Sanity Called, She Wants Me To Take Her Back

No snow day today. But we'll probably have them tomorrow and Friday. The problem is the rural roads. But if we do have more snow days, I'm thinking of quitting. Unfortunately, that's as far as it goes, because you can't really quit parenthood. Well, I mean you COULD, but then you become fodder for Lifetime Television For Women movies.

My kids are hard to handle. They are wonderful, beautiful children, but they are difficult. I realize that they have added baggage because of divorce, which likely compounds any existing problems. But some days I just step back and say, "WHAT is going on here?" Usually on snow days. And it's looking like we've got at least two more of those coming this week.

In my defense, I am pretty good with behavior modification. Because I feel so poorly about it right now, I'll share an experience to remind myself that I am.

When I was teaching, I had a student who came from a horrible background. There was abuse, divorce, deployments, you name it. This student had every "disorder" known to man, to the point that regular schooling had to be abandoned. When it was felt that this student was ready for re-entry, it was in my classroom. I read the file and my jaw dropped. But do you know what? That child had a stellar year. So much so that the student's psychologist actually called me to thank me for what I had done. The mother visited with me regularly, in tears, because her child was succeeding in school without bloodshed. Literally.

I am the BD whisperer. I can handle the tough kids. Unless they're my own. WHY IS THAT? I'm not suggesting that my kids by any means suffer from behavior disorders. Believe me, I've looked into it. But they fight and bicker enough to make me crazy. They are mean to each other, with little remorse. The cabin fever is not helping. I'm so emotionally exhausted, I can't even explore the reasons for it or come up with solutions today. The two boys are confined to their room indefinitely.

I realize I have not been diligent with my own personal spiritual nourishment. I readily admit this has a direct bearing on my ability to cope with familial stress. So the past couple of days I have recommitted myself to that component of my life. My husband is phenomenal. I have done it alone for years, even well before my divorce. So having a man who is committed to bettering our family and nurturing me at the same time is a huge bonus.

I constantly feel the need to be a better parent. Skip sent me a great article to read, with ideas we could implement. I am grateful he acknowledges this need, and works with me to meet it. I think that a divorce can cause you to recommit to your children in an entirely new way. My ex-husband remarried immediately following our divorce. While my brain argued that I was not a crack whore who would lose her children, my emotions feared that he would say he could provide an intact family and more stability. I was working two jobs, he now had a stay-at-home wife. That fear, while irrational, was also terrifying.

I can clearly see that being cooped up in the house day after day (too stormy to play outside for very long) has really impacted everyone's nirvana. I have to wonder if I am doing enough, if I am doing it right, if I am offering my children what they need. I am committed to being a good parent, but unlike being a good teacher, there is a lot more emotional investment. It's easy to work with other kids' bad behavior, because you know you're not the one who screwed them up. Parenting is tough because there is a lot of second guessing yourself. At least there is for me.

I'm glad there was school today. I'm glad I have a day to collect myself and renew my energies. I love my children and I want to be a good mother. Mostly, I want them to be happy. I realize I don't have total control over that, I but I can at least play a big part in it.

Another Snow Day...

The number of times my children have actually been to school in the past month and a half is LESS than the number of times they have stayed home. Between the winter break, the MKL holiday, and the snow days, we are getting a little antsy. Especially me.

The other day, I took these pictures of Noe watching the snow fall outside the window. She was peaceful and content. Yesterday, the boys worked cooperatively to reenact Skip's weekend of snow cave building. They had fun and got along. Both of these scenarios are the exception to the rule after so many days cooped up together. Usually, it's blood, sweat and tears.
The funniest part of the day, however, came here:

When I left the room, the kids were watching PBS. When I returned, they were still on PBS, but the program had switched to some kind of geriatric physical therapy. All three of them were actually sitting on the couch, following along with the moves. Unfortunatley, my loud outburst of laughter embarassed them, and they wouldn't let me take their picture. But after a few minutes, like moths to a flame, they came back and started doing it again. I will admit they used some catchy little tunes on there, and if I were a senior citizen (or apparently a young child) I would be inclined to follow along. They were exercising the joints in their fingers, and twisting at the waist. I don't allow Cartoon Network, so I guess this is what I'm turing my kids into.

