She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not

My  four-year old daughter has decided that she no longer loves her mother. She’ll tell her mother all the time. She even speaks to her mother in the third person.
“I just don’t like my mom,” she’ll say to her mom, “She’s always gets mad at me.”
“I don’t love my mom,” she’ll say to her mom, “I just love my grandpa.”

I know she obviously doesn’t understand love and how it works… you CAN love more than one person. But it’s amazing how much those little words coming out of that little mouth can really cut deep. A few nights ago, we were at my husband’s parent’s house. I was about to fall asleep. The kids were not. They were lying next to each other in the dark, giggling incessantly.
“Time for bed,” I said, for the umpteenth time, “You guys need to settle down… Trenton, I love you.”
“I lud you too.”
“Lacy, I love you.”
“I don’t love you, Mom.”
“Of course you do. Wouldn’t you be sad if mommy went away forever?”
“That would be fine!” She said, brightly.

No more Mom? Bliss! The truth is, she’s around me ALL the time. She gets sicks of me. It’s only natural. But still.
I sorta hunkered down in my blanket and contemplated calling my own mother to shout, “I LOVE YOU SO MUCH MOM!!!!” and I might have had it not been 11 pm.

Oh, that girl.  She’s wearing TWO tutus.
She does love me.

And I have to admit that when I have just about as much as I can take of “I don’t want you” talk, I simply turn to the boy. THERE’S a kid who knows how to appreciate his mama.
With him, it’s constant kisses. Constant compliments. Constant face caressing.
So basically… constant validation.


Oh, how I never dreamed this much love was possible.
And what is it about kids getting haircuts that is so irresistible? I try to keep my camera put away, but I can’t! I can’t! Something about a little kid in a cloak is just too much.

And mom? I love you very much.

Yesterday, Bulleted

*I love living in a small town for many reasons.  One of those reasons is that I can take the 30 minute drive to Wal-Mart and end up seeing about 10 people from my little town.  We always greet each other like old friends we haven’t seen in ages.

*I submit that the only thing better than Sonic itself is HAPPY HOUR at Sonic. Because their slushy machine was slow yesterday, not only did I get my drinks for 1/2 price, but I got
which I wasted no time in using. Yum.

*It rained ever-so-slightly for about 1 whole minute yesterday. The parched earth soaked it in a matter of about 30 seconds.

*I love summer. It’s my favorite season on account of the warmth and the LONG days. And the lemonade. And the flip-flops. And the shade.

And the 4th of July!

And monsoon season and the flowers and the greenness that is so precious to Arizona. Ahhhhhh… summer is what gets me through winter.

*Someone knocked on my door while I was in the middle of straightening my hair. Let me paint a picture: while I’m straightening my hair, I thrown half of it up in a terrible pony tail on top of my head and work with the other half. I ignore my children and they, in turn, ignore all of the house rules. When the knock came at the door, I answered it hoping it would be my sister. or my dad.
It was a neighbor from down the road that I have never before met. And there I stood with my cock-eyed hair and my crazy yelling kids (one of which was dressed in a Christmas shirt and the bottom half of a tiger costume)… he pointed to a horse trotting down the road.
“Does that belong to you?”
“Oh, I think that’s my Daddy’s horse, Junior.”

Daddy’s? What am I? 5? I haven’t said “Daddy” in over 20 years! But things like that slip out when I’m embarrassed.

*Even in summer, my brother’s chili is a welcome dinner.

*While shopping, I bought two hair products. I don’t usually buy hair products beyond gel, hairspray, shampoo, and conditioner. But yesterday I did. Want to know why? They smell good. When my hair smells good, I’m roughly 50% happier. Will someone please invent hair perfume?

*I love women. I love talking with them and bonding with them and pulling strength from them which is why I’m spades of excited about the paperwork placed in my hands yesterday.

My “Mommy” (hey, if Dad is Daddy…) and I are soon to be on our way to a retreat for women! Held here:

And we’re going to be getting our hair and make-up professionally done. I’m so excited! I’ve been growing my hair out for nine months! It’s so nasty and it won’t curl at all. To be honest, I’m getting impatient for the make-up/hair thing.
Thank goodness for TAAZ.

