Wednesday, October 7, 2015

The Target of My Affection

My Dearest Target,
From the time I was a young mom, with little to my name, you welcomed me.  For the last 25 years you have given me everything a woman, wife, and mom could ask for.  I have turned to you for peace, quiet, and serenity and you have never disappointed me.  You are everything others have tried to be and failed.  You are my one stop breath of fresh air on a hot day and I love you for it.  
You greet me with your shiny red carts, and the smell of new merchandise beckons me.    My list of essentials is quickly forgotten as your clearance stickers and new home d├ęcor lure me in.  The passages of pretty things draw me in like kid in a candy store.   You grant me wishes I didn’t know I had.  Soon my cart is full of happiness and I immediately feel more organized, beautiful and functional.

The changes of seasons are better because you’re there.   The spook of Halloween, the sparkle of Christmas adornment, the sweetness of Valentine's, gives joy to my insides.   I can conquer gift giving faster than Oprah gives away cars. I feel like the queen herself; I can buy, wrap and sign a card and be out your doors like a professional shopper.

I am even brought out of my turkey-induced slumber on Black Friday because of you.  I want to revel in the excitement of your crowded aisles and enjoy seeing others experience all you have to offer.  It is a tradition and a thrill to share that day with my girls and you.  The long lines of shoppers don’t really matter because I know they really don’t appreciate you.   They are fair weather fans that are not into you for the long haul.  You know I will always be back after the chaos has ended.  
When I thought you could not be any more in tune with my needs, you added
groceries to your aisles.  You save me Target.   You save me from that extra trip to the grocery store.   Piled in my cart of happiness are snacks, cold cereal, almond milk and the makings for tonight’s dinner.  And when my son needed to be gluten free, you provided his favorite chicken strips that made me mother of the year. Target, you are the answer to everyday living and my peace of mind.
Target Redcard is the jewel in the crown of my Target experience.  Just for shopping, just for being a person with needs, you give me 5% off every time.  I win the lottery at every check out.  No coupons needed; no blue light specials. You are paying me for the privilege of loving you.  And I would like to think that you love me too.
  Your ever grateful and dedicated customer,

Monday, June 15, 2015

Sunday Naps

Coming home from church yesterday, my husband looked at me as I was yawning and asked if I was going to take a nap.

"I don't think I have a choice", I said.

And that is exactly how I feel on Sundays. I literally have no choice on wether to nap or not.  My body knows.  My body instinctively knows it will not get much mattress time until Saturday morning, and that's a maybe.  My body starts to sense this in the last few minutes of church, when my eyelids become heavier than day 1 on the Biggest Loser. The head bobbing while sitting in the pews is embarrassing, but it can't be helped.  My body knows it must wind down from the week's adventures and gear up for new ones.  My body knows it must avoid the chaos of life for a few hours in order to endure the chaos of life.

So after church I dole out the rations to the natives and tip toe upstairs.  They all know where I'm going but I still feel I must be sneaky.  Somehow, being sneaky makes the nap more forbidden and much more luxurious.  With white noise and the cave like feeling I have created in my room, it has become optimal for afternoon slumber.  Of course  my offspring choose this time to get along for the first time all week.  And by get along I mean, play games, run up and down the stairs, create theater, and solve boredom problems by making as much noise as possible.  If Dad is around I can hear the "shhhhhhh" even through my blaring fans.  He knows.  He knows mama needs her naps. If mama aint rested, well you know, life sucks for everyone.

As I learned most my good mom traits  from my own mother (she won't take credit for the bad ones) , the art of napping came from her too. Why were moms so tired I wondered.  I did not know about the hours they kept, the tossing and turning from worry about kids, teenagers and the complete lack of energy one feels after raising kids for years upon unrewarded years.  Not sure how restful her naps on the couch, in full view of the family were, but it seemed to work for her.

And little did she know, she was showing me my glorious napping future.

My mom, perfecting the art of the nap since 1967. 

Monday, March 11, 2013

Rites of Passage

Moms go through a lot of rites of passage or in other words, we go through things that earn us the invisible gold star or the agony of defeat medal.  Things like giving birth  (no biggie),
nursing (sore much?), changing diapers and wiping things off your kid that would make a dung beetle shy away.  And those are the FUN ones.  Taking a kid to get shots or to his 3rd drivers license test or dropping  them to their first party, with a big zit on their nose.  Yea, that's fun.  Harder for me has been letting my kids become adults and make their own stupid decisions.  And yes, they make them.
It hurts like hell and you are suppose to love them anyway, when all you really want to do is kick them in the butt.

Mormon moms have another rite of passage.  One that we should be prepared for.  But it hurts like hell.  And it's a good thing.  Our little boys and girls, when they are 18 or 19 respectively,  can choose to accept a calling as a full time missionary for 2 years for men, and 18 months for women.  Yes, I did it, in Oklahoma.  I learned a new language, Okie, and learned not eat anything that was once in a small cage.  And I grew up.  My hubby served in Chile.  He learned Spanish and unfortunately ate everything.  And he grew up. For the most part..

