Seventeen

The number of years we've been best friends. 

We were 14 the summer I moved back to what I consider my hometown. 

We'd met years earlier when her oldest brother and my aunt dated.  But honestly, I thought she was weird.

Guess it took me a few years to come into my own kinda weird.

So, at age 14 we meet again and become inseperable for the next four years.  There wasn't just Lindsey or just Sarah.

It was, "LindseyandSarah" or "SarahandLindsey" at school, church, our homes.

We knew everything about each other.  The boys we liked, the heartaches, what our home lives were like, the teachers who favored us and those who didn't like us.

We never had many classes together but I'll never forget our Senior year when we had Economics together and the first day we showed up to class together, Mr. Scott said, "Sit where you want but LindseyandSarah have to be on opposite ends of the classroom."

Everyone laughed.  Except us.  I don't think we thought it was very funny at the time.  It's hilarious to me now.

We, of course, did not listen and went ahead to sit together. 

He sighed.

There wasn't a point of trying to keep us apart.  It wouldn't work.

That was also the year we had our names written on the wall and paper towel dispenser in the bathroom.  Good times.  Good times.  (and we totally knew who it was.)

I did everything I could to make Lindsey laugh.  I slammed myself into lockers.  I bumped into upper classmen.  Tried holding hands with kids I didn't know.  Talked to the garbage can as if my mom were in there.  "Mom!  I'll be home from school around 3!"

Anything to make her laugh.

She helped me feel like I belonged somewhere.  For the first time in my life.  I belonged as her friend and I belonged when I was in her home.

She encouraged me to not like the boys that would be bad for me.  Then was my shoulder to cry on after I didn't listen.

She let me hang out with her and her boyfriend.  Often.  I'm sure they loved that.

Still.  I belonged.

She was my maid of honor.  And I was in her driveway the day she left for college a couple of months later.

I helped her pack up a couple of things.  I gave her a gift.  And then I had to leave.

I sobbed the entire way home and for many days afterward.  Sure, we'd still be best friends.  Forever.  But it would be different now.

Everything would change.

We would change.

The next summer she came home from college with a fiance.  The summer my dad died.  The summer I was maid of honor in her wedding.  A wedding to a boy I didn't grow up knowing but would learn to love because she loved him.

More years would go by that we'd visit when we could.  And one day she handed me a calendar she made me for my birthday and the month of January held the due date of her first baby.

We laughed and, I think I may have cried.  Out of happiness for her, but envy on my part.  She called me in the middle of the night on her way to the hospital, in labor with a baby whose sex we did not know. And early the next morning I drove the three hours to see her new son just hours after he'd been born.

Lindsey was now in her element.  All she'd ever wanted was to be a mama.

She was so beautiful to me that day.

A couple of years later she would open her home to me for a few weeks.  Josh and I had filed for divorce but were talking about getting back together.  I quit my job, packed up and headed to Lindsey's for a few weeks while Josh and I tried to sort things out over the phone.

Several months later she would be there within an hour of me giving birth to my first child.  And five months later I'd be there within hours of her giving birth to her second child.

We don't talk weekly on the phone.  Not even monthly.  We've gone months without talking.

But best friends can do that.

And pick up where they've left off like no time has passed.

Two weeks ago I was painting my sister's living room.  Lindsey called on her way to the hospital.  The hospital where her father-in-law lay dying.  We talked about how God could still perform a miracle and save Ron.  I hurt for her.  I hurt for her husband.

We got off the phone.  I resumed my painting.  And about 15 minutes later she called me back to tell me Ron was with Jesus now.

Though we had plans for the weekend of Ron's funeral, we cancelled them, drove three hours north and attended the most amazing Celebration of Life Service I've ever been to.

I cried through the entire service.  Ron was a beautiful man.  His life was inspiring.  Lindsey was blessed to have such a wonderful father-in-law.

But he was blessed to have her, too.

After the service was over I searched out the man who practically helped raise me for four years of my life. 

Lindsey's dad.

The man, who, if ever tired of me having breakfast, lunch or dinner at his house never showed it.  The man who, after preaching on Sunday would drive us home and ask us what we'd learned about.  We'd always say, "Jesus" and then bust up laughing.  He'd tip his head down and look at us through his glasses.  Smirk on his face. 

Saturday it took everything I had not to just go running to him.  I walked quickly without looking too obvious.  But when he saw me, when he saw me...his face broke into this amazing, beautiful smile.  I felt like I was home.  He grabbed me, hugged me and kissed my cheek.  "Sarah, oh Sarah!  It's so good to see you."

And my heart.

My heart overflowed.  Never has a man, a fatherly figure made me feel so loved as I felt in that moment.



me, Pastor Dave, and lindsey's baby sister


When I got Lindsey as a best friend, I got her dad, too.  A man that I'll forever love as my second dad.

We didn't stay at the service long after it was over.  Long enough to chat with Linds a bit but it was time for us to head out.

We don't know when we'll see each other next but it doesn't matter.

We can always pick up right where we left off.

Because that's what best friends do.

Happy Birthday, Linds.  I love you more than you could ever know.  Thank you.  For all of it.

Why I loathe Valentine's Day {alternately titled: I have issues I need to resolve.}

Happy Freaking Valentine's Day.

I don't like this holiday.  In fact, I don't think it should even be one.  It's completely and totally commercialized and what have you.

I'm over it.

I used to be a fan.  I used to like this stupid day.

When I was a kid.

When I decorated a shoe box with stickers and received a Valentine from Matt S. or Chris S. (both I'd still love to get Valentine's from, but whatev.)  ☺ Those were good years.

And then the years that I got Carnations and small stuffed teddy bears.

From my dad.

With a card that read, get this..."love, Dad."

But I never called him that, so I'm sure it took everything in him to even sign it that way or tell the lady over the phone at the florist to sign it that way.

There was effort involved.  After all these years I appreciate the effort he put into letting me know that he loved me.

Carnations are not my favorite flower and bears are not my favorite stuffed animal.  But I can't look at either one without thinking of my dad. 

Today I did a really dumb thing.  I took my girls on the half mile walk to the cemetery (dictionary as Sugar calls it) and we saw my dad's headstone.  Dumb idea.  Dumb. 

My nose started to sting.  Tears welled up in my eyes.  I took a picture of his headstone (not sure why) and announced to the girls it was time to leave.  "But I'm not done talking to Grandpa Mark!"  Oh but you are child.

You are.

So we left.  We walked back in the cold.  I got after the girls for trying to bring every ounce of mud back with us.  I made them take their shoes off at the door.  And then I just looked at the stupid picture of his headstone.

Why Valentine's Day to decide to visit the cemetery?  No clue.  Obviously because he's there.  And dead.

And now I have no one to send me flowers.

I am currently writing this post with toothpaste on my face

In hopes that my zits will be gone soon.

It's that fabulous week of the month where zits decide to raid my face.  I'm not a fan.  I've actually felt like I've had them under control but with all the running, exercising and sweating, it seems they've decided to take over my life.

And my face.

Stupid high school skin.

I'm nearly 13 years post high school and yet I still have zits.  My mom is 33 years post high school and still has 'em so I'm thinking my future of zit-free-ness is not gonna happen.



I did it.

Today I registered myself for my first 5K.  Well, it's not actually my first.  I did one up in Bickleton in '95 but I was 15 and used to running 5 miles or so daily.  This is my first 5K since allowing an extra 20+ lbs be added to my 5'2" frame.

I got on the treadmill early this morning.  I kicked up the incline and the speed and went to town.  After 3 miles I felt like I could have gone more but decided to be done for the day.  I felt great.  I showered.  My husband left with the girls on a bike ride and I decided it was time to sign myself up.

I have a month to get ready.

There's a St. Patrick's Day Dash in Seattle that I considered but found one much closer to home and quite a bit cheaper.  And shorter.  :)  So, I'll run 3.1 miles on March 12th at 10 am.  I'm now in search of green striped tights to go with the green t-shirt I bought at Target today.  I want to be completely decked out in awesome green apparel.  If you can't finish first at least look amazing finishing last, right?

That's going to be my motto.

After all, someone's gotta be last.

I bought a pair of jeans yesterday.  They are short.  Labeled "short" even, and yet they are a little too long.  It's official.  I'm a midget. 

For dinner tonight I ate goat cheese, Wheat Thins and a glass (or two) of Merlot.  Yum.  I could have eaten more.  I could have had more to drink.  But if I'm going to get on the treadmill again tonight I best keep myself a leetle sober.

Last night both girls ended up in bed with us.

BOTH GIRLS.

sigh.

I didn't sleep well.  I think I might duct tape them to their beds tonight.  And down a couple more glasses of wine before I go to sleep.

I want some restful sleep.

I have a busy week ahead.

And my zits need some rest too.

diapers, thumbs, pacifiers, blankies and sleeping in my bed

I have a near 3 year old in diapers.

A near 6 year old who still sucks her thumb.

They both have blankies.

And the three year old has been pacifier free for a couple of months now.

The 6 year old worms her way into our bed 4-5 nights a week, snuggling between the two of us.

