Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas everyone! I love you all.

Coping mechanims

Yes, I know my blog has kind of been a downer lately. So, here is a picture of holiday merriment and cheer taken at our ward Christmas party yesterday. Mia decided she didn't trust the santa enough to sit on his lap and made him stand next to her in the picture instead. The power of a determined not-quite-four year old is a sight to behold.

Today was another relaxing (Ha!) Sunday in the Hanosek household. I was languidly aroused from sleep by a cheerful little angel insisting that she needed me to play snake family (Mia's newest rendition of playing house...thank goodness she has moved past spider family, it was icky). And I jaunted merrily down the stairs to make a well balanced breakfast, simmered in love...in my mind. In reality I sat Mia down in front of the TV with a sippy cup of pink milk and went back to bed with my full blown case of mono. Charlie eventually felt guilty enough to get out of bed and make the poor child pancakes. We cleaned ( I recently discovered that if I tell Mia that we are playing Cinderella she will pitch in a little bit with chores. Yes I am a genius, tell your friends). I started stuff cooking in the crockpot, feeling quite smug with myself since I was obviously a successful little housewife with dinner started already. Then I looked at the clock and realized that I only had about 20 minutes until I had to be at church. I tossed a dress at Mia and prayed it didn't have any stains on it and decided that I just wasn't going to have time to do my hair, or shower, or any such nonsense and grabbed my "nursery uniform" (aka a long enough skirt that I can crawl around on the floor and a shirt with a high enough neck line that I can lean over and break up fights without exposing myself) and tugged it on while running out the door. (don't worry, my neighbors are used to me.)

Once there, it became obvious that either I had buttoned my top crookedly or someone had spread the word that I was not only disease ridden, but in the process of watching my mom lose her battle with cancer. I hate pity even if it is just for an unfortunate haircut. I can handle just about anything with my sword of scathing sarcasm and sheild of inappropriate humor, but the minute someone is sweet and caring about me I generally fall apart. Sympathy quickly reduces me to a blubbering mess, and I was already a mess with my lack of shower and what not, so church couldn't be over too soon for me. Luckily I got to hide in the nursery among the three year olds for most of the time. Preschoolers don't care about the health of your mom or what sort of diseases you are carrying, they only care about who has the fruit snacks.

So, now I have three choices. I could either hide in my house and not talk to anyone until I have reinforced my hard candy coating of self depreciation and can deflect all well meaning relief society thugs, or I could just take it and allow everyone in a five mile radius to see that I am a mere mortal, and an emotionally unstable one at that. The third option I have come up with is to trip anyone who comes up to me with a somber and sincere look on their face and point and laugh at them to break the tension. So, who wants to guess which one I am leaning towards?

Ok, really, here is my moment of serious gratitude...are you ready?....take a deep cleansing breath because here it comes... I never realized how many amazing wonderful people actually care about me and what I am dealing with. I am a very lucky girl to associate all of you. And if I trip you and point and laugh it is done out of love from the bottom of my heart.

What happened to Santa?

Mia's one and only true wish this Christmas it to have a flying Barbie. Yes, I know that there is no such thing as a flying Barbie, but I haven't been able to effectively convey that to her and she is generally pretty sure that she is right about everything and her mom is kind of an idiot. Now, I haven't had much practice at this playing Santa gig that all parents are suppose to do, this is only my third go at it. So I'm not exactly sure how to proceed. I got her a Barbie with huge butterfly wings ( I don't know why, but it kind of creeps me out) but I know that the minute she opens it she is going to launch it into the air and be bitterly disappointed. So, do I just not give it to her, or would that be a bigger disappointment? Or do I explain that Santa's elves are huge slackers and didn't make the Barbie properly and they will be receiving a letter from my lawyer? Ooo! Or maybe I could create an elaborate system of fishing line and pulleys all over our house and hook it up so it appears to be flying and just hope it never crosses her mind to take it anywhere else. Suggestions? Comments?

The other things she has asked for are: a puppy, an iPod, and a pony. Now I am kind of secretly asking Santa for a puppy too, but my husband has threatened something akin to a Hulk type reaction if a dog ever comes into his home. So, a puppy may be on hold until he softens up a little...or goes senile or something. And a pony wouldn't be too happy in the back yard of our little home with .15 acres so I'm pretty sure that one is dead in the water too. However, I do have an old iPod sitting around since I got my new one so I suppose I could easily download the Wiggles (and her other favorite songs that I won't admit I let her listen to) and wrap it up for her, but there is something fundamentally wrong with a three year old with an iPod. Wouldn't it be kind of unnerving to see a little girl who can't even read yet wandering through the mall with the little ear buds in? I'll have to think that one through some more before I decide what to do.

