Writing Every Day

It's time for me to face the fact that I'll be far more successful journaling online than I have ever been on paper.  As part of my continuing effort to do SOMETHING that will be here tomorrow, to show for today, I'm making it a goal to blog daily.  I apologize in advance for over-sharing and run-on sentences.  Possibly also for excessive use of parenthesis and dashes and ellipses.

We had friends over for supper tonight and they were kind enough to bring the food, so all we had to do was be presentable.  We failed  a bit.  The air conditioner/furnace went out on us today, and we spent all day scrambling to find a temporary fix. I should mention that it has been in the very upper 90s for a week and will be at least that hot for a week more.

 Our guests arrived just as Toby was trying to rinse the dirt out of a borrowed AC window unit and dropped it, slashing his fingers on the sheet metal housing.  Our dining room table was covered with debris from when he brought the beast into the house, only to realize it was dirty and take it out again.

I was standing in the bathroom, putting on makeup when he stepped into the room with an ominous look on his face and a towel wrapped around his hand.  That is never a good sign.  He said he'd cut his fingers up and maybe broken the air conditioner, too.  I calmly finished putting on my makeup because freaking out wouldn't have helped much.  Besides, if we were going to have to get it stitched, I didn't want to look like white trash.  I contemplated if our guests were going to be willing to watch kids for us if we had to visit the Emergency Room.

Luckily, it was just a flesh wound.  One that made me cringe to look at.  In fact, my toes are curling now writing about it.  As a woman who married a man who does lots of manly dangerous sharp and hurty things, I should be used to it.  Three months before we were married, he lopped the corners off two of his fingers in a power miter box building houses with his dad.  He once mangled the pad of his thumb enough that I'm not sure there's a fingerprint left on it.  What I'm trying to say is that Toby is used to getting hurt, and seeing blood.  

All was well with some super glue holding the wound shut.  No ER visit today. We managed to take a deep breath and enjoy supper and a visit. Now it's bedtime, and the AC in the dining room window is happily whirring away.  Somewhere, our electric company is smiling.

How NOT to go camping with the McDonalds.

Pack four hours for a 24 hour getaway.
Wash and dry all your sleeping bags.
Discover that the cooler wasn't washed properly last time we used it.
Wash the death-smell out of the cooler.
Set tent up in yard, to see if it is still in one piece.  It is.
Realize an hour later that the wind blew said tent over and broke one of the fiberglass poles.
Toby fixes tent pole with a layer of duct tape, a layer of cable ties, and another layer of duct tape.
Leave three hours later than expected.
Realize the car is nearly out of gas, so stop to fill up, making everyone even later, if possible.
Drive for one hour, with kids asking when we'll be there.  How is this still annoying, having been asked so many times?
Try to find a cool spot in the nearly-empty campground.
Park in one, and realize that it's right next to a tiny cemetery.  Awesome!  No really, goth camping!
Realize that the super-cool goth spot is reserved.
Find another two campsites adjacent to one another.
Set up tent in the dark.
Make hamburgers.  With no salt.  Because we forgot that, too.
Enjoy salt-free hamburgers, because food always tastes better outdoors.
Walk a half-mile to the bathroom, where a giant hairy spider awaits.
Realize that we forgot the bag with sunblock, toothbrushes, and toiletries.
Figure out where kids all want to sleep.  Change arrangements a billion times.
Give up and go to bed at about ten thirty(crappy air mattress).
Enter possibly gay rednecks from nearby campsite.  With ZZ Top's Greatest (and Most Obnoxious) Hits.
Listen to them repeat the CD of the Apocalypse infinitely, while popping open many beers.
For about THREE HOURS.
Wish for death.
And again.
Cheer inwardly when Lynn finally asks them to turn down their music.
Sleep for fifteen minutes.
Thunderstorm.  No, really.
Get soaked when the rain cover blows off the tent.
Feed Loch in the car while Toby fixes it.
Wait to be struck by lightning.
Decide to die with the rest of the family,
Try to find one scrap of blanket to cover up with that isn't sopping wet.  There are none.
Feed Loch, try to sleep.  Try to lay him down.  Fail.  Repeat until sunrise.
Pass out for two hours, while everyone else makes/eats breakfast.
Bacon and sausage and pancakes do make the whole thing seem worth it.
Let kids play in the lake, about forty feet from our campsite.
Count to five, to make sure they haven't drowned.  Repeat every two minutes for the rest of the day.
Eat way too much food.  Jello salad:  not a salad.  But good, anyway.
Get into bathing suit.  Play in water with kids for a couple of hours.
Have legs nibbled painfully by stupid fish.
Try not to think about how many corpses have been dumped in lakes, historically.
Put sunblock on, trying to counteract farmer tan.  (Bad idea.  Now instead of brown and white, I'm brown and red).
Walk a half mile to the bathroom.
Drink a bee out of a can of Coke.
Play tag with campfire smoke and chair placement.
Walk a half mile to the bathroom.
Pack everything up again, discovering bag with sunblock and toothbrushes.  It took longer than that, but I'm tired of typing.
Go home, ignore the fact that I need to wash and dry the sleeping bags again.
Fall asleep at eight.
Promise with self never to go camping again.