I'm sure she enjoys the security of sleeping between her mama and daddy and I do love snuggling with her but whether she comes to our bed at 2 am or 5 am, I cannot for the life of me fall back to sleep with her in our bed.  Josh says he doesn't sleep well either.

It's hard for us to make her stop though.  There will be a day she doesn't want to sleep between us two.  And then we'll miss it.

The thumb is beginning to just be ridiculous. 

I know, there are many of you out there who sucked your thumbs into high school and you turned out just fine.  (who says, though??)  ;)

But Sugar's thumb-sucking has molded the roof of her mouth to a not so pretty state and she has quite an overbite.

I appreciated the thumb early on because it was never lost.  I never had to buy a new one.  I never had to crawl around on my hands and knees in the wee hours of the night looking for it.

Now, it's a problem.

The child in diapers loves to be in diapers.  Loves it.  She has zero desire to potty train.  And I've learned not to push it but still.  She loves to wear panties but then she just pees them.  sigh.

I don't plan to take their blankets away.  Ever.

Mostly because of my own issues with a certain creamy yellow blankie I had that was left in our house in California when I was just 5.  Still makes me sad.  (Is it time to go back to counseling?)

I just bought a box of diapers at Costco last Thursday and then my FIL dropped off a box a couple of days later.  These had better be the last diapers this kid needs.

Thinking of duct-taping the thumb.  I know, it sounds harsh.  But seriously.  The nagging doesn't work.  We try.  We do.  Even Spice bugs her about it now.  "Ay-yay, thumb. Out!"  It's naughty and oh so funny.  And it pisses Sugar right off.

I know each of these things are seasons and soon enough they'll be over and I'll miss them in some sick way.  I think it's a mom thing.  At least it's a this mom thing.

My Thoughts on VD Advertising

VD is of course Valentine's Day.  What were you thinking it was?

With VD approaching real quick like (4 days, dudes. 4 days) ads for lingerie, condoms, and KY are flooding our weekly Shopper.

I'd be more inclined to buy lingerie if the pictures were to show a woman with stretch marks, love handles and a lost belly button due to a certain removal of the right side of my her colon.

I may not have gone to college.  I may have barely graduated from GHS.  But I'm smart enough to know that that itty bitty outfit she's wearing in that picture will not, I repeat will not look like that on me.

I also wanna know why it's okay to show a woman in her lingerie in the ad but not a man in sight wearing his lingerie?  Not that I wanna see that.  But still.  Still.

{too tired to think of a clever title}

I vented yesterday.

And then I deleted it.

Thank you to those who saw it and either sent me emails or texts with encouraging words.

Sorry for the spewing.

In other news:

In my post of firsts I stated that my husband's friend Dale gave me my first black eye.  And that his friend Ken tried to kill me in a car accident.  Let me explain both.  They're both funny.  The incidents, not necessarily the friends.  :)

The car accident I've mentioned before and have even posted a picture of the car after the crash.  Long story short, four of us were riding in a 240Z, a Z is most commonly a 2 seater.  This one was.  2 people in the back, Josh and his little cousin and Ken and I were up front.  Ken took a corner a leetle too fast and lost control and we slammed into a rock wall at Mt. Rainier.

Everyone was fine.  The car was totaled. That was the first of a few times Ken tried to kill me. (Rafting, anyone?)

The black eye is a funny story.  Dale and I were jumping on a trampoline and Dale decided to be really cool and practice some wrestling moves on me.  He threw me down on the trampoline, my knee slammed into my eye (seriously) and I pretended to be okay.  When really I wanted to make Dale paaaay.  I ended up with a black eye.  It was my first and have yet to have another one. 

Yoga was lonely without Amber this morning.  No one to understand the fact that I can't do the crocodile move.  No one to roll their eyes with me when the instructor says, "Now if this is too easy for you, you can do...."  Um, none of it's too easy for me thankyouverymuch.

I made rib eyes (Emily!) last night with mashed baby reds full of bacon, sour cream, butter and fried onions.  I made green beans with cream of mushroom soup, bacon and fried onions and threw in some cheese for good measure.  The husband purchased some booze and french bread.  It was a wonderful dinner full of bacon and fried onions.  And a beer. (Josh had two, the lush)

I haven't had Starbucks since Tuesday.  I don't plan to have it til Saturday on our way to Spokane.  I can so do this.

I have a dentist appt next week.  Three fillings.  THREE.  What the hay?

I'm skipping MOTS today.  (MOPS without the P)  My kids are currently healthy and if I go to MOTS and put them in the kid classes by Saturday or Sunday they'll be sick.  No thanks.

My dog smells.

We played CandyLand last night and for once Sugar won.  She was ecstatic.  We aren't the kind of parents to let our kid win.  Fair and square, man.  Fair and square.

I wore my "I carried a watermelon" shirt last week.  It's been awhile since I've worn it.  It's still too tight but not as tight as it was.  I love that shirt.  (Thanks, Ammer. Still the best birthday gift I've ever received.)

Lowercase Ms are not easy for a 5 year old to write.  At least not my 5 year old.

I let her watch 3 short movies on Netflix yesterday so I could do what I wanted to do.  I'm out of the running for Best Mother of the Year.

Still struggling with not attending my niece's party this weekend.  I hate letting people down.  Especially her.  Especially her. 

I want a vacation.  Just a couple of days.  Some place warm where I can put on a tank top, flip flops and sit by a pool with a book and a fruity drink or 7.

I've started getting on the treadmill twice a day now.  Once in the morning.  Once after the girls are in bed.  I should be on there now but, I'm exhausted.  I just want to sleep.  The evening treadmill time is nice but my legs are usually pretty sore from the morning exercise.  I have 20-25 pounds that need to come off, stat, so I need to stick with this.

Notice how most of my posts are in list format lately?  Sorry.  I don't want to delete my blog but I sure don't feel like I have much to write.  So I just write out the weird stuff that goes on in my brain or in my day.  Hopefully someday my writing will get back to normal.  Whatever that is.

Thanks for sticking around while I muddle through.  You are much appreciated.

at the end of the post i confess just how shallow i really am

The four year anniversary of the removal of my appendix, malignant tumor and half my colon is coming up.

My 31st birthday is coming up.

I have a lot of wrinkles by my eyes.  (let's call 'em laugh lines, k?)

And, the other day my husband was playing with my hair and started counting all my gray hairs.  He was laughing.  Because there's a lot.

Warm weather is coming.

What do any of these things have to do with the other?

Life.

My life.

The days are not slowing down.  In fact, they feel like they're speeding up.

About a month or so ago I was realizing all of the things I mentioned above.  I'm not getting any younger.  And I sure wasn't getting any healthier.

I take for granted the fact that because I never had chemotherapy or radiation that I didn't really have cancer.  But I did.  I hadn't taken care of my body in the years leading up to my surgery and I surely haven't taken care of it in the years after.

I looked forward to turning 30.  And now I'm nearing 31 and wonder what I've done with myself over these last 8 months and 6 days.  (who's counting?)

I've complained a lot about the way I look.  The way I feel.  And until a few weeks ago, never did anything about it except complain.

There was motivation behind my decision to finally do something about my body.  My mood.  My life.

I want to be able to run around with my girls outside once it's warm enough to do so.  I don't want to feel lethargic.  I want to be fun.  I want to chase Spice and hear her laugh.  Seriously, the kid has the best laugh EVER.  If it were the only sound I could hear for the rest of my life I would never tire of it.

I want to have the energy to teach Sugar to ride a bike.  Finally.  She's never had a desire to get off her trike and because I've been lazy, I haven't really pushed the deal either.  But, she's almost 6 and I do believe it's time.

Josh loves to hike and bike and go for walks and I hate that he has to drag me to do these things with him.  I want to enjoy them with him.  I want to be able to keep up with him as we walk, bike, hike.

Summer's coming.  Warm weather.  I'm a jeans and tank top girl.  Thin or not, I'm not a fan of shorts.  I've always, always hated my legs.  But Summer requires wearing a bathing suit from time to time and I want to be comfortable getting in one if we go somewhere.

But I'm gonna be honest, these weren't the only motivators for me.

I just want to look good.

I want to feel good about the way I look.

I don't want to hate stripping off my clothes to get in the shower because I might catch a glimpse of myself in our full length mirror.  And right now I do.

My husband is a thin, toned, hot guy.  I want to feel deserving.  I know that makes me sound shallow and I have never claimed to be anything less so I really don't wanna hear that he loves me no matter what I look like.  Yeah, it's probably true but who wouldn't want their spouse to try hard to look good?

I know I like how Josh looks.  I'm a big fan of his shirts...off.  tmi?  whoops.  I'm just saying.

There's not much of a point or reason for this post other than when I don't want to go to the gym or get on my treadmill, I want to look back here and remember why I got started in the first place.

Shower

The alarm on my phone went off at 5 AM.

I was out of bed by 5:05 and out of the house by 5:15.

Arriving at the gym, I put in my earbuds, found my Pandora app and, much to my dismay, it wasn't working.

I walked in, scanned my my little card thingy to let them know that heck yes I am here at 5:30.

