Boys will be boys, and I love that!

My kid idolizes spiderman. Here he is "shooting spiderwebs" at Elmo. He does this to people he sees on the street, in the store, in the car at red lights, wherever he feels the need. He also feels it's his duty to beat up bad guys. Apparently, he "took care" of Spooky Bart with his laser beam the other night. He said it was a "counter-attack". Go figure.

On a side note: thanks for everyone's kind words, thoughts, prayers, and advice lately. I can't tell you how much it means.

 

copycat

I want to be just like all you crafty bitches out there, so I went to the fabric store yesterday, and bought me some fabric along with a pattern to make Jade a sundress. I have sewing machine my best friend gave me, so I guess it's time to actually use the thing. I did know how to sew a long time ago, like when I was 10. So I do understand the basics of sewing, but I am still going to need help. We are in the midst of re-arranging the appartment, so my computer is down right now, and I am currently using Doug's which doesn't have the software on it to show you pics of the fabric. Hopefulyl mine will be up and running tonight, so I can post it for you all to see. I'm actually excited to start sewing, I need some type of project to keep me busy. Okay, I have two kids, I AM busy, but I need something to focus on, like a project to accomplish. I will keep you up to date on my new project, I just have to get my lazy ass started.

ps. I had a dream Arnold Schwartzanegger was my step-dad. I have no idea how to spell Schwartzanegger.

reunited

There's nothing like the feeling of getting in touch with an old friend. Cyndi was my best friend through grade school and middle school. We were inseparable. We had those heart necklaces that were broken in half that had the words "best friends" engraved on them. She wore one half, and I wore the other. We were two peas in a pod, a dynamic duo, we were like sisters. She played the violin, I played the piano. We once played a Bach duet in a talent show. We didn't win.

We fought like all kids did, over stupid stuff. We were jealous and petty at times, but at the core we were true friends. We hung out every day in school, after school, at church, and talked on the phone.

One day in the summer between 8th and 9th grade, Cyndi came over to visit. I was in the backyard, and she came out to tell me the news. She was moving to Utah in a matter of weeks. When those words came out of her mouth, I felt as though someone had punched me in the stomach. My best friend was leaving me, and there was nothing I could do about it. I don't remember excatly what I said, but I remember wanting to cry. I was devastated. I vowed I would never forget her, or loose touch with her. The last day I saw her, we said our goodbyes. I tried to act casually, like it didn't matter so much, like it wasn't happening. It didn't hit me that she was actually gone until a week later. I felt so alone at that moment. Cyndi wasn't there to share my secrets. She wasn't there to gossip, or stuff bras with, or dance to "cool" music on the radio. (I think the Jets were big back then, along with New Edition)

Freshman year sucked. My "friend" Natasha was the only girl I hung out with at lunch and afterschool. But she was cruel, and played mean jokes on me. I lied to myself, by thinking I actually liked her, and trusted her. She was all I had. Donnie was popular, and although I had known her as long as I had known Cyndi, she had her own friends. There wasn't really any room for me. I was a band nerd, after all. April went to a different high school back then. I felt so, so alone.

Eventually, I did make friends, and Natasha moved away. Sophomore year was a bit easier. Ape was there, and i had a best friend again. Thank god for her during those gruling high school years. Cyndi and I wrote letters back and forth. She sent pictures, and I could see she was turning into a beautiful young woman.

Junior and Senior year were fabulous. Christa came into my life, and we became wonderful life long best friends. I don't know what I'd do without her. Cyndi and I still kept in touch on a regular basis. I still missed her though, and I was longing to see her again.

After graduation, Cyndi and I lost touch. It's been 9 years since I received a letter from her, with the exception of a wedding invitaion I received 6 years ago. I have wondered about her all this time. I have had dreams of reuniting with her, only to wake up disappointed, knowing I probably never would. I missed my old friend, and I wondered where life had taken her.

This afternoon, a thought, or prompting entered my mind. I googled Superpages, and found her parent's phone number. There it was, staring at me. I was shaking as I picked up the phone to make that call. I probably sounded like a bumbling idiot to her mom, but she was excited to hear from me. She asked where I was living, and I told her. To my complete surprise, Cyndi moved back to California, and now lives in Bakersfield, just an hour and a half away. I couldn't believe my ears. I finally made the call to Cyndi, who was pretty surprised to hear from me. She's the same old Cyndi that I missed for so long. We talked for probably an hour, and decided to get together in a few weeks. As we talked, I remembered why we were friends in the first place. We clicked so well, I could have talked for hours. But alas, my Jared monster decided to color on Doug's laptop. It was time to go.