One Last Fling

Bass Pro:  where it's free to straddle and otherwise mildly abuse all manner of expensive outdoor equipment.  At least, no one told us to leave.

Two parents, five kids, and two strollers can have a pretty decent time.

Different Worlds

There was a bit of an altercation today in the sewing room.  I was working and talking to Toby, and Olivia was coating the ends of the boning for me.  She calmly said to me:

"Mom, did you know you have a spider on your back?"

People who have no phobias don't understand that it doesn't give you enough time for rational thought, or a decision-making process.  I didn't say to myself, hey, let's ride this one out and see how HUGE that spider on my back might be.   No.  HECK NO!

I brushed my back frantically, then whipped my shirt off.  Sweet, huh?  Very cool.  Then Toby said I should have stood still and let him get it off me.  The problem is, I have no idea if we were talking about a little harmless spider or one like in this post.

Let's just say my knee-jerk reaction wasn't going to let me stick around to find out.  Huzzah for an impromptu strip-tease to break up the monotony of the workday, though.

Not for Arachnophobes.

This was in my bedroom.  IN. MY. BEDROOM.

Please don't hold me responsible for jitters, heeby-jeebies, freak-outs, strong men weeping, wailing, gnashing of teeth, incontinence, girly screaming, etc....

I warned you.

A Whole Lotta Crap in One Post.

We're still recovering from our trip to Utah.  It's strange that even if it's somewhere you want to go, with people you want to see, trips are stressful and exhausting.  Especially with five kids in tow.

On the way there, we were stuck in a huge traffic jam for three hours in Denver, Colorado.  Toby had been asleep next to Ivy, until she peed on him, which is why he isn't wearing a shirt.  I don't know why he's showing off his biceps, but it seems like he does it a lot.

Maybe he's shaking his fist at the cars blocking our way to Utah.  I don't remember.  I DO remember that Olivia stayed awake and talked the whole night.  We are both masochists and cheap, so we try to drive straight through.  I've personally been training for the last eleven years to handle sleeplessness.

The kids were all mostly happy to see each other.  Maggie and Brynn are the best of little girly-princess friends about 95 percent of the time.  Ivy and Todd, are best of hooligan-mayhem friends 50 percent of the time.  Hollis and Olivia did a lot of packing Lochlan around while Toby and I tried to work. 

We haven't seen Dana and Josh and Corinne for WAAAY too long.  Late one night, we ran out to an all-night grocery store and giggled like teenagers while we all bought snacks.  Back at Michelle's, we watched a Rifftrax short called "Shake Hands With Danger."  Oh, good times.  Corinne, I'll be your kitchen wing-man any day.

Ivy modeled the latest in fashionable shark headwear.

We made a required trip to IKEA.   I had to get a picture of the fake buttocks assaulting a chair repeatedly to prove how durable it is.  The chair, I mean.

 
We visited Temple Square with Michelle and Tyler and all our collective kids.  I tried hard to feel the spirit and not just to notice the mullets and stonewashed jeans in the old-school church videos.  All joking aside, it is a beautiful place.

 We even managed to make it home with our little camera, in spite of the fact that Todd found it and used it.

And, shortly following our return, this little guy turned one.  Happy Birthday to Loch.

