At this very moment I am questioning my judgement in writing a post right now. I'm a little...not myself, due to lack of sleep, and nourishment, and the fact that I just watched the movie "Honey" on VH1 out of sheer boredom which I believe has cost me at least ten IQ points. So, who knows what I might type? (Oh, speaking of typing, I just hooked up my new fancy ergonomic keyboard all by myself and it actually works! I accomplished a feat of technology without adult supervision!!! I will do a dance of superiority later when I am able to move without severe vomiting.)

So, I just got back from another "vacation". This time the soccer extravaganza was in Cedar City. So, yeah, that was just great. And I thought I would be all kinds of excited to come back to my own cozy home and be amongst my own stuff that didn't include those hideous bedspreads they always have in motels to hide whatever bodily fluid stains they are hiding. Yet, as I walked into my own, cherished home a thought struck me....the maid didn't come to my house magically while I was gone. Stupid fictional maid. The dishes that I was just too in a hurry to wash the day we were leaving were still sitting in the sink and various other little chores that I had blocked out in my four days of soccer games in the Southern Utah rain (that would be a good name for a rock band) were still waiting patiently to be done by your truly. So, instead of being the cheerful little camper I usually am after riding all day in a car with a really hot but sweaty and rain soaked referee who had just yammered on about the subtleties of corner kicks for four hours, I was a little bit...deflated. I went to my room and shut the door and started singing Disney songs to myself (because that is always what i figured I would do in the midst of a mental breakdown, it was very soothing). Apparently my eerie singing and lack of verbal response was a warning to my family to leave me alone because I didn't hear the hesitant little knock at my door until a good 15 minutes later (15 minutes is an eternity to Mia). She slowly poked her head through the doorway and said "Mom, are you ok? I think it's my bedtime and I can't read my books myself" Such a cute little thing when she is nagging.

So, I put my nevous breakdown aside to enjoy later and started a batch of laundry on the way to Mia's room to put her to bed. I must of still looked a little deranged because when I was done she asked for her dad to come check on her because she was scared...but when I asked of what she just looked at me and said "Uh, get dad please". So I did, and then I started cleaning the kitchen and went to bed without another word to anyone,

Today I feel much better, and no one seems to be afraid of me, at least not in my home, some of the neighbors have always been a little nervous around me and I don't see that changing anytime soon. And that is my homecoming story. Thanks for listening to my rant.

so nice of you to drop by

While I still maintain that Jenny the visiting teacher is so unrealistically nice she probably has cartoon birds come and help her fix her hair in the morning, I have held my own today. I took dinner to a neighbor in need. And I actually cooked it...not out of a box or anything.

Here's how it went down: Tuesday night I get a call from my local compassionate service guru. She frantically explained that I had a new visiting teachee, who turns out is one of my good friends. "Yay! Lisa (names have been changed to protect the uncoordinated) already knows I'm a slacker" I thought, "but why is this pertinent right now?" Turns out this was a good question because the compassionate service chick then said "she broke both her arms last night...go do nice things and stuff." So, my first thought was to laugh, because it totally sounded like something that I would do and yet I wasn't the one in casts. Then I felt bad and called her and demanded an explanation. She fell down. Not even a good story. My heart went out to her and I did my best to not laugh while I talked to her. Because, really, it is horrible. She has a 1 year old and a 4 year old at home, how the heck is she going to handle that? It's awful, but still I was morbidly amused. So to make up for my inappropriate humor I vowed to make her an actual meal on my assigned night to feed her and her family.

Now, this hasn't happened in a while because I still have a strong aversion to...food. Unless it is a Popsicle, then bring it on. So I went to the store...three times because remembering things isn't my forte. I laid out the mise en piece (see! I am a chef being smothered by a lazy personality, I know the fancy french way of saying ingredients) and made chicken kabobs. You see, Lisa (again, name has been changed to protect the allergic) doesn't eat gluten or dairy. So sad for her. I usually get my kicks out of making cookies and eating them with milk when she comes over to visit. But, since I was being nice I decided to actually go with the flow of her diet restrictions today instead of taunting her. I grilled them on my Foreman grill and packed up a salad and was ready to go do my best Florence Nightingale impression.