This is me before.  I left myself unspeakably naked where cosmetics are concerned.  I applied some foundation and mascara, but you can’t really tell.

This is me as Selena Gomez. I think it’s my favorite so far.

This is me as some other celebrity I’ve never, ever heard of in my life.

And, just for fun… here I am as CLEOPATRA!!

The thought of greeting my husband like that when he walks through the door tonight made me laugh so hard I cried.
“Well, hello…”

I’ve always wondered what I’d look like if I was blonde. I’ve also always wanted to wear bright red lipstick, but I can’t. At least, not in real life. But TAAZ isn’t real life at all! Wheeeeee!

I even changed my eye color. Snicker.

One of the great things about TAAZ is that they tell you where you can buy products that match the colors you use. Even the eye color! If you change it, they’ll recommend a contact brand and color to you. Pretty sweet!
I started playing with TAAZ years ago -before I evah evah had kids. They’ve come a long way since then, and they’re a BALL to play with.
Click here: TAAZ
Upload a picture of yourself and have some fun.

Health. And some other stuff.

Before I get to my thesis (ha. ha. ha.) today, I’ve got to share something. Two some things.

#1) Seven years ago yesterday, I said “YES!” to a man down on one knee. He gave me a sexy ring, and I sport it around to this day. My grandma has never, ever lost her wedding ring. When a bunch of the women in the family asked her how she’d managed to keep it for so long, she simply said “I never took it off… bread dough and all!” My husband always cringes when I bake and garden with my ring on, but I insist that the ring is mine and that if he’d like it back… he’s outta luck. ANYWAY, like any girl, I woke up on the morning of June 28th, 2004 and ran straight to my best friend’s house. I knocked on her door, and the minute I saw her, I thrust my left hand in her face and gushed my entire engagement story. And then I said, “Enough about me. Let’s talk about you.” And she told me that he boyfriend broke up with her the night before. I wanted to chop my own head off. GAH! Tia, have I ever told you what a great person you are to still be friends with me? Seriously. I’ve been the worst friend in the world, and she still likes me. I even gave her a black eye once.

#2) Guuuuueeeessssssssss WHAT??????
I’m in love, ladies and gents. Love, love, love. This baby is a hearty 11 pounds, and I can’t believe that he came outta his mama only 5 days ago. No wonder she couldn’t move the last 6 weeks of her pregnancy! He’s almost outgrown his newborn clothes. But, MAN, is he adorable. I got my hands on him for a full hour yesterday.
His name is Jens -named after our great-great-great grandfather who was converted to the gospel. Remember when I blogged about him? The good looking military man with all the medals…

And while I was holding and loving on that big baby boy, his sister found a mud puddle outside.
I gave her a bath and then brought her and her sister home with me. And she found a mud puddle at my house. I gave her another bath and a new outfit… and then I kissed her twice-bathed face and played with her blonde curls. Mmmmm.


Since The New Year started, my personal health has taken a back seat to other more pressing matters. In the last few weeks, I’ve been able to get back to my routines. I’ve set some goals -easily attainable goals -and I’m going to share them with you. Aside from knowing that sharing goals makes them easier for me to reach, my horoscope told me to share my health goals online. How can I NOT do it now? Really.
I’ve made it a goal to go 12 hours without eating. As in: if I eat dinner at 8 pm, I won’t breakfast until 8 am. I didn’t expect much from this goal, but I’m amazed with the results! My weight hasn’t dropped or anything like that, but I FEEL so much better! I also try to get my heart rate up for 30 minutes every morning before I eat breakfast. Sometimes this doesn’t work out, but that’s okay. It’s happening more often than not, and right now that’s good for me.
My brother gave me P90X yoga, and it’s an hour and a half long. The first time I put it in, I made it all of 15 minutes. Now I’m up to 30 minutes.
My brother. My brother. If you ever bother to read my comments, you’ve met him.
He wrote a post last night about his health, and I highly suggest you read it.


One of my favorite health routines is my green drinks. This morning I stumbled onto a blog with an amazing green drink recipe. I can’t wait to try it! I’m headed out to go shopping in a few hours, and you can BET I’m getting the stuff to try it out.
ALSO. Before you click on over to her site, I just have to say that her site makes me miles of happy. The design… the music. About half of her playlist matches mine. F’real.