Oh, and the one thing that makes me do a little happy dance is that she has asked for lip gloss...lots and lots of lip gloss. I have a bit of a penchant for any sort of lip covering (Yes, I know that is an understatement, stop rolling your eyes) and it sort of warms my heart that I have passed that trait on to the future generation.

So, I'm wondering, does this Santa gig ever get any easier? Should I be rooting for the day she is a teenager and I can just hand her a wad of cash and say "Merry Christmas, kid" and still be a good parent?

let the breakdown commence

In this morning's entry I mentioned that I was expecting a holiday induced meltdown of some sort. And here it is. In the last few hours I have had phone calls informing me of a few stress inducing incidents. For example; first, my dad called to explain that my mom has taken a serious turn for the worse (which, given her two year battle with cancer is not completely unexpected, but still it sucks all the same). Shortly after I received a call from my doctor's office informing me that my routine blood screenings have confirmed that I am in the throe's of a mononucleosis extravaganza (seriously, after high school that is just embarrassing...however, come to think of it, of all the people I know who have had mono, none of them have procured it through make out sessions with random strangers.) Oh! And then I got a call from Mia's preschool teacher who wanted to inform me that my sweet angelic little girl had kicked another teacher in the shin when she tried to help her put on her hat (Mia has a thing about not getting near her ears...touching her ears usually instigates a full blown nuclear holocaust.)

So, here I sit, with nary a present purchased or wrapped, with the energy level of a ficus, crossing my fingers that my three year old doesn't get charges pressed against her, and desperately wishing I were a drinker so I didn't have to think about the manilla envelope that has been sitting on top of my fridge for the last six months that contain the plans my mother has made for her funeral.

I may not be much for Christmas cheer this year, but I definitely throw a rockin' pity party. Everyone's invited.

Oh what tangled webs we weave

So, this morning I woke up way too early, did all the normal morning things, and then rushed Mia to get dressed and get her hair done so that we could go....nowhere. After I had us all ready for the day I got a text that there was no work for me to pick up this morning. I then realized there was not a real need to go to the grocery store today, and I don't have to drive the preschool car pool for another two hours. Hmmm. Free time kind of baffles me. I suppose it is now time to start cleaning my house, but sitting here checking facebook and reading all the news headlines is more fun, and no one will ever know that I was lazy on this frigid Monday morning...except you. But you won't tell, because then I will have to spill the dirt on you...you know what I'm talking about, don't make me say it.

Facebook is an odd phenomenon. I have been a proud member for a week now and I still fail to see the point. I have reconnected with a bunch of people from my past, whom I love, but I have nothing to discuss with them on a regular basis. And the ones I do have stuff to talk about with I could just call, because they're the people I talk all the time anyway, like my husband, or my next door neighbor. Weird. Maybe I'm not doing it right. Perhaps if I stopped to ask my ex-boyfriend's roommate from college why he ended up working in the coroner's office a whole new perspective on life would open to me. Or maybe the girl I sat next to in sixth grade has some vital information to share with me that would make my life more meaningful. Or, maybe I am doing it right and it is just a way for bored housewives to avoid their chores when they are feeling lazy.

The thing I have noticed is that people who communicate on the web have a very unrealistic sense of anonymity. They say and do things that a normal person wouldn't do in public, because hey, who will know right? I, on the other hand of paranoia, am all too aware of who may be reading this. I have refrained from sharing my latest waxing escapades or irritations with my neighbors (no, not you Bonnie, or Ashley, or Joy (see what I mean? You never know who you might be typing to.)), because my dad or home teachers could happen upon this little online journal.

P.S., I'm sorry entries have been a little sparse of late. It's the holidays, and I am doing my best to not have my annual nervous breakdown.

RIP selfish Amy

Yesterday, disaster struck. My eyelash curler broke. Because of my monumental vanity this is akin to some sort of civilization ending tragedy. Ok, not really, it's not like I notified FEMA. I'm exaggerating for dramatic effect. Sheesh.