For my man/boy, it was not a hard decision to be a missionary.  We went through the motions of doctors appts., shots, interviews,  and then waited. As a mom it was an extremely vulnerable time, putting my sons next two years in the Lords hands.   He could be sent ANYWHERE.  We have no say. Just lots of prayers.  While you are secretly hoping for him to be sent to Boise, Idaho, he is dreaming of the more exotic.  Well, Atlanta, Georgia Spanish speaking is as exotic as it gets for him. The south like his mama, Spanish like his dad.   We could not be more thrilled.  But then it was time to say good-bye.

The feeling you get when a kid leaves home is that things will never be the same again.  And are they ready to live without their mom?  Who is going to remind him to shower and brush his teeth?  What if he feels hungry? Will he remember to eat?  Does he know to wash his sheets at least once in those two years?  And if he doesn't do any of that it will be my fault right? So much mommy guilt, so little time.  So along with him, I had to let it all go.  He was going to be fine.  Me? Not so much.

As he walked away from us, with nothing but a smile on his face, leaving his family in the ugly cry, I felt a piece of my heart walk away.  I never knew a mom could feel so much pride and so much sad at the same time.  And it happens to hundreds of Mormon mommies every week.  There is a silent, and sometimes not so silent club of moms full of pride, hope, worry, and sadness.

My best friend for life, sent a daughter off  to serve on the same day as we said good-bye to man/boy. The text I got from her said, "that sucked, meet you at the ice-cream shop."  So we experienced our rite of passage together, eating ice-cream, and crying.

Monday, March 4, 2013

Remember When?

Remember when I used to blog? Remember when I would say witty, funny things and expound on my not so exciting life? Yea, that was awesome. Why did the awesomeness end? There are many theories on what took the wind out of my blogging sails...

1.  Almost two years ago, we moved less than a mile from where we lived. That may have quit being a legitimate excuse a few months ago.

2. We got a second dog.   Lots of puddles to clean, poop to pick up and bellies to scratch.  And that's just the kids.

3.  My second kid left for college.  2 down, 4 to go.

4.  Started needing reading glasses to, well, read. Anything with letters is now an enigma without my $.99 readers.

5.  I got a gym membership and have contemplated actually going for the last year.

6.  Cadbury Eggs.  They take so dang long to unwrap and leave your fingers so sticky.

7.  My daughter and I auditioned for the Amazing Race last August.  Still waiting for Phil to call.

8.  Very caught up in current events and the last election.  So great to have Mitt in the White House.

9.  Saw the last Breaking Dawn movie and still trying to get the CG image of Renesmee out of my head.

10.  My Diet Coke addiction has lead to being the new spokesperson for Aspartame.

So, if  I can let the above excuses go, I will get my blogging sails up.  At least until we move again or I buy another Cadbury egg.


Sunday, March 13, 2011

Disaster Relief for Japan

In my efforts this year to think of someone other than myself and my own little world,  I have decided to take this small step to help. Like all of you my heart is heavy when I see the devastation in Japan.  Entire cities gone,  thousands missing.  While I feel bad that BYU lost the MWC Conference title others are feeling truly devastated.  Feeling a bit helpless being so far away I decided there was one thing I could do. I am reaching out and informing my readers, fellow bloggers and friends of one way we can help.

The humanitarian arm of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, which I am a member of, is well established in responding to these types of emergencies, within 24 hours of the disaster.  So if I can't be there, I know that by donating to LDS Charities, my money is going exactly where it is needed.
Besides disaster relief, they support many worldwide, year round projects. I have included a short inspirational video about one of these programs.

I am  simply going to attach a link that you can click on to make a donation.  It is a quick, safe and confidential way to help.  Donating on the LDS Charities website is not a commitment to the church nor will you have boys in white shirts and ties knocking on your door anytime soon (unless you want them too!)

Thank you for indulging me in my effort to be a human.


Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Just Craptastic

Pardon my French but that is how I am feeling.  February was kind of a bust. Besides coming home from a fabulous trip at the beginning of the month, I am going to write February off as a month I don't need to ever do again.  Especially the last week.

Craptastic Week Part 1
The teenagers car went A.W.O.L.  As in just not there.  As in gone, baby, gone.  It was a perfectly nice Presidents Day.  Kids were home from school whining that they were bored.  I was trying to do laundry when I decided to ease all of our suffering and get pizza.  When I came back to the house I noticed the man/boy's car was gone.  Hmmm.  Where did he go without telling me?  But there he was in the house. Without thinking much was wrong I asked him where his car was.  Did he park somewhere different?  He went outside and came back in.  Are you joking he asked?  Had I moved the car?  We both went outside and stood in the spot where the car should be.  It. Was. Gone.