I’d love to hear all about your health goals, if you’ve got ’em. Sound off.

Plugging Back In

Remember that one time I blogged and then dropped off the face of the Internet? Because really. I do. It all started on Wednesday morning. My phone rang. It was my mother-in-law. The first words out of her mouth were, “I have news.”

Something Austen inside me wanted to take on a British accent and start saying things like, “Such news! Most vital news indeed!” But I didn’t. I held my absurdities and just listened.

“Dusty’s coming home tomorrow.”
“What the HECK?!” I said, which I think sounded MUCH more smooth that anything Austenish. Agree?

Dusty, my brother-in-law, has been on a mission for the last two years. He was scheduled to come home in a couple of weeks but due to some missionary mixing ups, he was sent home a couple weeks early. The airport he was flying into was roughly 4 hours away, and my husband had just been called to work an emergency graveyard shift. He was devastated. Having served a mission himself some years ago (ten), he was really looking forward to meeting his brother at the airport. That’s when something Divine intervened, and my husband was able to get off work.
It must here be mentioned that by Wednesday, my husband had already worked his 40 hours for the week. He’s my little worker ant.

We woke up early Thursday morning and drove to the airport.
Blogging, dears, was far from my mind. Whilst pulling into the airport, I got on the phone with a nearby resort and made us some reservations. The entire family was spending the weekend at a resort, and I’d been calling the resort for a couple of days trying to eek in a suite, but they were entirely booked.
Again something Diving intervened, and we were given a King-sized suite.

And then we were given our brother back.
I hardly took any pictures this weekend. I really was unplugged. It cost $12 a day to use the internet at the resort, so I opted out. Instead, I went on the lazy river 8 times. Not consecutively.
But while it seems the rest of the state is on fire, the resort can almost make you forget.
Fire? What fire? Drought? What Drought?
At the end of the first day, my son completely crashed.
My daughter, on the other hand, did not. She stayed up until midnight. And then she woke up at 5. And then she woke me up.
“Mom, I just need a movie!”
“Mom, I just need a cookie!”
“Mom, here’s Santa’s cookies and a letter so may know what to give me.”

Finally, after falling back asleep about 5 times and being woken up six… I got up. I went into the room where the kids were sleeping to find my daughter fast asleep.
I cursed my luck and ate an Oatmeal Cream Pie. For breakfast. Yahoo for vacation!
I tried to sneak a picture of my husband in:
He caught me.
“You better not be takin’ a picture of me,” he said.
I told him I wasn’t. I told him that I already HAD. And then I told him I couldn’t help but take pictures of something so lovely.
Anyway, I HAD to take pictures of him whenever he was nearby. For the better part of the vacation weekend, he wasn’t nearby at all!
“Where’s Danny?” was the question of the weekend.
“It’s my single mom vacation,” I’d say.

Truth: Danny was busy visiting with his family.
And that was as it should have been.
(I’m pretty sure she shouldn’t have been putting her feet in that fountain…)

One night, after my sister-in-law had helped me out with the kids (we went on the lazy river twice), we thought we might stop off at the restaurant overlooking the pools and see if they were still open.
It was 9:30 PM, so my hopes weren’t high, but since I’d had such amazing luck all weekend… they were open!
We ordered up some s’more making goodness and indulged.
The kids were thrilled. Fire!
And MMmmmmmm…
My daughter was bothered that Daddy wasn’t there. She’s such a good girl. I love my husband just as much as the next girl, but when they plopped all of that s’more goodness in front of me the LAST thing on my mind was sharing!
“Daddy needs one!” My daughter said, “I will make one for him.”
And so… she did.
It was cute. And messy.
And he loved it. I should have thought of it, you know. But I was too busy cramming graham crackers together.

Okay now. Okay. Now I have some confessing to do.