Pathetic

I can't remember the last time I was this bored. Honestly. Skip is gone for the weekend sleeping in snow caves and practicing knot-tying with cadets. Oddly, even that sounds fun to me at this point.
My kids have been in bed for 2 hours. I have read every blog I am familiar with, checked my email, looked at the dishes, and glanced at the washing machine. I can't sleep when he's gone, and it's only 9:pm.

WHAT AM I GONNA DO FOR THE REST OF THE NIGHT???

Truth be told, one thing I am looking forward to is the fact that I get to sleep with my rabbit. I've had him for a really long time. You're probably thinking, "Wow. Since childhood, I bet." Yeah, not so much since childhood. I got him when I was 15. I named him Sam, after the Green Eggs and Ham guy. I realize that 15 is a bit old to start an attachment to a stuffed animal, but whatever. This post is about pathetic.
He has been everywhere with me. Mission to 3rd world country, many college dorms, family vacations... you name it. ALAS... my husband finds it offensive and repulsive. He is not at all enthused about my sleeping with Sam. So I don’t.
The pathetic statement about my life is that not only can I find nothing productive to do this evening, but the highlight will be sleeping with a stuffed rabbit wearing no pants and a yellow sweater.
Another reason my night is pathetic? We’ve been watching the show LOST on dvd. I am eerily hooked on it. Obsessed, actually. We just started season 2 the other day, and I feel literal physical withdrawals when I have to turn it off. Skip asked me to wait until he got home so we could watch them together. And I keep walking over to the TV to just go ahead and watch it. I refrain, but feel like a traitor in my heart.
And lastly, my night is pathetic because when Skip is away, I like to send him zesty little pictures of his wife. It reminds him why he should hurry home. Exhibit A: I can’t really send him tonight’s non-zesty picture, because I’m afraid he will never come home. Exhibit B:
p.s. I finished this entry in about 15 minutes. I went to post, and my internet had gone down. I spent the next hour and 40 minutes on the phone with a tech, who eventually said there’s an outage in my area. So I had to save the post to a Word document. I couldn’t even post a blog tonight. Pathetic.

whine-wood derby

what is it about kids? we sat through an hour and a half of cub scout torture last night. i actually had high hopes for this event... mika worked pretty hard on making his car this year. he picked a template, skip cut it out, mika did all the sanding and painting.
he ended up with what i thought was a pretty good looking truck. he was positive and enthusiastic during the building. this is a step up from last year, when it was just me, him, and enough sandpaper to produce some serious carpel tunnel syndrome.

so. the first difference i noticed between this year and last year's derby was that in oklahoma, it's pretty small stuff. in idaho, it's big. there were some entries that had clearly been engineered by someone who was NOT 9. i also noticed that there were at least ten times as many scouts, which makes for a VERY long racing experience. and you'll never believe this, but they had a laser-triggered time clock at the finish line. it recorded both the time and the placing of the car. but the thing that totally threw me was the amount of whining and tears i saw.

the kids did their thing. they lined up their cars, and they raced. a lot. mika lost three out of four times. the first time was manageable, the rest got progressively worse- to the point that it wasn't even fun anymore. i'm forced to admit that my child was among the worst of the perpetrators. but everywhere i turned, there were mopey boys, disinterested boys, bored boys, aggravated boys... WHERE'S THE CUB SCOUT SPIRIT!? what would akaela do?

skip's theory is that we are raising a generation of kids who can't lose. they get generic trophies just for participating in team sports, they don't keep score, there's no real winner. everyone's a winner. hug your neighbor, kumbayah around the soccer ball... that kind of thing. so when kids DO participate in an event where they could actually lose, it blows them out of the water mentally.

i asked mika to think about whether he was in it to win or just to have fun. i said if he was in it for fun, then why not try having some. and if he was in it to win, to observe the cars that DID win and make some mental notes. he pretty much dismissed both suggestions in favor of pouting.

whattaya do? chalk it up to either a parenting failure or success... i'm not quite sure which at this point. but at least he left with his gratuitous "participant" award. which he threw in the trash when we got home.