More Progress.

This is Toby painting our living room.  It dried a bit darker, but no less eye-searing.  I do love it.  You can also see the red dining room a bit to the right.
 
Meet my new favorite chair.  She will be in the library, I think.  We're making slow progress on the house, what with church jobs, trying not to neglect the kids, still making a living, and so forth. I'm hoping we'll begin moving this weekend.  Fingers crossed.

Gratuitous cute little girl picture.

My new button-down shirt.  I have issues with bust/waist ratio and finding a shirt that flatters both.  This genius shirt has knit side panels and works for all my mismatched parts.  I actually don't even mind this picture.

Post Name or Something.

We are slowly making progress toward moving into our new house. We're down to finishing a few things in each room, and then time to pack up our belongings and go.
Vea has graciously traded tomorrow's Hen Day to me, so we can all work together to make it so.

Last week, I was tired and worn out and kind of resented the time-suck the Ivy House has become. We have decided it's neat enough and sturdy enough to live in indefinitely, so we're trying hard to finish things before moving. We've learned the very long and hard way that it's much harder to work on any home improvement projects while occupying said home.

Some projects have dragged on past funny. I'm talking to YOU, sanding the wood floors. Some projects have popped up unexpectedly, like hanging new sheetrock on the dining room and bedroom ceilings. Mostly, it's just lots of work and not enough time. I spend a lot of time half-handedly trying to accomplish something while Loch hangs from my hip.

Today, I walked around the house and fell in love with the place again. The setting is lovely, in a little cup of a valley with a nice mix of run-down fields and trees. All the leaves are coming out, and when the sun warms up, everything smells green and wonderful. I inherited two lilac bushes, and roses, and four fruit trees of some kind. Out behind the tumble-down shed, there are wild blackberry bushes with tiny nubs of green berries already growing.

Toby and I used to discuss our ideal "dream property." Our wish list included rolling hills, big trees, a few acres for kids to run, seclusion, location near both sets of parents. We have everything we wanted, and more. I must remember that, when I get impatient. This will be a great place for us all to play and grow up.

Did I mention that Sunday,the kids spent HOURS outside playing? How awesome is that?

Setting My Sights on the Improbable: To Do This Week.

Business

Take pictures of skirts & list.

Take fabric pictures & list.

Call Cheeptrims.

877-289-8745

Cut black ECTR bodices.

Paisley Pirate Coat Replacement

Bustle Vixen

Purple WC

Check Ready-Made orders.

Make 3-5 RTS bodices every day & list.

Family

Mo Taxes

Send Bills on Dresser

Make week plan & menu plan.

Buy Groceries.

Pack up books.

Fill 1 Walmart bag per day with Crosslines stuff.

Primary Meeting Wed.

New House

Install mailbox.

Finish painting Dining Room.

Finish Staining & Polyurethane floors.

Bedroom Ceiling

Close Bedroom Doorways

Patch & Paint paneling.

Replace bathroom wall(s)

Tape, texture & paint bathroom.

Paint & install vanity, counter, & faucets.

Paint Laundry room.

Paint kids' room.

Close door between kids' room & kitchen.

Pull carpet in kids' room.

Mouseproof kitchen cabinets.

Texture Living Room.

Paint Living Room.

Install door to garage.

The light at the end of the tunnel?

We have an appointment to close on the house/property on Friday.  All we have to do is show up with the down payment in cashier's check form.  I'm hoping for smooth sailing from that point.  Then, we can have electricity turned on and fix the water so we can start the changes we'll be making preparatory to the big move.

I am now allowing myself to believe it will actually happen.  For Real.

Life will be very busy.


Thursday:
Liv's class trip to Jefferson City.  Up at THREE, leave school at FOUR.  Gone all day.

Friday:  
More work, and more, and more...
Book Group
Kids 1/2 Day of School
Close on House
Dance around House, legally.
Purchase some "Early Mexican Brothel" paint colors.

Saturday:
Take Crowbar to House.
Primary Activity.
Move some doorways and hopefully prep for painting.

Sunday:
Teach Sharing Time at Church (Crap, I just realized it's my turn....)
Lunch.
Back to work on house, using brownie points saved up from above churchy activities to compensate for working on Sunday.....
See Michelle and Tyler and their punks.

