P.M.S.

Pitiful Male Syndrome

Why oh why can't my husband open a bowl of leftovers and place it into the microwave? He gushes that the food tastes sweeter when I do it. Why can he not routinely perform his one inside household chore, taking out the garbage? Instead he'd rather complain that the house stinks. Hmmm maybe that's because there's 2-3 dirty diapers sitting in there and I won't take that chore too because I already have 10-thousand other things to do. I ask him to zip his jeans and unwad sweaty, stinky socks before putting them into the laundry basket. No go. He moans and groans when I ask him to watch the kids (which I consequently shouldn't have to do, but I need to make sure he's focusing his attention on them instead of the damn computer or UFC fighting on pay-per-view.) Um, hey they are yours too! When I'm sick, I still take care of the kiddos and neglect my own health. If he's sick, look out. Everyone in the household will hear of his misery. He's constantly got something wrong with him too. Hypochondriac perhaps? He complains that he never gets to buy anything with his own money, but last time I turned around there were computer games, abandoned "hobbies," shotguns, camping and fishing gear, and his newest obsession a Suzuki SV650s that he doesn't even know how to drive. Why is it that when men make a purchase, it has to be bigger and better than their co-workers/friends/relatives? He has given the boys baths so few times I can count them on both hands. I might suffer from the occasional P.M.S., but HE HAS IT TOO! Thanks for letting me vent.

All Day School

I have no choice but to let my oldest son grow up. He's in all day school now. He went decked out like a mini skater; a skater T-shirt, black jeans and black Airwalks. His 1st grade classroom is separate from the other 1st grade classrooms and he wants me to stay with little brother by the kindergarten rooms while he walks half way around the building to go to his class. He carried his lunch money in his pocket and ate his greasy corndog and potato wedges amongst his peers. The first words out of his mouth were "I had TWO recesses!" He thinks his teacher is pretty. Cartoon underwear are no longer in. Yup, it's the big time son.

I took Ty to the optometrist yesterday and he's got to get glasses. One eye sees 20/80, the other 20/25. He's so bright we would have never guessed. He never complained save for an occasional headache which we attributed to allergies. Today I ran into his kindergarten teacher and told her and she said he never seemed to have any trouble. I guess the better eye compensates for the bad vision. TGFI (Thank goodness for insurance) because we could have walked out of there owing well over $1,000 for all 5 of our appointments. I was also surprised to learn Ty and Wes both have slight red/green color blindness. It's hereditary, so thanks for that Dad ha ha. And poor Connor is not left out either. He has a different prescription in each eye so we have to go in for further testing and have his eyes dilated so they can get a better look. I do think that Ty will look most handsome and smart with his new glasses. I can just hope he feels the same way. I hope with all my heart that my self-esteem building is enough.

I'm Back

I know, I know. I hadn't even told you I was leaving. I went out of town for the weekend, but I'm back now. I hope to update soon but the boys start school this week so it may be a little hectic. Check back soon!

Turning Point

That's it?! Mom wants to "re-open the lines of communication." That sounds excrutiating if you ask me because of all the build-up on those lines. Mom is really going through some things herself, and if you ask me she's doing worse than I am dealing with it because she became anti-social. Sucked into herself like some giant black hole that eats and eats until it can't digest anymore and BLAM. The plea for me to come over by myself was like "Wow I've really messed up because I was only thinking of myself and LOOK at all the crap (or carp, if you prefer) you are going through." We talked for 30 mins. on the phone tonight. Haven't done that since we lived in different zip codes. Strange huh?

Let's see...to re-open the lines of communication I've going to need some hardware. Some saws, jackhammers, torches, and oh yeah- some of that Drano stuff. These pipes are sludgy. I can't remember the last time she opened up to me and tonight she laid a lot out there. WHACK, THUD on the lines. She's been suffering from more than I have. Crush! My needs have fallen to the wayside craaaack. Alright now we are inside. Let's flush the lines. I've been a bad mother but an even worse Grandmother.

Waterworks, here they come....