what's for dinner?

lisa had the best idea! one of the many reasons i adore her.
click here if you want to share some ideas about supper. it's easy, non-committal, and potentially could improve your eats.

banana-fana-fo-foey

last night skip and i were laying in bed. (the above picture is clearly not us laying in bed. but photos are fun, and this one will have to do. i may joke about the satin sheets, but that's as close as anyone gets inside our bedroom. you're welcome.) somehow, we ended up playing the "name a song" game. one person throws out a word, and the other has to come up with a song that has that word in it. he said "banana" and the best i could come up with was joey-joey-bo-boey, banana-fana-fo-foey. i thought it was a stretch, but technically, it's a song and it counts.

anyway. i think i won, but i can't say what word i won with. it's not BAD... it just might seem weird. and heaven forbid i should allow that to happen.

it's funny the songs that come to your mind with just a single word trigger. and it's amazing how OLD you can feel when you think about certain songs. yesterday's "mystery oldie" on the radio station was INXS... need you tonight. THAT is an oldie? i remember brooke and i tore up the church dance floor with our choreographed moves to that song. i swear it was like last week sometime.

anyway. my husband is a formidable opponent. he was running on 4 hours sleep, he had had the kids all night while i was at a coffee, and it was now 10:30 pm. i'm impressed that he went as many rounds as he did. he is one in a million. (yes, i'm still talking about the song game, here.)

SO... do you think you could hang with our mad bedroom singing skills? you get 1 point for the song, a 2nd point if you can name the artist. i'll make it easy on you... the word is ARMS.

goodbye poo, hello sunset

we had a busy three day weekend, which meant the poopy N was posted WAY too long for aesthetic decency. in this three-day, however, there was a beautiful sunset right in front of our porch. hopefully this makes up for the yukky N poop... albeit adequately healthy and S-curved.

these pictures were all taken within five minutes of each other. the days end so quickly this time of year- by 4:30, it's nighttime. and the sun sets within about 15 minutes. it's been unusually cold and snowy (so i'm told by the locals. it's all new to me...) but it's absolutely beautiful. idaho is a'ight.

i can't even muster a fake compliment

so i was reading about shally's situation with the not-so-friendly side of motherhood. and then noe brought home THIS from preschool:

now. honestly. maybe it was because shally's story was fresh on my mind, but i cannot look at this thing without feeling a little queasy. how hard would it have been for the teacher to throw a little food coloring into the playdoh? or give the kids some paint when they were done? did she use whole wheat flour or what? frankly, this looks like something that is the RESULT of too much whole wheat flour.

i love my daughter dearly. but i am thoroughly repulsed by her creation. come on! not even a little glitter or something? i feel like my daughter is spending her days at preschool molding poo in order to solidify early reading skills. i can't decide whether or not i should say something to the teacher. she's young, first year teaching... but i'm fairly certain they taught her SOMEWHERE along the way not to let the kids play with poop. or anything that resembles it.

i'll be your brother, renaldo lapuz!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Ae2lSvmTQM

i was on my living room floor last night. i was laughing so hard, i thought i would be sick. it's possible that you need to be a paula-simon-randy fan to really appreciate this. but i am one, so i'm still in tears over it. american idol is horrible- it's pretty much just open season for public mockery. but hey, they come on there, they're asking for it. and frankly, i'll be first in line to give it. but leave renaldo alone. much like simon, he is heaven's chosen, and i will not have anyone throwing negative words at him. and if you don't understand that, have paula sign it for you.

i think i'm growing up!

so i came clean with my husband about blogapalooza. i had only mentioned wanting to go to womens conference with my very best girlfriend ever, but i thought he would find me weird or ridiculous for wanting to meet fellow bloggers in real life. so i avoided mentioning that part. last night i was regaling him with stories of my sordid teenage years, when lying and sneaking were a way of life. this morning, it hit me... i'm still a teenager.
i couldn't bear the shame of it, so i emailed him and told him all about my desire to meet these interesting women i've encountered in blogland. he was, of course, fabulously supportive. i threw in the part about one of them being a speaker at womens conference, so she obviously isn't a 54 year old male pervert. it went well.