My family had hot dogs for dinner. I'm aiming for niceness, not sainthood. So, yes, it was a baby step in my quest for finding my inner compassion for others, but I am still proud of me, paying back my debt to society, as it were. Now if only I can continue resisting the urge to sit on my porch and throw chips at all the cute little relief society ladies that go jogging by on a regular basis....

how nice is too nice?

In general I think I am a pretty nice person...at least outwardly, on the inside sometimes I am tripping old ladies and pointing and laughing at funny looking children (not yours, of course, they are beautiful in every way). But every once in a while I run into someone that can run circles around my kindness and not even get winded while they run bake sales for the homeless. One such person that comes to mind is my visiting teacher (whom shall remain nameless, although I know that she reads this when she gets really bored so Hi Jenny!!!). A few weeks ago I was placed on bed rest for the first trimester of my current pregnancy because...umm...my doctor likes to see how far he can push me, (seriously, I used to work for the guy and he once sent me on a hunt through the hospital for a condom catheter, even though it was an OB office, just for his own amusement.) So I was really quite frustrated and bored and nauseous all at the same time and this made me a wee bit unpleasant to be around. Anyway, I shared this with my visiting teachers and Jenny decided that she was going to bring me dinner once a week, just because that is how she rolls. And she's a good cook so I only argued with her a little bit. My other visiting teacher is also filled to the brim with human kindness, but she was too busy going to Hawaii and stuff, without me.

Finally after weeks of atrophy the "Amy doing anything" ban was lifted and I was once again allowed to move. I celebrated by taking a three mile walk, which quickly taught me that weeks of laying around doesn't do much for your muscle tone. So, after caring for my gelatinous like body I made cookies so I could return some of Jenny's recent dishes full of goodies. Today, I packed Mia up in the car and drove to her house where Mia quickly spotted Jenny's son in the back yard preparing to make a mad dash down his slip and slide. That is all Mia needed to know, she bolted out of the car and made a B-line for the back yard before I could even knock on the door to announce our presence. I tossed the plastic containers at Jenny and explained that my daughter was rampaging in her back yard and I had to go catch her. But instead of rolling her eyes and helping me contain my child, she said "why don't you just leave her here and I'll bring her home when they are done getting wet." Nice. Way Too Nice. So, instead of carting a grumpy preschooler around with me on my errands for the afternoon I got to take a leisurely stroll through the grocery store and come home with enough time to write in my blog before I had to be a responsible parent again. Now, Mia is home with a huge smile on her face and a warmth in her heart, and shoulders because the poor little girl is an albino like me and shouldn't be in the sun for more than 30 seconds at a time. All of this thanks to the un ending kindness of my cute friend. I keep trying to think of ways to pay her back but I already know that if I try to do something for her she will "out kindness me" and end up re-roofing my house or something, and this has all got to end somewhere.

And Jenny, if you are ever in an actual bad mood...the kind that makes you want to kick puppies, please call me so I can come see. It would do my heart good to see that even you have bad days.

Excuses Excuses...

Ok, you know how when you should really be doing something but you just can't make yourself do it? Right now I should really really be working, but I have been listening to the turtle doctor (that is what I call the particular doctor who's dictating to me today because he sounds like he is 103 years old and is covered in cobwebs and dust, sitting at his desk in a dark corner, forgotten by all office staff) and I just can't take it any more. Well, that and the violent nausea that has been caused by either trying a new Mexican restaurant for lunch or my rapidly fluctating hormone levels. It's a tough call. I really just want to go to bed, or sit on my circle couch and nap while Mia is watching WordGirl. (Have you ever watched that show? I have a crush on Chuck the Evil Sandwich Making Guy.) But instead of crashing into a coma like state I am sitting here at my computer, willing myself to put my headphones back on and type just a little bit more so I don't have to work all mother's day weekend.

Yeah, it's not going to happen. Good effort Amy. Time for a break. I did promise Mia I would take her to the smelly stuff store (aka Bath and Body Works) She likes to try on everything and comes out of there smelling like an over ripe fruit basket. Perhaps a trip to the mall will recharge my motivation to work.