to when I was 22?
“Well, I think that mostly it was the idea that marriage is supposed to be this complete togetherness thing and it isn’t. You still will want and need to maintain your own identity and sometimes that is painful to one or both of you. Also having kids is hard. It was hard for me to stay home with them even though that was totally what I wanted to do.”
“Was it hard financially?”
“Sure, we were poor.”
“Well, isn’t everyone?” And my first thought about that was well, we’re not now but I didn’t say that. I told the truth.
“We were poor but we bought a house and sucked it up. We sold that house and moved into a bigger one. Bart wasn’t doing too well then and we ended up selling that house, paying off our debts, moving into a rental for a year until we got it together and bought another house.”
“Seven years, huh?”
“Well, it was for me. But I am also very hard to live with so maybe it would be different for others.”
They laughed like they were supposed to and told me about their parents and their marriages. That they thought their mom and dad were now happier now that the kids were all out of the house. That it was the blonde guy’s birthday that weekend and they were doing the crazy thing of driving to California for the two days. I hope they drove carefully.
I left feeling like I had just had a review of the last decade of my life and I had passed. I realized that I was proud of the life that Bart and I have created through loving, fighting, laughing, crying, discussing, ignoring and cherishing. I felt close to tears as I held in my hands a tangible feeling of warmth and gratification revolving around me and my family. Pretty good for a cheap Friday night date to Jiffy Lube.

Happy Birthday dear Abe!

4 fun facts:

In warm weather, 6th president of the United States, John Quincy Adams customarily went skinny dipping in the Potomac River before dawn.
Have you seen the swimming suits back then? They were more of a joke than showing off your birthday suit anyday!

Abraham Lincoln carried letters, bills and notes around in the tall, black stovepipe hat we so often see him in.
Don't you just love him?!?

William Taft, 27th president of the United States, weighed more than 300 pounds and had a special oversized tub installed in the White House.
Talk about a bubble bath!

Calvin Coolidge, 30th president of the United States, had chronic stomach pain and required 10 to 11 hours of sleep AND an afternoon nap every day.
I think I feel a stomach ache coming on.

Introducing Brinkley

How many times I have washed blankets with pee: 72
How many times I have been woken up to take him outside: 19
How many times I have had to stop Chase and Cooper from roughhousing with him too hard: 1465
How many times we have renamed him: 299
How many times I have had to bring him to work with me: 3
How many times I have had to clean his poop off the office floor: 1
How many times I have slept with him in my bed with his kennel right next to the bed: 4……out of the 4 nights that he has lived with us
How many times I have shivered in fear of the next year of chewing: 194
How many times I have kissed and loved him: 9254
How much I already love him: infinity and infinity.

The Office

Do you remember that one episode from The Office? The episode where the senior vice president walks into the main office in Denver and announces a consolidation of 3 offices in the United States? Denver is one of them. The VP then proceeds to let everyone know that the General Manager and the entire accounting staff had been let go. There was no prior knowledge. He flew in on the private jet, dropped the bomb and waited while they turned off their computers and left the office. The Denver side of the mountain will be merged with Minneapolis and the other side of the Rocky Mountains will be merged with Phoenix. There were no other operational changes or layoffs at this time, the VP says as he lets everyone off the conference call. Do you remember that episode? You don’t. That’s funny because I remember it like IT HAPPENED YESTURDAY.

Happy Valentine's Day!

w.w.w. and w. (for sp00kalot)

I feel like something is supposed to happen in the big picture of my life. So here I am waiting. Watching. Wondering. And whining. But then I get mad at myself because maybe I am not supposed to be waiting. Watching. Wondering. And whining. Maybe I am supposed to make something happen. Maybe I am supposed to quit my job without knowing where the insurance will come from, without the security of my paycheck, without the security of having somewhere to go every day. Maybe I am supposed to drive up to Idaho and buy $100 worth of lottery tickets. Maybe I am supposed to start writing a book. Maybe we are supposed to put our house up for sale and move to Richfield. Maybe I am just supposed to learn patience and gratitude and be happy where I am at. Maybe a leap of faith is required of me. My belief in fate and kharma and my belief in being self sufficient and doing all you can do directly oppose each other. Last night I almost had an imploding panic attack trying to read all my feelings to see if there was something I should be doing. I waited. I watched. I wondered. I listened. But nothing EXCEPT a feeling that something was supposed to happen. I finally decided that until I knew what this something was supposed to look like, there was nothing I could do but wait, wonder......and watch American Idol tonight.

I am a genius!

www.intelligence-test.net/part1/

But I can't for the life of me, figure out 12, 28, 29 or 31. Please for the love of pete, help me!