so. now i can officially get excited. i'm going to travel. i get to fly kid-free. favorite part of that? the little moment when you step into the dark airplane bathroom , close the door, and slide the "occupied" latch. what happens? the lights come on, as if someone is throwing you a surprise party! sometimes i even yell "surprise!" to enhance the experience. maybe this time i'll throw myself some confetti. after all, i have a lot to celebrate- a few days without kids, time with my best girlfriend, spiritual enlightenment, and meeting a bunch of great cyber friends and turning them into real friends. i think there will also probably be good food involved. best part- a really great husband who backs me and wants me to do things that will make me a better person... even if sometimes that doesn't include him. thanks for understanding baby... i love you!
i should bring him back a good souvenir from provo, utah. any suggestions?

why ovenmitt romney will win the election

good morning world! it's a REALLY GREAT YEAR for boston sports fans... which includes me. if you are from boston, you are a winner. it's all things soxceltspats. if you're not a betting man (or woman), you should be one just this year, because you CAN'T GO WRONG!!

in case you live in a bubble, or are just one of those people who aren't into sports (which could lessen the amount of love i have for you) here's the skinny:

world series champs. killer line-up like josh beckett, david ortiz, manny ramirez, jonathan papelbon. they even have a guy named coco crisp. how can you not love a man named after a breakfast cereal? that just screams family fun. they played solid baseball, with a few nailbiters followed by a series sweep. that is awesome.

oh baby. they won every game in the regular season. 16-0. nice. they are division champs, likely to beat the san diego chargers to become the AFC champs... and then it's on to the superbowl. i'm fairly certain there will be a perfect season all around. belichick was overly-villified, thus spawning what has been called his "middle finger tour through america." he turned his whipping boy status into continual victory. and tom brady is so hot.

i cannot even begin to tell you what this means to me. i have been a celtics fan since my mother weaned me off the little green bottle. my life's regret is that i can only watch bob cousy or johnny havlicek in black and white ESPN classics. imagine going to a game back when basketball was more than glorified street ball? i caught the tail end of real basketball... just say "bird, mchale, ainge, parrish, dj" and the heavens open up into chorus sublime. that's what i grew up on. anyway. this season, they are #1 in the NBA. no one is even close to their record so far. odds of them winning the NBA championship? all my $.

so. ovenmitt. what does this have to do with him? first of all, i really want to know what's up with his name. mitt? baseball mitt? ovenmitt? that's all i ever think of. but i digress. we all know he's stepping into the running from what golden city? boston. check out these pictures:

while the last one doesn't show him in celtics apparel, he is standing in the garden, home of the celtics. (i hate corporate sponsorship. it will always be THE GARDEN to me. not the fleetcenter, or the banknorth garden...) anyway. ovenmitt is coming from boston. he has kissed the blarney stone of boston sports teams. i haven't decided who to vote for yet this year, but it doesn't really matter. ovenmitt is from boston, so he will probaly win.

squeaky confessions

i read today about martha corinna's dance with the devil. i loved every second of it. most of you know that i never drink soda, and i try to avoid fast food as much as possible. i'll spare you the condescending lectures, although if you read MC's passage, you'll know exactly how i feel.

yesterday, my kids were home because of a snow day. they drove me absolutely crazy. they had only been back to school on monday after 2 weeks of vacation, they were nowhere near ready to spend another day at home. skip had a late night at work, so i just didn't feel like cooking. i let mika choose the restaurant, and he picked A&W.

there's a new billboard up in town advertising the "curiously delicious fried cheese curds" at A&W. everytime i see it, i gag. all i can imagine is greasy cottage cheese. well, of course mika ordered these cheese curds. i was indeed, very curious. i didn't plan on blogging about them, so i have no picture. and sadly, the best that google images could provide me was this:

i call him louie. and the caption read, "you lookin' at my cheese curds?" not really prime advertising. but whatever. so i was curious. i lived in logan, utah for awhile. they have a cheese factory there, and the locals were always talking about "squeaky cheese." i like cheese, so i tried out this "squeaky cheese" once. they were cheese curds. they were fairly tasty. i tried to explain them to skip last night, but i had no idea what they actually were. enter wikipedia. the long and short of the definition is that higher levels of acid cause the milk proteins to tangle and form lumpy masses. and you have to eat them within 12 hours, because they don't keep. doesn't that sound yummy?