I am a self proclaimed product junky. I can spend hours and hours perusing all the magical potions and creams that are suppose to make me pretty. The only reason I am not bankrupt from this is because my nearest Sephora store is in Las Vegas. When I was single and could spend my money as selfishly as I wanted, I could easily spend 20bucks on a new eyelash curler without even thinking about it. But now I have a problem because my eyelashes don't rank very high on the family finances priority list. So, instead of actually buying the fancy shmancy one I have been partial to in the past I gritted my teeth and bough one from Walmart. My eyelashes survived and all is well in the world again.

Now I am making a mental list of the little luxuries I have bid adieu to over the years in the name of financial security. The monthly facials that once seemed mandatory are but a faint memory, the afternoons spent getting my nails buffed an polished are a distant dream. A few of the items on my list came as as a shock. I realized I have only bought 3 new dresses in the past six years. (This wasn't a conscious sacrifice, it's just too much work to go shopping and try stuff on now, plus it is so much more fun to buy Mia's dresses, they have ruffles and stuff). And purses...oh, how I loved to buy a new purse for no reason at all. Now when I start eyeing them Charlie rolls his eyes and ever so gently reminds me that I have a closet full of them in every shape, size, and color,that I never use (he's a killjoy but he is right...dang it.)

New bored housewife Amy now has new luxuries that are vital to existence. Yesterday I bought a case of chicken stock. I was giddy all the way home with my cache of chicken stock. I am rich in broth. And I am depressed that this makes me so happy. OH! and you should have seen me on the verge of joyful tears when I found that Charlie had bought my five cases of Diet Coke. I think I need a small vacation from being so responsible. Perhaps a quick jaunt to my old neighborhood for a vanilla steamer and a crepe with Jilaine will restore my sense of self. Call me, Jilaine and we'll set it up.

Things that freak me out

Now, most of you know that I am not easily fazed. Any sort of medical trauma of blood spurting merely causes a raised eyebrow. The threat of impending doom by various terrorists? It's hard to take personally so I've just accepted the fact that it may happen, and I can't stop it so why worry. But there are some things that just shouldn't be allowed. And here is my list of them.

1. Clowns. They are the embodiment of evil and doom. Their creepy exaggerated smiles are a front to hide the dark and insidious soulless creatures that they really are.

2. The power of Oprah. Why does everyone listen to her? I don't understand why she gets to decide what everyone buys, eats, thinks, and worships. The power she wields sends shivers down my spine.

3. Christopher Walkin. if you need a reason search for the Weapon of Choice video on youtube.

4. Seafood. I don't understand the appeal of eating sea creatures that resemble grotesque insects on steroids? Why is it ok to eat a lobster but not a scorpion? THEY ARE THE SAME THING.

5. Drunk naked guys. I was attacked by one once while working in the ER, but that is a story for another post.

6. Those housewives who drive minivans with little vinyl pictures of their entire family,sometimes including their dog, on their back window. What is the point of this? We know you have a large family, hence the minivan. Why the need to publicize the number and age of your children? if the dog dies do you remove his picture and replace it with whatever your replacement pet is? Sitting behind these cars at traffic lights gives me a lot of stress, because I don't understand it, so I naturally fear it.

7. Carrot Top. Why is he allowed?

Misty Water Colored Memories

For those of you who don't know, my mother is battling cancer. I am not saying this to depress anyone or garner sympathy points, but I want to explain why yesterday was spent cleaning out my parents storage room. It was dirty and gross and a chore I avoided like the plague when I actually lived in my parents home. But, as my mom has been stressed out about the state of her storage room for the past few months and was going to be at the hospital for various procedures most of the day my brilliant sister in law made the suggestion that we actually take action and clean it out instead of sitting around worrying about her for a change.

So, armed with a box full of trash bags I sat in my car, parked around the corner from their home waiting for my parents to leave their house. A few minutes later I saw their front door open and shouted at Mia to duck (she thought we were pretending to be spies so she thought this was awesome.) A couple minutes after their car pulled away I went in and raided their fridge while waiting for Russ and Amy to show up, (the prospect of being covered in dust and cobwebs all day gave me a hankerin' for doritos, what can I say) When they showed up we quickly went to work.

After a few minutes I remembered that Russ is a big cry baby when it comes to throwing things away (The umbrella stroller that only has one wheel that mom used when I was a baby!!! We can't throw that away!) So I put him and my brother David on brute duty and they carried huge boxes and bags outside to Russ's truck to be taken to the dump. Amy (my brilliant sister in law) got stuck going through old photos because I am not patient enough for that, she also was keeping an eye on the little girls so that none of them would wander into the cleaning zone and get the Hanta Virus from all the evidence of rodent life.