Have you ever spent an entire day sleeping? or watching movies? or eating junk? You know how those days make you feel? Grimy, cruddy, loathsome…
Well, I learned over the weekend that you can effectively over indulge in vanity and end up feeling incredibly grimy. And foolish.
Vanity has always been a fault of mine that I’ve fought for years. I hate it, and keeping it in check has been a personal war.
As lucky as I was this weekend, I wasn’t lucky enough to remember to pack something to GO OVER my bathing suit on account of our packing up in such a rush.
I don’t have a fit body.
I don’t have a tan body.
I have rolls on my belly -ever present reminders of the babies I birthed (as if the children themselves weren’t enough).

Anyway, I had to swim in a bathing suit.

Do you know how disconcerting that can be?! Do you?!
I stood in front of a full-length mirror and sighed heavily before walking over to the water park. I felt a lot like Anne Hathaway in the beginning of “The Princess Diaries.”
“As always, this is as good as it’s gonna get.”

And then I mentally slapped myself for caring so much. Because, really. Does it matter? Is anyone looking? Does anyone care?! What’s the worst that could happen? Someone might look at me and think, “She really should cover-up more.”
Well, shoot. I think I can take that.
My inner voice swelled within me as I continued to pep talk myself out the door.

And then I spent the weekend facing my fears. Like the man afraid of heights at the edge of the Empire State Building, so I walked around a water park in my bathing suit.

(Lacy took that picture, and I can tell you that just before the shutter went off, I felt my husband suck in.  Hee, hee.)

And you know what? I lived. I’m sitting here, typing, and telling you all about it.

As we drove home yesterday, I told my husband about how I’d spent the weekend worrying too much about how I looked.
He misunderstood what I was saying and ended up saying, “Don’t look at other women and feel bad about what you don’t have. Just look at them and use them as motivation… like that’s your goal.”
Umm, shut up.

That’s NOT what I was saying. At all. Stop.

When I explained myself a little better, he understood a little better and I made sure to explain to him that I wasn’t worried about what OTHER women looked like. Just me.
Because I’m vain.

And as I discussed it with him and reminded myself that vain thinking is unhealthy thinking and that I’ll never fully enjoy my life until I get over my unhealthy thinking… I reached under my slightly burned leg (we ran out of sunscreen on the last day) and found an entire PATCH of long, black leg hair.

My entire speech flew out the car window.
“HONEY!!!” I said, “DID YOU SEE THIS!?!?!”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, “I saw it yesterday. I was going to say something, but I didn’t want to embarrass you. Then I forgot.”

Well, yuck.
And can someone please explain to my why it is impossible to ever completely shave your legs? I always miss patches. And my legs are white and my hair is black.
And I burn and don’t tan.

Diddle-diddle dumpling.
(She wouldn’t smile. Minutes before, she had been teasing her brother. I got after her, and then had the AUDACITY to ask her to smile. “No,” she said. I snapped the picture just as she said, “I’m just in trouvle.”)

Today I’ll work harder to have better thoughts.  I’ll do my make-up and then forget about it.  I won’t spend the rest of the day wondering if my eye liner smudged or if my hair fell out of place.  I’ll abandon those adolescent thoughts for better, higher thoughts.
I’ll do whatever I can to keep myself from shaving my head and wearing a flour sack for clothes since that’s what I felt like doing after this weekend.
And most of all, I’ll keep this t-shirt in mind. My brother-in-law brought it back from his mission in Alabama for my husband:
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a brand new nephew to meet.
Don’t worry, you’ll meet him too. Probably tomorrow. Same time, same place.


A few days ago, I wrote a post about hair.  I forgot to share one hairstyle with you that I thought you’d appreciate:

I tried that hairstyle out, and while it didn’t look much like the picture, it still looked purty awesome. It’s a keeper.

Now, onto music. Music, music, music. Music has taken up about 5 years of my life, and then I had kids. Now it takes up very little of my time, but I still get my fix now and then.
PANDORA is -hands down -one of the greatest things that ever happened to music. and me.
I was listening to my Norah Jones station on Pandora when this song came up:

It’s so pretty and wonderful. I’ve always loved it. Since I happened to be sitting at my computer when the song started playing (through my phone), I sat down and youtubed the singer.

Katie Melua

She’s so pretty! I wanted to share a few of her songs with you for several reasons which I’ll detail before each song.