no, it does not. (just in case you were thinking otherwise). and when i think of A&W, i certainly don't imagine freshness encompassed by a 12 hour expiration date. oh, and it gets better... apparently, a song was written years ago. a celtic tune. and it goes a little somethin' like this-

"Visions of MacGonlannee"
Stately and pleasantly it sat
A compact house and strong
Then I went in
The door of it was hung beef
The threshold was dry bread
And cheese curds were the walls

guess who i'm never going to visit? yeah, old man MacGonlannee. everything about cheese curds seems wrong. and more disgusting still when you dip them in batter and deep fry them in hot peanut oil.
and yet...
i tried one. and sweet mother of abraham lincoln, they were fantastic! curiously delicious, even! there may be times in the future when i cruise through the drive-thru just for a box. heck, if it came right down to it, i'd wrestle big louie for the last one.
so. that's my confession for the day. but unlike martha corinna, i'm not pregnant. so i have no viable excuse for my behavior. can you still love me?

god grant me patience... NOW!

sorry this will be an entry with no pictures. it's one of those "reflective" entries... probably inspired by the new year and all the people around me making resolutions.

i'm not a new-year's-resolutions girl myself. too much pressure. yet i recognize the need for change. not drastic overhauls, but subtle changes. i am very hard on myself. i think a lot of women are. this is a hard-learned lesson, however.

several years ago, i was good at everything. at least i thought i was. it was important to me to be good at everything. i was in charge of a lot of things in different organizations both within my church and community. i was managing the unusual health problems of one child and the extreme behavior issues of another. i was on the ball. i had lists which were regularly checked and completed. i was a go-to gal. problem was, i wasn't really going to anywhere. in spite of all my organization and success, i was failing in so many areas. (but that's a whole other therapy session...) eventually it all caught up with me and things got ugly fast. i was driving my train at full speed, and it crashed.

so now what? here i am, with essentially a second chance. i have to remind myself each day that i know how to fail. and i don't mean that in a disparaging way. what i mean is i have to take that failure and apply what i learned from it. it has to be part of my progress now, part of my attempts to succeed.

the list of things i want to do better is endless... be more patient with my kids, keep the house cleaner, read my scriptures more, dislike certain people less... you know the drill. but the way i see it now, the best i can do is focus on the big picture on a daily basis. i want to be calm and rational when child A throws the gamecube controller at child B's head. but some days, i may scream out "ARE YOU KIDDING ME? DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THOSE THINGS COST? YOU COULD'VE BROKEN IT! PLUS, YOU MIGHT HAVE HURT YOUR BROTHER!" that is usually followed by a spanking, an unrational punishment, and a ruined night. then i feel guilty, and hope their father isn't waiting in the wings with a lawyer to swoop in and deem me an unfit mother. this is reality. sometimes it happens that way. but sometimes it doesn't.

some days, i may say, "i'm sorry you chose to do that, here is the natural consequence." and child A understands it, grudgingly accepts it, and within a reasonable amount of time, there are apologies and reformed behavior. sound idyllic? yes. but it is also reality. and sometimes it happens this way too.

so day to day, i resolve to do what i can. on the good days, i give myself some credit and say "i succeeded at some things today." i value that progress. on the bad days, i can try to pinpoint what went wrong and why... and then be aware of those triggers the next time around.

i want perfection as much as the next guy does. and believe me, i'd love to have it now. but the point of it all is continual refinement. i figure if i approach it from that angle, it's going to be a little easier to succeed. and as i do that, i'd like to think i gain a little more patience, a little more wisdom, a little more understanding in how to keep it all going in the right direction.