I found the bike I always use to be vacant but of course someone was right next to me.  I felt silly getting on a bike right next to someone when so many others were available.  But that's my bike.  The one I'm used to.  The one that was still set for my height because I was just on it at 7:30 PM last night.

There was about 15 minutes before yoga started so I rode a little while, still perturbed that Pandora was not working and that I'm sitting next to this guy when there's a ton of other machines I could have ridden on.  But the other ones weren't the ones I'm used to.

Amber showed up.  We signed into yoga, got our mats that smell like dirty, sweaty people (we really need to buy our own) and discussed how our arms were tired.  Because, hello, it hadn't even been 12 hours since we'd been here last.

Yoga was relaxing.  I'm thankful that the class isn't the freaky yoga I've heard about.  And if you're into freaky yoga, go for it, but I'm not really all about becoming one with my body and all that jazz.  I'm into learning how to stretch so I can reach past my belly button and maybe be able to touch all the way to my knees someday.

I drove home quickly.  Exceeding the speed limit by 5 mph.  I took the back highway to my house.  Took a left and was stuck behind someone going 35 in a 50 mph zone.  So much for the good time I made on the freeway. 

Entering the kitchen, I find that my husband made pancakes for the girls.  He wasn't thrilled with the recipe he'd used and he wasn't thrilled that I only have wheat flour in the house right now.  Makes for some hearty pancakes.  He felt bad that he didn't know how to make Spice's pancakes.  So, she got wheat pancakes.  Should make for a lovely attitude in her today.

Josh has been so supportive and encouraging.  Despite the fact that he stole my scale from me on Sunday.  He cares for the girls while I go to the gym if we can't find someone to watch them so we can both go.  He cares for the girls while I jump on the treadmill in the mornings and/or evenings. 

This morning was no different.  After saying good morning to the girls, I put on a pair of socks with my tennies (no socks for yoga) and hopped on the treadmill.  Thankfully Pandora was working.  I cranked up some Jerrod Niemann radio and got my heart rate up.  Staring out at the cars on our busy road.

Sweat pouring off my head and down some other places, I stepped off the treadmill, took my earbuds out, turned the TV on for Sugar and told Spice to be a good girl while I showered.  I set my iPhone on the back of the toilet while I showered.  Listening to country song after country song.  I kept turning up the heat of my water. 

Lingering.

I'm normally a 3-5 minute shower kinda girl.

Today I stood there.

Thinking about a funeral service I'm attending this weekend.  In going to the funeral I'm breaking plans with my 15 year old niece.  I hate to do it.  I've been going back and forth about it since Friday night.  Finally, last night deciding that I couldn't make the decision myself, I asked Josh what we should do.

"We need to be in Spokane."

And so, we'll head to Spokane for a funeral service instead of Portland for an Un-Valentine's Party full of awesome teenagers.

The shower got hotter, my mood even more blah now.

I'm not good at funerals.  But when your best friend of 17 years, who was there for you when your dad drown, loses her father-in-law...you go.  You cancel previously made plans to show your love and support.  And you apologize to the niece you love so much and hate letting down.

My thoughts turned to another friend.  Another friend who hurts.  A friend that I wish I had words for but don't.  It's a rare occasion that I'm without words, so when I am, it really bugs me.  I don't want to spout out reassurances, I don't want to say, "I'm sorry, it'll get better."  A friend doesn't lie.  So sometimes a friend says nothing and just listens.  Sometimes we're just here to hear.  To listen.  To be that venting place.  I'm thankful to be found trustworthy with this friend.

Ten minutes in the shower and I knew it was time to get out.

Just a little longer.

Because once I get out, I have to start school with Sugar.  I have to be prepared for battles and tears and butting heads.

Shower off.  Steamy room.  Not so clear thoughts.

Towel dry my hair.  Deodorant.  Mousse.  De-frizz.  Tank top and comfy pants.  Hoodie and slippers.

Finally ready to face my day.

Firsts in list format

They aren't in any particular order.  They are completely random.  I am completely random.

Surgery:  Appendectomy.  I was 26.

Kiss:  I was 12, his name was Rusty.  We're both 30 now and he goes by Russ these days.

Alcoholic beverage:  I think I was 2.  Thanks, Dad. 

Pen Pal:  4th grade. I think she was Australian.

Male teacher:  5th grade, Mr. Miller.  He had long hair and was the first person I knew who had adopted children.  I loved him.

Car Accident:  I was 17. And in the passenger seat.  I'll never look at Mt. Rainier the same.  Thanks, Ken!  ;)

Black Eye:  I think I was 23.  Thanks, Dale!  (what is it with my husband's friends trying to kill me and beat me up??)

Friend:  A boy named Peter.  I know there were other kids in my kindergarten class but he's the only one I remember.

Time crossing Nob Hill in undergarments only:  23.  (it was also the last time)

Pregnancy:  I was 24.  And had been told 5 years before that I wouldn't be able to have kids.  Silly doctor. (actually quacky doctor is more like it.)

Husband (um, and last!):  I was 18, he was 20.  His name is Josh and I don't deserve him.  And he doesn't deserve the crap I've put him through over these last 14 years together.

Bra:  I was nine.  No nine year old should need a bra.  But I did.  Stupid genetics anyway.

Blog: It was this one but was first titled: Organized Chaos.  That was 4.5 years ago.  I think now it's just Chaos Chaos.  There's no organization about it.

Car:  A brown 1982 Honda Civic Josh bought it for me a couple of months after we were married.  Good times in that car.  Right, Denise?  :)

Broken Heart:  I was 15.  His name was Trevor.  Is Trevor.  The break up was my fault of course.  (and Melissa's too!)  We spent Super Bowl Sunday with him and his family yesterday.  It's funny to be around his mom after all these years.  She can't call my mom or send me home or scare me anymore.  :)

Experience with Death (the lovely stuff):  I was 19.  He was 40.  He drown in the Yakima River.  This summer was the first time I got on the water and just let myself enjoy.

Best Friend as an adult:  Amber.  Oh, Amber.  Life just isn't complete without 'er.

Plane ride:  I think I was 6.  I went to Arizona to visit my aunt.  (what was my mother thinking??!!)

Peanut butter and chocolate experience:  I was 4.  I want to be 4 again.

Speeding Ticket:  I was 19, it was our first anniversary and I do believe we were arguing in the car.  I was going 43 in a 35 zone in Mabton.  Of all places to get a ticket.

Okay, that's all the firsts I can think of at the moment. 

{distracted}

And again with the random.

I still haven't read any blog posts.  I've barely been writing on my own.

I had one of the craziest weeks last week.  My only relaxing time was when I was on the treadmill or at the gym.  And I didn't get to the gym nearly as much as I would have liked.

My sister moved and before she did so, asked if I would paint the inside of her house.  It's not necessarily that I'm a great painter, it's that I've had a lot of practice and she's pregnant and wants to use that as an excuse. :)  And she works full time.

So, I spent 10 hours painting at her house one day.  The next day we moved her and in the process of moving her we decided to rip up the carpet and padding in her dining room.  Then Josh started working on putting a new floor in her dining room.  It was a long weekend.  Good but long.

School with Sugar is going a little better.  I picked up a new book for her to work on letter writing.  I also picked up a pencil grip that she seems to really like.  We've really been working on the girls helping in every area possible.  Dishes get done much slower because I now have two helpers to load and unload.  I know that one day it will go much faster because of them.  Trying to remind myself of this as it takes 30 minutes to unload the dishwasher, when it could take 7.

Sugar informed me that she's almost six.  This is true.  She has a few months but yes, she's almost six.  I wanted to stop her in her tracks.  "Wait, five is good.  Stay there.  Enjoy five.  Because once five is gone you can't get it back."

Five is one of the last years I remember being stress free as a child.  Five meant my first school and my first friend.  Five meant I only had one sister to compete with for my mom's attention.  Five was good.

Six was different.

I know I can't stop my girls from getting older.  It's going to happen.  I just hope that they enjoy every age.  That they look back and have fond memories of all years of their little lives.

I'm currently trying to read three books at a time.  I know some people can pull this off but I'm not that great at it.

I've found myself daydreaming of Summer like crazy.  Today I wore flip flops.  For about 45 minutes.  Then we were leaving to go for a walk and when I put on a scarf I realized it'd look funny if I was wearing my flips with my scarf.  So, I put on socks and tennies.  Warm weather just can't get here soon enough.

I'm down five pounds.  I should be thrilled and I mostly am.  Especially since just five pounds means that D has now become C.  (and I just lost my male reader(s), whoops)  This makes me a happy girl.  I'd prefer none at all but that's because of the baggage that I've carried around since...well, since I've carried these bad girls around.  I've considered duct taping them or girdling them.  Anything for them to go away.  A lot of my weight gain went there so I'm glad that when I reach my goal I should be at about a B+.

Aren't you thrilled I shared this with you?  You're welcome.

I went grocery shopping on Friday morning.  I saved $102 and spent $115.  I was a happy chick.  My fridge is happy too.  She isn't lonely anymore.

We watched the Super Bowl today with a friend of mine from high school and his family.  I was rooting for the Packers, and I was alone in my principles.  I was glad I won.  Or, I was glad the Packers won.  Mostly I just didn't want the SteAlers to win, it's not that I'm necessarily a Green Bay fan.