After about an hour we invented a game of seeing which one of us children had kept the most things at mom's house over the years. Heidi won, she even had an old laundry basket full of dirty clothes thrown in there, along with about 40 boxes of letters to and from her while in Ireland on her mission. Russ came in a close second with folders full of incompleted assignments from high school and a shoe box full of self addressed stamped enevelopes that people gave him as he was leaving on his mission to France that he was supposed to use to mail all his friends letters. I however, lost by an embarrassing margin when all I could find of mine was my wedding bouquet and a mix tape given to me by a friend in fifth grade. (I lost the arguement that the gallon jug of water in the food storage labeled from the year of my birth should count.)

So all in all, it was a day of discovery. I discovered that either I was my parents most considerate child and took all my junk with me when I moved so that it wouldn't litter their house, or that they threw all my stuff away the minute my car drove out of their driveway because they really don't like me that much. And I discovered that my dad has an unhealthy amount of books that have to do with healthy eating. Seriously, I didn't know there were that many in existence. Also, Groovy Kind Of Love by Phil Collins was popular when I was in fifth grade.

IM-apalooza

So, my typical day consists of being woken up at 6 a.m. by Mia, who wants to know if it is morning yet, then we fight over what to eat for breakfast until someone is sent to their room. Then I work. For those of you not familiar with me, I do medical transcription so by work, I mean I type like a little typing robot. I wear my little ear phones and play dictation tapes as I type so fast that my fingers are a blur...for 20 minutes at a time,just long enough to finish typing up one patients adventures with STD's, until Mia is yelling at me because there is a commercial on the TV, or she wants me to come see the sculpture she just created out of couch cushions, or sometimes I think she just yells to see if I am paying attention. Anyway, this goes on all day.

ME: type type type type.

MIA: MOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!! I need you!!!!!

ME: (sighing I take off my headphones and run down stairs) What, sweetheart?

MIA: Birds eat worms.

ME: Yup, thanks for telling me. (I turn to head back up stairs)

MIA: MOOOOMMMMM!!! WAIT!!!!!!

ME: Yes?

MIA: Um, let's make cookies.

At this point I give up on work for a while and do a few activities with the poor lonely kid.

If I had a nanny to whisk away my daughter when I was too busy, my job would take an hour and a half, tops. I type really fast, the last time I tested I was up to 80 words a minute. But, with our current method of working it takes about 4 hours typically. Not that I'm complaining, the whole point of being a work at home mom was so that I could raise my own child, but sometimes it feels like the TV is raising my child, and doing a pretty good job of it. She can name all the planets in order, which is something I definitely didn't teach her so I give the credit to Blue's Clues. And Yo Gabba Gabba (a show that may have been created by Satan) taught her that it isn't cool to bite your friends, so hey, thanks demonic children's programing!

Oh, but my point in writing this little entry is to let you all know that my computer is on all day, and I am usually sitting in front of it for a few hours. My sister, Wendy, has figured this out and IM's me on and off all day. It's awesome. I only get to see her a few times a year, but I can usually tell you exactly what she is wearing and why, when she has to do the laundry, what she is making for dinner, and what crazy shenanigans her teenage boys are getting into, and when she has to go to the bathroom. Or sometimes when Mia refuses to listen to me about something I have her call her Aunt Wendy on the computer so Wendy can tell her to do it, because Mia thinks Aunt Wendy is the coolest person ever. Because of this I can pretend that I actually have a social life, because I talk to her all day, and sometimes my dad and brother chime in too. Family togetherness through technology. I could do a commercial for yahoo messenger.

Long time gone

Man, it's been a while hasn't it? I haven't gone anywhere or been busy or anything, I log into this site every day, stare at the blank "new post" page for a few minutes, sigh, and then click over to snopes.com instead of doing anything constructive. Yes, I have been suffering from writer's block. It's hard to imagine that I have run out of things to rant about, but here we are.

Here's a little writing exercise I remember from my Snow College days. My teacher was an overenthusiastic old dude with claw like hands and a weird penchant for ignoring all punctuation rules because he thought that meant you were creative (I don't remember his name but my roommate Alicia used to do a really creepy impression of him). But, the one useful thing I remember: When you hit a writing wall, change your format. So today's post will be written in list form, as an ode to my friend Tiffany, the queen of lists.