I am relieved! Somehow she and I are going to re-connect. All hope is not lost in the mother-daughter relationship department. We are even looking into a yoga class together. How bizarre is that? She still wants me to come visit her so we can chat in person about all that was let out on the phone. Seems that the phone can mask some things and magnify others. But this is good. A turning point.

The Sound of Money

What is it about the tinny tinkling of money hitting the ground that drives kids wild? I swear we can be three aisles over and someone can be digging in a pocket full of change and drop a penny or two jingle-jingle-tink-tink---tink on the ground and my kids' sonar ears tune right in...the alert system goes off...DROPPED CHANGE, AISLE 1!! They go bonkers scrambling over the cart practically upending it and peering their around the end of the aisle to see if they can see it on the ground anywhere. If they do, it's a mad dash to the money-spill. I stand back hoping and praying that no one pushes a cart between them and the change. When one prevails, he must rub it in the other one's face. "Mwuahaha. I have the shiniest penny ever." On occasion we run into a skinflint that stands with folded arms and tapping foot glaring at the children until pennies are returned. I've taught the boys to hand the money back to whomever dropped it and most people politely thank them for picking it up or let them keep it.

Back in my childhood money-making days, my best friend and I came up with grandiose business plans to lure in the neighborhood folk. We had some elaborate ideas that took weeks of planning. We invited all the neighborhood kids and even called cousins to have their parents chauffeur them in by the carload. Among our money-making adventures were snow cones (undiluted Kool-Aid over crushed ice,) yard sales (complete with overpriced Barbies with their hair already cut,) craft shows in her family's camper trailer (yeah that didn't go over so well) and even a carnival with games that filled her whole yard. We were the dreamers; kids who spent all afternoon in the hot sun preying on every passerby just to make a buck or two. Looking back I'm embarrassed at how easily we were amused.

Now that we are saving for a trip to Vegas, I admit you'll find me looking for money. I scan the ground in large crowds. I've found a wad of $20.00's and waited where they were dropped and the rightful owner came back crying and thankful. When I was pregnant, I found $20.00 at 7-Eleven and turned it in but the manager came right back out the door and told me to "Buy something for the baby." I've found dollar bills and ten dollar bills and even a twenty dollar bill just at our local county fair. Maybe I look too hard and the boys have noticed? I don't go out of my way for change anymore, but if I see a penny in my path- heads OR tails- I'll pick it up and add it to my collection- if I can get to it before the boys do!

Lately the sound of money has been "Take me to Vegas, baby!" where I'll probably go and blow it all but you better bet your buns I'll be checking the ground there too.

Scrambled Eggs and Minds

My parents will be coming up on 1 year post-divorce here pretty soon. When it comes to family events, Mom's family is the larger side and we throw these all-out huge bashes and frequently. She's clearly voiced her opinion that she doesn't want my Dad in attendance. She shakes her head violently in disapproval of the things he's done since the divorce like go out and buy a Hyabusa, one of the speediest sportsbikes out there AND a 2005 LE Harley Electra Glide. Not to mention numerous trade-ins for sporty speed boats, a convertible and 4-wheelers.

So it comes as a total surprise to me that they still talk about me and my brother. Mom asks "Did Laura tell you she saw your Dad and I at Denny's?" No, she hadn't. Probably didn't want to shock the hell outta me. They went to breakfast together? Hmmm. Why on earth would Mom submit herself to such torture? Uh yes, I'll have an order of pancakes and sausage with a side of shit-talking, and black coffee please. And make that as black as my heart! They went to breakfast together to conspire against us. They are split up and we are adults. I don't think decisions about my brother and I collectively concern them anymore. It's that simple.

It wouldn't bother me so had Mom not ended our phone convo with this "I heard some interesting things. When you're feeling better you need to come over by yourself so we can discuss." Now it's not like I tell Dad lots of juicy details about my life. And I try my damnedest to not talk shit about Mom in front of him. After all they did spend 24 years together and I *think* at least some of them were happy. What could Dad have possibly told her that she didn't already know? I fret!

Compulsive Liar

At the risk of the King of Compulsive Liars himself finding my post, he must be outed. In some deranged way I hope he runs across this. He will immediately know what he is being accused of, but of course will deny it with every bone in his body.