Here’s a song titled “Stardust.” It was written in 1927, and it’s beautiful. Peaceful. Wonderful.
Please note: it’s not an actual music video, but you get to hear the song. And that’s plenty enough.

Here’s a tidy love song with a quirky video:
Embedding has been disabled, so click HERE for the real video.
Here’s an acoustic version:

Thank you, reader, for sticking with me through the wonderful, sweet and easy songs.


Onto the real mess.
Check out this song… I secretly believe Edward Cullen wrote this song for Bella. Not that I’ve ever read the books.

And last but not least, a couple of songs that are a little creepy. I wanted to look away -click away, but I couldn’t! I don’t know why, but I couldn’t. Even my kids were lured in, and we stared at the computer screen in silence while Katie Melua hypnotized us with her weirdy ways. It’s like Gaga meets Moulin Rouge, but not AS trashy. Or something.

Truth: whenever I bring this video up, my kids come flocking to my side regardless of where they are in the house.
“Make it bigger mom!”
“Make it louder mom!”
We’re all weirdies around here.

Again, I couldn’t look away. I just couldn’t. I think she must know some Jedi mind tricks. Or maybe she just knows Tim Burton. Her black dress looks Burtonesque. My favorite part is the when all the jazz hands come spurting out from her body. It’s 100% certain that my children will watch this video in 10 years and laugh their brains out.

I Wanna Be A…

I once had a professor tell me that if I was interested in a wide variety of subjects, that I should be a geologist. He was right, I suppose, and I might have taken him up on it EXCEPT that while my interests include a ridiculously WIDE variety, science is not included. Can’t you see it, pouting in the sidelines? Like the last kid picked for teams?

I don’t hate science. I just hate getting tested on it. I don’t mind sitting in class and learning about it, just please don’t ask me to answer questions and then GRADE me on them. Ouch.

That said: I love everything. I have a long list of dreams. Ready?

I want to write books.
I want to open up a library.
I want to open a family restaurant.
I want to go into reflexology.
I want to learn how to cut hair.
I want to learn how to build things out of wood.
I want to learn how to reupholster furniture.
I want to be a motivation speaker (think John Bytheway and NOT Chris Farley) for youth.
I want to manage a small farm.
I want to get the point where I can sew all of my own clothes and have them be unique and stylish.
I want to have 5 kids and spend all my time with them.
I want to become the Queen of Organization.
I want to maser photoshop. Right after I buy it. And a new camera.
I want to foster my love of family and history and channel it into family history.
I want to act in local theatricals.
I want to be a teacher.
Okay, okay. OKAY. I’ll stop.

Let me just make one thing clear: I don’t want to DO it all. I simply want to LEARN it all.
I was thinking about this a couple days ago as I was doing the dishes, and it’s downright unsettling and yards of frustrating to be thinking about EVERYTHING you WANT to do while all you can do… really… is the dishes.

As I thought about everything I wanted to learn/accomplish, I thought of my professor. I still didn’t really have a hankering for science, but something else dawned on me.

I have two kids, right? Some days I want five. But some days I just want two.
No matter the number, THEY fulfill all of my dreams.

They sit at my feet and listen to my stories, written or unwritten. They’re my audience, always captive. They are my restaurant patrons who eat for free, my children in my home library. They’re my reflexology patients and the messes who fuel my hunger for organization. They make for models who sport my homemade clothing. They are my indoor farm, and at any given moment I can have chickens, geese, horses, puppies, rabbits, cows! All I have to do is ask and my children… transform! I teach all the time, constantly. I answer the “why’s” and “how comes.” I spend my time motivating them with my words and actions. Yes, friends, they are exactly what I want.
They are my dreams.

So to answer the unanswered questions that float around stay-at-home mothers, what do I do all day?

I fulfill my dreams full-time and then some. Am I paid? Not monetarily, but you can’t put a price on happiness. Besides, the truly rich don’t need money. They are not wanting.
I speak from experience.

Does This Freak Anyone Else Out?


He sleeps like this all the time, and I’m constantly poking and prodding him to make sure he’s still among the living.
I really love it when he crosses his legs like that. I also really love it when he sleeps with his eyes fully closed.