Things that are really bugging me right now:

1. I planted bulbs yesterday but I couldn't remember which end was suppose to point up so only half of them are going to grow.

2. I can't really grow anything so probably none of them are going to grow.

3. I have an obnoxious zit on my nose.

4. Mia wants to wear her snow man pajamas to school today.

5. I have to go to Charlie's work party which is being held at my favorite restaurant, but I will have to deal with "teacher talk" while I am eating.

6. Oprah.

7. Mia hasn't eaten anything that could be construed as real food in six days.

8. Charlie is in the middle of "State Cup", the final soccer tournament of the year so I have only seen him in passing for the last two and a half weeks.

9. Yo Gabba Gabba. Honestly, it's like they go out of their way to be distubing on that show.

10. I love my clinique free gift with purchase I got last week, but I'm not so crazy about my actual purchase.

Alright, that is it as far as complaints for this morning. Thank you for bearing with me during this little exercise. I hope to be back to my witty self soon.

Germany needs an intervention...

So, a couple of weeks ago I went to Oktoberfest up in Snowbird. It's taken me this long to properly wrap my head around the whole concept in order to write about it. Attending Oktoberfest every year is apparently a Hanosek family tradition that I had escaped in the past, but this year there was no getting out of it. I tried to imagine why someone would attend who doesn't drink or own a pair of leiderhosen, but I gave up and just went. Plus Charlie told me there was lots of German chocolate cake, so hey, I was in.

We left out home on a crisp autumn afternoon, and Charlie warned me that I would have to eat Bratwurst and saurkraut before I could have chocolate cake. Then he wouldn't turn the car around...sadist. So we arrived. Mia was excited when she learned that we got to take a shuttle bus from where we finally parked our car up to the party. I was still excited about the chocolate cake. Charlie was just excited to be ummm...out. We wandered through the booths and hoards of beer swigging, leiderhosen clad partiers until Charlie's mom and brother's showed up to teach us the proper way to "oktoberfest".

Apparently you have to sit right next to the speakers when the polka bands are playing. If you don't have accordian music bleeding out your ears for the next week you didn't do it properly. Secondly you have to dance with whatever crazy old german lady wanders past your table and grabs your arm. I escaped this fate by claiming that my daughter needed me to do something (the music was loud, I'm not sure she was even speaking english to me). But a brother in law or two got caught in the old ladies german frenzy, and like a good mother, my mother in law laughed and got pictures of them. It warmed my heart.

Then the bratwurst showed up. Gross. I took a bite, and then I smelled the saurkraut and ran to find the crazy old polka lady to put me out of my misery. I hid behind a crowd of drunk college guys until everyone had eaten and then showed up magically in time for desert. The cake was totally worth it.

Now, cake aside, this isn't an activity I would recommend to many people. Especially if you are the sober type. I'm sure it is much more enjoyable when you are drunk, kind of like walking the strip in Vegas. Or maybe if you have a secret yearning to wear a german wench dress or leiderhosen and a Von Trapp hat. I guess there aren't too many outlets for that crowd.

The hills are alive

Do you ever find yourself promising yourself that you will do something? I do it constantly. Just this morning I swore I would actually tackle the ironing piling up in my closet. I have had an almost violent aversion to ironing since working in a dry cleaners as a teenager. It was just so steamy and hot, and not in a good way. It was also burny. And sometimes people yelled at me. Including my brother in law, because I lost his shirt, but that is not my point. My point is that my ironing is still sitting in a pile on my closet floor, increasing it's wrinkle intensity as I type.

I also find myself promising me that I will no longer burst into song at random moments, especially in public. But, gosh darn it, what are you suppose to do when you are at the bank and you are standing in line with your little check book and the cashier gives you the strangest look (it's a Judd's song,for those of you with a slightly more narrow musical universe. Therefore, you must sing the above line with as much of a twang as possible). Now, these outbursts don't cause much alarm around my house, Charlie doesn't even look up from whatever he is doing when I burst into a musical number complete with choreography, and Mia just tries to sing louder than me. However, when you do this at the grocery store or library you mostly get frightened looks from old ladies who assume that you are high on crack. So, that is another personal resolution, stop freaking out old ladies with my uncanny ability to find a song for every situation.