I would have said at one time he was my best friend of the opposite sex. I love(d) him. We spent many hours hanging out together and the hot desert summers we spent together were truly some of the best of my life. Concerts, road trips, floating the river. Rollerblading, loud music, and we even worked together at the local diner. Back then he didn't have to impress me- he was daring and knew that was exactly why I was attracted to him. He was my opposite in many ways. My friends would snicker and kick each other under the table with each progressive lie and I ignored it. Nothing could have made me change my opinion of him.

He married and moved away one day without so much as a good-bye. I didn't forget the boy who brought out my daring side. After several years we reunited and I saw for myself that the lies only got bigger and badder. I thought maybe after his marriage and children that maybe he'd have grown out of such a childish trait. I was naive.

Lying was his bad habit, his addiction. It wasn't drugs or alcohol that he so craved. It was the attention that the lies scored him. Each one must be that much more amazing to outdo the last.

And just to set the record straight for him:
They don't make capsules at the nuclear plant here anymore.
I'm sure you had a phone or access to one. They even get that in prison.
If you could get a job in Europe at $80.00/hour then why the he!! are you here?

Sthiiiick

Look how warm he looks...you can just tell he's miserable.

Here goes, in my best sing-songey voice "Moooom, I'm sthiiiiick." No, that's not the boys telling me they are sick, but me asking for my Mommy. I hate it when any of my boys get sick, and I'm sick too! How am I supposed to make chicken noodle soup/wipe noses/do laundry/clean up puke/force fluids while I am clearly ill and need rest myself? I want Mom to come over and take care of me so I can take care of my sick boys like a Mom is supposed to. I remember my Mom used to let me sleep in her bed all afternoon with the TV on. She had access to some unlimited supply of jello and popsicles that we could divulge in whenever we felt like it. She would hang blankets over the curtains to make it that much darker and easier to sleep. The latest Baby-Sitters Club book was mine! Sometimes, I almost secretly coveted sick days.

Connor's fever this morning was 101.8. He's warm all over. He just wants to cuddle me and is refusing any liquid other than milk, and it's even a challenge to get him to sip that. I swear he thinks I've tainted the milk with some nasty medicine. (Riiight!) The husband is off looking at motorcycles (what the f@#& do we need one of those for right now?) and I just want to crash but oh no, can't do that with three young boys awake.

I suppose my care goes to the wayside and I'll just hold onto my sweet, warm boy a little longer. I'm sure he'll doze eventually. I'll do just like my Mom used to, so my boys will someday know just what to do when one of their own children says "Mooooom, I'm sthiiiiick."

And the word from the lab is...

It's Benign!!!!!

Before and After

Here's a before and after shot of my arm. It took 4 stitches to close that bad boy up.

Mediocre

I'm sick of feeling mediocre. I am good at a few things yet not great at anything. I'm average looking. I have an average house and average income. All these years I have conformed and conformed and look where that's got me? People can't say "Shelly, yeah she's that wonderful flautist (or writer or chef or the list goes on.) I'm sick of fitting in and getting by. I've done things and neglected to do things just because the husband preferred it that way. That is so effing lame because I'm not being true to myself.

The husband, in his empathy-to-help-me-because-I-have-some-sort-of-mental-problem-now-that's-what-depression-is, actually sat down with me and a pen and notepad and wrote down "Where do you see yourself in 10 years?" Which I was supposed to answer. First of all, I felt like he was trying to be some junior high counselor trying to help me decide which career path I want to take. He thinks I don't have any goals (which in part is TRUE) but what was pitiful was that the only thing I see myself doing in 10 years is being a Mom. An open-minded, caring and genuine Mom that my boys adore. That was it. That is the only thing I feel that will be a constant in my life. The next question was "Where do you WANT to see yourself in 10 years?" I honestly just want to be a better mother than I am now. That won't be too hard seeing as lately I've been pretty hard on myself and hardly leaving the house at times. I know the kids sense that I've been pretty down. In 10 years, I'm not working. I'm not out socializing. I'm not next to my husband. God it hurts to say that but I'm honest when I say I'm just a mother.

