Daddy Daughter Dance

They were so thrilled for me to take their picture.

And Sariah refused to be held.

They make a good lookin' bunch.

I'm pretty proud of them.

Mixed Feelings

This week is the biannual local consignment sale.  I spent a bundle.  I usually do.  I've been shopping it for 10 years.  I needed some good stuff this year, since I gave away a bunch of my baby stuff.  I got a cool baby bath and a bassinet and lots of fun clothes for all of the kids, including an especially sweet dress for Sariah that didn't cost me very much at all.  I was proud.

Of course, so are some of these consignors.  It really annoys me that many things at the sale are priced so high.  Dude, I could buy new clothes for those prices, not already-used stuff.  And I'm not talking about Wally World clothes either.  It's a consignment sale, not a professional antiques market, darn it.  Yeah, you wanna make money, but this isn't going to make you or break you.

Okay, I'm done venting now.  :)

It's All about Bob!

Today is my honey's birthday.  So I'm going to post 38 reasons to love him.

1. He loves me.
2. He does the laundry.
3. He does the dishes.
4. He can always tell me where a passage of scripture is (I can remember the scripture but never where it is).
5. He spoils our toddler rotten.
6. He lets me take naps.
7. He loves me even when I'm a scary, messed-up depressed person.
8. He likes to laugh with me.
9. He writes me cute post-it notes that make our kids make gaggy faces.
10. He has leg muscles that I envy.
11. He has more grey hair than I do.
12. He wrestles with our dogs and tells them he loves them.
13. My kids say things like, "You want to be married to him?" and I can say, "Well, yeah, duh."
14. He supports my hare-brained ideas.
15. He takes the girls to daddy-daughter dances and dances with them.
16. He plays basketball and catch with the boys.
17. He thinks up totally wicked punishment for ill-behaved children.
18. He loves me when I look like a bowling ball.
19. He steals my Oreos.  But he doesn't like chocolate.  I just like the contradiction.  The fact that he doesn't like chocolate is sick and weird and indicates a need for professional help.
20. He never lets me win face-licking competitions.  Although he might let me think I won.
21. He loves the gospel of Jesus Christ.
22. He will make any sacrifice to support our family.
23. He takes food off my plate whenever he feels like it.  That means he's brave and daring.  Someday I will bite his hand off for doing that.
24. He taught me the true value of flannel sheets.
25. He taught me how to cook.  (Although now I can completely out-class him.  Just sayin'....)
26. He loves me when I'm mad, make very rude faces, and call him a toad.
27. He's obsessed with LED lights.  I don't know why I like this, since I don't like LED lights, but I like it.
28. He gets so happy when he gets new electronic toys to play with.  It's cute!
29. He's let me name all of our children.  Even though he says he named them all.
30. He puts salt on his watermelon.  Eeeeeeew.
31. He loves me even when I spend all of his hard-earned money.
32. He makes me smile every day.
33. He motivates me to reach for higher goals.  Like when he had visited more states than I have.  Now I am inspired to travel more.
34. He calls me cute names, like mosquito, snake, and lioness.
35. He makes fabulous chicken fingers.
36. He holds me at night even though he won't fall asleep doing that.
37. He wants to help the people around him, and looks for ways to do that.
38. He loves me.

Yeah, we're back to that part again.  It takes a great man to love me.

Happy birthday, my love!

Spring, Where Art Thou?

I am so ready for spring to arrive.  It's been a rather bleary winter, and while generally I like rain and snow, I miss my 65-degree sunny days to remind me that I really do live in Oklahoma.  Plus, I don't like my long-sleeved maternity shirts.  I like the short-sleeved ones better.  I should get to wear them more often!

We have had a crazy busy week, culminating in this crazy busy Saturday.  I want to post pictures, but my camera is currently AWOL.

Hannah went to orchestra contest earlier in the week, and an ensemble contest this morning.  Have no idea how she did.  Then, she had a make-up piano lesson.  Music, music, music.

Oh, and we stopped at one of my favorite places, LaBaguette, and one of my other favorite places, the library on the way home.  Sugar, sugar, sugar, and books, books, books.

Had to drop my stuff off at the JBF consignment sale then.  Usually I'm much too lazy to actually get some kid clothes ready to sell, but since I got rid of bunches of my baby stuff before this pregnancy, I actually consigned so I'd have some money to spend at the sale.