I have dirty dishes in the sink and there's nothin' like starting off Monday with dirty dishes in the sink.

$50 to the first person who shows up at my house to do my dishes in the morning.  Okay, $10.

I have not registered for the St. Patrick's Day Dash yet.  I'm skerd.  I just need to register.  I just need to.  Can someone bug me about it this week, please?

Looking forward to Valentine's Day and the reservations at Barrel House Cafe and Wine Bar with my mom.  My sister may join us too.  If you're there and it's loud and three woman are asked to leave, that'd be us.  It's never quiet when the three of us are together.

I have a bunch of laundry to do tomorrow.  Bunches.  I'll make dinner for the person who shows up tomorrow to FAPA (fold and put away) my laundry.  I rock at putting it in the washing machine and dryer.  It's the FAPA I suck at.

Okay, enough rambling.  It's time for me to sleep.

I Miss...

the warm weather.  the sun is out and beautiful today but it is bone chilling cold out there.

flip flops.  the tan lines on my feet.

tank tops and the perfect jeans with 'em.

candee.

melissa.

lindsey.

around a Starbucks table on Gage/Keene. 

my size 2 jeans.

working at Pier 1.

my dad.  the missing him comes in waves now.  it's when i need a listening ear that i really miss him.

being 5.

the pot roast burger from red robin.  they have a different version now.  never mess with an original.

writing poetry.  it's been years.  as in high school years.

the tiny babies that my girls once were.

sharing a bedroom with my sisters.

my beagle.

the big white car i used to ride around in with my BFF and her boyfriend in high school.  some seriously good times.  Rick Springfield good times.

the H fam.

the first year we were married.  okay, i don't miss it but wish i could do it over.

sugar saying, "hunna" for "hungry" but now she says "thankully" instead of "thankfully" and I love that too.

the days when i wasn't hesistant to get on the scale.

the days when i could run 5 miles, no big!  that was half my lifetime ago.  i'm getting so old.

my SIL living in the same town.

hanging out at my in-laws in the days before we had kids and they had responsibilities of their own.  when it was just cards and snacks and movie nights.

the bottom of the laundry basket.

Monday random

I don't know what's happened to my blogging.

I've become a little bored with it.

I haven't read anyone else's posts either.  My reader is over 500 unread posts.

I've been working out.  My treadmill has seen more of me than the clothes I normally hang on it.  That's a good sign.  I was at the gym a few days last week.  Headed there tonight and in the morning for a Pilates/Yoga class.  I'm sure to make an idiot out of myself.

Thank goodness Amber will be there to laugh at me with me. 

My lab results were clear.  I've now been cancer free for 3 years and 11 months.

Maybe one of these days I'll post a picture of my stomach immediately after surgery.  It's kinda gross.  I like it.  But I'm weird like that.

I have a few more days until I can take my iPhone back.  Trying to decide whether or not to keep 'er.  It's been a fun few weeks but I wonder if I'm spending too much time with it.

I just made reservations for my mom and me for Valentine's Day.  I'm kind of a VD hater.  Okay, not hater.  But it's just this day where there's a ton of pressure for men to do fabulous things for the one they love and I don't want to be that girl who expects too much of her husband.  So, I figure it's better to just ask him to babysit our kids while I take my (single) mother out for a nice dinner.

While we're talking about my (single, have I mentioned she's single??) mother.  Anyone know of any single males, 50ish, who knows how to swim that might be interested in a single woman who is ridiculously quirky in a very cute way?  Please email me.  I'm open to an arranged marriage.  Or mail order bride.

I spent the weekend scrapbooking.  Being made fun of for losing my voice (thanks, Chad!) and drinking coffee.  It was fabulous.  I seriously did nothing but eat, scrap and drink coffee.  Well, I went for a wog (walk/jog) alone in the morning on Saturday.  2 miles!  It only took me 30 minutes, but whatev.  I did it.

This cold I have is seriously kicking my butt.  It's bad.  I've taken more meds in the last coupla days than I've taken in my life.  I want to be well.  Need to be well!

I got exciting news today.  I'm a happy girl.

No, I'm not pregnant.

I took the girls to the library last week and had to pay a $22 fine.  Ugh.  That hurts my heart.  And checkbook.

Today I've had water, dried fruit and Starbucks.  I'd like a steak, mashed potatoes and some asparagus for dinner.

I've decided to do the St. Patrick's Day Dash in Seattle.  Yep.  I decided.  Josh wants to do it too.  He'll have to drag me across the finish line but he's okay with it.  It's a little over 3 miles so that's really not bad at all.  But when you're carrying around an extra 30 lbs it makes 3 miles feel like 300.  Maybe by then it won't be 30.  More like 28 or 29.

I'm currently addicted to watching Grey's Anatomy on Netflix Instant Play.  Addicted.

I slept on the couch last night because I coughed all night long.  Didn't want to keep the husband awake.  I choked on a cough drop.

I didn't have to dance into my pants today.  They came outta the dry and buttoned up like a dream. 

Oh, wait.  Those were sweats.  Nevermind.

and i still haven't had any coffee

yesterday was a strange day.

and today?

well, today has just been a bad day.

as i'm thinking about what i'm going to write i realize it's not going to sound all that bad.  but it's been bad.

to me.

my girls are fairly decently behaved when we're in public.  you know, for the most part.  they do have their moments where i want to just leave them at the grocery store but those are few and far between.

today was a day when i wanted to leave them.

we had errands to run.  i normally love to run errands.  when i can wear a tank top, my favorite pair of jeans and some flip flops.

in the winter time i hate errands.  i hate to be cold and i hate going into town and getting in and out of my rig to run all sorts of errands.  i've put off all of the things i did today for several days.

it's sunny outside so i decided today would be my day to run errands.

spice decided she wanted to wear panties instead of a diaper and seeing how she isn't potty trained i didn't really want her to but whatever, i didn't want to fight about it either.

panties it was.

with jammie pants, pink cowboy boots on the wrong feet and a 4T shirt. 

she's two.

sugar wore a somewhat normal outfit.  nothing inside out or on backward and everything was in her size.

out we go.

immediately i forget that spice is wearing panties.

we run up to my in-laws to grab some coupons then off to the library with a bajillion books that are extremely overdue.  $21.90 overdue.

i calculated it and it means i don't get coffee til friday.  if you call or show up anytime from now til then and i'm a little bwitchy, you know why.

the girls pick out several books on whales, tigers, lions and bugs.  i pick out books on pigs, cows and fiction smut.

we head out to the rig with books and kids and a runny nose.  not mine.  the two year old's.  the two year old who doesn't want her hand held to walk to the van.  she can do it herself.

who said she could become independent of me?  who said???

to the post office drive through.  dropped off a check i was supposed to mail out LAST tuesday.  upon leaving the post office i realize i have a lab slip in my purse and the hospital is 2 blocks away.

may as well get my blood drawn to be checked for any cancer that may have decided to come back.

we walk into the hospital, my girls greet everyone they don't know and act like completely unsocialized homeschoolers.

we get to the lab and every seat is full except for a folding chair and i am not a fan of folding chairs.  this might be because i have folded up into one at one time.  i have fears i need to get over.  i'm working on these fears while i run on the treadmill.  if the treadmill doesn't work i'll go back to therapy. 

i sweat just the same.

my girls sat down on the floor next to me without being told.  didn't speak.  didn't move.  they were amazing.

i was so proud.

i used the nifty little "check in" thing on my phone and "checked in" without describing what i was doing at my check in.  causing a raucous.  i will never "check in" to a hospital again without putting it in all caps that I AM FINE, I AM JUST HAVING ROUTINE LABS DONE TO MAKE SURE THE CANCER HASN'T COME BACK.  I felt bad for leaving out that bit of info.  Lesson learned.

as patients were called and left and the room wasn't as crowded my kids decided it was time to play musical chairs.  there was one other woman in the room with us and i'm sure it wasn't a big deal but it was really annoying to me especially when spice would flash me her adorable smile that makes it nearly impossible to discipline her with.

my blood is drawn.  we head out of the lab when spice decides to sit back down in the folding chair.  when i remove her from said chair she begins crying so loudly that i put my hoodie over her face.

in front of people.

but the crying.  it was loud.  i was trying to spare them.  child protective services could be here anytime to pick them up.

i'm ready for 'em.  the girls' bags are packed and sitting by the door.

we leave the hospital with the crying child.  i pull my sleeve up to pull of my cotton ball that's taped to my arm.  and end up seeing someone i try to avoid at all costs.  living in a small town that isn't easy to do but i've managed for a long, long, long time and today that ended.  sigh.

exchange of pleasantries.  and buh-bye.

next up, grocery store where i'm going to use the coupons i got from the in-laws.  children begin misbehaving almost immediately.  i want to leave right away but the sale on the almond milk ends today so i have to stick it out.  i get to the milk aisle and there's a man standing in front of the milk, slumped and in my way.  i'm trying to be patient with the dude.  he has a cane and all but i'm a little annoyed.

i look up and realize the milk is so far back that i can't, in all my 5'2" glory reach the milk.  finally slump guy moves about a half inch.  i ask some random man who doesn't look like he'll try to kill me if he would mind fetching me my milk.  he's close to six foot, i figure he can manage.  he pulls out one half gallon for me (that's all that was left) and he was on his merry way.  it wasn't until he left that i noticed he sported a rattail.  nice.

in the check out i'm still completely stressed, completely flustered over my run in with the person i try to avoid, and completely annoyed with my kids.  problem solver?  chocolate of course.  4 candy bars on the conveyor belt later and we're set.  i forget to use the coupons for my milk and the cashier burns holes through me with her eyeballs.

oops.

get home.  throw food at the girls for lunch.  it's totally past their naptime and spice starts to cry.