The Monica Geller Confession

You may not remember it by name but you will remember it. You must. Hasn’t everyone seen every single Friend’s episode at least 20 gazillion times now that it is on TNT or Life or something? For those of you that forgot the name, it is: The One with the Chicken Pox Episode #47. That doesn’t give it away. The main plot of the episode was Charlie Sheen coming home from military leave to spend it with Phoebe and then the both of them getting chicken pox. However, it is the subplot that caught my attention. Monica is hot and heavy with Richard (Tom Selluck) at this point and she is very upset that Richard does not have a “thing.” He eventually comes up with something that satisfies her. I think it is that he has to sleep on the east side of the bed. I don’t remember.
The other night I was getting into bed and I was struck with the magnitude and the multiplicity of my “things.” I become Monica Geller before I get into bed. I become worse than Monica Geller. There is a definite routine that must be followed or else I can not relax, let alone sleep. In fact, I was not getting into bed when I had this epiphany. I realized how freaky I was when I actually was in bed and because one of the steps had been overlooked I knew I could not sleep and had to get up and rectify things. Here is my list:

Tissue box is wedged between my bed and the nightstand and must be checked to make sure there are tissues in it.
New water glass must be filled with water and ice--old water glass must be in the kitchen. There cannot be two waterglasses on my nightstand.
Bedroom window must be open a crack, blinds must be shut turned up, not down.
Sheets must be tucked in at the bottom of the bed and blankets spread the right way across the bed.
My blue body pillow must be in reaching range.
Socks must be on my feet, regardless of anything else.

I am not sure that any of my “things” are the real freaky part of this nighttime ritual, it is the absolute necessity that I have for all this to be done before I get into bed and relax. Now that I have written this down, I wish that I had something more heartwarming like saying prayer or kissing my deceased Grandpa’s picture or the Walton’s goodnight shoutout on my list but it would be untrue. Maybe I can try to work it into the routine. I’ll let you know.

"Life is too short not to enjoy it,"

He said as he walked out of bedroom yesterday morning. And that is all I can think about since then. Bart and I were talking about me quitting my job. The only reason that I do not do just that today is…….well, did I say the only reason? Let me make a list.

• I carry the health insurance for the family, however, a lot of companies out there will provide that to me and my family.
• I have 8 years of seniority and 6 weeks of paid time off this year. I will lose this.
• Bart has a spending problem and I enable us to easily maintain a 401K account and also I make enough supplemental money that budgeting can be one of the littlest, teeniest items on my priority list.
• I do realize that one of the perks of my job is VERY FLEXIBLE hours. Yes, I may have to work in the middle of the night but I also drive my child to school at 9 am and then take Cooper up to Grandma every day. This is not an 8 to 5 job. Sometimes it is a 10 to 3 job.
• I am scared shitless of change.
• I am scared shitless of making a decision.
• Finally, and don’t let me sound too bitter when I say this, I don’t have much faith in my own feelings when making this kind of decision having some sort of a depression/anxiety problem. So, when I say I hate going to work, I wonder--and I remember wondering this same thing at the last job I had—I wonder am I unhappy because of this job or is this misery internal.

So, I am approaching this rationally.

• Yesterday I made a list of all the things I would like to see done (with my money) before I give it up. That made me think this might take place next year instead of next month. And I haven’t even let Bart add his two cents to it yet.
• I also talked to HR and found out that COBRA insurance is $1100 a month for my family. Wow! Truly, I don’t think that I can remain a SAHM (in September my baby goes to kindergarten so it would be a childless SAHM) without some sort of a job and so I might as well find something that offers insurance but I definitely had in mind a 4 or 5 month sabbatical before I put my nose to the grindstone again.
• Finally, I got an appointment and went to the doctor and renewed the magic pill subscription. I needed this anyways but I could feel the anxiety setting up camp at my doorstep as I even considered making this big of a change in my life. And it was an 8 man tent that he pitched.
  
  So, truly if nothing else comes of this, hurray! for me for getting to the doctor.
  

Wicked

I was able to listen to the whole 71 minutes of the soundtrack for “Wicked” today and it did my soul good. Very good. I am still so amazed at the emotion that this soundtrack evokes. I love the storyline but I adore the music. I worship the words and how they explain the relationships in the story. I am so excited to go see it in New York. Let me say that again. I am so excited to go see it in New York. Yes, the tickets have been bought – both the airline tickets and the tickets for Wicked. We are going March 31 and staying until April 5th. My friend and her two children are going as well and lucky us! her father actually lives right outside of Manhattan and so we will be staying with him. We will be going to see the Statue of Liberty and have tickets already to go up to the Observation Deck around her head. Doing the tourist thing, we will also be visiting the Empire State Building, The Twin Towers Memorial, The National Museum of Art and the Guggenheim. We will be shopping in Little Italy and around Times Square. We will be going to a Medieval Dinner in Jersey and going to Wicked……so far. We were considering a quick trip to Boston but it doesn’t seem we can fit it all in and the two real interesting things I wanted to see in Boston were miles away from the actual city. Truly, I am not a history buff because I cannot remember dates but I am fascinated by the colonization of this country and the Revolutionary War. I wanted to go to the Salem Witch Museum and the Plymouth Plantation where they live, act, show how people used to live back then. Sigh. I need a trip to go to Williamsburg and Gettysburg. Put that right behind my trip to Italy, Thailand and Mexico.

Back to New York: My only concern is that one time seeing Wicked will not be enough. I may have to make my kids (and maybe my friends too) stand in the standing room only line just to see it again.

January 27th

It is Bart’s birthday today. He turned 37. I was reading another blog where the woman tried to come up with a picture for every year she and her husband were together. It was funny to watch the changes of hairstyle, clothing, shape of glasses, etc. as it went on through their relationship. (They started in jr. high)

Not dating but having fun in Thailand. I am on the left. Bart is in the middle.