I also love that he sometimes refuses to stay asleep unless I’m right there next to him. I did, in very fact, spend all of last night with a 2 year old little boy snuggled next to me. And when he woke me up this morning, I asked him “Who got out of bed and came to sleep with me last night?”
And he answered, “Lacy did it.”

That’s his default answer for a lot of things these days.
They’re great friends, most of the time. I don’t know why he tries to pin everything on her.

Only a few days ago, he came running into me with tears streaming down his face.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” I asked him.
“LACY HIT BE BACK!” He wailed. (“be” means “me” in this case)
Well, good for her.

We live by a golden rule all our own in this house: an eye for an eye.
It doesn’t exactly breed harmony…
And please forgive me for reposting the above picture. I can’t get enough of it. Also: we are actually pretty nice to each other. And we do abide by the real golden rule most of the time. when we’re not hitting back, that is.

Here’s a Story of a Lovely Lady

I am so. tired.

I tell you this because it’s pertinent to the story. And the story is this: My husband came home from a 26 hour shift yesterday (and I’M complaining about being tired, ha) and I got up off my rear to serve him an early dinner. Yesterday was one of those rare needed days where plucking my eyebrows while watching movies is at the top of my to do list. I had spent the past couple days doing some much-needed cleaning, and while the house wasn’t (isn’t) perfect, it was clean enough that I could sit down for a few hours without obsessing over what I wasn’t doing. All day while plucking my eyebrows, watching movies, and enjoying the general splendor of my children bounding in and out of doors, I thought of my husband. He was working so hard, such long hours. I wanted to do something nice to show my appreciation, so at 2 pm I got up and made an absolute mess of my kitchen.
Two hours later as my husband came through the door, I served him up a big steak sandwich on a homemade bun and freshly squeezed lemonade on ice. My husband was MORE than happy to come home to Steak on a Bun, and after a quick shower and change of clothes, he took us all out to the movies. I couldn’t believe his stamina.
Once home, the people -both great and small -all around me started dropping off.
First, my husband.
Then my son.
Then my daughter.

Though the time was growing later and later, I kept my eyes pried open for one sole purpose: I wanted to bask in the silence and feel the joy that comes with being completely left to yourself. No one wanted anything. No one needed anything.
And because I hadn’t spent my energy, um, AT ALL yesterday, it wasn’t a big sacrifice to stay up late.

I streamed a television episode.
And as I streamed, I felt myself drifting off. I fought off sleep by getting up from the couch and walking to the closet to fetch a big comfy blanket. The closet isn’t easy to open. It sticks. And creaks. It’s also right next to the kid’s room AND our room (The joys of little houses, where love grows best).

I walked over to the closet,
Just as quiet as could be.
I opened it up really wide,
And a mouse jumped out at me.

Literally. It JUMPED. Right out at me!
I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t yelp.
But what I could do was throw my hands in front of my face, jump up in the air, take two giant leaps away from the closet and one final grand leap onto my very own occupied bed.

Have I ever told you that my bed frame creaks? Like my closet door, it can’t be touched without whining. The slightest movement will set it off. If my husband rolls over in bed, it wakes me up. This isn’t a huge bother since I’m pretty much pro at falling back asleep. My husband doesn’t wake up as easily, so we’ve gotten on very well this way for 6 years.

BUT I’ve never flung myself at full speed onto my bed while my husband was sleeping on it.
Finally sleeping on it.
After 26 hours of not sleeping on it.

He shot up out of bed, “What?! What is it? What’s going on?! Honey. ARE YOU OKAY?!”
Remorse shot up from the bottom of my heart and pretty much ate my head. I apologized to him as best I could through a quivering voice, telling him what had happened and also telling him to go back to sleep.
“So long as you’re okay…” he muttered.
I told him I was, but I wasn’t. I was rooted to my bed, peering out my door at the crime scene. My teensy attacker was out there. Then again… so was my Netflix.
I gulped, pretending that my gulp was actually my swallowing a big Pill of Courage. And I ran full speed back to my couch. I was shaking like mad, and all thoughts of drifting off were far, far away.

I tucked my feet under me and I rocked myself on the couch. I pulled my lap top onto my lap and I started calling it Wilson.
We were alone… stranded… on the Island of the Couch. Rather than being surrounded on all sides by water, we were surrounded by fear. FEAR was holding me hostage. I had no materials around me to wade through it (no bee keeing suit, for instance), and so I opened Wilson and blogged a little.

