Jealous

Ask around. I'm not the jealous type.  

I have green tendencies at times, but they're really pretty rare. Every few years, I'm guessing. I don't covet people's diamonds or homes or cars or children.  That's not to say I don't have a tremendous number of other foibles - because I do. I really am a rotten, stinking person  - I just don't suffer from jealousy a lot. 

But homeys - I am going to admit something. I'm feeling jealous right now.

For a long time, I've enjoyed the music of Wicked.  The girls and I dance around to it and looooove it.  We know all the words.

This year, Jackie Oh and I read the book.  Frankly, it's a smutty, trashy, yuck that she and I both put down more times than I can recall.  I thought it was vile.  I couldn't reconcile how such wonderful music could have sprung from such a pervy book. Still, I read on, because I was convinced I was going to see the play.

I had hoped to surprise Jackie with a pair of tickets for her and I to go and see it. Ohhh, I tried to get tickets. I tried and tried and tried.  As soon as they were on sale, I spent half a day clicking and clicking and entering codes and waiting for best available seats - and the best deal I could find were tickets at $154 a person.  And that price was before all the fees, taxes, and mandatory pre-paid $20 for the parking garage.

Needless to say, I am not taking Jackie.  We suffered through the book for nothing.  The sexual exploits of puppets - a husband and wife cheating on each other with the same man - yup - I read it all and skimmed what I could hoping somewhere in the text, it would tie in to the beautiful music I love.

It never did and I wish I could Clorox my brain out.

So - big deal, right?  I'm not going. I'll just have left in my brain the rotten stinking book and someday I'll forget.

Except...  Everyone I know is going.  People who are broke, are going.

People who are students and don't work, are going.

People who have been in jail this year, are going.

People who are divorcing their spouse, are going.  (With each other!)

People who complain they hate the theater, are going.

EVERYONE IS GOING BUT ME!

WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH

I keep asking the theater-goers if they have read the book.  I haven't met a one who has read the book, yet.

And I wouldn't be so bitter, but I read that horrible book anticipating going - am not getting to go - and have that filthy book stuck in my brain! And no one else has the filth in their head AND they are going to hear the beautiful music.

What I learned from this is that I will never again read smut.  OK - never is a long time, but not any time in the foreseeable future are smut and I going to hook up.  I'm getting too old. I'm a prude.  And in the end, what're the chances you'll get tickets to the musical after you endured the smut?  Low chances, my friends. Loooow chances.

There. I got that off my chest.  I'll carry on with my other vices now and leave jealousy behind.  

Yours truly, 

Elphaba

Water park observations

Today, our family went to a new water park in our city. It was a blast. It was 2.0's birthday gift/party and a good time was had by all.  

As usual, my favorite activity was people watching. I could people watch all day if loitering weren't so frowned upon.  And when I watch folks, I try to learn from their successes and, well, their foibles.  And no doubt, they mine!

So here are some of Mama's Musings.  Feel free to chime in.

1.  Chubby-butted girls of America - hear me out. I am one of you.  I love the donut, too.  And we should not be ashamed of our bods. Nosireebob.  

But cuties, we must be prudent. There are swimsuits in our size that we should never wear. When we are, say, 450 pounds, we should, possibly pass on the two-piece swimsuit. 

Particularly, the skimpy, two-piece swimsuit.  

Particularly the skimpy, two-piece swimsuit that falls off in the wave pool.

I believe in you! I know you can find something sexy and large.  Don't stick to just Wal-Mart. It's time to google, darlings.

2.  Speaking of my larger angels...I know, ladies, it can be hard to find a great suit. Something fun that offers plenty of support and coverage and smooths out the parts that need smoothing - whew - it can be tricky. I know that!  

But let's not just go in the water in, oh, say,  a white t-shirt with no bra on underneath, and some shorts. 

See - believe this or not! - the rest of us are going to be able to see through that shirt when it gets wet.   

Now, we're not going to mock you for this mistake now, but let's try not to do that again, K?

3.  Let's just get this out there in the open. 

Men.  Back hair.  Some of you have it.  Some of you have a lot of it.

A lot lot.

OK - it's not your fault!  Blame your parents.  But let's consider some removal processes. 