The other thing I vow to stop doing every night is preparing too much food for dinner. I blame this on my mother. As a child I grew up helping her make dinner for seven people (or nine if the missionaries are coming over). Now there are just three people in my home and one of them will only eat things that a) contain cheese, b) are pink, or c) a cookie. So, I end up with a huge storage container of whatever the main dish was stuck in the back of the fridge every night until I run out of plastic containers and realize that some of my leftovers have been sitting in the dark recesses of my fridge for a month. So I clean out my fridge, making gagging sounds the whole time. Also, the storage containers are usually too scary for me to deal with so I just throw them away and buy new ones. This has to stop, I vow every night to make it stop. Yet somehow, the next evening I end up with enough food to feed seven hungry adults, again.

So, if any of you are in my neighborhood 'round about six o'clock, stop on by for dinner, I probably have plenty to go around. Also, there will probably be a floor show including me singing about whatever the side dish is and Mia singing her abc's at the top of her lungs. Good times.

TV bounty

So, a friend who shall remain nameless gently reminded me that it had been a while since I have updated this blog. Gosh, you people must be starved for entertainment. Well, I'll do my best but really all you have to do is turn on your TV, it's premier season (hoorah!). I love TV premier season, it is my favorite holiday. It's like Christmas, except instead of someone giving me a scrapbooking starter kit which would end up mysteriously in the trash the next morning, I get a brand new show or two to while away my evenings.

My usual plan of attack come September is to set my DVR to record everything, even if it looks painfully dumb. Then, after Mia is in bed and all the dishes are clean I settle down into my awesome comfy circle couch and start the first show on my list (alphabetically, chronologically is too confusing for me). Then after ten minutes I either hate the show (most reality shows or shows that take place in a high school of any sort) or I am in love (tortured souls like Dexter or Charlie Crews from life make my world go round). Then, I have a formula that evaluates the entertainment value versus the time loss....ok, not really, actually I just see what I actually remember to watch as the season wears on. Usually I forget about most of them. It's just TV. I have more important things to do like go to Charlie's soccer game du jour...or fold laundry (ha!) or write my highly entertaining blog before someone wilts in front of their computer screen waiting for me to update this here blog.

Christa Tagged me...

I usually just ignore these things because I assume I am too boring for people to care, but I don't have anything better to do right now and Christa has laid down the challenge.

Pertinent information about me

10 years ago I:
1. Went to UVSC
2. Lived at Belmont Apartments with some of the coolest roommates ever.
3. Started my careere in the medical industry at.
4. Met this dorky guy named Charlie and talked him into being a teacher because he would be good at it.
5. Sat around and wished I was as brave as Christa and moved to Hawaii, just because I could.

5 things on today's TO DO list:
1. Fold the laundry
2. Pic Mia up from school
3. Go grocery shopping
4. Figure out dinner
5. Figure out why my hair is suddenly so limp and lifeless (vitamin imbalance?)

5 snacks i enjoy:
1. Those tiny babybel cheese wheels.
2. Flipside crackers.
3. Chocolate
4. Chicken/artichoke lean pockets
5. Diet Coke.

5 things I would do if I were a millionaire:
1. Pay off house, car, and any debt.
2. Buy my husband his Mazda 6 that he has been drooling over.
3. Travel to Europe (Italy and Ireland)
4. Design my own house and build it and decorate it.
5. Go on a cruise a year for the rest of my life.

5 places I have lived:
1. Kearns
2. Ephraim
3. Provo
4. Downtown Salt Lake City
5. Spanish Fork

5 jobs I have had:
1. Podiatry assistant
2. Assistant to the director of Desert Star Playhouse
3. OB nurse
4. Dry Cleaner cashier
5. Pulmonary tech

Ok, that's it. Now I am suppose to tag other people, to fill this out on their blogs, so go on Amy A. Other than that I don't know who has blogs, but I think you should all fill this out. It is fun to talk about yourself.

Cozy Mornings

So, it is Sunday morning, 6:00 a.m. and I am awake. Darn it. Mia's got me trained to be up every three hours or so looking for bugs, so when she actually sleeps all night, like last night, my internal clock gets all mixed up. However, the upside of this is that I actually have a few minutes to myself to do something productive before the rest of the family is up begging for attention.