The clock continued to tick, and I knew my alarm would be going off in five hours.
In four and a half hours…

I felt a slight dip in the temperature -not the kind that made me wonder if dead people with unfinished business might soon appear, but the kind that make me really, REALLY wish I had a warm blanket. Because going to the closet was completely out of the question, I knew I had to go to bed.
I also knew the large soda I had shared with my husband during Kung Fu Panda 2 was starting to get to me.
The only course of action was an immediate return to my bed… by way of the bathroom.

I started talking to myself, “You’re being ridiculous. It’s just a mouse. You’re a grown woman putting off going to bed because you’re afraid of a little rodent. You’re pathetic. Get up and stop acting like an idiot.”
So I did.
Bullied by an unwelcome disease-ridden house guest, I took refuge in my own bathroom.

My assailant was crafty and took full advantage of the fact that in my present condition I could NOT elevate my bare feet, and he assailed the crap out of the situation…. right out from under the laundry hamper.

It didn’t take me all of four second to get OUT OF THERE and into my bed where I shuddered, shook and generally swore that there was a reason FOR ALL IRRATIONAL FEARS.
And then I curled up into a ball and apologized to Heavenly Father for not kneeling down to say my prayers.

Today a trip to the store is in order. Traps, poison (for outside, promise), and traps, traps, traps!

“There will be blood tonight!”


I’ve been messing a lot with my hair lately.  Thanks to pinterest, I’ve stumbled onto a LOT of great hair ideas.
That said, my hair is brown and long. It is neither thick nor thin. It is neither curly nor straight. My hair is about as indecisive at its master. And I use the term “master” loosely on account of my hair wearing the pants in our relationship 7 days out of 10.
I sported this look at church a few weeks ago:

The lady sitting behind me latched onto my shoulder and said, “I just LOVE you hair. It reminds me of your grandmother.”

THAT, reader, is a supreme compliment. Not just because my great-grandmother (who sported a braided look daily) is amazing but because my style has always leaned toward the grandma edge. And I’ve got the closet to prove it.
For a tutorial on the hair style, go HERE.

I have yet to try this one, but I will JUST as soon as I get a trim.

Something great about some of the styles I’m finding is that they’re actually GOOD for your hair! Yesterday, for instance, I took a bath and then styled my almost completely dry (air dried!) hair. I slept on it and then woke up with pretty curls.
Of course I can’t get a better angle. But this girl used the same technique:

Here’s the video:

Once you’ve got all of your hair tucked up in a head band, it looks pretty flapping awesome. And by “flapping” I mean “flapper.” I may or may not have clipped a vintage flower onto my head band. It looked amazing with my face. which didn’t have any make-up on it. And it looked amazing with my clothes. which were frumpy dumpy.
But the flower, while making the rest of my face and ensemble look shamefully inferior, cheered me up.

Another great style I found that is conducive to keeping your hair from looking like it’s 85 is this style:


An adorable bun made with hair that hasn’t been washed in three days. I tried this out about nine times before I finally got it to work with my style. When I make mine like hers, I look like I’d fit better into a corporate office and a dress with (hurl) shoulder pads. Shoulders pads always make me hurl because these farm girl shoulders don’t need no paddin’. They’re already NICE and wide and square and bordering mannish.
Anyway, I figured out how to make my bun work for my head and then ANGELS sang.
Click HERE to watch a tutorial on how to make it. It’s easy. TOO easy. So easy, in fact, that I hooked my sister-in-law on the idea.
Please know that we did this around 11 pm on Saturday night. We were just playing around.
We also happened to do this around 11 pm:
The writer in me did back flips of joy.

The last link to a tutorial I want to share with you is one I can’t wait to try. All I need is the right size curling iron.

CLICK HERE to see it. It’s done by the same girl who gave us the bun above. I feel like maybe I ought to capitalize that. The Bun Above.