Next Week:
Craziness.
 Norman Renfest

Week After:
Mini-vacation to Crater of Diamonds in AR with my fam.  (If anyone can find a gorgeous rock, it's Liv.)

Week  AFTER After:
My Aunt and Uncle from Florida will visit, and we will celebrate Easters, regardless of when the holiday actually occurs.





I think I'll go have a nap.  No, wait, I have to go to Scouts tonight.  Bugger.

Lost.

Last night, our family attended the ward's Blue and Gold Banquet for Scouting.  Hollis will turn eight and be a Cub Scout next fall, but I'm the member of the Primary Presidency that's responsible for overseeing Scouting now.  The leaders asked us to judge cakes that each family made for the 100th birthday of Boy Scouting in America.

The night started off without a hitch.  We ate good food and watched them hand out awards to the boys who earned them.  We judged the cakes and gave out funny prizes for everyone.  The kids played more or less quietly with the piles of blue and yellow balloons that were all over the cultural hall.

Suddenly, I couldn't see Ivy anywhere.  Toby and I both went into the halls to look for her.  We ran all over the church, checking the bathrooms, the nursery, her Sunday classroom, anywhere she might have gone.  Each time our paths crossed, Toby's face looked a little more sick, and I knew mine was the same.

Where could she have gone?  Surely not outside by herself?  Did I remember hearing the doors to outside open and close a minute before?  I ran into the parking lot, no longer trying to be quiet.

"IVY!"  "IVY!"  It was dark and quiet.  I ran all around the building to make sure she wasn't out there. 

Back into the church.  I found Toby again, and he hadn't found her, either.  I was beginning to panic.  Did she wander off, or did someone take her?  I couldn't even begin to think of the possibilities.  We finally agreed to go disrupt the show, and get everyone present looking for Ivy.  I stood out in the hallway, trying not to be sick.

"Found her!"  Toby called back out the doorway of the cultural hall.  When he'd gone back in to raise the alarm, he found her sitting at our empty table, placidly eating her dessert.  She must have been under our table, or one of the other ones.  She probably never left the room.

Now, I've only seen this happen in movies, but did you know that massive relief can make you weak and dizzy?  I had to go sit down.

Bad Parenting.

I'm Too Lazy to Name This.

Dishwasher:  broken.

Dishes:  filthy and all over.

Clothes:  dirty and clean mingling everywhere in unfolded piles.

Kids:  barely in bed, an hour late.

House:  cold.

Mom:  sick and cranky.

A typical day.

A Letter to Loch.

Dear sweet little boy:

First, we're all very happy to have you here, and we can't imagine life without you.  You are a source of cuteness and joy in all our lives.

But you are incapable of sleep, and that is really starting to grind us down.  Mom, especially, is weary of feeding you several hours straight at night to keep you from screaming.  The problem is, she can't fully sleep when you are eating, because she has to make sure you remain attached and happy.  Your Dad is tired of having you shoved at him at five AM, with Mom saying she needs SOME sleep before morning.  We're exhausted with the two hours of screaming this then entails.

Last night sucked.  It wasn't all your fault, since Olivia began the festivities with vomiting.  Then the crankiness began as soon as our heads hit the pillow.  We all said things we didn't mean to each other.  You scratched Mom's face and pinched her chest.  Your parents may have told you to just shut up and go to sleep.  Not anyone's finest hour.

I'd also like to address the daytime behavior.  You are happy if one of us holds you, or you are nursing.  Please be informed that this is not healthy for the family income, your chances of attending college, your Mom's sanity, or your physical development.  Studies have shown that nine times out of ten, when Mom picks a fight with Dad, you have been crying.  Give her a break, she's got issues.

Remember a few weeks ago, when you had naps during the day, and slept at night?  By the way, this means a nap longer than ten minutes, preferably more than once a day.  Remember happily watching Mom and Dad work for minutes at a time from the safety of your swing?  Remember lying on a blanket, exercising your little round body and playing "Catch Those Toes?"  Let's see more of that, please.

Love,  your parents.

Uh, Feeling Better.

I don't feel that way all the time. I must admit I'm feeling a bit embarrassed, but I blog about what's going on, and that was going on.

