In case anyone was wondering, I have now published 50 blog posts over at my new blog site http://extrovertexpounds.blogspot.com/

But, since my faithful blog readers are only faithful if I put my posts on Xanga (no, I'm not bitter about this, it just is what it is ), my blogspot just sits there. Unread.  Until the day when I *maybe* become a talented enough writer that no matter where I write, people will read.  I'm not holding my breath.  You shouldn't either. No, seriously. You can let that breath out now.

Anyway, I've been thinking about something.

I've been blogging for about 7 years.  I have no idea how many blog posts I have written in that time, but I would guess it is close to a thousand.  For a while there, I was blogging every day.  And even now, I would say I end up blogging at least two (maybe three) times a week.

Suffice it to say that blogging is definitely a part of my life and my routine.

But sometimes, it can get in the way of real life.

I've compiled a list to explain what I mean.

It is aptly titled...

"You Know You Blog Too Often When..."

(kind of along the lines of "You might be a redneck...")

...you are in the midst of an experience, maybe even a somewhat emotional one, and WHILE you are feeling/thinking whatever it is, you are forming sentences in your mind to describe what you are experiencing. Potentially for a future blog post.  Seriously.  That is just so strange and totally takes away from the current experience. And yes, this happens to me with a somewhat alarming frequency.

...you want to make sure to take plenty of pictures at an event so that you can do a complete blog post about it.  Two pictures wouldn't be enough.  Thankfully, I don't nearly always think of this, which says to me that maybe sometimes I am actually enjoying myself enough that I am not thinking about the future as it relates to my blog.

...when you are writing a post, you smile to yourself because you wonder what so and so will think of what you wrote.  You maybe even picture them laughing or smiling or you imagine in your head what their comment response might be.

....every time you have a deep thought you are like "Whoa! Dude! Hold it right there.  This I recognize as profound. I should totally blog about this."

....you actually have some "notes" set up in your I-phone for when you encounter random thoughts or experiences that you don't want to forget to blog about.  You may even have various notes with different headings.  Thankfully, you can you say that you don't use these obsessively.  Just occasionally.

...sometimes, when you are talking to your husband about a problem or question you are dealing with, he says "Why don't you ask your blog peeps about it?"  (Or something along those lines.)  He has also been known to make sarcastic comments along the lines of "Why don't you just blog about it??"  when I am upset about something.

...fairly often you run into people who make comments about your blog and sometimes you find yourself referencing your blog in conversations.  Like, as you begin to tell a story, you say "Oh, well, I don't know if you already read this on my blog?", since you don't want to repeat yourself if they have. This generally leads to an awkward moment because if the person hasn't read your blog, you can tell they feel apologetic about that. As if the fact that reading my blog isn't #1 on their priority list would make them a bad friend.  When I see the negative response coming, I generally quickly head it off with "Oh, that's TOTALLY fine" and then continue with my story.

...a friend says she was about to call you and see if you were ok because "she hasn't seen a blog post lately and you haven't been on Facebook much."

...you often find yourself scanning your mind for new blog ideas or you find yourself writing posts in your head. Some never get further than your head, but boy, is there some GOOD stuff in there!!

...people who you only know online are friends. Not just online friends either. But real friends. Like you might refer to them in a conversation and say something like "Yeah, my friend _____ says that Buttpaste stuff really worked to clear up her daughter's diaper rash."

...you sometimes try to quit blogging for a while, but you miss the interaction and you miss the writing.  Apparently, a break is actually not "what the doctor ordered."

Do you have any to add?  Can you fellow bloggers relate?

Yesterday was my birthday!  Yay me!!

I don't know if anyone else can relate to this, but I have never really gotten over that childish anticipation of my birthday.

Yet, as the years have gone by and I have gotten older (and older. and older.), my birthday has often been "just another day."  Last year was especially a downer.

I think I still have the idea that someone, somewhere is going to surprise me with something.  I remember last year, even holding out till the end of the day, thinking maybe my sisters would show up with a cake or something.