This might not be for everyone - I get that. But for those of you who let your children sit on your back and braid it and put it in pony tail holders, it might be time to think about, gosh, even just a trim.  Take an inch or so off the top.

I'm just saying...

4.  Seeing as I've now captured my dude audience, let me just share this.  Women - you feel free to say it along with me.

No

man

who

likes

girls

looks

good

in

a

Speedo.

Evah.

Not when they are little boys - not when they are old - not when they are slim - not in the right kind of lighting....just plain never.

I could elaborate on the giant disservice it is doing for y'all, but I will take the high road.  Don't kill the messenger my friends.  It seemed like a good idea. It wasn't.  Don't make this bigger than it is - just live and learn - live and learn.

5.  Tevas.  Let's face it. These are insanely ugly shoes.  You know it - I know it - your feet know it.  Your feet weep when you pull those bad boys out.  

But let's not add insult to injury, good people. There's no need to have Tevas AND toes that look like this.  

Ultimately, I'd like to see you have neither, but, I will concede that perhaps I am in the wrong and Tevas' 1995-beauty is in the eye of the beholder and I should shut up. But I stand firm on this - there's no reason to have severely funky toes AND Tevas.  Choose you this day - fungi nails OR overly strapped, velcro-ed monstrosities.  

Not both.

5.  Bathing suits are for covering body parts. Not exposing usually hidden ones.

So, when you are spilling out of your top, it might be time to get a new suit. Clearly, your dryer did something horrible to your suit - it is not your fault. But it is your responsibility to hide your parts from us. 

Think of it as a game.  You hide your parts and we, ummm, well, we'll work on that part of the game at a later date.

I know - I know - in Europe, it's all good. But sadly, we're here. Bummer.  Now put the ta-tas away.  Because when you don't, it makes 3.0 say, "I see big, strong boobies!"

And while that is insanely funny to me, when you get all persnickety about it, you're just ruining all the best giggles.

There ya have it. Just a few of Mama's Musings about water parks.  Now, do you care to share?

Life in paradise

It's pretty good living in Florida.  It's lovely a lot of the year. The clothes here are great. I was just reflecting on that a couple of days ago, in fact.  You can wear cute flip flops and sandals all year and that makes my feet oh-so-happy. Style-wise, anything goes and it's fashionable to be fashionable.  Sure, it gets hot down here - but there's a pool every few feet.  It's always green and gorgeous and there's continually something in bloom to make you smile.

Yup - life here is pretty good.

Minus, ya know, the bugs.  And, the ummm, gators.  The gators that flock to my yard are especially pesky.  Yeah, I said gatorS.  Plural.  Because there's another dang gator out there right now!!!

I was just chittering chattering with Jackie Oh today when I spotted Stripey. I thought he was pretty big, but on second glance, I think he's more like a 4-5 footer.  He's still stripey, so I think that means he's a baby. But he's a BIG baby.  I never remember seeing one this big still striped.

If I'm going to have another pet gator on our pond, I SO better not get hit with a hurricane this year.   

Above is a picture of our last gator neighbor.  I'll try to get a picture of the newbie tomorrow.  

Visiting Teaching

I ran into my friend today. On Sunday, she'll be set apart as her ward's Relief Society President.

Like me, her husband is in the Bishopric (mine is second counselor - hers is first.)  We both have 3 young children at home.  Both of us had been serving (happily!) in Primary before this call.

She had called me last week to talk about it, but I was out of town.  She's in a different stake now (she was my Primary President predecessor - crazy parallel lives), and it's good to have a Relief Society President-friend in a different stake to bounce ideas off of.  She had a lot of questions and I didn't have a lot of answers, but we chatted and cried and explored the scariness and happiness of it all.  We talked about the joys of seeing folks work through their problems and the many blessings that come with the calling.

I told her Visiting Teaching is the KEY to a smooth running Relief Society and remembered our hysterical Visiting Teaching movie!  C-Dawg, St. Counselor and I showed this movie at our Visiting Teaching interviews last October.  Before your interview, you watched this movie, ate some chocolate, filled out paperwork, laughed, cried, and bonded with your sisters.

As I was emailing this movie to my newest Presidential sister, I thought I'd share it with y'all, too. I hope it makes you laugh and maybe inspires you a little...