effective discipline

this is my tommy bag. i love it because the red leather is as soft as my legs used to be when i shaved them. i love the chunky silver metal hardware. and i really love the versatile size of it. it can hold anything. ANYTHING. including a wooden spoon.
i could actually fit the whole wooden spoon inside, but i choose to leave the edge sticking out. not because it's trendy, or adds to the haute couture of my exotic lifestyle. no. i leave it sticking out so that while we're in church, it's clearly visible to my children.
just in case you're confused, we're not whipping up cake mix during meetings. but when little people "forget to behave" (read: willfully disobey), sometimes it helps to have a reminder of what could happen.
it's a simple procedure: i nudge them gently with my arm or my foot. then i glance down at the pocket book on the floor. there's the handle, smiling with a menacing gentleness that only wooden spoons and mothers posess. then i nod my head up and down twice, while also smiling. and if drastic measures are required, i just pull another inch of the spoon from my bag. increasing its visibility is effective. everyone has gotten a spoon spank at least once in their lives, so they know it's no joke.
it works. it's a method not to be trifled with. and the best part of all this is that everyone sitting around me thinks i can corral my children's behavior with a simple smile and nod. WE-ARE-A-HA-PEE-FAM-UH-LY.

are you sure, because this is for eternity...

one year ago on december 23rd, skip and i got married.one year and one week later, we went to the spokane temple to be sealed to each other. a very wonderful woman, who is a far better woman than i am, offered to come with us and watch the kids while we were in the temple, so that they could be a part of the evening. (mad thanks to jessica who i actually met through blogging... she lives near enough to the area that she provided us with a list of fun things for them to do while they waited... what a lifesaver!) anyway. so in our church, we believe in eternal life. part of that belief includes the concept of the eternal marriage and family- that "til death do you part" can be overcome with priesthood ordinances.
that is a really great plan! even though some days you think, "hmmm... eternity? with this person? i dunno..." deep down, you know it's what you really want. skip and i were talking the other day about marriage. i told him that i find it to be pretty hard. in spite of the fact that i love him more than i ever knew i could, and in spite of my sincere desire to be successful in our relationship, it is hard being married. why is that?
in my opinion, marriage is basically a continual series of compromises, primarily over idiosyncrasies... which are even tougher sometimes than the big stuff. for example, one spouse may insist on folding HIS (or her) underwear into something just short of origami. no other fold will do. this could really annoy the spouse who does most of the laundry. or maybe one spouse insists on wearing his (OR HER) very short hair in a nubby little pony tail. this could cause said spouse, in some opinions, to look like a pirate, and the other spouse may find this very annoying. so do you continually point out that AT LEAST THE LAUNDRY IS FOLDED and that THE PONYTAIL LOOKS RIDICULOUS? or do you instead think "i am glad my spouse is happy and satisfied with whatever situation we find ourselves in"? the key is to pick the second choice. the easy way is to go with the first.
this is what makes marriage tough for me. i'm picky, i'm controlling, i'm semi-obsessive, i'm impatient, i'm demanding. (wow. in my defense, sometimes i can be nice too, and i'm also kinda funny). but this is how you make a better marriage. you both take opportunities to examine your flaws (which all become scathingly evident the day after you say "i do.") and then you work on them. and you try to be patient with each other in that process. and as you do all that, you work on your ability to communicate. some people are naturally blessed with these skills. and some of us are not.
so the bottom line, for me at least, is that if i am willing to try, i can only come out a better person in the end. and in turn, that can help me make a better marriage. of course there are a million other complexities that play into it all... but i'll shoot for tackling one at a time. but either way, i'm very happy that i can spend a really, really long time with my best friend.

happy new year!

new year's eve was a trip. we took the kids to a late skate, and they all experienced ice skating for the first time. it was also skip's first time. surprisingly, most everyone did quite well. i won't name names, but you can look at the evidence to see who took off and who, well, didn't.
i was impressed with skip, who not only finagled himself around the rink, but pushed noe on the little skalker (skater/walker) as well. we came home to eat goodies, dance to music, and watch the ball drop. at about 11:53, two were asleep. at about 11:56, two more were barely hanging on. at midnight, we yelled HAPPY NEW YEAR and dragged five cranky, sleepy bodies to bed. well, seven actually. although technically, we dragged ourselves.