I  know this is selfish and kind of childish, because we are all adults. Our lives are busy.  And how many times do I get a chance to throw a party for or celebrate my friends' birthdays the way that I would like to for them??

I have tried to settle into this state of being OK with not much happening on my birthday.  I am thankful for the calls that I get, the texts, the many "Happy Birthday" wishes and notes on FB, the package in the mail, and the card from my husband.  That is all so nice and very much appreciated.

Like I said, maybe I am still a bit childish about it all...and maybe wanting more than that is just unrealistic.

But, let me just say...how very HAPPY and LOVED and CELEBRATED I felt this year!!  And I want to tell you about it a little bit.  (Ok. A lot.)

(The cake that my friend Karlee made for me. It was SO delicious. And bright pink and green inside!)

Talk about feeling loved by my man!!  I certainly am!

Yesterday morning included a phone call from one of my dearest out-of-state friends, coffee, cake & ice cream for breakfast (two of my friends had surprised me with a birthday cake at Bible study the night before!) and some quiet time once the kids were all on the bus!!

(I also exercised and showered and did some laundry and some bookwork, but I don't feel like that is very note worthy!)

Then I headed to town for an appointment, took a little walk, and got a few things to take to my friend Morgan's house for lunch with my "Wednesday Girls".

I walked in the door of Morgan's house, suspecting nothing, and was met with a chorus of "Surprise!!!"

Three of my friends had planned this whole surprise birthday party for me, complete with a YUMMY cake, streamers hanging from the ceiling, a card and a gift, and they had planned the afternoon around "What would Audrey like to do?"

Karlee, Morgan, Kalli and I -- Love these girls!!

Blowing out my candles (Dorky face alert!)

And you know what the best part was...they were right on! With everything. From the cake to the gift to what I would like to do.  So, we sat around and ate yummy food and asked each other questions out of a "Conversation Starters" box of questions and got into lots of great discussions!! There was lots of laughter and a few tears and I felt so extremely humbled (you know how when someone actually DOES do something nice for you, you feel kind of unworthy and a little sheepish that someone went out of their way for you?) and grateful and loved.   That is a birthday surprise that I will not forget for a long time!  Maybe ever.

Such good food!  See the sugar cookies shaped like high heels?  Oh, yeah!!

I also had a phone call from another dear friend who I wasn't able to chat with, I got birthday texts (or a call) from everyone in my family (well, my Mom wrote a text which I assumed was from  my Mom and Dad) and my sisters and I are still going out for lunch on Friday!

I also got this paper full of staples from Nikki!

Can you read some sort of message in the positioning of the staples?? I think if I look real close it says "Happy Birthday" but I can't be sure.

Nikki picked some flowers for me that were white, you know, the kind "where when you blow on them, they all come off", but when she put them in the side pocket in the door of the van, "all of the white stuff came off."  She cried.  I hugged her and told her it was OK, it was thoughtful of her to pick them, even if it didn't work out, but then as we were driving home (after dinner and Derrick's guitar lesson) I saw some white (what I thought were flowers) along the road. It turned out that they were milkweed plants that looked like this.

                 were                   

I stopped the car and the kids and I all got out along the side of our dirt rode and threw milkweed seeds up in the air and watched them come down like a whole bunch of tiny little parachutes.  Nikki laughed in delight and the boys and I had a blast while Jeremy sat in the van and watched with an expression on his face that was a little hard to read.  Maybe part "I love my wife" and part "My wife is a crazy person."  I didn't ask him which it was.

Nikki also gave me a blue teddy bear and two purple plastic bracelets, because she "doesn't like them."  Wow!  Talk about "re-gifting" to the max!  It was still sweet.

Oh, and at bedtime last night I said she should tell me two things she likes about her Mommy.  I said that would make me happy because she was sad she hadn't really gotten me a gift (the blue teddy bear and bracelets were this morning).  She said "I like you.  And I like your smile. And I love you."  And then, after she asked me to get her a drink, she added "I like you because you are my sew-vant (servant -- she still can't say her "r's").  I corrected that servant theory right away, but I got a good laugh out of it!!

Kendall wrote this paper for me

and he also said he has a picture he colored for me that he forgot at school and he will bring it home tonight.