It got me to wondering if I could actually FIND a picture of Bart and I during every year that we have been together. Then I had to admit that I could probably find A picture of us every year but would I allow it to be presented for the public eye. Lucky for me, I am the mom and the mom gets the wonderful job of staying behind the camera for the most part. However, it is more than that in my case. Never in all my years have I been photogenic. I can count the pictures that I truly like of myself on all my bodily digits. My youngest son on the other hand was born making love to the camera. He is so photogenic he looks better on film than in real life.
Anyways, back to the birthday boy. We have been married for 13 years and I have to admit that there have been quite a few boulders and sharp rocks in our trail. Especially in the beginning but things have smoothed out quite nicely and mostly I feel gratitude and wonder that I married this man. I am very much of the mind that you really can never tell who you are marrying. (Unless you marry about 40.) There is always that mid life crisis, the having children changes, the decades that must be lived and days determined by which way the wind blows. Looking back, I acknowledge the changes and the growth that he has made. (It is easier to see his growth than mine.) And I may not agree with all of them but the core part of Bart is something I want to be associated with. I do look forward to the day when it is just us two again and we can enjoy each other more….if I ever get him off a snowmobile.

1993


















1994
















1995 This was just 5 days after Chase was born. Impressive, huh?

1996


















A very distorted scanned picture at Wheeler Farm in 1997.








I know that I have a picture for 1998 but it isn’t here while I am doing this post so I will go on without it. This is 1999. We didn’t make Chase start snowboarding until he was 4. And he turned out to be pretty good at it.




I am going to scream. I do not have the Disneyland picture for 2000. Some of you will think that I am purposely leaving it out because of what I look like in it, however, it was the end of the day and I was secretly pregnant with Cooper. Obviously then this is 2001. Ryan’s baptism. Probably the best picture out of the whole bunch. Of all three of us!









SLC Olympics 2002. USA TODAY and Clyde Benton, my deceased boss was very good to me with the tickets. We went to speed skating, men’s figure skating and closing ceremonies. And look at the good friends that we made along the way!










2003: Every year we go to the zoo on Thanksgiving. It was a tradition that started in Maryland and has continued through to Salt Lake City. My in laws have ventured out and all Solomon children show up if they are here in the valley. Very important note: Chase purposely crossed his eyes. As he tries to do this in all family pictures starting in 2003 I need to make this clear now before you see other pictures.







2004: Good thing we make it to the zoo, huh?

2005 is a “self portrait” in the back of our house on a lazy Sunday afternoon watching our kids play on the Slip and Slide.










2006 at temple square.

Happy Birthday Bart! And many more to come! And I make a promise that in another 10 years I will have more pictures of you and I for the next birthday picturama. I love you!!

Over the Top

I think I can honestly say that fighting the beast is not working at this time. I am fighting the beast in that I am getting out of bed each morning. I am going to work every day. I am feeding my kids each day and amazingly, I have managed to do a couple of loads of laundry as well. Last night, Ryan, LaRae and I went and got a facial. From the outside, I am still a contributing human being. Inside is another matter all together. I am a mass of raging, writhing, seething, mishmash of all things unhappy. Imagine all the emotions in the movies Ransom, In Love and War, The Patriot, The Green Mile, The Deep End of the Ocean, Legends of the Fall, Of Mice and Men and Murder in the First and you may have an inkling of what is going on in there. Note from the author: These emotions are completely understandable and quite cathartic when faced with a child kidnapping, a ruined love affair, a civil war, an unjust murder trial, another child kidnapping, etc, etc but there is nothing like any of these things happening to me this year or even this decade. Therefore, rationally I must come to the conclusion that these emotions are not what I should be waking up to every day.
Needless to say, just because I am getting through the day in no way means I am nice to be around. I mean, porcupines get through the day as well but they still are prickly. And that just makes it worse because my life is good and I am in no position to appreciate it. But one can only bitch about it so long in a blog before even the blogger (me) has to say "Sheesh! Get some pills and stop whining! Enough already!"

Orange

For the most part I have very easy going children so when they develop and/or cultivate their own harmless preferences I cater to it. My youngest who is 4 has had an obsession with the color orange since he could name the colors and tell us about it. Although he now will say that his favorite color is orange AND red AND black, there is a very noticeable influx of the color orange in our house.
Take for instance our choice of snacks. Our all time favorites are Clementine oranges, puffy cheetohs and carrots with “white sauce.” I cannot keep enough Clementine oranges in our house. No seeds and very little rind make these disappear like magic. Believe me I am not complaining but 6 pounds of oranges a week should be enough for 7 people. No, there is no empirical evidence that these snacks were deemed the favorite because of their color but they certainly are always in our kitchen now and never before.
Lead the way into Cooper’s closet. There you will find an size 5 orange fishing vest, an very well worn orange hoodie, 2 orange long sleeve shirts, 3 orange short sleeved shirts and 1 orange hat. Many of the blue and yellow apparel hanging up in the closet have borders and decals that are the bright color that we love as well.
Lastly, the refrigerator. Here is where we put up all the school art projects. Currently there is a picture of a rudely cut snowman that is colored orange. According to his teacher when she asked Cooper why the snowman was orange he replied, “Because he drank too much orange juice this morning for breakfast.” Baby Jesus was sporting an orange swaddling blanket, the planets in the galaxy all have large orangish rings around them and Paul Bunyon changed his big ox’s name from Blue to Orange.
If you think that we can find an unused orange crayon in our house, you didn’t read the above. If you think that we didn’t have a discussion when that boy auditioned on American Idol with his matching orange shirt, belt and socks, you come and ask Cooper why his mom is so mean. And he will tell you that I told him that I would not allow him to accessorize with orange socks at so young an age.......And probably as long as he maintains the male gender.