I'm just a mother. What an important job and that sounds like I'm downsizing the tasks involved. Trust me, in no way am I saying it's not a difficult job. It's the single most important job I will ever have. I want to raise men that respect others, are open-minded, who earn a fair living doing what they enjoy. Men who treat women with respect. But if I can't even respect myself and be true to myself, what are they learning? I shudder to think.

My husband said "I just want you to get out there and meet people and maybe make a little money." I think it's high time I pursue becoming a hooker. So much for mediocrity. There is something I could be good at! No morality police I don't need your comments- I'm just kidding! A little.

(To be continued...)

8/17/05 9:45 am

If you forced me to sit down right now and plan for the future I'd take what I do know- which is being a mother, and I'd channel my energy and effort into that. Here's a toast (chocolate milk this morning) to everything else just sort of falling into place. Hey, it could happen!

Circle of Trust

It's 1 hour from quitting time. The husband is supposed to be off work at 5 o'clock sharp but that rarely ever happens anymore. This week he's on call so I felt like I've hardly seen him. But strangely I've been ok with that. I'm sure I have time to blog before he gets home. I can't do it when he's here. I don't know why. I'm pretty sure he doesn't read it. But I prefer to keep it private, not private from the public but private from the inside. Isn't it sad that while this is an outlet for me, if he ever truly saw how I felt here that it would cause more chaos than I'm ready to deal with at this point. It's also a good thing that some of my blogs go unpublished altogether.

Today I had the melted-looking mole removed from my left arm. My arm is still numb! And I had two others lasered off too. Now the mole from my arm is being transported off to the lab to test for cancer. I should know the results within the week. I have 4 stitches on my arm which won't be removed for 10 days. At that time I will have a physical, get stitches out and talk about how the exercise is working for my depression. I can already tell you it's been hard to find 1 hour a day to do it, especially with the hubby on call because I can't leave the kids with him. But I got a bike, and my Tae Bo videos from eBay should be coming shortly. I've been exercising more like every other day. Still an improvement!

This weekend was a time for family. My cousins were visiting from Oregon. I have two cousins getting ready to go back to college after spending the summer here- one of them went to China this summer. And next she's leaving to Iowa for her Master's! Another cousin just got back from Australia. We had a blast playing Texas Hold'em Poker, Schnertz, and the whole family went out for Chinese. It's a big affair when we go out to eat as the extended fam, 6 tables pushed together and 1 waitress pretty much just attended to our table. We had so much catching up to do before everyone parted ways. I am so blessed to have a large family that lives in such close proximity. I've never met another family that even remotely resembles ours. We celebrate every birthday. We get together nearly every weekend. I've seen my cousins (and even both sets of Grandparents) as often as I could possibly want. I even spend time with both of my Grandmas together because they get along so well.

My Grandma B. has always said "You can always count on family." For us, this is true. I know without a doubt, 100%, never-fail that I can trust and depend on every person in my family. I strive daily to live up to that for each and every one of them. Have you ever seen Meet the Fockers? It's the circle of trust.

Do you fathom that since I wouldn't want my husband to read my blog that he's outside the circle of trust? Or do I fall outside of his?

Well I better go do some last-minute hyper cleaning before the man arrives.

Can't Stop a Train

of thought. Today I was driving down the highway, thinking and driving. (Yes I was paying attention to the road.) But my train of thought went something like this "Today is Mark's 50 birthday party. I wonder if his wife planned his birthday? I wonder if I will be planning my husband's 50th birthday party? I wonder if our parents will be there to attend?" And then I saw it. A hearse traveling down the freeway. Ummm, my train of thought wrecked...

These Dreams!

High cholesterol too? I thought that was for old people. Well, Cheerios for breakfast it is. And maybe I shouldn't have had those potato chips at lunch but I swear they paraded down my throat and you can't stop a parade. It's all good though. I'm young and I can still get a grip on this. I'm getting a bike and some Tae Bo videos...now does anyone know where I can purchase some motivation??