Next, it was off to the movies with Caleb.  We told him if he read The Lightning Thief, we would take him to see the new movie.  He read it.  We went.  I think he really liked the movie.  But Bob and I were seriously disappointed with the adaptation.  Did they actually read the book at all?  Because I didn't recognize it.  I was disappointed.  But I did enjoy my date with 2 of my favorite guys.

When we got home, I dolled Sariah all up for a daddy-daughter dance with her sisters.  She was twirling around, singing, "I am sooooo pretty."  Man, I need some self-confidence like that.  Especially now that I'm feeling like a big round bowling ball.

So the moral of all of this is that I'm really exhausted and going to bed to read now.  And I'll probably pray that my boys fall asleep sometime soon.

Ha, fat chance.

Vindication

So, I had a really great laugh last night.  But you're going to need some history to appreciate it.

During The Oklahoma Christmas Blizzard in December, one of the whirlybird thingies on top of our house got ice in it, but didn't completely freeze up.  It still turned, but we could hear it scraping throughout our entire house.  At night, when Bob and I got into bed, it made both of us NUTS.

After the first night of this, Bob comes to me and says somewhat hopefully and somewhat ruefully (because he knew what my reaction would be), "So, I guess climbing up on the roof to knock the ice off that thing isn't really an option?"

I'm sure my reaction was entirely reassuring: "Are you freakin' crazy?!?!?  You know how many layers of ice are up on that roof, and it's incredibly steep!  That would be completely insane!  I can't believe you even thought of it at all without immediately dismissing it."

In hindsight, I understand that he felt compelled to defend himself and his thought processes.  Really, I do.  But when he told me he'd thought of anchoring himself with rope, I rolled my eyes rather violently, sighed quite huffily, laughed hysterically, and stomped off.  Climb the icy roof with rope, indeed!  I was so glad we didn't own enough rope to actually accomplish that.

I happened to mention this to my Mom and Dad when I was talking to them later that afternoon.  I didn't really mention the rope part, because I thought Dad would worry that I'd married some kind of irresponsible freak show.  I didn't feel very vindicated when Dad said something along the lines of, "Well, thinking of it isn't really that horrible as long as you don't put it into action.  I would have thought about it for a long time.  You really do have to look at something from all the angles."

"Well!" thought I.

Not too long after that, I talked to my brother over the phone, and mentioned the laugh I had when my dad came through in defense of my poor berated husband.  And Chad says something like (in a very delighted tone of voice), "Oh man, they have these really cool rope anchoring kits at the hardware store, and that would have been perfect for climbing up there!"

What the...?!?!?  The three men I love and respect the most in my life had completely lost their minds.

Men!

And now I arrive at last night.  I was chatting with a family friend.  Their kids are slightly older than ours, and we really admire them and look up to them.  They have a truly amazing family, and spend a lot of time loving and serving the people around them.  The translation of all of that is that we really respect them, right?

She tells me that during the more recent ice storm, they lost electricity for 36 hours.  When it finally came back on, they wanted to watch TV, but their satellites were frozen.  She goes out that day, and sees her dad (who lives across the street) perched up on a ladder on the side of the house unfreezing his satellite.  She tried to convince him to unfreeze hers, too, but hers is way up on the top of their two-story house.  No dice there.

Later, she sees her husband walking around the house with a big length of rope.  He's going to unfreeze her satellite for her.  She tells him she doesn't need it at the cost of a dead husband.  He unfreezes it anyway, by taking his rope, and having one of his sons anchor him, and going out on the roof via the second story, and getting the job done.

By now, I was laughing so hard.  I came home and told my husband the story, and I'm sorry to say that he felt completely vindicated and that my hideous, hysterical tirade over Christmas was completely out of line because obviously a bunch of men we really respect thought up the same ideas he had and then some of our favorite people actually carried them out.  I was a mean wife, and it was completely inexcusable.  But he kissed me and told me he loved me and tucked me into bed.

I didn't sleep for a long while.

Hmph!  Men!

Spitspot

 

Today's Writing Prompt: Laundry

What do you wish you could throw in a washer with your laundry, knowing it would come out fresh and clean?


My gut reaction to this post was "me."   I remember what it felt like in those first hours, minutes, and weeks after my baptism.  I remember feeling shiny.  However, all is not lost, and this is what repentance and enduring (as in trying to be a better person) and the sacrament on Sunday are for.  So I guess I know what I need to do on this count.

