Two of my nieces at Wire Pass with their mom, my sister, Natalie, taken by Rick, their dad. Utah can be so lovely. And the girls are the cutest evah.
Our Day with Birds in Virginia
My father-in-law, Jim Crawford is an anesthesiologist at Roanoke Memorial Hospital.
One of his partners is Paul Wolff.
Paul and his wife, Diane, have a few birds. Or else, 27, whichever.
They were wonderful and let us in their home tonight to talk with the birds.
And, they love Disney.
We had lunch at Nawab. Here is my mother-in-law, Phyllis, saving us a table. It was easily the best Indian food I’ve ever had.
We saw the Roanoke Star, walked around downtown and saw the scaled down model of the proposed building for the new art gallery which included tiny people. Who doesn’t love tiny people?
I Got Married Last Year
Our wedding night was spent with all my kids and the honeymoon was spent with my kids at my parent’s house. My family threw us a surprise party/reception. It was a luau theme and Nate and Laurel spent the whole night in character.
At one point, everyone sat around in a circle and played Hot Potato with a coconut. If you were left holding the coconut when the music stopped, you had to give a piece of advice to the newly weds. Joe has a list of their advice posted here. My favorite: “Do as many things as you can with each other.” which we certainly have this year. You really can’t get more together than we are I don’t think. We wake up with each other, work with each other, eat, do errands and sleep with each other.
Here is what we sounded like.
Passed Out
“So, thanks for picking me up we had such an awesome time it was really, really fun and we danced, like, all night long, I mean, look, mom, I made a hole in two of the little toes in my toe-socks and it looks ridiculous but who cares, right, since it was so fun and I didn’t end up needing any money after all because her mom paid for me and I had an energy drink, like, at 3am so I wasn’t even tired all night long and we had some breakfast at her house.”
“Cool. Are you tired now? Want to take a nap?”
“Oh, no I couldn’t possibly I’m so wide awake and remember I had the energy drink so there is no way I could go to sleep and I’m sure I’ll be up all day and not even be tired.”
Like a Christmas Card, Only Better
Talk about an awesome day……..
Guess what Heather is saying?
My Hero
About once a year I want a hotdog. The same goes for bologna. I consider both to be nasty foods and yet, when I suddenly want one, nothing will get in my way from their consumption and I only regret it when for the next 4 hours I continually burp the taste over and over and over, each time promising myself I’ll never eat it again. And I don’t. For about a year.
But one craving that I’ve never had before hit about a month ago. I wanted Hostess Raspberry O’s. Do you remember them? The large, white dusted donuts with the uber-fake raspberry filling inside? I wanted them and dreamed about them and talked about them and then searched for them. And they are nowhere at any establishment near me. And I’m starting to doubt their existence all together. Did I just dream them the same way I dreamed I made out with Gwen Stefani 5 years ago?
The other day, when my physical limitations had really kicked in and I could barely sit upright, let alone go shopping, Joe went in at least 8 stores of all types from the lowly gas station mart to the giantropolis grocery store to try and find them, each time coming out empty handed but armed with renewed intention to find his wife the dang donuts she wanted. Alas, because they are no longer available through regular channels, he didn’t find them.
However, the genius that is my husband bought these, cut a few open like tiny bagels and spread them with this wonderful raspberry conserve and it tasted even better than what I was longing for. And I’m sure that because they are so small, I somehow saved calories. And sugar intake because St. Dalfour makes fruit spreads with 100% fruit and no sugar added, sweetened with only grape juice concentrate,which is practically healthy. Practically.
It’s possibly the sweetest thing he’s ever done for me.
We Are a Family of Geeks
So we drag the kids out of the house and away from their headphones/iTunes, their laptops/email, their video games and Flash programming to spend some quality time and where do we go? To the Apple store. Where they check their email, listen to iTunes, play games and view their Flash programming.
Have you seen these ginormous screens?? I’m still salivating and will build an entire room to house it if only Santa will bring me one.
And here is Tony checking out his own creation in a very large fashion.
When Did I Become the Worst Version of Myself?
Remember the good ol’ days when your kids were little and the worst thing that could happen was that their bad day and your bad day would be the same day and the result would be their tantrum, alternating stiff-as-a-board-body with sloopy-doopy-spagetti-body in tandem with the sucking-in-air-no-noise-open-mouth scream and the blood-curdling-my-head-has-just-popped-off-and-started-
orbiting-the-sun scream during which you would grit your teeth, extricate both your bodies from the public place you were in as best as you could while speaking totally absurd mother-isms that you never thought would come out of your mouth and then burst into tears on the drive home? And sob? And weep? And then pray that they won’t remember most of what you said while you send yourself to Time Out in the form of a long bath or a large glass of wine or both as the next rational step?
I miss that.
