A friend is someone who is there for you when he'd rather be somewhere else. – Unknown

My girlfriend called me yesterday and told me she would be at my house today to help me clean for the big shin-dig tomorrow. She knew that Moxie had been puking all week, thus making me puke right along with her so nothing had gotten done. Except the food ordered and the carpet cleaner rented.

It’s been one giant puke fest over here and the only thing that is keeping me from blowing real chunks are these oils. I rub digest Zen on my belly, and I can immediately feel it easing the nastiness in my gut.

I know my friend has a million other places she would rather be, but she was willing to drop everything and come to my house and scrub bathrooms, and clean carpets with me so that I wouldn’t be embarrassed when 25 people descended on my house.

Except now not only is Moxie puking, but Thing 1 and Thing 3—the girl getting baptized tomorrow.

Or was getting baptized tomorrow.

In between pukes she begged to push the date back.

Consider it done, baby.

Especially since Mommy is now joining the ranks of the infested.

This is a killer bug and its hanging on for dear life.

No baptism for us.

This month, anyway.

*****

I haven’t slept in over 2 days. I’m exhausted, but I’m afraid to sleep because Moxie has a strange aversion to puking in the toilet or bucket or bowl or garbage can. I have to hold her while she pukes… on me.

I sort of hate that.

In light of the puke fest happening over here, the rest of my randomness will be bullet points. Because  I just don’t feel well. At. All.

• It’s freaking snowing again at my house. I am sick of the snow. If it snows one more flake I just may go postal on Mother Nature.
• I’m sort of glad we postponed the baptism. Only because it’s freaking snowing and we had rented a giant bounce house for Thing 3 and all the cousins to play in after the baptism. I had gotten a huge sandwich and vegetable and brownie platter for everyone to consume and watch the kids go crazy in the bounce house. It’s snowing. A giant bounce house in the snow, with the stomach flu would be miserable.
• I am sort of bummed about the puke fest and the snow because we had one helluva great party planned for tomorrow. Everyone I love—mine and Jefe’s family—all in the same house with good food and entertainment for the kids. What more could a person ask for?
• Did you know you could ship frozen food? Me either, but apparently you can. I got a package yesterday of frozen meals. The box was freezing! They packed it with dry ice, and it looked like a Dracula movie when I opened the box.
• I have a big announcement coming out in my newsletter this weekend—if I can get feeling better long enough to write it. Seriously. So freaking awesome. You are going to want to make sure you subscribed to the newsletter so you can see the big unveiling of what I have been working on. I am so excited about it and I think you will be, too.
• Did I mention that it’s snowing? I hate Mother Nature.
• Not only am I sick, but I have only 12 hours to utilize the carpet cleaner that I rented yesterday to clean the rest of the carpets in my house. While being sick. Good times.
• My new carpet for the murder room is being installed the week of spring break. Awesome.
• I want an iPad and iPhone4 so bad I can taste it. I am willing to work for one. Instead of paying me with cash, I actually told a client recently that they could just pay me with an iPad or iPhone. They just laughed and handed me a check. I want the items instead of cash—I’ll spend the cash responsibly on student loans or some other adult thing. I want these frivolous items just because.

Have a great weekend people. I am sure it will be better than what's going on over here.

Catch ya on the flip side.

1. Hurricane Drunk – Florence & The Machine Memories –
2. Weezer Baby I Want You – Amos Lee
3. Replay (Flo Rida Version) – Iyaz
4. Smells Like Teen Spirit – Tori Amos
5. Coming Home To Me (featuring Julie Miller) – Patty Griffin
6. Hug My Soul – Saint Etienne
7. 30 Minute Boyfriend – Julian Casablancas
8. Dry Country Girl – Rascal Flatts
9. Let It Go – Zac Brown Band
10. What’s Up – 4 Non Blondes

Bonus: Nothing Left to Lose – Mat Kearney 

Sympathy.

It’s what God wants us all to do—be all sorts of sympathetic to those around us. I think I’ve got that puppy mastered to a tee—If I were going to toot my own horn. Which I am, since this is my blog.

I see someone crying and I start crying right along with them. I don’t have to know WHY they are crying—I just join in on the cry fest. I don’t even have to KNOW them to cry with them. If it even looks like you might start to cry, then the water works turn on for me. Totally out of my control.

For example: I was in an Airport, trying to maneuver my way through the crowds when I saw a woman sitting on the floor, talking on the phone with tears streaming down her face. I slowed down, watched her sobbing, and I started to cry. Right there in the Airport, big ole tears for a complete stranger.

I’m a sympathy laugher, too. I can hear someone laughing and I immediately join in with the laughter—even if I don’t get it. Or know them.

I start smiling and the more they laugh the bigger my smile gets until my sympathy laugh bursts from the depths of my soul. 

Ha ha ha what are we laughing at? ha ha ha I have no idea, ha ha ha but they’re laughing ha ha ha so I will, too. Ha ha ha ha.

I’m also a sympathy puker.

I’m so sympathetic to your puking that if you just make the sound of someone puking… I’ll start to puke. My gag reflex is super strong. And sympathetic.