(Oh, and for what it's worth, I highly recommended blogging your worries away to my friend. I told her how kind many of y'all have been to me and she laughed.  I laughed too, but I was serious about how thankful I am of having my own cyber Relief Society.)

Sometimes, it's best to be out of town

Well homefries, I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaack.

Did y'all check out our sweet digs (featured above?)  We know how to live!!  I wasn't sure it would float, but it did and we had a blast!

It was a great time bonding with Drama-o and Captain Jack.  We're all a little browner and a little more rested and totally not ready to deal with real life.  In a tribute to Hemingway (we were in Key West, after all) I'll let Drama share our little gem, The Pea Coat and the Sea.  

Speaking of real life, I am not at all sad to have missed out on home life for 6 days while I was gone.  See - 3.0 got some sort of creeping crud that eventually landed her in the pediatrician's office with a 104 fever.  The same day, 1.0 was complaining that her throat hurt, so at the last minute, she escorted Grandma and 3.0 to the doctor's office.  While there, the female doctor (who Mother-in-law was sure was a nurse because she is a woman) found some strep throat and a mystery infection hanging with my homeys.

Amoxicilin to the rescue!  Now, our grocery store gives out many prescriptions for free - and that is one of them.  No cost - no nothing but picking that stuff up and doling it out to your angels. Sadly, though, for free, they don't add the flavoring to that bad boy that makes kids not want to wretch it out.  Mother-in-law was wrestling trying to get the kiddos to swallow it. Stinks to be her!*  

So, Mother-in-law comes home from the "nurse" to find that the fridge had died and the freezer items had melted on the kitchen floor.  GOOD TIMES!  Luckily, our friends stowed the rest of our food for her and called the repair man. They had also picked up 3.0 from school when they called to say she had a fever and had to go home.  I love them!

I feel badly for Mother-in-law, but am not at all sad to have missed it.  Sounds to me like the PERFECT time to have been on vacation.  I came home to antibiotics-ed kids and a running fridge. 

I learned a couple of things from going away this time:

• dirty, ripped, random pea coats can be fun.
  
• kids can be sick and live without their moms.
  
• 70-year-old, leather-skinned women should not wear silver, lame bikinis. Ever.  Even with blood red lipstick.  Especially with blood red lipstick. The 5 carat diamond did not distract us enough, ya know?
  
• always show your babysitter where the thermometer is - because it's hard to explain its location over the phone bobbing in the ocean.
• no matter how much laundry you did pre-vacation, someone will still somehow find some amount of your underwear and will wash it. And will explain to you how to better get stains out.  Oh yes - feel my mortification with me, friends!  It was just utterly Fantastik. **
  

Perfect vacation - interesting home return - and now I'm ready and raring to go celebrate 2.0's birthday!  She's reached the ripe old age of seven!  Life is good...

*Update - I took the meds back to the pharmacist who laughed that my kids won't drink the stuff and added flavoring in about 45 seconds.  Ahh - a mother's touch!

**The stains were from red paint - and no, I didn't paint my walls in my panties!  The paint went through the shirt and onto the....wait - why am I explaining this again?  Apparently, I wasn't mortified enough first explanation through....

She's making a list - checking it twice...

....hoping her kids aren't naughty but nice.

Mama(Mormon's) leaaaaaaaaving town.

She'll be bobbing on some big waves

and scootering round Key West.

She's ready to have lots of fun

as her cruising buddies are the best.  WOOT

So you better not pout, 

better not cry!

Better not tell any Internet lies....

Mama(Mormon's) leaaaaaaaaaaving town!

OK folks - try not to get banned, stalked, or put on posting restrictions anywhere while I'm gone!  Be good - choose the right - and someone make sure Jackie Oh goes to bed early every night and rests a lot.   

101 things to do with a shoe holder

Or, like, two. Maybe three.  Ten, tops.

First, take your average, everyday door.

Next, add your average, everyday mess. (I'll let you just imagine your cruddiest looking mess right now - visualize - visualize....we'll wait until you are ready.)

Mix the two together and a wondrous thing happens!

All the odds and ends from Super Saturday crafts and kids' school projects now have a home. FINALLY - a place for extra ribbon and the hot glue gun that is NOT a kitchen cabinet or anywhere in your bedroom closet!  