My second reaction was a bit more ... um ... practical.  If I could get away with it, I would throw the walls in my house into the washing machine.  There are little (and  big) fingerprints everywhere, and since the walls are painted flat with no primer, they are impossible to get clean.  It makes me crazy.  We need to paint them, but that's a project in and of itself.  And probably rather expensive, too.  Someday, right?

Oh, the Drama!

Wanting to post something cheerful after a day chock-full of drama.  It wasn't horrible drama.  PTA anyone?  What about 1 predictably unpredictable toddler and 4 grumpy children in trouble for ... integrity issues?  No?  Okay, well I did finish a bunch of laundry and paperwork.  That's a good thing.  I can actually see the top of my desk (in places, lol!).  And despite a bitter wind, the sun was out, so all my serotonin and endorphins are firing happily away.  That's a good thing, too.  Oh, and there's chocolate ice cream in the freezer, and my bed has a heated mattress pad, and I have a book (or twelve) waiting eagerly to be read.

Yeah, it's all good.

Comfy-Cozy

Today's Writing Prompt: Storm

Explain how you feel during a rain or snow storm.


I spent most of my younger years in super sunny southern climes.  The Sonoran Desert taught me to appreciate rain, and Dallas taught me to appreciate a proper winter storm (as opposed to an ice storm).

I love great big downpours of rain.  Although I hated them when I was little, and I still flinch when there are thunder and lightening, electrical storms still make me feel high (or as high as someone who's never been drugged-out high can feel, anyway).

Ice, snow, or rain, I love being inside, comfy-cozy, while a storm rages outside, or softly falls and blankets the world.

But the best part is still when the sun comes out the next morning, and elicits from me a great big stretch and a smile.  That's when I feel warm inside.

How History Affects the Present, and the Future, Too

Just this weekend, I was pondering that I haven't posted anything about tender mercies lately.  Have they not been around, or have I just not noticed them?  (I know, it's a silly question, really.)

And then Sunday rolled around.  After a rough night with the Temper Tantrum Queen (a.k.a. Sariah), Bob took the kids to church, and I caught up my sleep.  When he returned, we ate a quick lunch, and then I took the kids down to Blanchard for the baptism of a friend's daughter while Bob took a nap.

It was a sweet experience for me.  The baptism itself was exceptional, with lots of spirit and goodness.

But the real tender mercy of the whole thing came from another source.  Bob grew up here in Oklahoma, and as a member of our church.  There are so many people who have known him since he was knee-high to a grasshopper, as they say, in and out of the church.  We ran into quite a few of those people yesterday in Blanchard.  The sweet thing is that they clearly have a lot of affection for Bob, and extend it openly and willingly to me--as well as our children--with kindness and lots of heart.

I know many people from way back when I was little, most of them family, with occasional friends thrown in here and there.  But I don't regularly associate, face to face or voice to voice, with anyone who has known me "since the beginning" (excepting my parents and brother, of course).*  I'm sure Bob wishes his old friends wouldn't recall how he wore his ties when he was 12, or recount to our children what sorts of things he blew up as a youth, but there is something so comforting to me in knowing these good, good people who have influenced his life for better (or worse), and who still care so deeply about him and his life, and by extension, me and our beautiful little family.

Truly, it was the best way for Heavenly Father to remind me of His love for us.

* And let's not forget that part of the reason Facebook is so addicting is that it does allow you to reconnect with all the distant corners of your memories.  It may not be face to face or voice to voice, but I so enjoy talking with old friends via Facebook.

Trashy

Today's Writing Prompt: Annoying

What is the most annoying thing you encounter online or in email?

Anything that I haven't invited, including advertisements, and especially inappropriate content and spam. I think the internet and email are amazing tools, but they are littered with trash, trash, and more trash.

A Good Day

I had an extremely busy, highly productive, very expensive, very satisfying day.

We started with  having Rex's pictures made.  He was awesome.  He's the best poser ever.  He was so good, we would have been in and out quickly, but I had to choose from all of his awesome portraits.  It was hard.

Then we got Hannah's new glasses ordered, to be picked up later in the afternoon.  Lizziy got hers earlier in the week.  All of their glasses look awesome.

Then my super-fabulous best friend took me to get a pedicure, and now I have awesome blue toenails and nice relaxes feet and lower legs.  Cool!  Thanks, T!