Derrick was a no-show on the birthday gift or card or anything.  But I still love him!

When I thought back over my day, I felt kind of like a happy kid, when you are tucking them into bed at night and they hug you and sigh and say "This was the BEST.DAY.EVER!!"

That was me yesterday.

Next year might be a more normal, mundane adult sort of a birthday, but that's OK.  Because I can think back on yesterday and feel loved and special and celebrated!

Thank you to ALL of you who were a part of making my day super special!  I hope that I can be a part of making your special day a fabulous one when the time comes!

Eight -- The number of dollars I spent (almost) on donuts & hot chocolate, cappucino, and chocolate milk this morning.

I told the kids that if they get ready on time, we would have a (VERY) special treat of donuts for breakfast! Mostly because, this Mama had decided that was going to be her treat for the week.  Cream filled long-johns...mmm, mmm, mmm.  You see, "What Mama want, Mama get".  That's my new saying. Borrowed from a good friend. 

Suprisingly, the kids were totally on board with this plan and were ready to hit the road in almost no time. After we got the donuts and were driving towards school, Nikki said in an excited voice "We've NEVER done this before!!"

Eight -- The number of pieces of clothing in the outfit I am wearing today (if you count socks as one piece)

Monochromatic

Is it sad that I have been waiting a month or two for colder weather so I could wear this skirt that I got at Kohls?  And, I broke out my boots for the first time.  I kinda love them.

And yeah, if you are trying to count the pieces, yes, my undergarments are part of the total!

Eight -- The average between the number of minutes that Derrick claimed that it took me to walk the younger kids into school today while he waited in the truck (10) and the actual number of minutes it took me to walk the kids into school (6) -- Yes, I had checked before I left the truck.  And then Derrick called me "Mrs. Actual".

Eight -- Approximate number of minutes that I waited in the lunch room, awkwardly chatting with an electrician, as two young guys sat at the break table in complete silence, before our maintenance guy came and unlocked the office door for me.  ;-(

Eight -- Number of guys I have talked with at work today.  Tom, Herb, Chris, Dan, Ron, Jim, Garry, truck driver #1, mailmain, truck driver #2 (oops. Guess that's ten. Well, I'd say then that I am over my quota for the day.)

Eight -- Hours of sleep I need each night to function as a responsible adult.  Hours of sleep I got last night? At least 8 1/2

Eight -- The time of day yesterday when I sat in my "reading chair" in my quiet house and sipped my coffee and read my Bible and another book and prayed.  Ahhh...refreshing!!

Eight -- Approximate number of small blue salamanders that we found while out throwing firewood last night (They like to hide under the pieces of wood.)  We put the whole family together and Kendall moved them to a new home in another wood pile.

Eight (hundred) -- Pounds of junk that I need to haul to the dump this afternoon when I am done with work.  (Maybe slightly exaggerted.)  I am SO excited about getting out there and throwing junk out of our trailer in my dressy work clothes.  Oh, yes, I am!!  Wish me luck.

This is a picture of Nikki's dollhouse.  I bought it for her (along with a whole bunch of furniture and accessories) at a garage sale a couple of years ago.  She loves it. Or so I thought.

Well, how about, if one day you are playing downstairs with your older brother, and you two decide (for reasons quite unknown) that it would be really fun to bang on the dollhouse with this:

A toy hockey stick.

Now, one side of the dollhouse roof looks like this. ^^

The other side looks like this ^^ -- And, if you remove the little hankey that they so thoughtfully stuffed into the hole in the middle of the roof, it actually looks like this

(See below)

I was QUITE upset with them!!

Jeremy and I have been trying to think of a proper punishment.

Plus, I am just always curious how another parent would respond to something like this. 

Would you just laugh it off and say "Kids will be kids", would you scold them and let it be, or would you be upset and mete out some sort of punishment?

Jeremy and I felt like they were definitely being purposely destructive.  It was NOT an accident. They were both involved. We are trying to think of a punishment that fits the crime.

Help, please!

 

And, while we're at it:  I have another issue with the kids that I am currently undecided on.