I can't wait to meet up with my old friend again, and reminisce about the past. About Jeff Blakeborough, about Jeremiah Jackson, and Randy Kinder. Those were the good ol' days, when we sewed our own bras because we could. (well I did anyway. Hey, I was desperate people!) Ahh, the distant memories of my youth are ones I will cherish forever, and some of the fondest of those memories are the days I spent with my dear friend, Cyndi.

I've been tagged.

what picture has brought you the most sadness?
a picture of a little boy, around seven crying in the arms of his father. He just found out his mother died in the World Trade Center on 9/11. I cried for an hour after I saw that.

What picture has brought you the most joy?
A picture of Jared when he was about 4 weeks, smiling up at his daddy.

What picture has brought you the most introspection?
A picture I saw on the cover of Time magazine when I was little. A vietnemese girl was running through the streets naked. Her skin was burning from chemical warfare. I'll never forget that picture.

What picture brings you the most laughter?
A picture I have of me and April after too much peppermint schnapps. I won't go into detail, but she knows the one I'm talking about!

What song makes you cry?
"Into the West" by Annie Lennox. It's beautiful.

What song makes you dance?
"Hey Mama" by Black Eyed Peas
"Hot in Here" by Nelly
and..... I ain't gonna lie:
"Baby Got Back" by Sir Mix Alot (how can you not love a song with lyrics like "my anaconda don't want none unless you got buns hon"!)
"California Love"

What song makes you drive really fast?
"Sunday Morning" No Doubt

What song brings the best outdoor memory?
listening to a kick-ass drumline always brings back great memories. Ahh, how I miss that.

What are you listening to now?
Dr. Phil. (I know, I know)

What book was last given to you by someone else?
"The Juror" by John Grisham, given to me by my brother.

What book will you keep with you always?
The owner's manual to my car.

Where do you like to be quiet?
In the bathtub... with a good book... and bubbles.

Where do you like to be loud?
At an amusement park.

What is your favorite fruit juice?
orange

calling all dream interpreters

I keep having re-occurring dreams about water. Last night, I dreamt my grandparents bought a houseboat in Santa Monica. Right outside the main door of the house were a bunch of rocks, like you find at beaches. If you left the front door open too long, huge crabs would bombard the living room. From the balcony of the house, you could see the waves crashing way out into the ocean, instead of on the shore. The water was beautiful, but I was afraid of it.

A few weeks ago, I dreamt I was in the Caribbean with a study group from college. I think we were studying computers or something weird like that, that I would never study. On the beach there was a shack, used as a control room where an entire wall of computers were set up to monitor something in a parallel universe. I was the only one who went out onto the beach. The sun was shining, there was a cool breeze, and the white sand was warm. I was alone, and the water looked very inviting. It was clear blue and I could see to the bottom. There were no fish, and no seaweed. Just perfect water, and perfect sand. The ocean was calm and relaxing, and reassuring. It was warm, but not hot. I laid on my back so that my ears were underwater and I was floating. I could see myself from up above, and I looked serene.

Just then, I saw a dorsal fin swimming towards me. I became very wary, but not frightened yet. It got closer, and it wasn't slowing down. I swam back a little, to keep my distance. I knew in the back of my mind what the animal probably was, although Icouldn't actually see what was underneath the fin. It was starting to follow me. It got close enough for me to touch it, and I became a little scared. I didn't want to acknowledge that it was a shark, because then it would manifest itself. I told myself it was a dolphin, and as long as I thought it, I would only see the fin.

When I woke up and thought about my dream, I realized it was a shark I saw in the water, I just didn't allow myself to see it. Dolphins don't swim in shallow water like that.

Ever since I was a child, I've had nightmares of Tidal Waves. I've never actually been overcome by them in my dream, I've always just barely been able to out run it. I wonder what all this water means, if anything. Sometimes it's bright blue, other times it's murky. I usually wake up afraid. Does this mean anything?

Took the kids to the playground yesterday. Jared had a great time, as usual. Jade got a little warm though, and by the end, she was definatly worn out. (see last picture) It was sunny and 84 degrees, nice day to be outside. 

He likes to hang 

happy Jadie 

Jared likes to play with sticks. He uses them as his "magical wand" 

"Who the hell are you?" 

mothers, be good to your daughters

I met a young girl at the DMV yesterday. She opened the door for me when she saw I had a stroller. I thanked her politely and walked over to the back of the mile long line. She stood behind me and immediately began cooing at Jade. She commented on how beautiful and happy she is. Jade loved her too. She smiled and babbled and laughed at the girl's funny faces.