Remember that scene from The Goonies where Chunk confesses about how he made fake puke and then went to the balcony of the movie theater and made the puking sound? Yeah. My kids love that scene and play it over and over again. Because of the reaction they get from me. Just hearing that makes me start to gag. And laugh. But gag none-the-less.

Or is it None the less? Or None The Less? Or nonetheless…

Either way,  I’m a sympathetic puker big time and It’s a rather inconvenient trait to have when you have children.

Moxie was sick yesterday and was puking. Big time. Like every 30 minutes she was puking and she’s still just little, so she doesn’t get what’s happening to her. She would try and hold it in with her cute little hands and then beg me to take her to The Dentist.

 “Please Mama. Take me to da Dentist. There is some fing  wong wit  my mouth, mama!”

Every time she would puked, I would puke. 

She puked. I puked. She puked. I puked. It was like a merry-go-round ride. Which, btw, makes me puke. I hate even watching those things. I’m such a puker.

Jefe says he knows when we’ve lived in a place to long when we start marking the “puke zones”.

“Remember that time mom got sick and puked right there? Yeah. That was embarrassing.”

Being sympathetic is not for the faint of heart. It takes great courage to be sympathetic… Especially the Sympathetic Puker.  That is actually one trait I would trade in for something else. Anything, really.

I’d even be willing to be a Sympathy Jerk, if I could just get rid of being the Sympathy Puker.

A friend is someone who will help you move. A real friend is someone who will help you move a body. - Unknown

 

I put that as my status update a while back on Facebook, and it was hysterical to see what my friends came up with. I found myself laughing and nodding because the ones I predicted to comment, were the ones who commented.

I love it when I can count on my friends to be funny.

*****

I have a confession:

I completely, 100%, over the moon DIG Disco music.

I know.

Most people find it totally Gaggy.

Not me, baby cakes.

Something happens to me when it comes on the radio—my bum cannot remain seated and I HAVE to dance. Whether it be in my office, the bathroom, kitchen or—much to the horror of my children—the car. Or even worse: the grocery store.

Disco comes on and I. Must. Dance.

Like long and hard.

Swaying my head and feeling the groove makes me feel all sorts of sparkly happiness inside.

*****

The Universe has finally complied and I am getting new carpet.

That’s right! I’m getting carpet. New as in BRAND NEW carpet people!

The room that looks like someone has been murdered in seven time over is finally heading out to the Trash Man! Can you tell I’m excited? Because I am!

Hallelujah!

Praise Allah!

Pass the egg nog!

*****

Moxie had a birthday—Shout Hooray!

She turned Three this past week, and I find myself feeling rather verklempt.  She is growing up so quickly and I have been enjoying every single second of this child’s life. Which makes me feel rather remorseful—I wish I would have been more relaxed and enjoyed my other three children this much.

I was much too uptight, and cared about things that truly didn’t matter. In my defense, I did start to realize that by the time #3 came around. She went through a phase where all she wanted to wear were her brothers Star Wars shirts. And I let her, must to the consternation of my Mom and neighbors.

In the long run, matching socks, in style hair/clothes and clean play-rooms really don’t matter. Memories and secure children do.

I wish I would have understood that better when I was a young Mom. Now, being in my forties with such a vast age difference, I can see the benefits of being laid back. You can be strict in the same sentence… just choose your battles people. Choose your battles.

*****

The fact that the weather is finally cooperating and it is actually SUNNY and starting to get warm has greatly improved my mood.

I am a sun worshiper and I am glad that my God has finally decided to show her face.

*****

I have the most exciting news that I am going to be “unveiling” next week and I can’t wait to finally tell you all about it!

It will explain so many things—the who’s and why’s of everything and you don’t want to miss out on it!

You should subscribe to my newsletter so that you won’t miss out on my major announcement.

Name

Email

*****

I just got my Women’s Conference schedule and I can’t wait! I have found classes each day that I am dying to attend—so much so that I am willing to skip to go stand in line to make sure I get to attend them. One is being taught by our very own Courtney Kendrick and her sister Stephanie.

I have asked several people to go with me. Again. And, they have all told me NO.

I’m starting to get a complex regarding me, Women and Women’s Conference. I hope it’s them and not me.

That being said, I love Women’s Conference, and I am prepared to attend alone. I spend the majority of the time alone anyway, so “sleeping” alone doesn’t scare me.

In fact, after attending RootsTech where I was 100% alone for the entire week, I sort of dig it. It allows for me to do what I want to do, when I want to do it. And, I am able to get a lot of thinking and self examination done without looking to alarmingly weird to those that are with me.

So, as of now, I am going to Women’s Conference alone. I’m thinking the dorms would be a good option for me this year. Then I’d never have to get back in the car until the event was over. I don’t mind the Cafeteria food and I am not afraid of being alone. I’m a pretty chatty person—and  I’ll chat anyone up and try and make them laugh.

Wave at me if you see me. 

*****

I am getting excited because I have three trips on the horizon for me and I can’t wait. It’s nice to have things to look forward to. It helps break up the monotony of life… Of laundry. Which, btw, has exploded in on me again. I am planning on having a hot Friday Night watching Movies and folding. AFTER the nephews birthday jam at Chucky Cheese.

I sort of hate Chucky Cheese.