This is what is known as a cozy moment in my house. My sister Wendy is obsessed with being cozy and has rubbed off greatly on Mia. We can't just have a bath, we have to turn out the lights, light a candle and have a cozy bath. We can't just drink hot chocolate, we have to get really cold somehow, turn off the lights and put on christmas music and drink cozy hot chocolate. So, I figure me being up all by my lonesome, cracking open that first Diet Coke of the day, listening to the trains go by and the Spanish Fork wind blowing in the new day would be a cozy moment too. (I don't know why but my last four placed of residence have been close to train tracks, I've gotten used to train whistles at all hours and now find them soothing.) I think I will tell Mia about this so that she will let me do it more often, cozy moments rule here.

Ok, but here is my point for the day. I feel that as a young LDS housewife I have an inordinate amount of guilt about sitting still for a few minutes. My first thought when I woke up is that I should hit the treadmill before anyone woke up to stop me. Or perhaps study my scriptures. Or plan next weeks menus. Or maybe repaint my living room. But, I decided to brave the guilt and read the celebrity gossip sites for a few minutes instead. I'll have to deal with my over active conscience later.

School days

Mia started preschool yesterday. I know, I am an old lady, I don't need you rubbing it in. I have been preparing her for weeks. We bought a lunch box, and practiced using it (she loves packing up her lunch, walking around the block, and then coming back in the kitchen and eating, her grandpa would be proud). We visited her classroom the day before and met her teachers (there are four of them, which seems excessive to me but I guess if I were going to be stuck in a room with 10 to 13 three year olds I would want as much back up as possible, they might gang up on you and kick you in the shins.)

Anywho, this has been a very stressful week because when we went to check out her class room I saw where we were going to have big issues. The class potty. They have one in their room, which is great, but it is an automatic flushing one, which gives Mia nightmares. I recall the great "Vernal Mcdonald's Potty War of '07", those of you that are there are probably still having post traumatic stress flashbacks where you hear Mia's shreiks of terror ringing out from the bathroom. To this day, any time she has to use a public restroom we have to have a heart to heat talk about whether the potty is "normal" or "automatic" (my three year old can say "automatic" which probably isn't a big accomplishment but it makes me proud.) So, automatic flushers are bad, that is my point. I thought for a few minutes about warning her teachers, but then I thought that maybe if I didn't make a huge deal out of it she would forget her terror and just use the darn thing.

Finally the big day rolled around. Mia actually sat still to let me do her hair, she put on her favorite new outfit and sat by the door at exactly 9:48...her class didn't start until 11:00. So I tried to distract her with errands I made up and her favorite show of the moment. Finally it was time to go. I read over her checklist the teacher gave us to make sure she had everything in her new Tinkerbell back pack and realized I didn't pack her an extra change of clothes. So I ran up to her room and grabbed her ratty old sweat pants and a t-shirt, thinking "the class is only two and a half hours, she won't need this". And we walked to school half a block a way. Well, I walked, Mia ran like a giddy horse. We walked hand in hand down the hall and into her class room, and at the door, she turned to me and said "ok mom, this class is for kids, you need to go home now."

Oh the pain she stabbed through my heart with those words. I guess I could be happy she is well adjusted and stuff, but secretly I think she was just so darn excited to get a break from me. Yes, I have self esteem issues, what is your point? So I walked home with tears in my eyes and stared at the clock until it was time to pick her up. I ran back to the school and entered her classroom, trying to look semi-dignified and not like that pathetic mom who has no life outside of her children.

I found Mia, and one other little kid alone in the classroom with the head teacher. At first I thought maybe they were in trouble, but it turns out that all the other kids in the class had to ride the bus home so they had left a couple minutes earlier. Mia was gleefully shouting through the aquarium glass at the class pet, a tiny frog and the little boy was staring in to space picking his nose. When Mia saw me she looked a little bit perturbed that I had shown up to ruin her fun. I gave her a hug, which she gracefully allowed, and as I pulled back I noticed that she was wearing her ratty sweat pants, not the pretty ballerina outfit she had so carefully donned that morning. Crap.

The teacher must have seen my face because she quickly came to Mia's defense. She stated that she made it to the bathroom and everything, and stuff wasn't her fault, blah blah blah...I smiled and apologized and whisked Mia away. I know exactly what happened. It was the automatic potty. I have a new foe to defeat. It will be a super fun project for the year.

Super fun phone drama....