It's like a closet door/crafty mullet. Business door in the front - mess in the back. Oh yeah!!

With a simple shoe caddy, kids' hair stuff becomes well-organized and it's easy to find the perfect bow to coordinate with your new monkey-sneakers. Arrange the accessories in color coded order and have some roygbiv peace of mind.

But wait - that's not all! You can hang one over the door between the garage and the house and folks can put keys and wallets and cell phones in a handy spot! Small toys can easily be stowed away and found again with a glance!  And no floor, counter, or closet space has been utilized. From the front, you have a nice looking door. Only your family knows the little secret that hides on the back!

Why I am not a candidate for the Nobel Prize with these types of suggestions for more peaceful living, I will never know.  Al Gore has nothing on me!  You want peace - you live like this baby!

Life is unfair

We all know life is unfair.

This week, I experienced, firsthand, some of the unfairness of it all.

Riddle me this.  Why, if I have ignored the exercise room in our house and  have not set a toe in that puppy in months, is it filled with dust and grime and funk?  

There were dust snakes hanging from the ceiling fan.  I was tempted to just keep it running so no one noticed.  :)

It seems fair that if you've given up using a room in the home, it should stay dust-free and sparkly, does it not?

Just to show that room who is the boss, I'm back to working out. If I am going to have to clean you, I might as well use you.  That's long been my mantra for children, and I'll now apply it to housekeeping. 

Life's a cruel, cruel joke.

My first game of TAG

I got tagged by Mr. Fob and while I am perhaps not one of his favorite folks on the Net, I am going to pretend he hates the others more.

The rules of the game go like so:

1.  Pick up the nearest book (at least 123 pages long.)

2.  Turn to page 123.

3.  Find the 5th sentence.

4.  Post the 5th sentence on your blog.

5.  Tag 5 friends to do the same!

Here's my sentence:

"He was a good king, his mother be damned."

Ok - that's a pretty great line, eh? Mr. Fob, with a line like that, I'm moving up in my popularity rating, right?!

It's from A Treasury of Royal Scandals: The Shocking True Stories of History's Wickedest, Weirdest, Most Wanton Kings, Queens, Tsars, Popes, and Emperors by Michael Farquhar and provided it's ever peaceful, could make excellent hospital reading. I suspect it will be good cruise reading, instead.

Folks I'm tagging:

Marksmom

Drama

C-Dawg

Momi

and

Dee

Now - off with you to your books and entertain me!  

Sure - Jackie might be in the hospital...

...but we can't only focus on that, can we?  

For those of you just turning in, my mom has been in the hospital and I have been nearly obsessed with her recovery (and showing considerable restraint, I might add) but it's time for me to move on. I can't keep reading on-line medical journals day after day about her prognosis and recovery and wondering if it's too late for me to become a nurse.  Jackie is going home today (I hope!!) and it's time to reflect on the other dramas and scares of my life.  

And my biggest drama and scare today?  The state of my home.  And more specifically...the state of my (disgusting) home pre-vacationing. And to the exact point - my biggest drama of the moment is the state of my (disgusting) home, pre-vacationing, with my mother-in-law staying here while I'm gone!

dum dum duuuuuuuuuuuuum

I told you it was a big-o problem-o.

It's one thing to clean your home.  I consider my house basically tidy. Meaning, for the most part, things won't fall on you when you walk about it.  

But it's another thing cleaning for folks who will be staying in your home. It is a big job.  I feel like my mother-in-law should be able to find the dishwashing detergent without having to move 30000000 tea towels, 2 packs of Magic Erasers, and a year's supply of Clorox Wipes to get to it.

She should be able to get a measuring cup without having approximately 1.23 million Ziploc container lids fall on her head.

The woman should be able to find the toilet paper in the master bathroom.  Currently, it is sitting in a foot bath.  Do you think that's intuitive?

sigh - I didn't think you would.

Take Spring Cleaning and add OCD to it, multiply it by 2.5 neuroses and you get the level of cleaning one must do before your mother-in-law lives in your home and cares for your children when you are not there.