Vacancy at The Peterson Hotel

An update for the curious minds that want to know.

Last week Carla jetted away to India for 3 weeks for her work. She has known about this little jaunt for several weeks but I think she was a little nervous when she finally boarded her plane. She has called and said that all is well and things are going fine. Her room is open for the next two weeks though, if anybody has a need.

If you remember the whole habaloo about Bart's cousin from Washington that Carla wanted to come and live with us. In the end, she moved into our house the end of November. Well, she came home last week and announced that she had gotten a job back in Washington and would be leaving as soon as she fulfilled her two weeks notice. This Friday is her last day here at her work and in my house. It was quite unexpected and I find myself actually sad to see her go. Don't get me wrong. I am excited to gain a guest room with an empty closet and storage room under the guest bed. However, she is pretty fun and follows through with things. I like hanging out with her. So I wish her all the best and hopefully the comment "If things don't work out, I'll be back." won't have to come into play at all.

The Question of the Day

Why is it that children not only want you to clean up after them, remind them to brush their teeth, buy them the very latest games for the computer, do all their laundry, not yell at them for not putting the laundry away that you have worked to clean and fold, have a tasty dinner on the table, always have snack food in the pantry for them, help them with their school homework, magically make them KNOW their multiplication tables, play 20 questions with them in the car every time, listen to their station in the car, read 4 books to them before they go to bed, get them a glass of water after you have put them in bed they also want you to be happy, understanding, funny, cool, sympathetic and loving but not too much and not when they don't want to be?

Is that right to demand all of that?

I want to see the contract.

The Day After

So, yesterday was the beginning of my new year. I watched American Idol. It was great! I found out that my old boyfriend is actually married. I really liked thinking that he was not married so I am still working this out in my mind. I went to the gym and worked out. I am on the last book of the Chronicles of Narnia which makes me think of what I am going to look back on at the end of my life. (That is as big as spoiler as you get.) I have not made any new year’s resolutions yet and I feel very bad about that. I don’t want to make silly little wishes that I am not going to stand by and commit to for 365 short days. And yet knowing me, myself and I, I am afraid to put anything out there because I don’t feel like I can commit to anything long term. Long term meaning longer than 2 weeks. Not going to the gym, not reading my scriptures, not finding a new job, not working on my landscaping, not learning to play the piano again.

There. There are my resolutions. If I do not write them out like a resolution and commit to them they will just stay inside my head and float around banging on the sides of my skull until I am black and blue from the inside.

This is really for Jen

I love these pictures. I think I love them now more than I did when we first took them. I can't believe that 2 of the couples are married to each other! I mean, this was the first year of college that we took these pictures. I am ashamed to admit to how many people I am now longer in touch with. So, if you know any of these fine looking gals and guys, send them my way. I would love to catch up!

Nocturnal life

I feel like I am living in a dream. I have been doing a route at night and listening to The Chronicles of Narnia on CD. I am into book 5 right now. Every night I spend 2 hours with Aslan, Lucy, Edmund, Prince Caspian, dwarves and talking mice, beavers and all other sorts of animals. Coming back to our world is sometimes a little hard. Especially when it involves a sprinkler box.

The other night I was doing the route. It is mostly home delivery and so my window is open as I plow along the roads to the next house. The volume on my stereo is up very loud so I can hear what Lucy and Edmund are saying through the wind and snow. I came to a house that I have to porch the paper. I decide that it will only take me a second to get out and back in so I leave my door open, stereo blasting through the night and run up to the door. Right at the door, I turn my ankle and fall down on the snowy grass. Underneath the snowy grass is their sprinkler box that is probably 5 or 6 inches above ground. That is what cushioned my bum’s fall. Oh, the pain. I had to lay there for some asinine amount of time breathing in and out holding onto my bum and my ankle. All the while the stereo is blasting out Vanessa Redgrave doing a shrill impression of the warrior mouse Reepicheep starting a fight with a sea serpent. I’m sure I prayed to Aslan that nobody would wake up and call the police about a dead body lying in the front of the lawn and the 100 decibel noise that was going on throughout the neighborhood. And the neighborhood did sleep on and finally I was able to rise and get in my car and drive on.

The next night I turned off the stereo when I made my way out of the car to porch the paper.

7 more days

Forget Jan 1st. The real new year has not even started. It will start January 17th.

Shouldn’t that be enough? Everybody should know what I am talking about. My family does. It is the American Idol premiere!!

Secret shame or not. I LOVE it! I LOVE it! Admittedly, I would not love it half as much if I didn’t have TIVO and could not fast forward through commercials. I have no patience for 4.5 minutes of commercials every 11.5 minutes of a program. But I do and it works and so I go on loving the competition.