Then I got my Valentine's Day present from Bob: a new iPhone.  It was dreadful really, the circumstances.  Hannah's phone got stolen, so I sacrificed my current phone for her to have one, and agreed to replace my phone.  Aren't I an awesome mom?  She has a new phone number, btw, so if you want it you'll have to ask me for it (and have a criminal background check done).

And then I was really tired and worn out from such an exciting day.

And then my honey brought me home a peanut butter hot fudge sundae made with peanut butter cup ice cream from Braum's.  Really, what more can you ask for in a day?

It was awesome and fabulous.  And yes, I like those two words a lot.

Are You Kidding Me?

I had a bunch of lab work done last week.

Surprise!  I have low iron.  It's not really a surprise.  I always have low iron and go anemic on them when I'm pregnant.  It was expected, really.

Surprise!  I have high blood sugar.  Now they're going to do tests for gestational diabetes.  Are you freakin' kidding me?  I can't gain weight.  Sugar makes me sick.  I supposedly have a small baby.

I'm so frustrated.  Nothing has been easy-breezy this time.  I know I haven't had major complications, and that's a good thing, and I am blessed.  But this is getting really old, and I keep wondering what I'm doing wrong.

Did you know that stress itself can contribute to high blood sugar?  Imagine that.

The sorry thing is that I've spent the last 2 weeks really and truly trying to reduce my stress levels.

Apparently, it isn't working.

We Come from a Long Line of Love

...of reading.

We read around here.  We read a lot.  To be fair, I don't read nearly as much as I used to.  I think it has something to do with having innumerable children and an inability to say "no" to people.  But still, if I find me a good book, you're more likely than not to find me hiding out with my book so I can hurry up and get to the end of the story!

My girls read a lot.  They each have their own style and their own likes and dislikes, but they read all the time.  So much so, that this week we had to get all over one of them for reading before doing her homework.  I'm really struggling with the plan, which is to limit her time for reading until she is responsible enough to get her schoolwork done.  This is hard for me, given that this was my very same problem from elementary school through college (and beyond).  Still, getting your work done is important, especially if you are easily smart enough to make straight A's, but don't always because you're always turning in late work (again, where have I heard this before?).

My thrill for the week has been watching my Caleb-boy devour an entire chapter book in a matter of days.  Unusual around here?  No.  Unusual for Caleb, yes.  He's a boy, and he's lagged a little behind for getting on the reading train.  I had started to despair that he never would.  But lo and behold, you watch the girls suck him into the Warriors world (a series by Erin Hunter), and he completely takes you by surprise.

Of course, I'm just put out that he took the book with him to school.  Since he was my third child to read the books, I decided I needed to get in on the action, you know, to be a responsible and aware parent.  I started the book yesterday in the car while he was at piano, and I'm enough pages in that I'd really rather be reading that than doing my chores.  It's surprising really, because I'm not a fan of animal fiction, and especially cat fiction.  Ugh.

I'm sure it's a good thing that the book is living at school with Caleb today.  But he better get finished with those last 6 chapters.  And soon.

In the meantime, our other current reading passion are the Lightening Thief series by Rick Riordan.  And the third book in that series is waiting for me at the library.  Too bad I'll have to fight with Bob for that book.

I love my family!

Overheard

Rex:  Mom, Mom!  There's something disgusting in my cereal!
Elisabeth: Rex, those are raisins, because that cereal is raisin bran.

Oddly, he still looked repulsed.  But when you really think about raisins, who wouldn't be?  They're wrinkly and sticky and eeeewwwy, and I say this knowing that I like raisin bran.

I think my decision to refrain from telling him that raisins are actually dried out grapes was probably wise.

We Interrupt Again

I'm going to have to interrupt my nice cheerful posts once again.  That's depressing, because I was having fun making happy, happy, joyful, joyful, cheerful posts.  But alas, here I am.

I had my follow-up ultrasound today.

The good news:  The baby is still a boy.  Definitely.  No doubt about it.  (I could post the very graphic picture, but then Net Nanny would probably ban me from my own blog.)  And he appears to be healthy and functioning the way he should.  And my amniotic fluid levels are up and improving.

The bad news:  The baby's growth is slowing and they're not sure why.  He's a pretty small baby.  At least for one of ours.  And the growth of my uterus is slowing.  That means I'm not as big as a small house or  motorhome like I usually am at this point.  Probably by now, all of my other babies have weighed 3+ pounds, and nobody's stood around wondering if I'm really pregnant or just getting marshmallow-mannish..  This little guy probably doesn't even weigh 2 pounds yet.