The other day they played ball in the yard. We have told them over and over and over that when they are done playing ball outside, they must bring everything in.

Well, they didn't.

The dog picked ONE ballglove to chew on and destroy, and it was mine!!

Not only is that glove very important to me because I love how it catches and I am used to it, but also, gloves are not cheap to buy.

Would you make the boys pay for a new glove? Help to pay for one?  What would be your response to that?

I feel like I should sign this like they used to do in those "Dear Abby" letters in the newspaper.

How about --

"Disappointed Donna"

or

"Weary in Wisconsin"

In case you are a new reader to my blog, the letters "RWOTD" stand for "Random Word of the Day".

I used to use a website called "Random Word Generator" or something of that sort and whatever word came up on there, I would base my blog post around that.

Now, I am using an app called "Inspire Me" and it gives me a list of three words and I choose the one that I want to blog about that day.

It is fun for me and gets my creativity flowing when I have a word to base my blog post off of.

I love to write.  Ever since I could write, I remember enjoying it. I kept a diary back as early as 7 or 8 years old.  It still bothers me immensely that somewhere along the way this particular diary got lost. I have questioned my family members about it, I have had my Mom look for it, I have looked and looked for it. All to no avail.  That aside, writing has always been a way for me to get my thoughts organized and be able to say things that are sometimes hard for me to put into words otherwise.

I have been known to write notes to Jeremy when we are in the midst of a disagreement or argument or something tough that we are trying to work through.  Sometimes, when I feel really emotional about something and I try to say it, the words get stuck in my throat.  But when I write, it just comes out and usually I am able to be more open and honest in writing than when I try to say something difficult to Jeremy.

People often have told me that I should "write a book".  And I would love to.  But there are a few problems that I have.  #1) I would feel extremely unqualified to be an actual writer of a book #2) I don't really feel like I have anything new to say and #3) I would have to feel passionate about and sure of the subject I wanted to write about, because that is when I write best.

It is kind of like my tattoo that I am getting.  I had to wait until I KNEW what I wanted before I go ahead with it.  It had to feel right to me.  That is how I feel about writing a book. I am not opposed to doing it, but I would have to feel sure of my subject matter, sure that it was something I could write about, and sure that it would not be an epic failure before I would want to write it.

What does all of that have to do with my random word of the day?  Not much.  I just kind of got to rambling there.

Sorry.

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So...about the word "past".

I have happened to read two books back to back that both had a lot to do with the past and with memories.

The first one I already did a book review on. It was called "The Memory Palace" and was about the daughter of a schizophreniac woman.  The book is all about her reconstrucing memories from her past and re-telling them.  It was a healing process for her.  Some of the memories she had repressed because of how difficult they were.

Then, last night, I just finished a book called "The Year of Fog" about a girl who was kidnapped. It was written from the perspective of the woman who was with her when she got kidnapped and how she tried and tried to recall details of that day that might give some sort of clue to the disappearance of the little girl. The book talked a lot about memories and how the mind works in regards to memory, etc.  It was really intrigueing.

There are these trite saying about "not letting the past define us", and while I think that we need to move on from the past instead of letting it control us and make us bitter, I think it is an impossibility not to be at least somewhat defined by our past.

I believe that our lives are made up of a series of memories and experiences that dictate how we live our lives today.  You touch the hot stove and you get burned...you remember that and you don't touch the stove again.  Does that mean that the past is defining you?  No. But the past experience definitely influences how you interact with a hot stove today.

I like this quote that I found:

The past is our definition.  We may strive, with good reason, to escape it, or to escape what is bad in it, but we will escape it only by adding something better to it.  ~Wendell Berry

and this one, which has a haunting poetry to it:

Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by heart and his friends can only read the title.  ~Virginia Woolf

In the book "The Year of Fog" she talked a lot about how we change our memories with time.  Things that were just OK become better and things that we can't quite remember the details of, we just fill in with our imagination.  Over time, we can hardly distinguish between what actually happened and the details that our imagination filled in.