"poooottttttyyyy!"

like i said, i fogot she was wearing panties and not a diaper.  any sane mother would have asked her child immediately upon returning home if she needed to go to the bathroom.

not this mom.

this mom forgot.

and ended up having a little girl so sad about wetting her jammie pants.

they are now in bed and i've eaten two of the four chocolate bars.

i'm not proud to admit that but i felt the need to confess.

Day 1: I Survived

Thank you for supporting me and encouraging me in my ridiculous idea of joining a gym.

I didn't show up in a unitard and leg warmers.

Shocked, aren't you?

I sat down with Kathi, the girl who owns the club.  Wife of one of Josh's co-workers.  I've known Kathi as long as I've known Josh.  She was thrilled to know I've finally met my 30's since I just 16 when we first met.

She asked if I'd been doing any workouts on my own.

"Do I look like I've been doing any working out?"

Kathi asked what I was hoping to get rid of.  I pointed to the baby-feeders and she told me good luck with that.  Apparently they aren't going to go away anytime soon.  If I get really skinny and these bad girls still stick around I may fall over face first. 

She showed me around.  I mostly wanted to know where the bathroom was because I was still feeling like I was going to throw up.  It's stress-inducing to me when I'm in a public place with people who are strong, fit, working out, etc.  'Cause I'm none of those.

Amber showed up (after downing some cake) (you're welcome, Amber) and we proceeded to ride on these little bikes for a bit.  My legs hurt, my a.. butt hurt and sweat started dripping down my back.  And that was just in the first 3 minutes.

We moved on to the circuit stuff and honestly I had no idea what I was doing and I'm so short that I kept having to adjust everything but again, didn't know how.  So I have an appointment on Friday to be taken through all the circuit equipment.

Kathi has suggested I do 15 minutes of cardio and do the entire circuit with 12 reps. on each.  I'm going to be there from 8-5 if I do all of them!

I'm pumped.  Still nervous as all get out but pumped.

So pumped that I came home, made greasy tacos but drank water instead of beer or Pepsi with 'em. 

Baby steps.

Unitards and Leg Warmers are not part of my comfort zone

In less than two hours I will begin my first workout of 2011 in a public place.

I'm thinking I might vomit.

Last week after I posted that I was going to get a membership to the gym I'd already thought of reasons why I actually just shouldn't do it.

The club is 20 miles from my house, so that's 40 miles round trip.  Costing me about $6 a trip.  Three times a week and we're looking at nearly 20 smacks a week.  80 smacks a month.

Plus the monthly gym fee.

Except the monthly gym fee is uh, good.  And I really can't pass it up.

So today is the day.  The day I meet with Amber and make a complete and total idiot out of myself in front of other people.  I'm not worried about her seeing me make an idiot of myself.  She's seen me at my finest many times.

This getting out of my comfort zone totally sucks.  I'm hating life at the moment.  Think it'd be bad to throw back a few beers before I head in there?  I'M KIDDING!

mostly...

So, today I sign up at the gym.  Today I'll exercise.  Break a sweat.  And look like a moron.  But before I do, I send Amber a text asking what I should wear.  Her response:

"Spandex unitard.  Leg warmers.  Duh."

At least I'll be looking hot in moron-ness.

the measures i'll take for the sake of blog material

So as not to wake up in the night all freaky like normal, I've decided not to write about anything that I fear people will be offended by, I'll also not write anymore about stuff that makes me look crazy.

I guess this concludes my blog.

Goodbye.

Not really.

In fact, you're about to think I'm crazy and that's totally okay.  What I'm doing, I'm doing for you.  Because I'm selfless like that.

Ladies and gentlemen(man) I've decided to get a gym membership.

Uh huh.  I have.  Last night I sent Amber a text asking if the gym she goes to has kickboxing.  Indeed it does but only one day a week.  She lists off a few other things they have.  One of those things being yoga.  Now, I've heard yoga can be all funky and try to make me find my happy place but if it gets me in better shape and has me touching my toes instead of just my belly button, I'm all for it.

Several years ago (and boy do I mean several) I joined the club that is just a half mile from my house and did some aerobics with my sister-in-law, Denise.  And with aerobics you have to have a sense of rhythm which is not something I was given by God.  I was given a sense of direction, sense of smell, etc. but rhythm is nowhere to be found on my list. 

That aerobics class made me want to gouge out my wrists with a spoon.  It was awful.  I made a huge fool of myself.  And at that time I wasn't as used to it as I am now.  I also didn't have a blog at that time, so there wasn't anyone to share the fun with.  Well, I'm sure Denise got several laughs but at that time she was too nice to me to laugh at my face.  We're older, wiser, closer and we more easily laugh at each other ourselves now.

Back to the gym thing.  Basically the texts back and forth with Amber last night was almost enough of a work out that I don't need the membership.  I haven't laughed that hard in a long time.  Discussing spandex and sweat and bodily functions really made my night.

I warned her ahead of time that anything that happened during any workout would be blog material.  She's tough.  I think she can handle it.

Pretty sure I'm going to make the biggest fool out of myself.  Sad thing is, I'll be paying to make a fool out of myself.

And, it's all so I can come home and blog about the adventures I have.

The things I do for you, my reader friends.

And for my emotional and physical well-being.

Progress

Spoke with Emily on the phone this morning.  She encouraged me to list off the things that Sugar can do now (in January) that she couldn't do in September (when we first started homeschooling.)

Though I don't feel I listed much, what is there is good stuff.

She can count to 100.

She's learning to add.

She can sound out three and some four-letter words.  (when she wants to)

She can count by 10's and is learning to count by 5's.

She knows all the sounds of each letter of the alphabet.

She's learning to tell time.

Before we officially started school she knew all her colors and shapes and could recognize all the letters of the alphabet.

I'm going to stop flipping out about this.  She's learning.  She's progressing.  She's just fine.

We're going to be okay.

You know, at least for right now.  :)

and again

moments of panic in the night.

i really need to quit this. 

in october i finished up a 9 month counseling stint with directions to call at the beginning of the year. 

it's the beginning of the year.

i called yesterday and hung up after one ring.

i can be normal without paying someone.  right?

right?!

and then today she called me.  ha!  she asked how things were.  i said good.

"well, okay then.  the door is always open."

and that was that.

apparently i'm becoming a pro at masking the desperation i'm feeling.

so we hung up and i don't really know what to do.  i wanted to just call her right back and say, "hey, wait! we talked weekly for 9 months and you can't tell when i'm lying?!"

but realized i shouldn't have lied and just told her that i'd really like to come back and rid myself of some of this crazy.

thought about asking if she can prescribe an iv for starbucks and prozac.

i'm willing to fork out big bucks.

instead, i didn't call.  instead i'm trying to decide if i need to get over this crazy on my own.

stop freaking out in the night over posts i've written, comments i've made, status updates i've written.

i think i talk too much.  write too much.  but say too little.

and maybe that doesn't make sense but it does in my whacked out brain.

is it time to read more and write less?  is it time to listen more and speak less?

i should have asked for duct tape for my mouth for christmas and super glue for my fingers so i can't type.

blech.

yes.  i sound crazy.  yes.  i'll wake up in the middle of the night wanting to delete this post.  i'm not going to.  call me crazy.  i'm totally aware.

s'all good.

it's now nearly 6 am.  not even 12 hours later and i have considered deleting this.  eh.  instead i'll edit.

i really liked the comment that JerriLynn left.  normal being a setting on a washing machine and that i need to pray.

last night after i hit publish, i realized i'm trying to handle my life on my own.  that's never ever ever gonna work.  i do need to pray.

my expectations of myself are still too high and when i don't measure up to myself i assume i'm not measuring up to Him.  that i can't come to Him about my "stuff" until i'm just so.

how lame.

often i look to others to make sure i'm doing this whole life thing right.  am i a good mom?  am i a good wife?  daughter?  sister?  friend?  am i doing any of this right??  i'm not alone in wondering that.

at least i don't think.

but that's where my crazy steps in.  i freak out that i'm screwing everyone up.  and that keeps me up at night.

it's time pray more.  panic less.

starting now.

Write, post, delete. Story of my life.

On Saturday morning, in the wee hours, I wrote a post about my new iPhone and how we the people often are more preoccupied with our handheld devices than we are with the people and responsibilities around us.

I wrote about being hurt by such a thing and how I don't want to be the offender now that I have a new fancy shmancy phone.

Some people read it and even commented.