Because now I’ve entered a whole new realm of mother-isms that I have no recollection of recording and lining up in my repertoire of Things to Say to Your Child That Will Make Them Hate You and Begin Their Life of Crime and/or Prostitution. I’m supposed to be the cool mom. Not the ‘Cool You Can Drink Rum in my House’ cool, but the ‘Cool You Can Tell me Anything and I’ll Understand’ cool. The ‘I’m Wacky and Let’s do Art Projects Instead of Clean Your Room’ mom. An ‘I’ll Never Make You Repress Your Feelings’ mom.
I’ve hardly raised my voice to my kids in over 4 years. I can’t think of a time that I was sincerely disappointed in anything any of them did which would cause me to yell. It’s not that they are perfect, although, with me as their mom, it’s obviously only a matter of time. It’s that I’m so long-suffering and understanding. Oh yes, I ‘Get. It.’ So, how is it that on the morning of Sunday Last, I uttered the words, ‘Oh, yes you will, Young Lady! Oh. Yes. You. Will. Get. In. This. Car. Right. Now!!’ Did you imagine the gritted teeth and sardonic smile? With the piercing eyes? Like your dad had? That is a very important element. Don’t forget that part.
And so I find myself unable to open my mouth. I can’t speak for fear that something else completely asinine is going to tumble out like, ‘Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?!?’ or ‘You know that this is for your own good and some day you’ll thank me!’ or ‘Short skirts are for hookers!’ Just kidding. Short skirts aren’t just for hookers. Thongs are, though, and I really can’t seem to get my mind to accept that they are just underwear. Not to get too personal, but I don’t even like them. I prefer to at least start the day with my underwear -not- in my crack. When did 10-year-old girls start wearing them under their low-waisted boy cut jeans? When did Wal-Mart start offering them in blister-packs of 17 made out of jersey material? I feel old.
In any case, my beautiful, amazing and talented daughter was in the Miss Ventura Teen Scholarship Pageant last weekend. She sang so beautifully that I almost cried and/or threw up the whole time, every time, she was on the stage. She walked slowly, sashayed, twirled, sang, answered a relevant random question regarding the youth of today and their text-messaging slang all while smiling and never breaking into a sweat. And then she lost with dignity and grace, and I’ve never been so proud of her. Ever.
Destination Arrival: Blue Hair
Fast and Testimony Meeting
I went to church with my kids. I try to go when they go since it’s important to them. Most of the time during sacrament meeting, I sit back and write notes with Alexandra or scratch one of the boy’s backs while the people are speaking. But, once a month, when the Mormons have Fast and Testimony Meeting and the members of the congregation take turns getting up and talking about their burning bosoms, it’s impossible not to listen. Yesterday, particularly so.
Usually, by the second speaker, you start to see a theme emerge. A few months ago it was about preparedness. Everyone that got up shared their feelings about the recent natural disasters and how blessed they felt that they had a year’s supply of rice saved in the basement and how they knew someone that lived through the hurricane only because they had those 20 cans of sardines packed in mustard or they would have died and so the church must be true. And Joseph Smith was a true prophet. Always. Must. End. With. JS Tribute.
The theme from last Sunday was ‘My Life Has Been Harder Than Yours and I’m Still a Member of the Church and Still Believe in God So I’m Just a Little Bit Better Than You.’ The first woman got up and talked about her struggle with depression. The next woman had gone through depression, financial problems and a nasty divorce. The next one had those three and raised them a car crash and the loss of two of her children. Then someone put recently diagnosed breast cancer in the pot and the knowledge that if she passed on there would be no one to raise her remaining two children and they would be essentially homeless, tossed to the wolves and live on gov’ment cheese. But, she still had a strong testimony of the gospel. And her love of genealogy, which, during this really stressful and dark time, saved her.
I decided that I had to share, needed to share.
‘Hello everyone. For those of you that don’t know me, I’m the ex-wife of the dad of the Peterson kids. And for those of you that don’t know what an ex-wife is, it means I’m not going to be able to live in the celestial kingdom with you, Gladys Knight and the remaining Osmonds that haven’t also been divorced.
I just wanted to let you all know how sorry I am that your lives suck so much. Mine is really great. I mean, I have my ups and down and health issues and your what-have-you, but that is just all part of the package, right? It’s really just all about your attitude and taking care of yourself and those around you with integrity and Love.
And I have a testimony that every day is a new chance to be the best You you can be. I don’t believe that every sucky thing that happens in my life is sent from God to test my faith or is a punishment for something I’ve done in the past. I really believe that we are heavenly beings having a human experience and that Karma has a lot to do with what comes forward for us to process through. Everything that happens is a blessing if we view it that way. At least, that is the best way for me to go through my life.
And I can tell you that if I just had a kid or two killed in a car crash, I’d probably be really pissed off and angry. And that would feel good, to be angry. And I’d want to talk to God about it and I’d yell at Him and tell Him off before I got to the feeling alright about it part. And I’d still think I was a good person throughout the whole experience.