I have had some funky dreams lately- me in a car chase on twisty roads after some woman who was clearly nuts and forgot to take her meds so when she finally slowed down I pulled out a bottle of mine and made her pop a few. Then I was on the way home with the boys (somehow they miraculously appeared in my car) and we watched astronauts land with parachutes right in the median on the freeway. So my interpretation of this one is that I'm chasing myself, hoping I'll slow down long enough to consider taking some medication of some sort because without it I'm a crazy woman. And the astronauts, well the astronauts landing safely at home was just in the news, duh. ;P

I haven't been sleeping well. I'm resting and don't have to get out of bed for 8 hours so I can't blame it on C.J. waking up in the night. It's hard to fall asleep. I'm like one of those dolls with the moving eyelids. My eyelids are heavy and close when my head hits the pillow but I could pop up at any minute and they'd be wide as saucers and I'd be just as awake as I was before lying down. Light sleep. Crazy ass dreams. I cut out caffeine at night. I'm not even dragging during the day. Too much to think about lately. How can I shut my brain off from thinking without Nyquil? You know how I feel about meds but they are starting to look yummy. Until then,

Calgon, take me away...

Overprotective?!

Today at Costco my boys all came into the restroom with me. I couldn't possibly let them enter the men's room alone yet. A sexual predator could be lurking in the men's room stall and even with me standing outside by the door, one such pervert could easily expose his parts to the children forever scarring them so they are unable to have a healthy sexual relationship. And forget letting them go outside alone even though the back yard has a 10 foot high cement fence and alarm system when they touch it!

It just plain sucks how cautious we must be nowadays. My Grandparents vivaciously relive stories of their childhoods, running free in pastures and leaving doors unlocked. In fact, I am convinced that they knew every single neighbor in their neighborhoods by first and last name and whether each liked his or her coffee with 2 lumps of sugar or black. My Grandma used to straddle the wooden fence and pretend she was Gene Autry on Champion, corralling the cows gone astray. They could go down by the river and watch the Indians pulling in salmon or dig in the dirt with spoons. Yeah, back then it sounded so simple. Children were expected to play and be children. They ate raw cookie dough, played in the sun all day and didn't even have to wear seatbelts!

When I used to visit Grandma's I'd walk to the park a few blocks over, but I don't dare let the boys do that now- even together...because in the mail the other day Grandma received a sexual predator living in your community notice, and he's right down the street from the park! If they go, an adult will just always have to accompany them. First to ward off evil harm-doers. And even when they are teenagers because then it's to make sure they don't try some stupid prank like tying a rope to the merry-go-round and to a truck and spinning it mad-crazy. I can see them now "Mom, it's NOT COOL when you come to the park with us and I can put on my OWN sunscreen."

I can't believe how innocent and naive I was about all the danger out there until I became a parent myself. Once is high school I tried to sneak out at night to meet a boy midway between our houses. Imagine me creeping out into the night wearing flip flops and PJ's. I slowly shut the door so Mom and Dad wouldn't hear. I walk in the gravel by their bedroom window (looking back, not so smart...) and proceed down an entire block 'til I hit a main road. It's pretty serene until this shotty pick-up truck comes rumbling by and spots this teenage girl out in the night alone and I dive behind a fence and I'm watching through the crack as the truck flips a bitch in the middle of the road and comes back MY WAY. I start sweating and cussing under my breath hoping that they don't see me and they drive by slowly and thankfully must have been blind as bats. I felt so lucky as I ran home my flip-flops flopping as fast as my white legs could carry me. I don't think I was quiet on the way back in the door but I didn't care. My heart was pounding so loud I thought THAT would wake my parents. I never snuck out again. My one shot at it failed most miserably. I told the boy that I fell asleep.

Then one crisp November night I gave birth to my first son...who contrary to the urging of the nurses that they take him so I could sleep...slept soundly by my side under watchful eyes. That little bundle was the end of most things carefree about me. I might have only been 19 but I could have told you even then that I'd give anything to protect that new life, even my own life. If a stranger so much as LOOKS at my boys wrong, that's IT. All hell is breaking loose and hell hath no fury like a mother protecting her spawn!