But, I will go for this nephew because he thinks I am the bees knees. Who wouldn’t want to attend a party where you’re the bees knees? 

*****

Have a groovy weekend peeps!

Catch ya on the flip side!

1. Can’t Get Enough of Your Love, Babe – Barry Love
2. At Last – Neko Case
3. Mexico – Delaney Gibson
4. Best of My Love – The Emotions
5. I Want You to Want Me – Chris Isaak
6. Over the Rainbow/ What a Wonderful Life – Israel ‘IZ’ Kamakawiwo’ole
7. Sky Open Up – The Watson Twins
8. Too Much Nothing – Haley Bonar
9. Jails and Bombs – Amos Lee
10. In Your Eyes (Acoustic) Sara  Bareilles

Bonus: You’ll Never Find Another Love Like Mine – Lou Rawls

I have been a little burnt out from blogging so I took a long, much needed break.

I wrote up all those Bucket Fillers back in November, scheduled them to post through the end of January and then I literally walked away.

Before Christmas, I realized I needed to re-evaluate a bunch of things. I had to remember what it was that made me fall in love with blogging in the first place.  It just wasn’t FUN anymore and that was puzzling to me.

When I started this whole journey, it was for me to record things for  my children and to be a creative outlet. It was a way to showcase my children and their beauty. A way for Jefe to see what we were doing during the day while he was off slaving at the office.

Blogging became a way for me to change the way I viewed my life.  What I mean is that instead of freaking out when Thing 3 flooded the shower because she wanted to swim, I took a picture to immediately document it. Rather than blowing my top when she threw two dozen eggs all over the floor to see if they would bounce, I took a picture and wrote the story down.

I started living more authentically. I was recording my life—my stories—and I wanted to make sure they would be ones that my children would be proud to read when they were grown.

I taught myself how to look at my life with new eyes—and it felt good.

I am a “what you see is what you get” type of a woman. I presented an authentic view of me… Jefe seems to think that I have made us out to be more well adjusted and happier than we really are. Maybe to some I did. But for me,  I choose to see or remember things with my new found perspective. I try to live authentically, and to find the good, the positive, and the happy  in all the moments of life now. I try to actually LIVE my life rather than waiting around for the next big thing to happen so then I can be happy. Blogging helped me to realize I was in charge of not only my perspective on life, but my happiness as well.

Only now?

It felt more like a chore and because of that, I feel like I stopped living my version of authenticity.  It became something I needed to cross off. I felt no creativity, no words or ideas were churning in my brain. And as such, I think I became somebody less than.

In February I had the opportunity to attend two conferences—at no cost to me. Basically it was a 2 week vacation without my family, and time to think and ponder about everything. And, I did.

At the Storytelling Conference, I feel like I found my voice again. I had stories coming to my memory constantly.  That’s what happens, at least for me, when I listen to other people tell their stories. I remember.

I felt myself remembering what it was that made me fall in love with blogging in the first place.  It was giving the stories in my head, in my life, a VOICE.

 That’s why I loved blogging—The Stories. Mine and yours.

It felt good to have the ideas roaming around inside my noggin again. It felt good to need to turn on that recorder to dictate the ideas that were coming to me faster than I could spew them. It felt good to pull out my pretty notebook where I keep all my “lists” of things I want to write about.

I was remembering, and it felt good.

Then I went to Roots Tech, a conference that The Church put on and is a mash up of Family History and Technology. I was uncertain how this conference would benefit me, or my readers, but I was excited to be invited to attend by Family Search, and I am so very glad I went.

It was The Lords way of intervening into my madness. He has a way of helping us to remember things, and understand things right when we need them most. I felt like I spent an entire week on a spiritual high—learning things about myself and The Gospel that I hadn’t been prepared to experience. It was a phenomenal experience and some parts feel rather sacred.

I finally felt justified, as I attended this last conference, in all of my efforts with blogging. People in my ward, and sometimes in my own family, have given me a really hard time with the fact that I like to blog. “It’s such a waste of time!” is often what I have heard said about blogging. However, what I came away with from RootsTech was that I was participating in Family History and it was important.

For the first time I felt not only relief but encouragement.  What I was doing was not silly, trivial or useless. It had meaning, it had purpose and My Church understood what it was that I was trying to do. That validated me and that was what I needed.

I feel like I have fallen in love with blogging all over again.  I feel excited to write again and I feel the ideas and stories percolating inside my noggin’.

My ideas, opinions and stories matter and they matter to the people that matter most—My Family.

Some day they will read these words of their Mother and find comfort in them. They can read them and feel inspired to try a little harder to do a little better. That is why I started blogging and that is why I continue.

For Them.

I broke up with Facebook a while back.

I read theses articles called Unfriend, Write or Die and then Farewell Facebook. 

I found myself thinking about those articles for days after I read them. I actually bookmarked them, and then went back and read them several more times—just because they really resonated with me.

I labored about what I wanted to do with regards to Facebook.

I actually toyed with the idea of walking completely away from Facebook—Just  deleting it and being done with it. But, I enjoy the contact that I have with my extended family and childhood friends. I have been able to re-connect with some of my cousins that I haven’t seen in decades. I am able to continue my friendships with my friends from my childhood and Illinois. For those reasons, I decided to keep it, but give it a major trimming.