I have been told this isn't necessarily cause for alarm.  What is warranted is more careful attention and observation.  Translation: 2 week appointments instead of 4, and a follow-up follow-up ultrasound in a month.

The suggested solution so far:  I'm not getting enough calories, and specifically protein calories.  I'm supposed to start drinking protein shakes every day.

I see a number of problems with this, the first being that I can't even drink protein drinks when I'm not pregnant.  My doc said lots of women add a scoop of ice cream to them and that helps, but ice cream sadly makes me sick these days.  I haven't had a second serving, or sometimes even not the first serving, of ice cream in months.  And two, not enough calories?  Hello, I've spent my entire adult life, and a bunch of my adolescence, trying to eat fewer calories.  I don't even know how to eat more and healthier calories, especially when I (bizarrely) crave nice calorie-deprived foods like lettuce and cucumbers and carrots.  Okay, there are the occasional cravings for Cheetos or Lay's potato chips (which, btw, I don't even like when I'm not pregnant), but I'm thinking the sodium counts in those are probably not too healthy when you have questionable amniotic fluid.

So, what's the conclusion of all this whining?  Umm...pray for me to be able to eat more calories?

Sorry, I was choking up there.  :)

Please keep us and the baby in mind, and pray that we and our family can be healthy and well.  We'll take all the help on that count we can get.  Hugs to all!

White Christmas

People in Oklahoma often wish for a white Christmas.  It's not completely unreasonable or impossible; but it is almost always highly unlikely.  Ordinarily, our wishing is rewarded with 50-degree football weather, and we can try out all the cool outdoor toys we get for Christmas.  This year, as most of you will know by now, we wished so hard that we got a full-blown blizzard, with near white-out conditions and driving wind and pelting "snow" (or ice pellets, if you want to be realistic).  Personally, I think I would have been happy with the 50-degree weather.  In any case, on Christmas morning, our kids had a ball.

Except for Rex, of whom you will see no pictures.  It was just too cold for him.  It might not have been, except that he wouldn't wear socks under his galoshes, and the first thing he inevitably did with his mittened-hands was to plunge them into (wet) snow.

Caleb, incidentally, has done much snow shoveling over the last 2 weeks. Who knows? Maybe more is in his future. We're supposed to drop into arctic temperatures soon, and much of the Christmas snow still hasn't melted.  But then again, ice is more likely than snow, and fortunately for my hard worker here, ice doesn't shovel all too well.

Talented and Gorgeous, Too!

The Thursday before Christmas vacation was Lizziy's* combined orchestra and honor choir performances. They all looked and sounded fabulous, and fun was had by all.

Several people thought we must have spent hours on Lizziy's hair, but the lucky girl has hair that holds curl well.  That was one time around with the rollers, one comb-through with a pick, and one barrette, all accomplished in about 20 minutes, most of that time waiting for the rollers to cool.  It's just sick and wrong.  But then, Hannah and I have hair that holds curl for all of about 20 seconds.  On the other hand, when Hannah or I don't comb our hair, it doesn't always look nasty.  Lizziy has to spend several sessions a day with the hairbrush.  I guess there's pros and cons to everything, right?

* For those of you who have been wondering, Lizziy chooses to spell her name this way.  It's unconventional.  But so is our Lizziy.

Happy 7th Birthday, Rex!

I had a really hard time getting a birthday picture of just Rex.  Everybody wanted to be in his pictures, and he was too anxious to wait for them to get out of the way.  Just take the pictures, already!  I probably shouldn't have gotten so annoyed with them all, because after the grand present was unwrapped ... er, I mean, retrieved from the trunk of the car after I had claimed to return it because Rex figured out what he was getting, all 5 of them sat down on the living room floor and played with the castle and its trappings.  It was enough to warm my little heart up on a cold night.

In any case, time sure flies when your baby boy is an adventurer and an explorer and all of the wonderful things that Rex is.

Christmas Vacation

One thing I've learned over Christmas vacation so far:

If you ask your daughter to clean her room, she will practice her cello.  Even though she hasn't actually bothered with practicing the entire school year.

Query: if I ask her to practice her cello, will she clean her bedroom?

I can be flexible, you know.  :)

We Interrupt the Season...