I LOVE Simon Cowell as well. I like somebody who calls it as they see it. I don’t always agree with him but I think that me watching a performance on TV and him watching it in person probably is so very much different. He says that he thinks that this is the best year yet. Have heard that one before but I think that last year was the best year we had seen so I am willing to believe that the competition got stiffer this year as well. He says that the boys are stronger this year. (I love Bo Bice. He should have won.) He also says that there is a lot of younger talent this year. This is where he and I don’t agree. I think that there should be an age minimum as well as a maximum. (Diana DeGarmo needed to finish school instead of be on American Idol. Of course, she is debuting on Broadway as I write this post so what do I know?) I can’t remember the name of the other young chickadee but it was painful to watch her not be able to cope with negative comments and getting cut off the show. I also heard a rumor that somebody from Utah made the top 12 this year. It was so fun to cheer for JPL (Idaho) 2 seasons ago. His Elvis song rocked.

So, next Tuesday night.
7 more days.

What world do you live in?!?

This semester Ryan had a mandatory choir class. Most of her grade was based on a Christmas concert that occurred this last month. I signed up to help out at the rehearsal. The teacher wanted “bouncers” at the doors to stop kids from coming in and interrupting and to help kick kids out that were interfering with his rehearsal. A very good example of negative reinforcement. He kept threatening them with failure from the class if they ruined his program. I was very unimpressed.
There was one other mother there. It turned out that she was the mother of one of Ryan’s pretty good friends, Sharon. I asked her if Sharon was liking 7th grade and getting accustomed to junior high school. She said “Yes, her only real problem is dealing with Ryan and Theresa.”
“What do you mean?” I asked absolutely stumped.
“Ryan and Theresa are her two best friends. But they are always fighting and it is very stressful to her.”
“What?!?” I had never even heard of Theresa. “What are you talking about?”
Sharon’s mother then regaled me with tales of name calling, gossiping, back stabbing, yelling at each other down the halls and even crying. All the tales were told with such detail that I believed her hook, line and sinker. My blood was in my face and I was embarrassed, angry and upset. I was appalled at Ryan’s behavior. And even more surprised.
Yes, I know about the blinders that parents wear but even so, yelling down the hall and name calling across the lunch room was so not the Ryan that I knew. And being the assistant coach of her soccer team for the past 6 years and her church teacher for the past 3 years on top of being her mother and chauffeur I figured that I knew her pretty well. She just didn’t have enough time to have that much of a different life. Still as I said before, I just couldn’t ignore the consistency and the detail of the stories that I was being told. I managed to tell myself that even if it was true, my yelling at her would not change anything. I told myself to calm down a bit. I am truly so much the parent that does not acknowledge that the daughter is her own person now. I want to be in control forever and make sure the daughter does not make any wrong decisions or make any mistakes along the way. I want the daughter to live the life that I wanted to have. Wow. Is this a hard perception to break away from!
I managed to bite it all back until we had dropped off the rest of the kids in the car. Then I said “Tell me about Theresa.”
“Oh, she hates me and I hate her.” This was not a good start.
“Why?”
“I don’t know why she hates me. She always is talking about me to Sharon.”
“Do you talk about her?”
“No.”
“Do you yell at her in the cafeteria?”
“No! I don’t ever even talk to her.”
I told her of the stories that Sharon’s mother shared with me. She was aghast. She denied it most of it. I said “Ryan, where would these stories come from? Either Sharon is lying to her mother or her mother is lying to me or you are lying to me? I think you had better talk to Sharon and find out who is the one here telling lies.”

The next day:
“Did you talk to Sharon?”
“Yes. She said that her mother exaggerates quite a bit.”

Sometimes simple is the best

Men are simple. Simple and outright. No guessing involved. Sometimes I appreciate that.

My husband just called me and asked what our plans were for tonight.
We have both been feeling sick and his friend just got a new snowmobile so I made no plans for the two of us this weekend. All I have to do is take Ryan to basketball, take Chase to his football camp, teach at church and LaRae wants to scrapbook cards.
“I don’t know. Do you have an idea of what plans you want to have?” I ask.
“Well, do you feel good enough to go out to dinner and have sex or do you just want to have sex?”

I know he would be good with either choice because men are simple.

The Real Reason We Got A Maid

Felix and Oscar. Kim and Bart.
Felix and Oscar. Kim and Ryan.
Felix and Oscar. Kim and Chase.
Felix and Oscar. Kim and Cooper.
Felix and Oscar. Kim and Carla.
Felix and Felix. Kim and LaRae.

I was outnumbered 2 to 5 and I didn’t like the odds.

Being a bitch vs Being bitchy

My definition of being a bitch: being bitchy and being proud of the fact. I know women like this. I abhor those license plate holders that say “zero to bitch in 60 seconds” but it explains it perfectly.

My definition of being bitchy: what I did this last weekend AND then feeling remorse.

We went to the cabin Wednesday to Sunday. My mother, father, brother and sister in law, my sister and her boyfriend all came up Wednesday to Friday. I was proactive and brought up a friend for all 3 of my children. That means that I was responsible for 6 children and the above 6 people were responsible for none. I really have immersed myself in parenting and have completely forgotten what not having children is like. My siblings reminded me. If you are on vacation AND you have no children, you are children yourself. Hedonistic children. And there is nothing wrong with that. It is just very annoying to the one sibling that has children.

Add to that a husband who also was on vacation and did nothing but snowmobile and watch football and I was feeling (and acting) very bitchy. We had invited 4 family friends to come up for the weekend. My bitchiness continued through the weekend party and I am sure that they will never go anywhere with us again.