Things are looking up today.

These are some pictures I fudged about on Picnik. Enjoy.

Doesn't Effort Count?

I spend so much of my life floundering around, trying to make myself make an effort. Major depression runs in my family, especially for the women. My mother, grandmother, and sister have all been treated for it. Toby and I have spent hours talking and arguing about causes and solutions.

Here I am, thirty-one now. I'm heavier and unhealthier than I'd like to be. I am impatient with Toby and the kids way more often than I need to be. I have a good marriage that I know could be better if I could let go and just be happy and uncomplicated. I am part of a vastly successful business that allows us to work together and make a good living.

Everything is fine....except for me. I don't like anything about myself right now. Just going through the motions of life is taking all I have in me. I want to make everything better, but don't know where to start, and the thought of working even harder makes me want to curl up in a little ball and not move until next Tuesday.

My black, sarcastic sense of humor is probably my trademark. The problem is, some days the humor deserts me and all I have left is black sarcasm.

What's Going On?

I've been quite restless about the fact that even though breastfeeding *supposedly* uses five hundred calories a day, I am pretty much stuck weighing five pounds more than I did before the Loch-pregnancy. Okay, I've actually been restless about a lot of things, but I can't control any of the others much.

I've been faithfully working out on the treadmill for about two and a half weeks and keeping track of my "progress" with a free online fitness journal. I've lost, then regained, then lost again, about two pounds. I'm trying to motivate myself with things like more energy, less depression, etc... It's mostly vanity.

I checked my measurements for the first time since starting, and there is a difference. My bum is about an inch and a half smaller. Bust, an inch smaller. Thighs, also an inch smaller. Waist? No change. Just the flippin' place where I need to lose weight the most. I'm already shaped like the ice cream cone above, if it looked like it had also gestated five kids. Also, it's half Nutella-flavored, just like me.

Where does that leave me? Holding my pants up with a belt, and worried that if I lose more weight, I might not be able to sell corsets anymore, if you know what I mean. I knew I'd been working hard, but was not aware that I've literally been working my a** off.

The Unintentional Vegan.

Sometimes I forget to put an egg in the muffin recipe I'm making (to get attetion).

Still, yay for banana-nut muffins! Even a minor baking project completed and slightly botched makes me feel like more is right with the world.

Halloween Wistful, Life Wistful.

I'm seeing all these awesome ideas online for Halloween parties, and decorations, and costumes, and food. Sigh. If only I wasn't so burned out from the costuming rush. Toby and I didn't even dress up for the kids' Halloween parties at school.

I did dress up for the church's annual Trunk or Treat event. My corset that fit at this time last year (when I was very early pregnant with Loch), doesn't fit anymore. I weigh the same, but things are obviously distributed differently now. Also sigh. I thought my body was already a fairly fluffy mom-style. It's the first one or two pregnancies that take that huge toll. Apparently, you can destroy your person just a little more every time.

It's not that I'm knocking motherhood at all. It's not the kids' fault I like food, and my fave "activity" is reading, preferably curled up in a chair with a blanket and hot tea. Live like a hobbit, look like a hobbit.

We purchased a treadmill off Craigslist recently, and I'm trying to put it to good use. I always forget how much good exercising does me. Not just physically, but mentally. I have a tendency to depression, and all the endorphins help my black moods immensely. I KNOW that mentally. But some part of me inside is always telling me it's not worth it, and I'd much rather nap.

Lucky to Have a Home.

Last weekend, we visited Toby's parents for a few hours on Sunday. Upon returning, the house smelled a bit funny. I mean, different from the normal urine and spilled milk. Toby went upstairs to put the kids to bed and found.....

This.

And This.

I hate to place blame undeserved, which is why I'm blaming this little girl.

Sure, she looks defenseless and covered with cake and sweet and sleepy and naked. That's her defense mechanism, the cuteness. She apparently turned on one of our photography lights, which was moved close to the mannequin. Also, right underneath this fire hazard was a box full of shredded paper that had been a packing box for some supplies. One tiny drop of hot flaming plastic mannequin....use your imagination. I know I did.

Guess if we lock the door to the sewing room when we're not in there? We do now.