This has been a good decision. For me my personal Facebook account is just that—Personal.   I had to take the control back and do what I felt was comfortable. For me.

I had been really careful—for a long while—of keeping my identity relatively unknown on the internet. I was Motherboard, who shall remain nameless and faceless. But, with The Casual Blogger Conference, and the subsequent media interviews I have given, I couldn’t be known as Motherboard any longer. As such, people I had “met” online or in passing were infiltrating my “protected world.”

I had a lot of random people that I had become “friends” with because of my business.  We weren’t real friends, per say, only the Facebook definition of friends.

For some that’s not a bad thing.

For me it wasn’t working any more.

I actually hate how Facebook has changed the definition of the word Friend and not for the better, I’m afraid. It has taken the personal out of the interactions and actually turned them into an easier way for people to “pose.”

You know about me on Facebook what I want you to know. Same with blogs. You see what I choose for you to see and know. Just because I comment on your page, wishing you a happy birthday, doesn’t mean I’m a stellar friend. Nor does being able to see all the photos of Moxie with Lip Goo in her hair mean we are “friends”.

It means you can see my webpage.

Now, before the tomatoes start—I totally get that blogging and Facebook moves those online relationships to a new level and that those random strangers CAN become real friends. I have experienced that.  Caroline, Julie Veronica and DeNae are not only friends that I made through Social Media, they are my girl friends... close friends that know what is really going on in my life. They have my back in all situations and I know it.

With all those thoughts swimming around in my brain,  I went through my Facebook account—person by person—and made a conscious choice of who stayed and who went. I literally unfriended over 200 people. It was a mass defriending that occurred, but it needed to happen. I was tired of it all, I was over whelmed and my anxiety was off the charts.

I needed to bring everything back to home, and re-center my life… get re-grounded.

That little “escapade” of mine—the mass defriending—caused some major discord in my life and I feel bad that I hurt peoples feelings, but I feel good about the decision I made. It needed to happen.

We all have different levels of friends. I DO consider everyone my friend. We meet once, and you are called my friend and I will refer to you, to everyone, as my friend. However, being my friend is not the same as being my girlfriend. Not everyone I meet has my cell phone number, or my real email address, nor do they know the real names of my children. But my girlfriends do.

Facebook does not a girl friend make. You are my girl friend if you have my real email address and my cell phone number. You are my girl friend if we have exchanged texts at midnight. You are my girl friend if we have cried together. I am willing to work towards that with anyone… given enough time.

There is an inner circle in my life—and I let very few in. Once you have been let in,  if you burn me it’s hard for me to recover. I try very hard to assume the best about others and I am no good at playing mind games or social hierarchy games.

I heard the best description of Facebook and Twitter in a class I took recently: Facebook is for the personal, moving it toward business. Twitter is for business moving it toward the personal. Both things happen off line. I kept my MMB page for the business aspect of things, but as far as my personal page was concerned? I want to keep it just that—personal.

 

I was mad at you yesterday.

You would not leave me alone and every time I tried to put you down, you sobbed big ugly crocodile sobs: “I need you Momma! I need you!”

It was pathetic really and I got absolutely nothing done.

I even took you on a car ride with the hopes of it helping you relax and fall asleep.

No such luck.

You were a mess and I was losing my patience quickly.

Then as I was rocking and cuddling you “like da baby Momma” I looked at your sweet face and got a little emotional. You aren’t my little baby any more. But right now, at this very moment in time,  You Need Me.

It wasn’t very long ago that your older siblings needed me; Wanted me to cuddle them and rock them like you do.

Now they can barely be bothered to wave hello.

It’s the circle of life, I guess.

So, rather than remain mad, I felt a little sad and quite grateful.

Grateful because for this moment, this second in time, you still need me—still want me to hold you—and that feels really good.

I’ll hold you and rock you all the live long day if you will just stay little forever.

Love,

Mom

“We should be taught not to wait for inspiration to start a thing. Action always generates inspiration. Inspiration seldom generates action.” - Frank Tibolt

Someone asked me recently what the heck my Random randomness was even supposed to be about.  To answer her question its simple: I started blogging in 2005 and the only blog I read was a blog called Flamingo Jones. I have no idea how I stumbled onto her blog, but I started following her and her blog roll. It made for great blog reading. She hasn’t blogged since 2007 and that’s a sad story. I lived vicariously through her. She was in Wisconsin somewhere—Madison maybe. Or Milwaukee.

I miss reading “those” blogs and have been, as of late, searching for new blogs to read. I am slowly re-building my reader. I’m starting fresh—moving beyond the circle that has the same old people in it. I need new content. New ideas. I’m fickle like that.

Anyway, she and her friends did this Random 10 Friday where they would post the first 10 songs that came up on their iPods on Friday. I loved it simply because I found all sorts of great new artists, bands, and songs that I fell madly deeply in love with.

I started playing along with them—silently—because never, not once did I ever comment on any of their blogs. I just watched from the sidelines what they were doing. And, it was a blast.