The girl was a bit homely looking, not the type of girl people probably would have made friends with in High School. Her hair was cut short, like a boy's. Her teeth were stained yellow with plaque, and her clothes were soiled. I was trying my best not to judge. She seemed nice enough, just very talkative. She asked if Jade was my first baby. I told her no, that I have a three-year-old boy at home. She then told me about her 2-year-old twin boys. They are a handful. She also said she's pregnant again, and thinks she's due in September, but she hadn't been to a doctor yet to figure out the due date.

We made small talk in that long line, mostly she was the one asking questions. How old am I? When is my birthday? When did I get married? Why do I have a ruby wedding ring instead of a diamond? I didn't really feel like answering all these questions to someone who was a bit "weird", but didn't want to be rude, so I did anyway.

She then told me about her 8-year-old daughter. This young lady had her daughter when she was 12. Twelve years old. She's 20 now and expecting her fourth child. How does this happen? How does a twelve year old child get pregnant? I was still playing with barbies at 12. I wasn't even thinking about kissing boys when I was 12. What happened to her? Where were her parents? I couldn't even think of a response when she told me. I think I just stared at her in disbelief. How can you possibly be mature enough to raise a child at 12? Her innocence was gone, or taken as a child, and I felt so sorry for her, and her daughter. What kind of childhood did this young woman have? How can you enjoy your baby, and care for her, and understand her needs when you are a child yourself? How can you get up in the middle of the night every night for months to feed your baby when you feel like a zombie at 12? Why didn't someone teach this young girl how to be a child? Didn't her mother and father give her the attention she deserved? What's wrong with the world that twelve year old children are getting pregnant? I am so afraid for my son. I'm afraid that I won't do a good enough job, and screw his life up. This is the hardest job in the world, and it never, ever ends. I cringe to think how the world will be when Jared is in jr. high and high school. I thought I had it bad. And now, I've got a long, hard road ahead of me. *sigh*

The great escape

These are his boxers. Yesterday he ran outside wearing this only across the parking lot to help me do laundry in the apartment laundry room. Nice. It was actually kinda funny seeing his little scrawny butt run around in nothing but his underwear, excited that he escaped. Looks kinda skinny, doesn't he?

Just thinking out loud

I've come to the realization that Jared needs an outlet. Being stuck in here with me all day doesn't help his development one bit, not to mention I'm loosing my sanity. I've posted before on how I feel being trapped here all day with no outlet, no hobbies, not even a group of friends to get together with once a week. Well, okay, Billy and Mandi hang out with us quite alot. But I'm talking about a women's group who all get together and play poker, or scrapbook, or some other thing to get away from our monotonous life once and a while. Anyway, I'm getting off topic.

I want to enroll Jared in preschool a couple days a week so he can get out of this house and play with other hoodlums his own age. I think part of his defiance right now is boredom. Why wouldn't he be bored? He's not being stimulated. He does the same things day in and day out. Sure, I read to him, paint with him, take him outside, and all that good stuff, but I just don't think it's enough. Before the baby I used to pretty much focus my attention on him all day. I sat down with him more and actually taught him things, like the alphabet, recognizing letters, counting, and teaching him songs. Now I just don't seem to have as much time to do those kinds of things, or the patience. Now, I just turn on Sesame Street and let the darn TV teach my kid the things I'm supposed to. What's wrong with me anyway? Does that make me a bad mother? Hmmm, maybe not a BAD mother, just one who is a little worn thin, and a little frazzled. I think Jared would love preschool. Love, love love it. I hope we can afford it. I'm going to look into it and you know what? I'm going to do anything it takes to get him in, even if it's just a couple days a week for a few hours. I could use the break.

I cleaned today. This is as clean as my apartment gets, folks. Doug wond those Calle lillies at a wedding we went to on Saturday. They were the centerpieces at the reception. 

Better fiew of the calle lillies. I think they're pretty 

loveseat and spongebob. That's Jared's chair for cartoon watching. 

view of our fish tank and dining area 

Behold! Fear the wrath of thy mother, lest I smite thee!

Yesterday I finally got the car back after two weeks of Doug driving it to work and back. They gave him a work van (brand new) along with some nifty tools, a laptop, and a cell phone. Thank god the car is back.

I decided to venture out of my cave and go to the bank yesterday, along with my offspring. We had a play date set up with Doug's sister, Kelly for later that afternoon. I know how Jared can act up, especially in the bank, or anywhere we stand in line where there's nothing for him to do. Soooo, I made it crystal clear to him that if he acts up in the bank, he doesn't get to go play later on.