I kinda panicked though.  I don't want anyone thinking I'm pointing fingers.  Because you know the saying that if you're pointing fingers you still have four pointed right back at yourself.  So true in my case.  I admit I've been that person who has ignored those around me while checking texts and emails, etc. 

I've deleted the other post because I don't want to offend anyone.

And I'm just going to say this, I will not be the girl you're with who you feel is more into her phone than she is into you.

The end.

Through the Years

Revised edition.


In June of 1980, three weeks after the eruption of Mt. St. Helens, a little girl is born to a single mama. I am that little girl and my mama was just 19.

In 1981 I would meet my dad for the first time but I would never in my 18 years of knowing him, call him "Dad".

Late Summer of 1983 my mom married my step-dad and he's the man that for the next 12 years (tho' the marriage didn't last that long) I will call "Dad".

In May of 1984, I become a big sister when Erica is born. It will be approximately 22 years before we are friends. Six weeks after she's born, we move from WA to Alta Loma, California. I meet my step-dad's mom and step-dad. My grandmother introduces me to Ritz crackers and peanut butter while watching cartoons in bed. My grandfather introduces me to Chocolate and Peanut Butter ice cream from Baskin Robbins. I believe this is the year that I fell in love with all things chocolate and peanut-buttery. Praise the Lord for 1984.

In 1985 we move to Phoenix, AZ and I start Kindergarten. I remember during a nap that I had a dream my stepdad came home with bandages on his face. When I woke up...he came home and indeed did have bandages on his face. He'd burned himself when a radiator cap busted. 24 years later, it still freaks me out I had a dream about it and it happened. I finish Kindergarten in G*view, WA and meet a boy named Peter. He's the first boy I have a crush on and this crush will last through high school. I fall asleep on the bus almost daily and my mom always has to pick me up from the bus garage.

In 1986 my youngest sister, Megan, is born. We move to Fontana, CA and I start year round 1st grade. For Christmas my biological dad gives me a boy Cabbage Patch doll because I told him I wanted a brother.

In 1987 my sisters and I would live with my grandma and my two young aunts for a couple of months while my mom and stepdad look for work and a home in Seattle, WA. At 7 years old, I watch and fall in love with Dirty Dancing. Though I wasn't old enough to watch it on the big screen then, 20 years later I would be. We move to Seattle, my teacher eats cow tongue and it takes 45 minutes to get to school by bus. My mom has left my step-dad, I finish 2nd grade in G*view, WA. My new crush is Matt S. This crush will last until I meet my husband. I get chicken pox and have to miss my Valentine's Party.

In 1988, I get a Nintendo for my birthday. My sister is bit by a dog. And I start third grade at the same school I attended for second grade! It's the first time I have a best friend. Her name is Rachel C.

In 1989 we move to Selah. In 4th grade I have to do a report on Hamsters and present it to the class. My first time public speaking made me sick. It wouldn't be the last time I get sick before public speaking. This is the year my dad starts sending me flowers for Valentine's Day. And also the year he will join in the force that cleaned up the Exxon Valdez oil spill in Alaska. And for my 9th birthday he sends me Moose Slippers.

While shopping with my mother in Shop-Ko, we separate so I can buy her a gift. I have to go potty and can't find a restroom. I wet my pants. Since it's winter of 1990, my jeans steam off the car's seat when we get home. This will be laughed about til 2011. For a few months of fifth grade we move back to G*view but then return to Selah. My fifth grade teacher is my first male teacher. In a drawing at the end of the school year I win the prize of taking home the class gerbils. This thrills my mother to no end...

I stay in Selah until a month into my 7th grade year when, in 1992, I make the decision to move back to G*view and live with my grandma for a couple of months. I end up finishing out 7th grade in Selah, I win a prize for the best colored picture. I win a Pepsi and a Snickers bar. Still one of the best contests I've ever won.

From 92-94 we move four times. We move out of our apt. into and then out of the fifth wheel, into the Icky House and then back to G*view for my high school career. It's 1994 and it's the year that will change my life.

Summer of 1994 we start going to church, I give my heart to Jesus on a school bus. I have a crush on a boy named PeeWee. And I make friends with three girls who will be my best friends even 17 years later.

In 1995 my best friend, Lindsey and I attend a soccer game. Before the game starts a boy named Trevor asks me out. I have my first real boyfriend. I join Cross Country. Our church gets a new Youth Pastor. Trevor and I break up. I start dating a boy named Eric who is well over 6' tall and I decide then that the man I marry must be tall. But it won't be Eric. We break up.

One Sunday night in October of 1996 while attending evening service at our church I meet the cutest boy I've ever seen in my life. He's wearing a Cross Country shirt that's tucked into his Lee jeans, running shoes and he's sporting a flat top. I don't know his name but I tell Lindsey, "he looks like a Josh and I'm going to marry him." I'm 16 years old. We're introduced in November and start dating shortly after our introduction. I fall head over heels. He's 5'8" and doesn't really like me. We date though for a few months then he breaks up with me. I'm completely devastated and have decided life is not worth living.

Josh comes around to my way of thinking in May and we get back together. Half way through my Senior year of High School, we're engaged in December of 1997.

One month after my 18th birthday we get married. Josh buys me my first car, an '82 Honda Civic hatchback and a grey cat we name Roger. To thank him, I'm the worst wife ever. I don't cook or clean. I don't do laundry and we spend a lot of time and money eating out and going to the movies. I beg him for a baby, he says no but I gain 30 lbs anyway. 1998 was a tough year.

To celebrate our first anniversary we head to DisneyLand and Sea World and while we're there my mom calls with the news my dad has drown. We fly back immediately. 1999 is even tougher. We buy a house, I'm 19 and Josh is 21. For Valentine's Day Josh buys me a Beagle. And I'm sure it's to pacify my desire for a baby.

Over the course of the next several years, I'm still overweight, a bad wife and bad keeper of my home. We start a lawn mowing business and I decide to lose weight using the Weigh Down Diet. This is successful and I lose 35 lbs.

In June of 2003 Josh quits his job and starts driving a Peterbilt around the Northwest. He's gone 5 days a week. I get my first real job as a barista in an espresso stand in town and make friends with a girl named Keri. She's single with no kids and I think her life is perfect. I've lost all focus on Jesus and my marriage. My life is falling apart around me.

In 2004 I apply at Pier 1 imports even though they "aren't hiring" and am given a job within the week based on my nice handwriting. I fall in love with sales and am actually good at this. I'm promoted to Assistant Manager within a few months. I can now support myself. My husband and I separate and file for divorce. I live on my own for the first time in my life and I've never been more miserable. Josh and I still talk on the phone occasionally. One night we make the decision to make our marriage work. I move in with Lindsey and her husband for a few weeks. Then in with my mother for a couple of weeks. And then back home. I recommit my life to Jesus and my heart to my husband. I quit working at Pier 1.

In 2005 Josh quits driving truck. I learn what it means to be a keeper of the home. My house is clean most days. I cook more than we eat out and the highlight of my life is the day I give birth to the most amazing little girl. We start attending a new church.

Life is going great. My marriage and my little girl are wonderful. I start blogging. I don't have many friends who live near me. That changes in October of 2006 when I get a MySpace account and reconnect with my friend Amber from high school. We become inseparable.  Have acronyms for everything.  Enjoy car rides singing at the top of our lungs.  And I torture her with mushrooms when she comes over for dinner.

Last day of February 2007, Josh and I go out to dinner. We come home and I have the worst stomach pain I've ever had. At 1 in the morning we decide to go to the ER. It's confirmed I have appendicitis. I have an appendectomy and go home the next day. A week later I go in for a follow up and am told that when my appendix was removed so was a malignant tumor. 4 days later I have another surgery removing half my colon and 41 lymphnodes and leaving me with a 6" scar down my belly. The rest of 2007 is great. Amber and I fulfill our lifelong dream of seeing Dirty Dancing on the big screen. We drive 400 miles round trip to watch Johnny get Baby out of the corner. Josh and I hem and haw and decide in July we'll try for another baby. I get pregnant in August.

In April of 2008 our Beagle dies. Our "first born" and we realize how much we loved her in spite of her driving us insane. Exactly one month later in May of 2008 I give birth to another baby girl. And she cries for the next 2.5 years of her life. We'll never hem and haw about having another baby. November of 2008 Amber and I fulfill another dream and see New Kids on the Block in concert 3 hours away from home (and my baby), I use a breast pump that is hooked to jumper cables outside of my van. It's quite memorable and totally worth the embarrassment and any picture she may have taken. 

In April of 2009 my husband quits his very steady 7-5 Mon-Fri job and we load up as a family and drive around in a Peterbilt 5 days a week. People think we're nuts but support us anyway. I find creative uses for plastic bags, blog about it and still have friends. 

In May of 2009 due to illness in the family, my mom and my sister's three children move into my home.  It's one of the hardest times in all our lives.  In July my best friend and I break up.  I'm devastated.  My mom and the kids move out.  In the fall the girls and I start staying home more than we go in the truck.  Truck life is hard.  Hard.