The only thing I have consistently posted on this blog for the last 6 years are my Random 10 Fridays.  I used to just post the songs and that was it. Later, I started using the post for my random thoughts that weren’t really  “post” worthy, so they got tossed into the Friday pile.

That’s the gist of the Random Friday stuff. It’s mostly for me because it was the first “meme” I participated in on a regular, silent basis.

Play if you want. If nothing else, it’s always fun to find new music.

*****

I’ve been in a lot of brainstorming sessions recently with my new hair-brained business idea and I have seen that quote up there in action. Never have I seen the people I’m working with come up with an idea and then brainstorm. It’s come from us brainstorming and actually working, trying new things—and then the amazing ideas come.

I’m excited to see some of these ideas we’ve had come to fruition. I know they will rock your socks off once I’m able to finally chat about them.

I got an email yesterday saying the biggest one I’ve been working on, and the company I’ve been courting, is a GO. Which is out of this world exciting. This next year is going to be amazing. I can feel it in my bones!

*****

I got an email a couple of weeks back from ABC”s Nightline.

They wanted to interview me.

I know, right?

After I picked myself up off the floor, I pulled up my big girl panties and called them back.

We had a very lovely conversation—I even made them laugh several times. Which is my life long goal—To make the producers of Nightline laugh. {I can cross that off my bucket list now}

I talked about why they were calling me over on MMB this week. You can go check it out and see what’s been up in that neck of the woods for me lately. The post was picked up by The Mormon Times, LDS Living Magazine and Meridian Magazine, too.

Crazy, awesome stuff, I tell you.

*****

If my high school child misses the bus one more time this week, I will be forced to eat her and make a new one that looks just like her. Only not common-sense retarded.

Seriously people. She is going to kill me before she finally graduates from high school.

*****

Speaking of Thing1: Isn’t she adorable? She is blowing me that kiss, as if to say “It’s OK Mom. I know I’m causing you gray hairs and sleepless nights—but I’m having one heckuva GREAT time.”

Sometimes I wish she weren’t so much like me.

I am still baffled that she will wait until 8 days before the terms ends to throw herself into her grades and pull them up to A’s and B’s.  Wouldn’t it be much easier to just do it all term long, and just maintain? And not have your mother screaming at you all term long?

I dunno. It baffles the mind.

I had a great conversation with one of my neighbors recently that made me feel less insane and more normal. 

She said she has been banging her head against the wall with regards to her 15 year old son. She actually thought about going to counseling to figure out how to deal with him.

Being the over-sharer that I am, I piped in that I had gone to counseling a year or so back—every week for an entire year—to learn how to deal with my kids. And husband. And Mother. And sisters. OK. People in general.

It was the best thing I ever did and the best money I have ever spent. I would recommend it to anyone who is struggling through any relationship.

Hearing this woman,  whom I view to be a very successful and an amazing Mother, say she is struggling with her teenager made me feel more “normal”.

Whatever Normal is.

*****

Moxie’s new favorite thing is to come and get me whenever her show starts, and we have to dance like crazy people through the entire Show’s Theme Song.

It’s weird and yet so much fun. We dance like crazy fools all over the family room. The more I 80’s band bang my head, the harder she laughs.

I’m a sucker and will do anything to hear my children laugh.

She is such a delightful child and I am adoring this phase that we are in. She talks my ear off and says some of the craziest things. Like how when she turns three (next week) she won’t pee-pee in her diaper anymore.

She’ll pee-pee outside like the doggies.

I’m kind of sad that she is last… and there will be no more babies to play with.

Or train to not go pee-pee outside like the doggies.

*****

Have a great, sunny, warm weekend!

Catch ya on the flip side!

1. My Moon, My Man – Fiest
2. The High Road- Broken Bells
3. Science of Fear – The Temper Trap
4. Soul Meets Body – Death Cab for Cutie
5. Walking With A Ghost – Tegan & Sara
6. Australia – The Shins
7. I Gave You All – Mumford & Sons
8. My Backyard – Steven Bennett
9. Big Black Car – Gregory Alan Isakov
10. Use Somebody – Kings of Leon

Bonus: You & Me – Lifehouse

I have gotten several comments from people saying they really needed to know if the baby lamb was OK and further what in the heck happened.

Let me tell you: It wasn’t pretty. That’s for sure. I’m praying that no one was watching me in those swanky houses, ‘cause if they were? They totally got quite the view.

After I had detached myself from the fence and kicked it a few times, I ventured home. I may have yelled at the sheep some more and given them a piece of my mind. Or not.

I had prickles in my shoes. On my shoes. On my pants.

I was a site to behold.

When I came huffing into the house, and told Jefe what had happened, he said I needed to go and tell the farmer that his lamb needed rescuing. Pronto like.

I was going to but then life happened.

The Things weren’t cooperating and missed the bus.

Moxie was having a melt down and  then I sort of forgot.

I know. I can’t believe it either. But, I did. I sort of forgot all about the stupid stuck baby sheep.

Until I took the kids to Mutual that night.

Well. Let me be honest. When I realized which house it was, and which Farmer’s lamb it was, I was sort of scared.

He is this Russian guy who shakes his fist at people as they drive by his house. He even took a picture of my license plate once because my van made “too much dust”. The road was “under construction” and people driving on it was making his house fill up with dust.