So here's what happened to my phone. Charles and I are trying out having no land line in our home and just using cell phones. This has worked ok so far, but since we got our phones while living in Salt Lake, all our neighbors have to dial long distance to call us. We talked about changing them every once in a while but never seemed to get around to it. But now, Mia is starting preschool and the school does not have long distance access (I guess the district found a way to cut financial corners). So, for the sake of Mia's education we finally went in and had our phone numbers changed last night.

In a whirl of excitement, I texted and emailed everyone I could think of and sent them my new number. (This actually turned into a fun getting-in-touch-with-people-you-haven't-spoken-to-in-years exercise. Hey Jules, nice to talk to you last night, I'm glad your still breathing.) Then this morning I wandered over to a few neighbors homes and gave them our brand new local number (hoorah!! we can have friends now). And then one of them tried to call me....and it was still long distance. Grrrrr....

So, I called the cell phone company and told them that they weren't the brightest crayon in the box collectively (individually they might all be MENSA candidates, who knows). After explaining it to them three times, calling a local store to confirm the Utah County code they need to find the right phone number we had the numbers changed again. This time I sent Charlie to the neighbors house to call before I bothered everyone with more text messages and he says it works. I am half tempted to give out my phone number here but I'm not dumb...some of the time. Email me if you need it.

house of disease

So here's the thing about me. I am the worst sick person in the world. I get whiny and grouchy the minute I feel any sort of sick. Last weekend I was so sick I am pretty sure I died. It was like something out of the Exocist. I won't go into detail but it wasn't pleasant, for me or anyone within a five mile radius. And since it was the first week of school I wasn't even allowed to cry on Charlie's shoulder, lest he should get the sniffles on the first day of teaching. So, I wallowed in my misery all by myself, with nary a caretaker mopping my feverish brow. Poor poor me.

Despite my best efforts, it seems that Charlie is now coming down with the flu of death. He is starting to get a glazed over look in his eye and looks like it is painful to move. He hasn't started complaining yet, but looked at me like I was satan a few hours ago, so I think he knows that I have infected him. I now amend my previous statement as I am starting to recall that I am only the second worst sick person in the world, with Charlie beating me by a mile. He needs constant sympathy for the smallest cold. So, this is not going to be pleasant. It may take a few days before I have the time or strength to write again. I may be too busy nursing my poor husband back to health...by Monday or there will be heck to pay.

The disease continues...

Ok, Charlie didn't really get sick, he just had body aches and was whiny for a day. But here's the new twist. I have a disgusting eye infection. I hid in the house all day yesterday, but today I desperately need groceries so I am trying to figure out if I would creep people out by wearing my sun glasses all through the store. Maybe people will just assume I am hung over. I also need to go to the bank, but I don't want anyone to think I am a suspicious character, so I don't think my sun glasses can protect me from public ridicule there.

It's amazing how vain I find myself being. I am skipping my kickboxing class as we speak because I don't want any of my neighbors to be grossed out by my swollen left eye. Yes, the logical part of me knows that probably no one will pay attention to me enough to even notice, but there is no logic involved in my vanity. I've been known to call in sick to work when I had a particularly bad break out. (Yes, I know that therapy might help me face my fear of my debilitating fears, but who has the time).

So, for this post I am very happy that I am not in the habit of posting pictures. You don't want to see this. And I don't want to document it for posterity. I am determined that my grandchildren never know that I had human flaws.

farmer's market

So, round about August in Spanish Fork the farmer's market opens saturday morning in front of City Hall. I have an unusually excited reaction to this every saturday. Maybe it's because I've never successfully grown anything,(seriously, I killed a chia pet and a cactus in quick succession) so the wonder of meeting the people who actually produced the produce gives a certain amount of reverence. Also, Mia likes to eat whatever picks out at the market, which is weird because she doesn't like a lot of stuff that isn't pink. Today she picked out summer squash and is still dancing around the house about it. So I feel like a good mom and a good citizen for supporting my local farmers today. I get a gold star.

Also, I threw away a dead little pine tree I had in a pot on my front porch. I had high hopes for this tree. I was going to decorate it with twinkle lights come Christmas time, and maybe even a few ornaments. But it died. Like everything I plant it quickly dried up and turned brown, despite being a vigilent waterer and generous with the miracle grow. My heart still hurts from this bitter disappointment.

My new idea is to just stick a fake tree in the pot of dirt and pretend. I am nothing if not great at pretending. I will plant a fake tree and dare everyone around me to tell me that it isn't real.