In February 2010 Josh and I have a talk about his job.  I can't stand him being gone.  He can't stand being away from home.  He's offered a job back at his previous place of employment with an awesome, tailored for him position.  Rock.on.  I'm still best friend-less, now sister-less too.  I'm spiraling into a state of depression and a friend recommends I seek counseling.  It's the best advice I've ever been given. 

Through counseling I finally, after 11 years, recognize the need to grieve the loss of my dad.  It's miserable and it's hard and it's the best thing I've ever done.  Counseling taught me that my expectations of myself and those around me are too high.  Changing perspective brought back relationships in my life.  One day in July of 2010 I read a blog post that opens my eyes.  Basically saying if there's anyone you need to say something to, say it.  I immediately email my best friend.  And after over a year of not seeing one another we meet for lunch.  I'm shaking I'm so nervous and excited.  It's been a few months and I think we've reached our new normal.  I never want to be without her in my life again.

In September 2010 I begin homeschooling my five year old.  It's awful, we hate it most days.  It's fabulous, we love it most days.  Such a love/hate deal going on.

In November we hem and haw about another baby even though we said we'd never hem and haw about it again.  We pray about it.  Decide to "try" and we fail.  We're both relieved.

2011 is here and I say, bring it.

originally published in oct. 09

Bad Wife

I'm starting 2011 off with a bang.

I've never claimed to be a good wife.

Not ever.

Because I don't believe that I am.

I'm better than I used to be but I still suck.

More than I care to admit.

My husband is skiing today with Emily's husband.  I love that he has Jim to go and do guy stuff with on occasion but skiing freaks me out lately.

A friend of ours was killed in a skiing accident nearly two years ago and just a few days ago I read about a 20-something kid and a 5 yr old little girl dying in a skiing accident.

I don't like the sport.

Sure I've done it and one time I even had fun.

But now, mostly I'm just scared of it.

Some of the last words I said to my husband in 2010 were that I was preparing myself mentally for him not coming home today.

Who says that?!?

Apparently I do.

Ugh.

It was true though.  I laid there thinking about what I'd do without him.  Blank thoughts.  I don't know what I'd do without the man.  I can't do without him.

It's after 4 pm.  I haven't heard from him.  I'm sure he's safe and sound and happy to be hanging out with someone who doesn't have hormone issues.

In the meantime, I'm praying for his quick, safe return.

Mostly so he can take these crazy kids off my hands, I need a nap.  Well, and so I can apologize for my ridiculous behavior last night, too.

10 New Year's Resolutions I can keep

Every year I make resolutions that I never keep.  I get depressed about it and my new year starts off knowing I'm setting myself up for failure.  This year, I'm going to keep 'em.  I will.

No, really.

I can sooo keep these.

Sarah's 2011 Resolutions:

1.  to gain a minimum of 5 lbs.

2.  procrastinate a little more

3.  not cook dinner at least twice a week.

4.  be impatient with my husband

5.  raise my voice at my children

6.  wear a sweatshirt and ponytail 6 days of the week

7.  drink too much coffee

8.  eat more chocolate

9.  go to bed too late

10.  mop once every Blue Moon

oooh, Blue Moon.  maybe I need 11 resolutions.

11.  drink one Blue Moon per...per mood swing.

Yep, that covers 'em.  And I'm sure on December 31, 2011 I will be able to cross them all off my list.

And we all know how much I love to make out lists and check off the items!

What are your resolutions for 2011?

where does the time go

She was 11 months old when I met her.  I was 16. 

With a smile on her sweet face, she reached her chubby little arms up to me, asking me to hold her.  I was terrified.  She was the first baby I'd ever been around.

I didn't know if it was okay to pick her up.

So I patted her head.

Her uncle became my boyfriend.

And then she became my niece.  But before that, this girl, she had my heart.

I've never been able to get enough of her.  She's always been someone you want to be around. 

She's beautiful on the outside and even more on the inside.  I love this girl's heart.

She is funny and smart.  She's goofy.  And a thinker.  I love her laugh and the way she blushes.  I love that she lets me play with her hair and I adore that she plays with her little cousins.  Having her here for a week this summer was a highlight in my year.  If only I'd been as wise as she when I was a teenager. 

She's an artist through and through and I can't wait for the day she's famous and I can tell people I changed her diaper.

I love you, sweet niece of mine.  More than words on any blog post can say.

Happy 15th Birthday!

Simple Joys

I have stuff I'd like to write about.  I have a post in draft titled, "Christmas Confession."

I'm sure it'll stay in draft.  Sometimes I don't wanna share the ugly.

Instead, I'll provide 10 simple joys in my life.  I {heart} simple.  Sometimes we just need simplicity in our lives to make us happy.

Here are 10 simple joys in my life.

1.  Freshly bathed children

2.  A husband wearing cologne

3.  Amber..always Amber.

4.  Laughing til it absolutely hurts

5.  A freshly groomed Golden Retriever

6.  A purring kitty

7.  Starbucks gift card

8.  My library card

9.  My nieces.  All of them.  They bring me much JOY.

10.  Slippers

What are some of your simple joys?

the scripture and snapshot without um, the snapshot

I have a decent camera. 

I don't know how to use it but I have one.

I don't have any of the photo editing fancy shmancy software.  Honestly, I'm lucky if my computer turns on each morning.

And when it does turn on the only things I know how to do are FB, Twitter, Gmail, and blog.  I wouldn't know how to use fancy shmancy photo editing software if I had it.

I never really cared much about that until a few days ago.

I'm sure many of you have seen this:




floating around on blogs.  I love looking at the scriptures that folks choose for their photos.  I love the fonts they choose.  The colors.  The stories they're telling with picture only.

Since I'm not a photographer I haven't ever had the urge to participate in Scripture & a Snapshot until a few days ago.

I have no snapshot but here's what I can tell you my photo would have been of:

An alarm clock reading 3 a.m. on a snowy work day.  A man pulling the warm covers off his still tired body.  Sitting on the edge of the bed, wiping the sleep from his eyes.  Pulling on longjohns, jeans, jacket and boots.  Quietly of course, as to not wake the rest of the house.  A man heading out in the snow to the home of his parents to plow their driveway.

Because, "Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be long upon the land which the Lord your God is giving you."  Exodus 20:12

I love that my husband honors his parents.  I love that he's willing to give up sleep and the comfort of his bed in the wee hours to plow their driveway for them.

There's no picture of that moment to hold in my hand.  But I'm holding it safely in my heart.

What Pandas Eat

This morning I was opening up a box of cereal for Spice.

photo courtesy of amazon

As I'm opening up the box of cereal Sugar pipes up. 

"Hey, those are Pandas!  Did you know that Pandas eat boob?"

"Whaaa?!"  I was completely astonished, had no clue where that came from.

But Josh says, "You mean Pandas eat bamboo."

"Oh, yeah, bamboo."

My Turn

You email.

You comment.

You call.

Or text.

You let me know you're praying for me.

You bless me so.

I'd like to return the favor.

I'd love to pray for you.

You can leave your prayer request in the comments section or you can email me at truckfamily@gmail.com if it's more personal than you care to share on the blog.

I'm so thankful for each and every one of ya.

{getting over me}

The hardest person I deal with on a daily basis is...

me.

Hands down.

I'm a hot-tempered, loving, roller coaster basket case.

In a 5'2" frame.

Why I'm choosing to share about my morning, I don't know.  Maybe just a public apology to my children.  So they know I'm sorry for who I was this morning and for who I am on many mornings.

**

Today started off so great.  Spice slept all night.  That's right, all night.  I had six straight hours of sleep and felt great.  I got out of bed at 6, had my coffee, FB'd, emailed, played three games of CandyLand with Sugar (all of which I won) and then Spice woke up around 8.

The morning was relaxing.  We had a Christmas party planned with other moms and kiddos that started at 10:30 and we just went about our morning leisurely.  I realized time was getting away from us so I started getting myself and the girls ready.  Everything was fine.

Until I had to find something to wear.

All of my clothes are clean but I have nothing to wear.

I look frumpy and gross in everything I try on.  And that girdle I bought a few weeks back, yeah, she's a lil too snug now and I think I need another girdle just to stuff in what the first girdle can't hold in.

I throw on some jeans and a t-shirt that I'm positive I wore to our last get together with these moms and kids.

After throwing jeans and shirts and girdles all over my house I realize the girls' hair is a mess, I have no make up on and I forgot to put the de-frizz in my hair.

So, I'm a frumpy, frizzy mama.

Spice never complains about having her hair done.  But today she screamed. 

I was now running late and I was frustrated.

The other moms with the other kids have cute hair-styled, perfectly dressed children.

I don't have that.

But on days when we're getting together, I try to pull us together.

I shoved Spice off my lap.  Like really shoved.  Sugar came in to get her hair done and Sugar always fusses about having her hair done.  Always.  Today was no exception.  I kicked her out of the bathroom, slammed the door and called my husband.

"Talk me down from this ledge."  I tell him. 

He can't.

He can do a lot of things for me but at this moment, in my mind-set, he cannot talk me off this ledge of madness I'm feeling.

I send a text to Candee telling her my kids are sick and I won't be coming.  The couple coughs this morning probably don't count as being really sick.

Who lies to their best friends?

Apparently me.

I sit down.