Really?

You don’t think we ALL have dust?

He’s scary. And, that’s saying something for me to be a little scared of him.

As I was sitting in the church parking lot, the thought came to me that I would feel horrible if I went walking the next day, and that baby lamb was still in that mud bog—all slumped over, dead like.

I argued with myself about how it wasn’t my problem and I needed to not worry about it. Besides, it’s dark. And cold. And dark.

The milk of human kindness won over. Again.

{Knock. Knock. Knock.}

Me: Hey. I was out walking on the pathway behind your house  this morning and one of your baby sheep was stuck in a mud bog out there in the back. I was just hoping that you had gone out there to check on them and were able to get him out of the mud?

{silence}

Me: So. Yeah. The baby sheep? Do you know? Is it OK?

{crickets Chirping}

Me: Really. I have worried about it all day. (total lie)

Russian: Dat is so sad. Da Sheep? He stuck? I not out der today at all. You go check for me dat he ok?

{screams at kids: Hey! Come help da lady here check on da sheep. It stuck in da mud!}

Me: Uhhh. OK? You want ME to go check on it?

Russian: Ya. Ya. I do. Here is da light. (hands me a pen flashlight) You go. Make sure da sheep is ok with my girl and her friends.

{teenage girl and 2 hoodlum boys come to the door. Glaring.}

Me: Oh. Uhh. OK. I guess I can go out there. Will the cows charge me? (yes. I totally asked that)

Teenager: No. It’s just really muddy. I hope you don’t like those shoes (points to my Nikes)

Yes. He. Did.

He totally handed me a PEN FLASHLIGHT and sent ME out into his pasture—with 3 useless teenagers—to find out if the sheep was still stuck in “da mud”.

Seriously. Some people should not be allowed to live. Or Procreate.

We proceed out to the fence—which I had to climb AGAIN—and start heading out into the giant-pothole-mud-bog-littered-cow-pie-infested pasture. I could see all sorts of glowing eyes staring at me, and frankly I was really freaked out. They boys this girl brought with us? Pansies. Seriously. TOTAL PANSIES. They were jumping and screaming like little girls.

You couldn’t see a dang thing, but you could see the sheep and their glowing eyes, hear their breathing and hear the pitter patter of their little feet as they scattered when we came near.

Freaky.

Here’s the thing: A pen flashlight does not shed a lot of light. At All.  I had seen the sheep in the mud bog during the DAY and from the opposite direction. I was totally turned around inside that pasture trying to find that freaking  baby sheep. It was ridiculous.

The dumb boys were too afraid to come any further into the pasture, because of the glowing eyes and mooing cows. So me, the teenage girl and two pen flashlights proceeded to search out the pasture for this tiny BLACK sheep.

Remember? The baby sheep that was stuck was BLACK.

We were trying to find a Black sheep in the pitch black night.

Good times.

We stumbled and fumbled and tried to peer into the dark to find that sheep. I was sort of worried that I was going to wander into the mud bog and get stuck. Who would save me? Clearly not the teenage boys. They were huddled together over at the fence like two little lost kittens. The Russian clearly never comes out into the pastures to check on his animals—so I was positive that I was going to end up like my baby sheep.

Stuck in the mud. In the middle of the rud. Slumped over dead. And, no one would ever be the wiser because NO ONE CHECKS THEIR SHEEP.

After about 20 minutes of feeling around in the dark, with my pen flashlight, the two boys hollering for us to hurry up because they were cold, I found the baby sheep. He was huddled on the ground in a nice hay nest baaing for his mother. I could see mud every where on him. I sat and petted him until he had finally had enough, snorted at me and ran off to find his mommy.

Tragedy had been averted. The baby was free at last and I had been the sheep savior of the day. Sort of.

All it took was me getting stuck on a barbed wire fence,  two scared teenage boys, one know-it-all teen girl, a Russian Farmer and a Pen Flashlight.

 

Dear Crappy Teenagers in my Neighborhood:

I’m a pretty laid back person. I actually, for the most part, like teenagers. I think you’re pretty fun and have interesting ideas about stuff. However, I am not amused with the stunts you have been pulling lately.

Doorbell ditching MY doorbell every single night – at Midnight for a week—was OK. Sort of. I didn’t get too angry about that one. I just figured you were stupid boys trying to get my daughters attention.

Paintballing my house with hot pink paintballs was, however another story.

Jefe actually got in his car—at midnight—to find you and rip you a new one. Good thing you’re a bunch of spry vandals and can jump fences quicker than his 40 year old body can. But even then, I was willing to deal with your non-sense.

However, this past week you have totally crossed the line and I am out for blood. You better start watching YOUR backs.

Knocking down a little girls snowman and taking the carrot she used for his nose, and placing it down where it would be a large “man part” is NOT funny. AT. ALL.

{OK. It IS funny. And I would be laughing maniacally if it would have not happened to MY girls and their beloved snowman. I mean, they spent the morning crying about it.}

I’m not laughing anymore. I’m mad. I know, generally, who you are and I’m watching your every move.