NOW forgive me while I just say a quick word about the creator of The Bun Above. She is inspiring. I tell you that for one reason and one reason only: SHE LIKES HERSELF! She is happy with the person that she is, and as a result her true self shines like cuh-razy! When you read her tutorials and her posts, you end up thinking, ‘hey. I could totally DO that’ instead of something mind-mangling like ‘she’s cuter than me. she’s awesome. I hate myself. I hate my body. I hate that I hate my body. I bet my husband would love me if I were her…’

So if you’re needing a little inspiration to pull you to a higher level of awesome, check HER SITE out.
I’m not good at fashion or hair or make-up. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this girl sharing what she knows. I also can’t tell you how much I appreciate the fact that she gets most of her stuff at Wal-Mart. And I’m not ashamed to admit that after browsing her site for nearly an hour, I made a firm decision to buy hair ties (because I don’t have a single one that shouldn’t have been thrown away last… year), bobby pins (because I think those things really are disposable), a few hair products, a self-tanner (my husband won’t know me), and nail polish (because I have two colors).
I stepped away from her site and realized how much I don’t do for me and IF I DID, I would feel SO much better about myself and I know for a fact that my husband would appreciate it.
But you don’t need me to explain all of that. You’ve got Dr. Laura.

Go forth, you. Go forth and love yourself. Go forth and love yourself and be inspiring (which, as I mentioned, is a natural side-effect of loving yourself. I didn’t happen to say whether it be good or bad because you -naturally -are good. Hitler on the other hand??? Though he DID inspire. Too bad it was all eevil).

It’s Dinner Time!

Please tell me I’m not the only one who can’t say, “It’s Dinnertime!” without thinking of “The Emperor’s New Groove.

Before I begin, I have to tell you how I fell off the face of the earth. I got sick. And then when I got better I was rushing around at the speed of lightening doing things that should have been done while I was sick.
I have quite a mental catalog of posts that need posting, but last night. Last night took the cake. I had to share it with you, and my only regret is that I don’t have a good camera. Right now all I have is my camera phone and it has a stinking delay! It also takes approximately 200 years to load because there’s approximately 2,000 pictures on it.

Anyway, thanks to my wonderful sickness, I haven’t wanted to really eat much of anything. Nothing sounded good for dinner, but since I HAD to choose, I chose Salmon Patties. Everyone in our family goes bonkers for them, and I had a bunch of fresh baby spinach leaves, so I sauteed them to go along with the salmon. I dished up dinner and gave the kids each only a few leaves of spinach, telling them they had to finish their spinach before they could have salmon.
My daughter gobbled her spinach up and moved onto her salmon like it was nothin’. It’s my son we’re here to see.
“I don’t wan’ it!”
His disdain turned to frustration.
Then full on anger.
He tried giving some to his sister, but she gave it right back.
Then he looked at Dad while Dad said, “Just eat one bite. Just ONE.”
So I took all of his leaves away except one… teeny… tiny… little leaf. Trenton picked it up, stared at it, and tried tearing it in half to make it even smaller.
Dad got up to get something out of the fridge. I looked away to help Lacy with her milk, and when we turned around…
He had DONE it! We were so proud of him, and we dished up his salmon right away.
Lacy was proud to.
She hugged him. He hugged her. She hugged him tighter. He tried to bite his food. He was, after all, starving. He couldn’t eat, he was getting hugged to hard.
“Stop!” He cried. His sister only giggled and hugged him harder… she was being sweet! Trenton loves hugs, right?
About that time Trenton started crying. REALLY crying. Not just fit-throwing crying. Through his tears, he shot his sister a look of utter pain.
She was shocked. She hadn’t meant to hurt him! She was trying to be nice! Just the THOUGHT that SHE was the one to make her brother cry… it was too much for her to handle.
Not sixty seconds later, the situation was contained. Reversed, even.
(That’s a brownie in his mouth, by the way.)

And that’s what happens at the end of a day where everyone played extra hard and NO ONE got any naps. After dinner, I settled down on the couch with my ever-faithful pile of laundry and started folding.
Not ten minutes into it, I wasn’t surprised to find my son completely passed out. With his little train in his hand.
I wonder if their teenage years will be sort of like this.
Power struggles, hugs, tears, brownies, toys, sleep.
But I’ll always be glad for priceless pictures:Photobucket