Bart called it “cabin fever” which maybe it was…..to a point. I was “stuck” in the cabin. I had not brought a book. I cannot sit down, “enjoy myself” and ignore chaos going on around me as I was on call for all children issues. As well as kitchen duty. And I can only take football for an hour. Not 3 days. Mostly I concentrate my “pointed silences” and my “drop dead looks” to Bart who after 13 years is very used to it. He ignores it. As soon as I got home and was
able to be in control?
Not be responsible for the going ons at the cabin?
Watch something besides football?
Focus on something else besides my expections of Bart
that he was definately not fulfilling?
Did not have to work at having fun?
Who knows?
I was just fine. Except for that remorse. Which hopefully makes me not a bitch.

December 25

So I was born on Christmas Day. Along with Annie Lennox, Sissy Spacek and Jimmy Buffett. And my sister in law. And Jesus. But this season I was reminded of another wonderful Christmas story.

December 23, 1776 Thomas Paine wrote these words: THESE are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as FREEDOM should not be highly rated. Britain, with an army to enforce her tyranny, has declared that she has a right (not only to TAX) but "to BIND us in ALL CASES WHATSOEVER" and if being bound in that manner, is not slavery, then is there not such a thing as slavery upon earth. Even the expression is impious; for so unlimited a power can belong only to God.

George Washington with his small leftovers of an army was sitting in Valley Forge when Thomas Paine came to see the soldiers. The British should’ve come and decimated the sickly army in Valley Forge but they didn’t. They knew that all of the soldier’s drafts ended on December 31st so they thought they would wait it out. Instead Washington was inspired by Paine’s words to cross the Delaware on December 25th and defeat the Hessian troops residing in Trenton. During this battle, Washington did not lose one man.

I LOVE THIS. I love the words that Thomas Paine wrote. I love how they can bring a lump to one’s throat. I love that words can inspire. I love that Thomas Paine and George Washington were men of God. I love that God was completely involved in our war for freedom. I love that I was reminded of how cherished our freedom is and should be. I love that the reminder came on Christmas. It was the best present I received.

The Attitude started early

Ryan is 12 now. And already she is a black belt in eye rolling. She knows just how to make the most of the silent burn that starts as I watch her eyeballs roll away from their optical windows and laugh at me behind the still open lids.

When Ryan was 2, Bart started a 7 day on and 7 day off job. He began to share in the primary caregiving. Cough. Cough. Promptly Ryan figured out that Daddy had no problem giving out candy instead of meals. Daddy had no problem watching Lion King ALL day long instead of limiting it to one viewing and then going outside or setting up a play date. Daddy was the smack! Daddy didn’t blow noses with a tissue. He used a shirt sleeve.
Being a new mother, I did not appreciate Bart’s usurping the of the mother/child bond. (By the third child, I made sure that Bart’s side of the bed is the closest to the door.) I was miffed at the “misplaced” affection that Ryan had for Bart. One day we were all headed out the door for somewhere and the dialogue went exactly like this:
“Ryan, are you Daddy’s girl?” Bart is a rub in your face kind of guy.
“Yes, Daddy.”
Ryan, are you Mommy’s girl?” I asked.
“No.”
“You know, you could be both a Mommy AND Daddy’s girl. Can you be a Mommy AND Daddy’s girl?”
“I can.........…..but I am NOT!”
Bart kept us apart for days after.

Merry Birthday and Happy Christmas

My coworker's birthday was yesterday. Do you think anyone remembered? Hell, no. It is December.
My sister's birthday is today. Happy sweet 35, sis! I mean, 29!
My brother in law's birthday is December 23rd. Husband to above sister.
My birthday AND my sister in law's birthday is December 25th. Yes, THE DAY OF. I have gone through my whole life sharing it with Jesus and then I have to marry into a family where the spoiled baby girl has to share my birthday as well. And now as I get older and wiser and wrinklier I don't want to even think about it but we must celebrate her birthday so we must acknowledge Kim's birthday as well.

This is how much I don't think about my birthday. Probably one of the best birthdays I have had was a surprise. My mother called and PRE planned a Christmas shopping trip about 2 years ago. I thought she was being quite on the ball. She came and picked me up and we proceeded down to Gardner's Village. A place where you don't shop with children. My sister on foot met the car in the parking lot which I thought was odd but oh well. (She was the lookout for all of you that are as naive as I) She vanished while we were parking our car. We then proceeded into the main store there at the Old Mill. I was astonished to see one of my good friends there shopping.
"Carol! What are you doing here?!? Are you Christmas shopping too?"
We chatted for a few minutes and then I was ready to head off with my mom who I had made plans with. Carol just sortof followed me to the next area of the store where I saw another one of my good friends.
"Michelle! Ohmigosh! I can't believe it! What are you doing here? This is Carol, a friend I just bumped into to as well. This is crazy!" I was still oblivious to the plan until yet another friend popped up on the horizon.
I, of course, could not have made myself look any stupider or put on a better show.
"Heidi! How can this be!!!! How can you all be here at the same time? Mom, look at this. Look who is here?!?!"
By now they are just all looking at me with sympathetic grins on their face that this poor woman that they call friend cannot figure out a simple little surprise birthday dinner get together for her. But it was a surprise. And it was fun. And secretly I wish they would do it again for me..........Or maybe I will do it for Bart for his birthday this next year.