I tackled the kitchen yesterday. I cleaned the funk out of the fridge and freezer and realphabatized the spices in the pantry.  I relocated the hundreds of cleaning supplies under the sink so she won't think I'm wasteful.  I tried to address the cabinets.  That, gentle readers, is where failure began.  I had hoped to reduce the amount of carnage that happens when one opens that Ziploc container cabinet.  But I'm weak.  I found a  cookbook in there and started to read it instead.  weak weak weak

Last night I asked myself, "Self - what the monkey are you going to do?  This house is NOT ready for someone to live in it unless, of course, you want them to think you are a scum bum."

My innerMormon is, apparently, much less likely to give two rips if my mother-in-law sees the Diet Dr. Pepper (affectionately referred to here as DDP) lids under the sofa.  Her best solution was to leave the house as-is and pretend to have booby trapped it. When I told her April Fool's was over and she'd never buy it, my innerMormon suggested ignoring the messes and instead, making a "gross stuff" scavenger hunt for everyone.  The first person to find things like 12 year old Neosporin tubes in medicine cabinets and the kids' rotten Easter eggs hidden in the closets (that smell to high heaven but I can't find) could win a prize.

A prize like - never having to babysit here again!

I've decided to squash my innerMormon and go with my initial idea.

Jackie is...

...eating, talking, breathing, and mocking others.

YAAHOOZERS!

Thanks for all the well wishes!  And to answer the question you're all asking - yes - the song is dedicated to her.  

Jackie Oh'Cleaver

Well folks, one of our very own isn't doing so hot.

Jackie O - aka, "Mama'sMama" is in the ICU right now after suffering from a brain hemmorage.  (Gosh - I so don't know how to spell that word.)  It's in her right temporal lobe and her blood pressure has been insane - but I'm looking at her right now and she's peaceful and sleeping.  I think, when all is said and done, Jackie O will be O-cleaver-K.  

It was shocking to hear that your 55-year-old mother, who just babysat your kids and made you dinner the night before (after spending the day with you at IKEA and celebrating her birthday) had a seizure and had to be put on a ventilator.  

I've thought a lot the past few days about that ventilator.  At first, I was just mad at it. I thought she didn't really need it and if they'd just pull it out, we'd be a step closer to recovery.  I convinced myself she didn't actually need a machine blowing anything into her and this was melodramatic.

Then they tried to remove the ventilator and she couldn't breathe on her own.  Suddenly, my entire perspective changed hearing my brother say, via phone, that it didn't work. I now loved that ventilator and wanted to thank it for all it had done.  Thanks for every break you gave her, Vent. Thanks for every bit of energy you saved her that her body could use to heal another area.

Yesterday, I came in and met the vent head on. I figured, alrighty - if you're here to stay - I will know you well. I researched how to read it and what each of the many numbers meant.  Me and Vent were homeys.  I wasn't scared of it anymore.  I knew it - it knew Mom - we were kosher as a New York deli.

Today, the vent is gone. And, while I can't say I'm grieving its departure, a certain part of me is even more scared. I'd learned the vent and what it meant. Now I have to learn how a feeding tube works and worry about the unidentified infection.  There's worry about if she'll recognize us (she didn't recognize me, yet) and when or if she'll go back to work. Heck - her just sitting in a chair tomorrow scares me and I'm scared for anyone within ear shot when she gets a wind of what they have done to her naturally-red-hair-that-gets-slightly-refreshed.  That won't be pretty, my friends.  Her hair is an art form - and they've taken a mallet to a Michelangelo.

I hated that vent - and then I appreciated it.  And isn't that the way with trials sometimes? You can hate them as you are going through them. And later, you can almost wish them back as they'd be easier to wrestle then your new worry.

I was just writing on another blog recently that my life is good right now, but you never know when that will change. Life hasn't always been easy for me or for my family. I feel no guilt anymore when my life is happy and full and drama-free. There are so many of these cruddy-ventilator-kinda-times, and it's a satisfying thing to appreciate the goodness when you have it. 

Having your mom have a stroke isn't fun.  You start to get excited for the very little things - like that she opened her eyes and that she was able to say she's hot.  And you start to wish for your own ventilator that would breathe energy and life, patience and strength through you. I think in this case, prayer is as close as I can get.   Although I still think I'll ask for a valium.