Everywhere we go, they buckle into carseats. At the playground I make the older boys stay together. We are careful to monitor what they watch on TV or what websites they visit...in fact we sit side by side on the computers when they play. I'll probably walk them to school for a long time even though I can see the school from the end of my block. They'll get cell phones after elementary school we've decided. I just don't see a reason NOT to do these things.

It's like when I was learning to drive- it wasn't myself I had to worry about, it was other drivers...defensive driving. When you first hit the road you want to be aware of everything around you and it all starts blurring "Is everyone belted in...did I do my mirror check...blinker goes up for right...another mirror check...was that my turn?!" I want them prepared for whatever's out there but they've got a long way to go. You might call it overprotective...I call it love.

Hi ho continued...

"It's probably not cancerous but if it were it'd be the worst kind." says the Doc. "It's up to you if you want to have it removed."

Uh, take it off puh-lease. It's not like I'm going to miss it! Test that thing and get back to me ASAP because it's been like 3 years since I noticed it was changing and I've put it off. I know, my bad? Surgery in 1 week. Results to follow.

By the numbers on my little test, I fall somewhere just above moderate depression. I feel like in some way I've failed. I am supposed to be happy because I have what I think others see as a happy little idealistic home life (reiterate marriage, 3 kids, house, minivan, SAHM, etc. etc. etc.) I guess I'm just glad I finally set my gloom out on the table. I have another little label to add to my warnings. SUFFERS FROM MODERATE DEPRESSION. My choices are counseling, exercise, or medicine- all of which I'm told have similar results. I'm the medicine minimalist so I'm trying an exercise regime, husband watches the kids while I workout- doctor's orders! Do you know how hard it is to find the motivation to exercise when you are depressed? I told them that too.

Got bloodwork done today as well. Checking my thryoid, my iron, who knows what else but they took 3 vials from me. C'mon good blood. They don't call you A+ for nothing!

Could my unhappiness in marriage be largely stemming from this, or did an unhappy marriage CAUSE this? Must ponder.

Hi ho, Hi ho

It's off to the doc I go. Seriously now though. I'm not humming some happy little ditty. I have to go have THIS thing looked at today. Isn't it horrendous?------>

But wait, that's not all folks. I actually found the courage to ask that same doctor about depression. I am going to take the "depression survey." It doesn't sound like one of the fun random polls I'm used to taking but I'll give it a whirl. Can I at least use my glitter gel pen? Can I have someone who knows all the answers sitting next to me? I'm not used to failing tests.

If in fact I am depressed...well I'll cross that bridge when I get there. I don't like admitting it but the fact lies herein that depression is a real word with real meaning that has been to me like some, well, nagging cancerous eyesore of a mole that really should be looked at.

(To be continued...)

My Odd Dream

This happened a couple nights ago, and I can't for the life of me figure out what triggered it but here you go. I was going to live in a house full of gay boys- the cute and fluffy sort. Flamingly gay. Yep, Laura I had your dream for you ha ha. It was set up sort of like a college frat house with lots of rooms downstairs and one large attic with beds lined up across it. The kitchen was complete with retro appliances and black and white checkered tile. The place was amazing- a person felt happy just existing there. I wondered when we would all break out in song.

I don't know why but it goes unsaid that girls were to live upstairs in the attic, and while boys living here had to like boys, the girls on the other hand did not. When I go up to pick out my bed, I'm the first girl up there and I'm jumping from bed to bed testing the squishiness of each one. I hear other girls stomping upstairs just as I find the perfect bed with a bookshelf headboard and plop down onto it. The beds are filling up fast and these two preps come right over to the bed next to mine. One of them throws her bags onto the bed next to me (great, I'm thinking) and her friend rolls right onto my bed with me. She says "I'm taking this bed..." and I'm arguing "But I was already here. It's taken." Slowly she's edging closer to me...