Concerts, part 2

I really have had some swinging times, I promise. Here is the working list of concerts that I have attended that I can remember:
Fine Young Cannibals Hey, they are really good despite their name.
Madonna Borderline
Madonna Like a Virgin
Sting Dream of the Blue Turtles
Sting Fields of Gold
The Cure Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me
The Cure Boys Don’t Cry
UB40
Gene Loves Jezebel
Echo and the Bunnymen
Beautiful South
Bryan Adams Cuts Like a Knife
Beach Boys 4th of July Washington DC Mall Free Concert
Foreigner Agent Provocateur
Chicago Chicago 17
Howard Jones Acoustic
Howard Jones What is Love?
B-52s
Air Supply
Barry Manilow
Depeche Mode Black Celebration
Dead or Alive
Hall and Oates
Edie Brickell and the Bohemians Shooting Rubberbands at the Stars

I am going home to open my journals because I have kept a lot of ticket stubs to these events and I am sure I am missing some. I know that I have an unused ticket to The Cars which is devastating to me. However, if I had to choose one concert to go to in the whole world it would be the Police. One of the top regrets of my life is that I missed one of their shows.

Past 10 year concerts
Kurt Bestor
Toby Keith
Brooks and Dunn
U2

My Apologies, O Concert God

This year I have gone to see Toby Keith, Brooks and Dunn and U2 in concert. Yes, tonight I went to see Bono in action. It was sheer luck. Sheer good luck. My friend, Shalene, works in a neurosurgeon’s office. One of the 5 neurosurgeons is a major concert goer. He was on the front row but he raffled off two pairs of additional tickets to U2 for the office staff. Pretty impressive when the concert tickets went on sale 9 months ago AND sold out in 40 minutes AND were priced starting at $100 a seat. Shalene did not win them but the woman that did had a migraine and so could not go. Shalene’s husband was working and could not go so hence, I was the stand in date.

I have been to quite a few concerts in my life and I am well versed in concert etiquette. The first and most important rule is that you must know all of the songs of the artist that you are going to see. At least of the album that they are touring for. You must spend at least as many hours as dollars paid for the ticket to research and learn lyrics and melodies and names. It is only then that you get the most out of the night of revelry and music making. I was not able to follow this rule for U2. I didn’t even have enough time to listen to one rehearsal song on Saturday. And I feel really bad. I could tell that I could have had a little better time had I known all the lyrics and was able to sing along to every last little song. I could tell that I could have had a little better time if I had some concert clothes hanging up in my closet that I could have pulled out to make me feel a little more “with it.” I told Shalene I wanted something with sequins but she said I was too young and I needed to be more like 50 to wear sequins. Is that true? With Toby and Brooks and Dunn, I wore my cowboy boots and belt buckle so I felt dressed to go out and a little sassy. (Can you tell most of my wardrobe is: sensible, designed for warmth and hiding garments and an occasional fat roll, boring?)

Bono was very cute. He looked like Captain Jack Sparrow and he danced like Willy Wonka. And do you know what? I would pay more than $100 to see Johnny Depp. A lot more.

It's really the hibernating part

It is so cold and I wish that I was a bear so I could
1) already be deep in hibernation or
2) just settling down for a long winter's nap
3) own a fur coat without all the hoopla about animal rights and all
4) not have one iota of an idea about Christmas and presents and wrapping paper
5) have a friend named BooBoo
6) have even a little tiny chance of being able to bite a hunter in the ass
7) never have to pay for a Yellowstone Park entrance pass again

Right in time for Christmas

The Beast is back. I have been putting off this post since Saturday. Sometimes I feel like this is my true inner self. The part of me that I hide from everybody because it is just for me. But then I think I don’t want this to be the part of me I keep just for myself. But I recognize this place that I am. It actually feels comfortable because it has been here and creeping around my edges for so long. The terror that is associated with it comes only when trying to figure out how long it will stay this time. I was nearly hysterical Saturday and Sunday. I have since calmed down somewhat but the blah remains.
Rationally I am fascinated with it. I recognize (mostly with hindsight) triggers and spirals. Like this weekend, we actually had an unstructured Saturday with nothing planned. It should have been nice. We had had something every single night of the week. However, no structure “frightens” me. I can’t handle it. Maybe because you want to lay down and go to sleep but that wouldn’t be appropriate and you can’t make your whole family lay down with you so it you can’t relax while you lay down anyhow but yet you have nothing you have to do and you can’t make yourself start another project. Hmmmm……obviously I don’t know yet what exactly about no structure time frightens me but it is a big trigger. It is a consistent trigger. I hate that it happens on weekends when you should be able to savor the unstructured of life.

I feel a little like the encephalitis patients in Oliver Sacks’ book called Awakenings. Remember the movie with Robin Williams. The patients would remain in a trance until a ball was thrown at them. The object caused them to reach out of their “state” and catch it in midair. As long as balls are being thrown at me I catch them and throw them back. I “borrow” their energy to do something. When the ball is no longer being thrown to me, I will enter my state and remain immobile and useless…..and joyless. I am dependent on that ball. And I am not in control of that ball. And that causes great terror and anxiety. The Beast.

Brrring!