Sugar comes up to me and tells me she's ready to go.  I tell her we aren't going.  Her eyes well with tears and she bolts from the house. 

In the amount of time it takes her to circle the house I utter a prayer I don't even remember.  I just know I asked for help.

She comes in.  Eyes red.  Tears fresh on her face.

"We're going." I tell her.

We're going even though my hair is wet and frizzy and I have no make-up on.  We're going even though the kids aren't in their cutest clothes and their hair is matted to their heads.  We're going even though I'm wearing the same thing I wore a few weeks ago when we got together.

And so we went.  And everyone looked great and then there was us.

But we sang Happy Birthday to Jesus and we did crafts and listened to a story.

And I chose to forget about the fact that I was wearing gold toe socks or that Sugar's socks were bright red and didn't match her clothing in the slightest.

Why did we go?

Because today wasn't about me. It wasn't about what my girls were wearing or how cute their hair looked.

It was about celebrating Jesus' birthday with other mamas and kiddos. It was about fellowship.

It wasn't easy getting out the door and putting aside my feelings but I'm glad we did.

No Towel, Need Sleepy

(Tommy Boy reference)

I've just decided that I'll never get a full night of sleep again until I'm dead.

Dead, I say.

The night my mom took Spice I had visions of sugar plums dancing in my head that I would actually sleep without the little rugrat here.

My neighbor, on the other hand, well he had a different idea.

They have five vehicles.  Two adults live there but they own five vehicles.  (who am I to talk, we have five vehicles, too.)

Ouch.  (truck and car for sale!)

Anyway.

At 3:30 in the A! M! the neighbor decides to start his loudest truck.  The truck that doesn't run very well unless your foot is on the throttle.  And so he has his foot on the throttle, revving it up.  For approximately 15 minutes.

At 3:30 in the A! M!

I couldn't fall back to sleep until nearly 6.  Because once I've been woken up my mind starts racing.  Everything I need to get done the next day.  Everything I didn't do the day before.  I remember conversations I had that I wish I hadn't or remember conversations I didn't have that I wished I did.  I remember that I didn't clean the jelly up off the counter or rinse the toothpaste out of the sink.

And I remember I didn't kill that one spider because, well he won't hurt anyone way up there (and because Josh couldn't come home to kill it for me.)

But that probably means the spider is now lowering his nasty little self down from the ceiling and into my hair.

You see.  I think about important stuff at 3:30.  When the sun is still asleep and so are the neighbor's roosters.

At least for another 30 minutes because I guess 4 is when they think the sun has come up even though it really hasn't.

When my mom came to get Spice the other day she informed me that I looked tired. 

Or sick.

Well, surprise, freaking surprise since I am sick and tired of being tired.

I want to stay in a hotel room where there aren't any children allowed on the floor I'm staying in.  I don't want anyone to come fluff my pillow or offer to clean my room.  I just want sleep.

But if that's too much to ask for I'll take an IV filled with Starbucks, please.

Tuesdays blab

I now have two children under my roof.

All is right in my world.

While it was nice to be able to get a lot of work done last night with Spice at my mom's, I'm just not a complete mama without her here.  My mother said she slept all night for her.

Because she slept with my mom.

I think that's all the kid wants.  To sleep with us.  Guess there won't be anymore babies.

I'm taking a break from mud and taping.  Can you believe at this very moment I'd rather be doing dishes?  That's how tired and frustrated I am with this room I'm working on.  So tired.  So frustrated.  And my boogers are full of drywall dust.  It's fabulous.

You're welcome.

Carpet was to be installed Friday but seein's how I suck at moving quickly in the ways of the drywall, I called and asked if the installation could instead, be on Monday or Tuesday.  So, it will be Tuesday and now I can get a little rest time.

Hallelujah.

Amen.

I have a crying two year old in my lap.  Dishes to do.  A dog with breath that smells worse than the town I live in.

And a contentedness about me.

Happy Tuesday!

thoughts on a monday night

i'm hungry.

thankful my husband is on his way home with take out.

i haven't had a full night of sleep in several days.  i'm not sure what her deal is but spice, well spice has decided to wake up several times a night lately.

friday night i was up with her six times.  saturday night josh said he'd be on spice duty.  he got up with her three times then was asleep like the dead the other two times she got up.  i woke with her three times last night.

my mom, bless her heart, came to pick up spice an hour ago.  she's keeping her for the night so we can at least get one full night of sleep.

that one full night of sleep will be enough to have me considering babies again.

remind me the next time i start baby making talk about what this last weekend was like.

thank you.

friendships.

can i just say the ones that you have to work at the most are the most worth it?  yes, there are easy friendships for sure but the ones i have to fight for i've found are the ones that i feel i couldn't live without.

love.my.friends.

christmas cards have been filling up my mailbox.  i love this time of year.  i have my Christmas cards sitting on the bar, addressed and everything.  i just haven't put stamps on them.  i'm lazy like that. 

on friday i'm paying off our van.  fingers crossed.  pretty stoked about it.  how i'd love to take the money and go on a vacation but that day will come as soon as we're debt free and save for it.

i'm nearly done with my Christmas shopping.  thought i was all done then remembered a wee little niece i still need to buy for.  i think i'll just wrap up Spice and give 'er to my sweet niece.

took some time off from the home schoolin' deal for a bit.  gained some perspective.  then my heart swelled up last night when Sugar says to me at bedtime, "Mama, can we do school tomorrow?"  she woke up later than normal this morning but as soon as her breakfast was finished she grabbed her math book and was ready to go.  if only all home school days were like today.

my mom and i emailed back and forth today.  if i could post it, i would.  i can't.  but let me tell you the tears were rolling and i thought i was gonna die from laughing so hard.  the word areola was mentioned a time or 12.  and that's all i'm gonna say about that.

pretty sure i hear the '85 suburban pulling up the driveway.  or maybe it's that i smell my food.  either way, it's time to end this nonsense post.

happy monday, sweet friends.

Let me get right on that

My fortune cookie from last weekend.

We got a good laugh.

I Wogged

I got on the treadmill tonight for the first time in what feels like 500 years.  I didn't run or walk.  I wogged.  More than a walk, not quite a jog.

I hit one of the pre-set dealies and it ran it's course while I huffed and puffed and considered blowing the house down.

I got up to a whoppin' 3.5 mph and thought I was going to keel over and die.

Josh rooted for me almost the entire time.  You know, when he wasn't bathing the girls and cleaning up the paper plates I served his fabulous dinner on.  I think I should buy him some pom poms and a short skirt.

Okay, maybe just the pom-poms.

Yes, I finished out the 30 minutes but it wasn't easy.  I have this spot in my lower back on the right side that was going nuts.

I'm not happy with how I've just let myself get all flabby and outta shape.  I used to run.  A lot.  Yeah, that was like 15 years ago but still.  I used to do it. 

I'm wanting to pick up a package of Oreos and have myself a bit of a pity party.

But then that 30 minutes would be wasted and we wouldn't want that.  I'm going to stick with it.  I really am.

No, really.  I am.

to have another babe or not to have another babe...that is the question.

My husband ran into a friend of ours the other day.  His children were in our wedding as the flower girl and ring bearer.

Now the flower girl is 16.

And the ring bearer is in college.

It's official:  I'm old.
The end.

Kidding.

Kelly (our friend) told Josh that we need to have more kids.  That they're sad they only had two children.

Three weeks ago our pastor said as much.  He said his only regret about their kids was that they didn't (or couldn't) have more.

We hear it often from a whole lotta folks.  "We wish we'd had more."

For several months now I've felt content with our two girls.  After I had Spice I ran into a lady at Safeway that I know pretty well.  It was the first time she'd seen our new baby and she says to me, "too bad Josh couldn't have gotten a little boy this time around."

So I asked Josh if he was bummed that he didn't have a son.

"Nope."

And if we had another baby it's not that we'd be doing so to try to "get" a boy.  We'd be having another baby so we could add craziness to this household.  Boy or girl.

But the thought of adding more craziness to my already crazy, well, it makes me want to have my counselor on speed dial and possibly the psych ward too.

I love my kids, I do.  I love the thought of having oodles (did I say oodles?) more.  Yet it terrifies.

Kids aren't easy.  Parenting is toooouuugh.  And I'm not of the notion that it gets easier as they get older.  It just gets different.  I'm certain the only difference (okay maybe not the only) in having a teenager and a toddler is that the teenager can make his/her own food and most likely doesn't wear a diaper.  I think there will still be nights where you're up in the middle of the night, whether because you're praying they get home safely or because they just want to chat in the middle of the night. 

Thinking about homeschooling three kids seems daunting but there are families that homeschool five kids or uh, 19.  I should be able to handle three, right?

We just don't know.  We go back and forth about having more kids.  We want to.  We're freaked about it.  I mean, after all, we do have Spice.  And she's like 7 kids in one.  So basically we have eight kids.  It just looks like we have two.

And do I really want to change diapers for another 500 years?  Can the next one come out potty-trained?  And can he/she sleep through the night from day one?  I mean, I have a 2.5 year old who still wakes up sometimes three times a night.

Maybe that's why I can't make a decision.  I'm still sleep deprived.