I know it's the holiday season, and I should be posting fabulous uplifting posts and be of good cheer, and whatever....  But I just need to take a minute to implore the powers that be for ... whatever it is that I need.

For those of you who know me well, and worry about me, this is NOT a full-blown meltdown.  More like a mini-meltdown.  Kind of like Christ in the Garden at Gethsemane when He asked His Father for this cup to pass from Him, but then He still got up off of His knees and pressed forward and did what He had to do.  That's what I'm going to do, too.

But this is the part where I whine and complain.  Not that Christ was actually whining and complaining.  But this is the part where I am less perfect than He, and I whine and complain.

Yesterday was an ... um ... adrenaline-filled day for me.  Lizziy went to the surgery center to get her tonsils and adenoids out.  After he performed the operation, the surgeon told us that we had absolutely done the right thing, that her tonsils had tonsil stones (something I'd never heard of until then, but what amounts to large amounts of nasty dead cells and bacteria and all sorts of ickiness in her tonsils that needed to move on out), that her adenoids were interfering with her breathing, and that the surgery should much improve the quality of her breathing, her sleeping, and life in general.  A good thing, even though it's nervewracking to put one of your babies under general anesthesisa and the knife, even if you've done versions of that to all of your other children, too.

Meanwhile, when she's in recovery, coming out from the anesthesia, the nurse is telling me they expect Lizziy will probably vomit, and the kid in the bed next to her starts puking, and my pregnant tummy just can't take it, I send Bob in to be with her.  Good plan, right?  He's always the one who handles the vomiting at home, and he's really good at it.  He'll even help me handle my vomiting, which I think it the epitome of true love.  Anyway, the next thing I know, he's passing out?  Having a seizure?  SOMETHING, on the floor unconscious.  He'll probably be furious at me for posting this, but you know what?  It was freakin' scary, to see my chosen love for life lying there and not knowing what was wrong with him.  And having a bunch of nurses and doctors there that weren't sure either.  That part wasn't terribly reassuring.  And one of my babies meanwhile lying in another room disoriented and nauseous and in pain.

So Bob comes back around, and they decide it was just the talk about blood.  Why do people pass out about blood anyway?  But I digress....  While he's getting his color back, and being babied by the nurses, with his feet up, Lizziy throws up in true Lizziy fashion, while the old man across the room starts hurling, I mean really hurling.  And of course, I'm standing there, pregnant tummy under control through sheer will power alone.

We all go home, pick up Sariah from my fabulous visiting teacher's house.  Lizziy is the model patient.  She was doing what she was asked, eating, drinking, resting, and not whining or complaining (unlike her dear old mother).  But Sariah just didn't get it.  She didn't get that Lizziy was tired and sick.  She knew something was wrong ... but I think what she understood was that she, Sariah, was suddenly not the center of her parents' universe, and it had something to do with Lizziy.  We'd all gotten up early, I'd had the scare of a lifetime, and now we have a cranky, righteously indignant 2 year old.

Rest will cure this.  Not.  We go to bed with a 10 year old daughter with a carved up throat in our bed.  Not a big deal, except now I can't flip around restlessly anymore like I usually do because I'm not supposed to be sleeping on my back because of the pregnancy.  And I have a toddler being potty-trained at night.  And an obnoxious greyhound with nighttime bladder control issues.  And hips that hurt because my sciatic nerve has decided to kick in.

So this morning, everybody expects me to be SuperMom still.  Or to clarify, they still expect me to be the SuperMom that they're always complaining I'm not.  I'm tired.  I'm grumpy.  I'm queasy all the flippin' time, even though I should be about 10 weeks past that.  I'm worrying.  I'm scared.  I'm bordering on emotional and mental exhaustion.  And today I'm supposed to balance my checkbook and pay the bills, buy groceries, go get Rex's birth family for a visit, finish getting ready for the holidays, take my oldest daughter shopping, do more laundry and more dishes, prepare a lesson for the primary class I'm supposed to sub in tomorrow, mop my floors, buy more ice cream, and be a happy, loving, supportive, always-there-and-always available mother and wife.

I'd rather go curl up in a corner and cry my little eyes out.

And where, oh where, I ask you, am I supposed to find time to facebook?!  This is the worst indignity of all, I think.

See?  I told you I'd get up off my knees and press forward.  That's what moms do, right?  They keep going because God will eventually give them a fresh energizer battery.  So.  I'm off to conquer the world.  :)