I'm already in a pissy mood because it's windy, and after I entered the bank the first time, I realized I forgot the checks in the glove box, so I had to drag both kids out to the parking lot, grab the checks, and go back inside, only to wait in a disappointingly long ass line. As I fill out the deposit form, Jared of course decides he wants to play on the chairs. Not just sit in them and look at all the strange desert folk, no... he decides it's much more fun to climb on the back of the chair and flop down. Then he decides the chair next to it looks a little more fun, so he jumps from the chair he's in to the chair right next to it. The whole time he's doing this, the bank is filling up quickly and he shoots "spiderman webs" at every new customer who enters the bank. And he does this LOUDLY. After I tell him at least three times that he better get his butt over here now, or we aren't going to Greg and Kelly's, he moseys on over to me.

I breathed a little sigh of relief. Then, he decides to plop his butt down on the dirty ass floor and rock Jade's carrier back and forth VERY forcefully. (Jade's making a loud cat-like noise during the entire time, by the way) I very nicely asked him to stop, to which he replied a quick "no". So, a little sterner, I say "Jared, if you want to go Greg and Kelly's today you have to be a good boy. That means you need to listen to me, and don't tell me no". Jared billowed "I SAID NO!" Okay, that's it kid. All eyes are on me of course. I have a baby who sounds like a cat in heat, and a very defiant 3-year-old who is making me look like a fool this very minute. I grabbed him by his arm, knelt down to his level, and let him know he better stop this crap right now or I am taking all his toys away for the afternoon. So he decided to stand up and pout. Fine. I can deal with pouting. Pout all you want, just please stay quiet.

Finally it was my turn at the teller. Jared decided the brochure on the wall next to the teller's window looked like fun to read, so he pulled it out and showed me. Okay, no problem. Then, he pulls out more.... and more..... and more....and throws them on the freaking floor. I felt my face turn red. I turned to him and through clenched teeth told him to pick them up RIGHT NOW. And, he did. Thank god. He decided to keep one brochure for himself though and put it on top of Jade's head. Aparenently, she looked really funny. She didn't like it too much though, considering it was pretty much covering her eyes. I told him to knock it off, and if he didn't it again, we weren't going anywhere that afternoon. Not even 5 seconds later, he did it again. That's enough, I've had it. "okay Jared you just lost your play privilege today. We not going anywhere You haven't been doing what your told, so you don't get to play with Justin and Breanna".

Ladies and Gentleman, hold onto your hats and glasses, it's going to be a bumpy ride.

He starts hopping up and down, and screaming, and hpyerventalating. I could feel the stares I was getting by everyone in the entire damn bank. I could hear them condem me as a mother in their thoughs too.
Holy shit. Get me outta here. Now.
The teller is almost done, and I calmly tell Jared to stop throwing a fit, and we will leave soon. He shouts "I'm gonna crack you and shoot you mommy". Nice. That's nice. My son's going to shoot me. Great. Now, not only do I have a screaming, crying, defiant holy terror, I have a screaming, crying, defiant, VIOLENT holy terror. What must those people be thinking of me? Probably that I let my child watch rated R movies all day like "Rambo" or "The Terminator", and what a bad mother I must be.

The teller finishes up with me, and I grab him by the hand, and we get the hell outta dodge. Fast. Actually, he calmed right down as soon as the teller finished. I was fuming. FUMING I tell you. I couldn't talk, I just drove. When we got home, he was asleep, and he looked so peaceful. He did actually apologize to me later that day, much to my surprise. It worked out well in the end because Kelly's kids were sick anyway, and Doug didn't want Jared to get sick all over again.

What a day. What a nightmare. Do I really want any more kids? I'm going to have to think about that one.

a freaky story I wanted to share

I've decided to post this story because it was something that happened to me in my youth. I realize some of you out there may have a certain opinion on this, and that's fine. But here is my story as I can recall.

Right out of high school whas when I broke free of my parents and my religeon. I got a car, a 1993 Ford Escort to take me anywhere my heart desired. For the first time in my life I had a taste of freedom and I loved it. In fact, I went a little wild. In my heart of hearts I knew certain things I was doing was wrong. It just wasn't really who I was at the core. I just liked the attention I got when I acted a certain way, and did certain things. I was trying new things that were labled "evil" growing up. I drank, I smoked, I smoked pot, I lied, I stole money from my parents, I dated too many boys, and I had a great time. Living like that was great. I felt so free of the religeous shackels that held me all my life. I broke all the rules, rebelled in every sense of the word. I rebelled against my parents, I rebelled against the church. I was an all around sinner folks, and I was out of my parents control. I was every mormon father's nightmare. If you compare me to the avarage teenager, I was probably just the same.