I have 3 messages on my cell phone I need to listen to. I abhor the cell phone. I abhor mine. I abhor Bart's two cell phones. That is right, folks. My man cannot get by on 3000 minutes a month and so must have two cell phones with 3000 minutes each to live 30 days. I do have to admit that my phone is the one charging next to our bed in our bedroom turned on for nighttime emergencies. But his is the one that consistently goes off between 6 and 7 am in the morning to start the day. Who needs an alarm clock?
Chase's newest hobby is changing my ring tone. I will be sitting in a meeting or in a store talking with someone completely oblivious to my phone ringing simply because that is not the ring that I installed two weeks ago. It is an entirely new one. Thank goodness he or I do not know how to download rings as of yet. Give him time. He is only 10.
I have found one awesome use for my phone in the past few months though. We had a short little power shortage at our house the other day. Does it surprise you that there were no working flashlights to be found? Or was it just that all the batteries had been used in remotes, game boys, etc? Anyways, the light from our 3 cell phones worked incredibly well to get around in our dark house. They are bright! In fact, I have been using it when I walk through the house at night after all the kids are in bed and I don't want to turn on any lights. A new something to add to the 72 hour kits.

A picture is worth 1000 words so this is a long post

The zoo was real fun this year. It was beautiful weather and the baby orangutang was out in the yard playing with her surrogate mothers. She made me want to have another baby she was SO cute.
These are the last pictures I downloaded off my camera before it was declared officially missing. I can't decide whether to be devastated (I lost the last football game pictures) or excited about getting a new upgraded one for Christmas.

Peterson's 15 seconds of fame

Several years ago when Ryan was 10 years old we enrolled her in a summer acting class at the Hale Centre Theatre. She went every day from 8 to 5 for a couple of weeks. They worked on singing, presentation, acting, and I am sure all sorts of girl giggling as well. She had a really good time. One day I picked her up and she had a “big secret” grin on her face.
“Guess who I talked to on the phone today?!?”
“Who?” I ask without any thought as to who it could be.
“Orlando Bloom!”

I was reduced to a blithering idiot. My voice came out in a strangled rush. “WHAT?!?! What are you talking about? WHAT?" I found I couldn't really remember any other words. "What?!? Do you even know who Orlando Bloom is?”
“Sure, the guy who is in Pirates of the Carribean.”
“How did you talk to him? WHAT?”

It turns out that her teacher was something of a behind the scenes/makeup guru who had worked in Hollywood off and on during the years. She had many friends who were up and coming actors—not to mention hunks of big melting manmeat. She had arranged for Orlando to call her during one of the afternoon sessions for Ryan’s class so they could each have a little telephone treat.

“So what did you say? What did you say to him?”
“Hi.”
“OK, what else did you say? How did the conversation go?”
“He said, Hi.” I said “Hi.”
“OK, what else?”
“He said ‘What is your name?’”
“And you said……?”
“Hi. And then he said ‘Do you like acting class?’”
“And you said……?”
“Hi.”

Soon after that there was talk of Orlando Bloom hooking up with many starry eyed starlets. Needless to say, he was just not wowed enough by Ryan Ali Peterson that he wanted to hold out for her. Almost......not quite. Darn.

Another Cooper and Bart moment

Another store has banned us from their premises. And again it would be because of Cooper, Bart’s child.
Last week my parents went to Korea to interact with their other child, my sister and her kids. Karlee, my sister and her husband went on a trip to China so they paid my mother’s ticket fare to have her come over and babysit while they were away. My father was not about to sit home during that trip so they both flew over there for 2 weeks. I was a LITTLE jealous of the international diversion in their life (see previous Life Changes post) and I was also a little envious that they got to see Jasper, who is Cooper’s counterpart in the Zollinger family. His smile just makes everybody laugh.
I had several weeks of vacation time left so I decided to take a week while they were gone and spend the time with Cooper. I truly have no delusions about the hardest job in the world: Staying at home with beloved children. I bow to all mothers that stay at home.

Cooper and I were getting along fine as long as I followed his schedule. I do realize it was a big change for him to stay home rather than break the day up by going to Grandma’s. Since we were home I was able to spend some wonderful quality time with him and the Lego Star Wars on Playstation II. (I challenge any mom out there to level 2.)
I finally got him to go out shopping with me one day.
“Cooper, we are going to look for Christmas decorations and Clorox bleach and floaties for the pool.”
“OK, I’ll go to the store with you because I want to get something for me too.”
“What do you need?”
“A new toy or something.”
“What new toy?”
“I don’t know. I’ll just look around.”
Red alert! Bart alert! Bart has gotten to this kid. He is going to LOOK AROUND to see if there is ANYTHING he can buy. I try to counteract the spoilage going on all in one day. I drag him through three stores telling him we don’t just buy something at every store we go to. I endure the kicking and screaming and the fake tears. I can’t believe that I actually stop in at Target telling myself this is the last store.
This time he wants to get in the cart. We are walking down the office supply aisles looking for crafts or something. I don’t remember. I don’t remember much of anything except the next few moments of the day.
My blonde, blue eyed, exceptionally cute child morphed into something very much like the adult baby monster from the Quizno’s sandwich commercials. His face puckered up and the light went out his eyes and he said “Mom, if you don’t buy me a toy, I am going to kick-your-ass!”

Neither of us got a toy at the store. But I did look at the other mother's cute 4 year old son and wonder if he was for sale.