One hour and one cop visit later the reality settled in that our car had been stolen right from in front of our house.  And we did not have the insurance to cover it.  We were out one vehicle to drive to early morning seminary, high school, work, dates and activities.  Just. Great.

Craptastic Week Part 2
My completely awesome husband took over the extra driving duties and my body settled in with a nice, powerful, COLD!  Coughing, achy, fever, yuck.  It hit hard and I was out of commission.  I was the kind of miserable that doesn't remember what it's like to feel good.  My doctor/hubby finally decided it was the flu and brought home the good drugs.  I love good drugs.  It was Friday night, I was starting to feel just a little normal when I sent my Scouts off to the mountains to camp in the snow for the night. Unfortunately my body was not done betraying me.

Craptastic Week Part 3
My right side had been aching a bit that week but I chalked it up to the aches and pains of being sick and maybe a pulled muscle from coughing up a lung all week.  But by Saturday morning around 6am I knew it was more than that.  It hurt to walk, talk, sit and lay down. Since my doctor was playing Mountain Man, I texted his partner who analyzed my symptoms and told me to get a CAT scan.  Man/boy was still asleep, hubby gone.  I did not want to go alone.  So I called the next best thing.  DAAAADDDY!  Two hours, one gross drink and one CAT scan later, it was decided I had an appendicitis.  Nice.

I had been texting my husband but knew he would not be coming down the mountain until 2 or 3 pm.  I was freaking out just a bit.  My dad took me to the ER, I checked in.  They asked if I had a living will.  Really?  Does that instill confidence in your facility? I changed into my lovely open back ball gown and waited.

Then, miracle of miracles, my husband calls.  They were coming home early because of cold and snow (huh?  I thought that was the point of the trip but I was not complaining).  He was a bit amazed at my current situation. He showed up just in time, looking a smelling a bit like Grizzly Adams, but I did not care.

(I really would have liked the paisley)

So one pokey IV, cold OR, warm blanket, and anesthetist later, I was minus one pesky appendix.  Let the morphine drip begin.  In my drowsy state I was trying to think of the upside things.  I asked my husband how much an appendix weighs.  Unfortunately it is a very small organ.  Little did I know the benefits would come from having no appetite afterward for over a week  and being too sore and tired to move.  6lbs down.  I call it the Craptastic Diet.

Craptastic Epilogue
My son's car was found a few days ago in the parking lot of a grocery store near our house.  The stereo was gone but his David Archuleta CD and scriptures were still there.  There is no accounting for taste.

Having my appendix out did not cure my cold overnight.  I still had a  cough.  Trying not to cough after surgery was a whole new dimension of willpower and pain.

My fantastic family and friends have been taking good care of me.  Enough food was brought over to feed a small army.  Which is good because I have one.  My mom came over daily and did dishes and laundry.  DAAADDDY did a lot of the driving.  My TIVO did the entertaining and my hubby provided the hand holding and really good drugs.  I love good drugs.

Monday, February 14, 2011

Queen of Hearts

So much for  blogging more in 2011.  Oh well, you all will just appreciate me more when I do write. Right?

It has already been a busy hearts day around here.  I tend to sleep very restlessly when I know I have a lot to do in the morning.  So when at 10pm last night my son informed me of the 2 dozen rice crispy treats he had to have at school today, I knew my sleep would be short.  I arose 45 min. early, put on my Valentine shirt to make a run to the store, when I caught my cupid downstairs, just coming in from HIS early morning run to the store for flowers and chocolates.  Oh, so sweet.  Though the grocery store brand are not my favorite, I never met a man carrying chocolates that I did not like.  And they will get eaten. Every last one.

After kisses I went on my errand in my purple velor jogging suit, when I saw a very familiar profile leaving the store.  It was my dad, carrying what looked to be flowers and chocolates.  Hopefully for my mom.  After yelling across the parking lot towards what I hoped was his good ear, he heard me.  So I got another hug and kiss from a man carrying valentines.  Is this what I'm missing in the early mornings?

I came home with my marshmallows and cereal for treats when I noticed the teenagers car still home.  Hmmmm.  It should have been gone, at least an hour ago.  I went upstairs and  woke two sleeping high schoolers who had 15 min to make it to their first class.  Let's just say it did not happen.

As I  made Rice Crispy treats and five lunches, the kids discovered their Valentines on the table.

The 15 yr old observed that there was only candy and they usually got stuffed animals too.
Thanks for noticing.  You're welcome.  She got a little extra spit in her sandwich.

Treats were individually bagged and kids and valentines delivered to school.

Back at home my Valentines Day Laundry awaits as well as another trip or two to the store for the 3rd grade Valentines party.

I wish I had time to sit and eat my chocolates but there is no rest for the Queen of Hearts.



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