Some of the parents in our neighborhood may chalk this up to another episode of “boys being boys” but that is the problem. Too many parents are looking the other way while these “boys will be boys” and their behavior is getting out of hand. They need to be taught was is and is not acceptable. Vandalism, bullying and mischief making is NOT acceptable behavior.

Parents unwillingness to stop this bad behavior in the older boys has set the tone for what the younger boys feel is acceptable. It makes my eye twitch, and yet up to this point, I have kept my mouth shut. I’ve remained relatively quiet.

Until now that is.

I will not sit by and take the attitude of the rest of the neighborhood. No longer will I turn a blind eye to the mischief that is occurring. It’s not right and frankly some of the things that have gone on are very serious crimes.

I’m not going to try and “work it out” with you, or your parents. You have crossed a line. You better start towing the line, because I’m watching you. And, I have zero problems calling the police on you. You forget I used to live in the Ghetto. Calling the police is second nature for me now. Paint balling my house is called vandalism. It’s a misdemeanor and an average sentence in Utah for Vandalism is a Minimum of $1,000 fine, 6months in jail and 2 years probation. It’s nothing to mess with.

For the love of all things Holy: Leave my kids, my house and my snowmen alone.

Thanks,

~Motherboard

Over the past several days, Moxie has been asking me" Mama? I have your heart?"

I know, right?

"Awww. That's so cute. You DO have my heart, girlie."

That response would make her mad and she would yell "No Mama! You're heart! I have it?"
I thought she was just being extra cute and adorable, using all her new big words. That is until this morning when I realized what it was she really meant: 

Oh.

You want THAT heart.

Dang.

I don't want to give you THAT heart.

I have been through some terrible things in my life, some of which actually happened. – Mark Twain

I think of all the classic authors out there, Mark Twain is my favorite. I know. Most chicks dig Jane Austin or Emily Bronte, but truthfully, those gals make my eye twitching go into over drive.

They bug the snot out of me.

Mark on the other hand? He is simply delightful. I could read him for hours and never mourn the passing of those minutes. He speaks to my soul as he talks of the Mid West and all the fantastic adventures that could be had back in the day. The Tall Tales he tells amaze me. How does one stretch the details and come up with such fantastic stories? And the quotes I read of things he says? Sheer Brilliance.

I follow some dude on Twitter that is pretending to BE Mark Twain and he  tweets a daily Mark Twain quote and dare I say it’s the highlight of my day? It is. I find his words simplistically honest. I adore them. Every last little morsel.

*****

So many of you have asked about what happened to the sheep in my last post that I have a present for you. Another sheep post—a follow up of sorts. I did go and rescue that little sheep. And, frankly it’s quite funny. In a Motherboard sort of way.

Watch for it later. I promise a laugh or two.

*****

I had to go and teach a class yesterday on SEO and I realized I’m the biggest hypocrite when it comes to SEO. One of the biggest No-No’s I told them yesterday was giving your post creative titles. I love creative titles. Google hates creative titles.

Maybe I hate Google.

No. I don’t hate Google. I freaking pink sparkly puffy heart LURVE Google.

I wish everything in life could be as simple as Google. I type in my question and within 2.1 seconds I have 10,982 answers in order of relevance and “rightness”.

Why can’t all questions be answered that quickly and with that much accuracy?

Yes. I’m talking about Prayer. Google categorizes my answers Best, Better, Good and BAD. Life would be so much easier if God would do that. “Here’s your list of answers, MB. You pick which one suits you—you still have your agency.” 

Options/answers placed smack dab in front of my face would be so much nicer.

So. I’ll SEO my posts, but don’t make me give up my Creative Titles, Google. Work with me. Won’t you?

Oh, and God?

Work with me. Won’t you?

*****

My little Seventy Thousand Dollar Baby, Thing 3, is turning Eight and getting baptized this month.

I feel a little verklempt about that. Not the Seventy Thousand Dollars part but the fact that this little person is growing up.

It seems like just yesterday I was going to the OB twice, sometimes three times a week to have ultra sounds to make sure that little heart of hers was still beating. She was born 5.5 weeks early and they  suspected that she wouldn’t be able to breathe on her own, that her kidneys—if she even had any—wouldn’t be functioning properly, and that there would also be heart problems.

I spent five months on bed rest, making sure I wasn’t stressed, because if I was stressed, she was stressed. She wasn’t getting enough oxygen through the umbilical chord which is rare, at best.

We had to go to Genetic Counseling—which totally blows, yo.

She’s our feisty child.

She fought her way here, and has been fighting ever since.

I remind myself of that fact every single morning when we are arguing about getting our hair brushed. Or brushing our teeth. Or getting dressed. Or breathing.

She is feisty. She is stubborn. She is hard headed. And, those traits will serve her well when she is teenager—I’ll be hating life—because No One will be able to convince her to do anything that she doesn’t want to do. She can’t be guilted into doing what people want. She can’t be peer-pressured into doing what people want (trust me, I’ve tried). She doesn’t care. She marches to her own drum, and once she decides to do something—she does it with gusto, never looking back.

My job is to instill in her a moral compass and a strong sense of Integrity so that she will always stand with her feet firmly planted, never wavering from God. I know if I can do that, she will be the child I won’t have to worry about. If I can’t—heaven help me now.