At the peak of this rebellion is when it happened. I woke up one morning to find myself paralyzed. I could only blink and breathe. I couldn't move my limbs or move my mouth. I lay there completly helpless. My eyes were open and I was looking into my closet. The radio was on and I could hear the dj talking about the weather. I could hear our sheltie Danny Boy barking at the people as they walked along the sidewalk on the other side of the fence. I was completly concious and awake. And fozen. There was a darkness around and inside me, only I couldn't physically see it. I felt it, and I could hear it. It came in waves, each one stonger then the next. The only way to describe how it sounded is to turn up your speakers as loud as they go without any music. The sound of an electric hum, or charge, maybe like from a guitar amp. The sound filled my ears and my head. I could visualize a light inside my head and each time the wave came the light dimmed. I thought of a lighthouse and fog rolling in to smother the light. I think I was the light. Each time the darkness came the light became weaker and I could feel myself slipping somewhere. My limbs started to tingle. Some part of me wanted to embrace the darkness because I felt I couldn't defeat it. I started praying, singing church songs in my head, trying to open my mouth to utter a prayer. Each time I did this, the light became brighter and I felt stronger, and then it would take me again. We struggled with one another for what seemed like 10-15 minutes, but was probably only a few seconds. I came to the decision to outshine it no matter what it took. I was stronger, I would prevail. No one will ever take control of me. Ever.

I mustered up all the spiritual strength I had. I reached into the depths of my soul. I found I was able to move my lips. I then opened my mouth and was finally able to mutter "in the name of Jesus Christ depart". I don;t know why I said that, or quite where it came from, but as soon as I said those words, I was free. Everything was right as rain again, and I rolled onto my back and breathed a deep sigh of relief. I called my dad at work and told him what happened. He told me it was a dream. My mother said the same thing. Many of you may say the same also. I happen to think there are a few experiences in life that are profound, and they teach us lessons. That. to me was one of those experiences. I realize this may not be wise to post on the internet, but I have since met others who have had very similar experiences. Maybe someone out there in blogsville has too.

April just sent me this picture. It was taken when I was preggo with Jade at her daughters birthday party. Man I was HUGE!! Can you say ghetto booty? I'm pretty sure my ass has shrunk since then.

The egg hunt yesterday. That's Mandi in the background. 

we're all infected

We are all sick. Sick sick sick. All four of us. We are all up to our ears in mucus and hacking flem out of our lungs. We are all whiny, miserable, and grumpy. Well, except Jade. Somehow she seems to have a smile on her face even though her little nose is clogged with snot. It's so sad to see her nurse. Since she can't breathe through her nose, she sucks a few times, then lets go and takes a few deep breaths through her mouth, and then back to sucking until she runs out of air again. Poor thing. Usually what ends up happening is she sucks long enough to get my milk flowing, and then pulls away letting my milk spray all over the place, and it ends up getting in her eyes. Poor baby. She sounds like a little piggy when she breathes too. It's actually kind of cute, but sad.

Jared just decides to wake up in the middle of the night and call me over and over until I get my lazy butt out of bed so I can take him to the bathroom. He refuses to go by himself now. He's gotten to be afraid of the dark. Well, actually he's afraid of Spooky Bart. At nighttime now he has me check his room to make sure Spooky Bart isn't hiding in the closet or under the bed waiting to get him. I think Spooky Bart came from a Halloween Simpsons episode where Bart lived in the attic or something like that. I think it was supposed to be a parody of "Hunchback of Notre Dame". Anyway, now Spooky Bart is Jared's boogie monster.

I just feel like a big pile of steamy crap. I've been feverish for the past couple of days and I've been coughing so hard I've almost puked a few times. Being sick sucks. I think this place needs to get aired out. Ya know what sucks the most about being sick? Not being able to taste food. Doug grilled up steak last night and I made stawberry shortcake for dessert, and I couldn't taste a damn thing. That really pisses me off. I'm sure it was good too.

Yesterday was our Easter. Last week we were in Vegas for Bryan and Christa's wedding, so we just pushed it forward a week. Billy and Mandi came over and we did an egg hunt for the boys. Mandi is Doug's sister, and since their mom didn't have Easter dinner this year , we just decided to do it together. Doug's mom hates holidays. They didn't dress up for Halloween, or get Easter baskets, so Mandi wanted to make sure Holden gets to do all the fun things she didn't as a kid. The boys had a great time, despite this evil little virus that's kicking our asses. I think that's about enough complaining for today folks.

One quick question: are any of you having problems posting comments here? If so please e-mail me so I know who can and can't post. Thanks!