And if I was just diagnosed with something that was terminal and had kids that were about to be homeless, I’d go join some clubs and make some friends, fast! That’s just a tip. You can use it.
But, good luck with your never being good enough and heaping on the guilt, yet, also feeling slightly superior to every other religion on earth. Just keep on keepin’ on. You are all doing great! Right on and amen. Oh, and your Joseph Smith seems like a pretty nice guy, considering his polygamy and everything. Oh! I almost forgot. I made you all a T-shirt.’
Just kidding. Because I’m not a member in good standing, I’m not allowed to take the trek to the pulpit and say boohaha, let alone how I feel about life and Joseph Smith. But I had a really great time thinking about what I would have said. It would have been fun just to shake things up. Just to see if anyone was paying attention. Dude. Riling up a nest of slightly dozing Mormons sitting in the pews who are feeling a little on the too warm side and waiting for the closing prayer in a meeting that has gone 15 minutes over = Priceless. But not really coming from a place of Love so it’s just as well.
Instead, the meeting ended with a 9-year-old boy sharing that he knew the church was true, that he was so glad he was blessed to be sent to live on earth with a Mormon family, and that he knew Joseph Smith was a True Prophet. If only we could all be so lucky.
Electrodes and Hiccups
I’m wearing a variety of electrodes, which are attached to my chest with the help of some ultra-sticky substance that smells like cinnamon potpourri going on the stove. It comes out in whiffs and punches me in the nostrils. I’m not generally a cinnamon-smell fan, even at cinnamon appropriate times like Christmas, and now is no exception.
This little, portable, ECG device I’m wearing is recording all the electrical impulses my heart is sending out. Like that one. And that one. And that one. And especially that one, which is the kind they are looking for, where my heart surges and fills my chest with a feeling of sudden adrenalin. It happens now and then. Sometimes it goes on for an hour or more every few minutes. Sometimes I won’t feel it for days. A few times it’s woken me up from sleeping but that isn’t hard to do so I wasn’t thinking this was a problem. There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or rhythm to the whole thing. It happens at all different times when I’m doing all different things and because I’ve already cut out caffeine, (8 months ago) smoking, (2 years ago) drugs, (4 years ago) alcohol (4 months ago except red wine every now and again) the doctors aren’t quite sure why it’s happening. But it’s a party in my chest, I’ll tell you.
Tomorrow, I’ll rip a few layers of my skin off at 2:50pm and hand the whole contraption back to the office for them to read. I found out I won a round-trip ticket back the cardiologist for an Echocardiogram on Tuesday of next week. And if I’m really lucky and pass that test, I get to do an exercise-heart-stress test. And if I pass that test, then I get to exercise again. Yes, that is the prize. And I hope, wish, and pray that it comes true. First it was my lung and now it is my heart and it’s been so LOOOOOOONG since I got to raise my heart rate that it’s ridiculous. I mean, I love Tai Chi and swimming but it would be nice to do something else, like sweat.
On a funner note, the other day I was at the lab for 3 hours for an insulin-resistance test. That wasn’t the fun part. And either was getting my blood drawn 4 times on the same arm during those 3 hours. Or drinking the fake-orange flavored ‘soda’ they gave me that smells like the orange gas you got at the dentist office way back when, although that was fun. Or the being nauseated and throwing up everything I ate for the rest of the day. No. The fun part was that the woman that drew my blood those 4 times had chronic hiccups.
Her: -Hic- Hi. How are you -Hic- this morning?
Me: Fine, thanks.
Her: You’re fasting -Hic- right? ’xcuse me.
Me: No problem. Yes. I am fasting.
Her: Good. Try to ignore the hiccupping. It’s chronic.
Me: Chronic?
Her: Yes. Documented and everything. It comes in spurts of -Hic- threes. Damn.
Me: Oh. Ok.
Her: -Hic- It’s a serious problem. -Hic- I just live with it.
Me: Well, I guess you don’t really have any choice, right?
Her: Exactly! If I did, don’t they think I would choose to stop doing it?
I don’t know who the ‘they’ are, but apparently, they had suggested that she was doing it on purpose. Anyway, it was entertaining and kept my mind occupied for hours as I thought about what that would be like, what people would say and how I would feel.
Me: -Hic-
They: Why are you doing that?
Me: -Hic- It’s chronic. I can’t help it! -Hic-
They: Ya right! You are totally doing that on purpose.
Me: Step back, dude! -Hic- WTF? -Hic-
They: If you really wanted to, you would stop. Have you tried holding your breath?
Me: -Hic- (in anger) -Hic!--Hic!- Of course.
They: What about drinking water upside down?
Me: Dude! -Hic- I’m not a novice! -Hic- I’ve tried everything! -Hic--Hic--Hic-
They: Then we will just choose to laugh at you and make fun of you.
I decided I was glad I didn’t have chronic hiccups. People die from having hiccups or hiccups related problems.
*cinnamon whiff*
Life could be worse.