*****

It’s amazing to me what a little sunshine can do for a persons out look on life and how much it improves their mood.

I worship the sun. I whole heartedly admit this fact. I worship it with a vengeance.

Some of my favorite memories are from when we first moved into our home in Illinois—we had a pool. And, we lived in that pool all summer long. We would get up first thing in the morning and get our jobs done so we could worship the sun in our pool all afternoon long. Our Electric bill was nil in the summer—compared to other people—because we rarely ran the A/C.  It was too cold if I had the A/C running when we came in from being in the pool.

I miss my pool. I miss the sun. I miss the warmth. And, as long as I’m being honest, I miss the humidity. Actually, my SKIN misses the humidity.

This past couple of days it has been mighty nice, and I have felt the nasty crazy lady starting to pack her bags to vacate my mind and the “old me” starting to return.

I like that. A lot.

*****

I hope you have a wonderful weekend. I am hopeful that this sunshine is here to stick around for a while. I hope its warm enough that I can pull my ghetto camping chair out of the garage, and sit on my driveway and read while Moxie and the kids play up and down the street.

That sounds like a little bit of heaven right there.

Catch ya on the flip side!

 

1. Soul Suckers  -  Amos Lee
2. If It Kills Me  - Jason Mraz
3. Keep Us  - Peter Bradley Adams
4. You Won’t Feel A Thing  - The Script
5. Here We Go – Mat Kearney
6. Heartbeats – Jose Gonzales
7. Let Me Know – Yeah Yeah Yeahs
8. Honey In The Sun – Camera Obscura
9. Old Ways – The Watson Twins
10. White Blank Page – Mumford & Sons

Bonus:  Fader – The Temper Trap

I got myself high-centered on a barbed wire fence yesterday.

I know.

It boggles the mind the situations I find myself in.

Let me paint a picture for you:

I was taking my morning walk on the old railroad track that they have turned into a walking trail. It’s a very nice walking trail that runs behind the new and the old. A brand new, swanky development to the west and old farms to the east. I actually prefer to look at the old farms.

At this point on the trail, there are cows, chickens, a dog or two and sheep. Hordes of sheep. And, baby lambs, too. The latter are the newest editions to the exhibit I watch daily on my walks. There is a little black one and a little white one with a black nose. They are simply adorable.

I noticed that I could hear one little lamb bleating for dear life as I came upon their pasture. I thought it must have lost it’s Mommy and was trying to find her. I kept walking when something caught my eye. I backed up and sure enough there was a baby lamb stuck in a giant mud bog.



I watched it for a minute, and then continued on my way.

I walked the remainder of my course and when I came back, I could hear it’s cries for help. Only louder now.

I stared at that little critter for quite a while as I watched him trying to wiggle himself out of the mess he got himself into. All four of his legs were firmly planted in that mud, and it was clear he was not going anywhere. My heart tugged for this little guy because it was cold outside, and what if this critter had been stuck in that mud bog all night?

He would be cold. Hungry and he could DIE! Right? He could die.

{tell me he could die. it will make me feel better}

I looked at the Mommy Sheep—they looked at me. I implored them to go help that baby. They continued to chew their morning breakfast. I looked around trying to see if there was a farm hand I could yell at—but there wasn’t. I walked further down the path, contemplating what to do.

I could go to the farm house—but that would mean I would have to walk an extra mile or so to get around to the front of the property to do that, and lets face it—at 7:00am it’s freaking cold.

I started cheering for this little critter. Come on little fella, you can do it! Pull harder! That’s it… You’ve almost got it. Oh! Drat. Don’t give up little fella!”

That’s when I got my hair-brained idea.



I used to be a spry kind of a girl—hopping fences in these very woods when I was a child. Wandering the rail tracks, looking for treasures and making all sorts of mysterious forts (the remnants of one still visible if you look closely enough).

I could be the hero of the day. I could swoop in and save that baby! I was capable. I was strong. I would be the hero of all Sheep World and they would bleat my praises for years to come.

It would have worked, too, had I not been wearing my baggy old lady pants.

They got stuck on the wire—really good—and  I couldn’t move. One Inch. I was stuck. Bad.

I could have jumped, but I would have gotten a giant hole in my pants. Or worse!! My baggy old lady pants would get ripped down around my ankles while I straddled the barbed wire fence. On the public walking trail. For all the world to see.

I sat there, praying that no one would come running along as I tried to figure out how to get myself out of this predicament.

At one point I actually yelled at the sheep: “This is all your fault! If you would just take care of your child I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

I totally blamed the sheep for my mess. It's their fault. It always is.

They kept eating their breakfast, and I swear those sheep smirked at me.

They did.

They looked at me. They looked at the bawling baby. They looked at each other. And they smirked.

I heard one of them baa at one and she returned the bleat.

I know they were talking about me and making fun of the human stuck on their fence. “Do you see her, Ethel?” “Yeah. This is the best breakfast entertainment we’ve had since Marlin got his head stuck in the fence trying to escape!” 

And, that’s how I came to find myself stuck on the top of a barbed wire fence at seven o’clock in the morning.

We won’t talk about the walk of shame I had to do, shall we?