Next thing I know I'm downstairs. I guess I've already decided to live here. My Grandma and my Aunt are here checking the place out with smiles half-upturned. One of the gay boys- a tallish, blonde German guy re-enters the kitchen to continue baking some cookies. I reach up to pat his arm as he rounds the corner and realize it's just a stub...(significance??) My Aunt points out that he should add more butter (yep, butter?) to the dough so the cookies are chewier. They continue baking the cookies together and he tells her to squish the cookies to one side of the pan to leave room for the chocolate ones. I'm grinning as he slides a pan of cookies go into the retro oven.

I woke up thinking "Where on earth?!" Anyone want to take a stab at dream interpretation?!

You Must Really Have Your Hands Full!

The first comment I always get when people notice I have three boys is "You must really have your hands full." You know what? I do! Thank you so much for pointing that out as my monkeys swing from clothes rack to clothes rack, smearing half-eaten banana on your overpriced, way too trendy clothes! Ok it's not that bad, I'm blowing things out of proportion. The boys HAVE been known to push one another down or occasionally knock something off a shelf. Don't even get me started on the porcelain clown incident! All little kids do these things. Why people hear boy and assume tyrant is beyond me.

My boys are clean. When the clothes brandish a stain or hole, they also earn their way right into the trash can. I don't promote cave-manism. We eat with these nifty little contraptions called utensils. I like tied shoes and clean faces (hence we carry around wet-wipes and probably will until they're 20.) I frequently give out manner-minders. "Tyler didn't that lady just give you a cookie.......?" "Weston that sure was nice of Connor to share his Cheerios with you, don't you think.......?" I guess I don't need someone judging how my children will act based upon their appearances. That's so junior high! Ha ha. I frequently remind the boys that how they look and act reflects on me.

True that each of them has a different personality. Tyler is calm, wise and cautious. He looks out for his younger brothers with a likeness to his own Daddy. He loves being on the computer and getting lost in a good book. Weston is our bull-in-a-china-closet. Sometimes he acts before he thinks. He is curious about how things work. He's an active learner. And Connor seems to be our little circus act. He loves to climb and impress us with his daring feats. He tries to make us smile and laugh. He cuddles and seems to enjoy it. (Or maybe that's me holding onto my last baby!) I don't know why it surprises me so much that they are turning out so drastically different, but it's a wonderful thing for our family. For example, think of the fights we'd have if we all liked to be on the computer!

You might find me down on the floor playing Hot Wheels or at the park building extravagant sand castles with them. I've been known to pick up a bug or two to put inside the bugbarn when my normally calm reserve shatters at the thought of touching a spider. I can climb trees with the best of 'em. But we also pick flowers in the park and prepare fake food feasts and they even let me dress them up once a year for family pictures. It's not even close to raising a girl, that's a given. But I prefer to think God gave me boys because that's the gender I know how to parent best. I grew up fishing and camping and building. I have one younger brother so he and I shared toys. On occasion he picked up a Barbie and I, a He-Man. I know this!

I had daydreamed about having a girl for so long until I "borrowed" a friend's girl to take shopping. "Jen" is 7. I planned a day at the mall for us while my husband stayed home with the boys. "Jen" was asking me to buy everything under the sun from a little foot-shaped notepad to a neon sign shaped like lips. The rational side of me would say "Now Jen, what do you need that for?" And she'd say "It's cool, will you buy it for me?" or "Sara has one." She didn't carry any of the shopping bags. She didn't offer to share a bite of her cinnamon-flavored pretzel with me. In fact, she gave up on shopping much earlier than I thought a girl should. Not even two hours after we'd arrived, she was ready to call it quits. Maybe it's because I wasn't buying the little princess everything she asked for. I'd have been broke!

Wow had I really fantasized life with a card-carrying girl all wrong. I would have had more fun with the boys! They offer to carry the bags. Being the only lady of the house, I get to be their princess. Who do you think is the proud recipient of all those mudpies with little dandelions arranged in a heart on top? Who is the first person they come to when they have a fight with the pavement and the pavement wins? Who is always offered a sip of whatever new Italian soda they decide to try at the local coffeehouse? Who wants Mom to pick out their clothes? Ok, ok I agree that one might just be temporary.

I might have my hands full, but at least it's with bundles of love disguised as gooey mudpies!