There are lots of people who mistake their imagination for their memory.  ~Josh Billings

In memory's telephoto lens, far objects are magnified.  ~John Updike

I get it that there are a lot of times that we would want to forget some of our past. It can be painful and hard to think about.  We may feel shame or guilt or anger about things that happened in our past.

But did you ever stop to consider what a gift memory is?

In the book, she did a lot of studying and reading about memory and she tried to figure out how to remember details of that fateful day the kidnapping happened.  She learned that there was once a guy (true life story) who couldn't remember anything for more than about 2 minutes. Think about doing a task as simple as making a meal and not having a memory that lasted for more than 2 minutes. You would have potatoes boiling on the stove and then completely forget what you were going to make with the potatoes.

There was also an example of a man who remembered every.single.little.detail of every memory. His life was a living hell because he could never forget anything.  So he would walk down a street and be completely and utterly overwhelmed by memories for every other time he walked down that street.  The sights and sounds and smells of every time he had been there would flood his senses.  He could barely even function.

I don't think that we get to decide what we remember and what we forget.  I read in this book that within an hour of something happening, we forget all but 10% of what we learned and experienced.  That surprised me. I figured that an hour later I would remember more than that.

Memory is a child walking along a seashore.  You never can tell what small pebble it will pick up and store away among its treasured things.  ~Pierce Harris, Atlanta Journal

I have long been fascinated with the past and especially where it intersects with memories.  I love to recall my own memories, especially of childhood.

This summer, I was lamenting to some friends that I don't seem to have a very good memory.  And that it bothers me.  We got to discussing this subject and one of my friends asked me if I tend to remember HOW I felt more than the actual details of a memory.  I realized that is definitely true of me. It made me feel better. Like maybe I don't actually have such a bad memory, but that I just remember differently than some people.

For instance, I got to spend a couple of days with my grandparents when I was about 9 or 10.  I remember being SO excited about it and I remember the feeling that I had when I stayed with them.  I felt super special, I felt like they delighted in me.  I remember Grandma making me special tuna sandwiches and I remember feeling like such big stuff to get time away from my family and my siblings.  What I don't remember are details of their house, what color the carpets were, where I slept, what clothing I wore, the layout of the house (not more than vaguely, at least), or the color of the cereal bowls.  But I DO remember how I felt when I was there!

I have been trying to reconstruct memories from my childhood. In detail.  I wish I had more pictures, because I feel like that would help.  But I was thinking yesterday of a specific type of memory:  one in which I had to crawl through a small space or opening to get into something.  I thought that this might help me remember some things that I hadn't thought about in a long time. That could include a memory of the way my siblings and I used to crawl under our front porch on our house (down on our hands and knees) and play under there in the cool dark. I haven't thought about that in ages.  Or maybe the visit to a cave in West Virginia. Or how my sister and I used to play in and under this huge green bush we had at the end of our driveway.  Or how I used to hide in this big bureau in our bedroom. In behind the clothing. 

Another thing I read about is this trick for remembering a series of items.  What you do is picture yourself going through a house and picking up these items off of the furniture or the counter or the floor. You picture yourself in each room as you walk slowly through and gather the items.

I want to give this a try.  I went to this website http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_U.S._state_foods and decided that I am going to try to remember the first 20 items on this list, using the method listed above.  We'll see how well I do.

Sorry if this makes you think that I am a whack job.  I probably am. But I told you, I am fascinated by memory.

The method I used to remember this list of foods was to picture the house that I first lived in when we moved to Wisconsin.  I used the furniture and the layout of the rooms as props for remembering each food. In order. 

So, as I came into the garage and started up the steps to the house, I look down and see a little pile of pecans on one of the steps. I wonder why they are there. It is just a handful of them, still in the shell. I get up the landing at the top of the steps and there is a blackberry bush growing out of the side of the wall.  The thorns actually snag on my clothing as I go by and I have to slow down and free myself from them.  I continue on into the laundry and there on the top of the washing machine is a basket of peaches.  They smell so nice and fresh.  Into the kitchen I go, and on the table is a tomato plant. Just sprouting right out of the table top and flowing down over the sides.  There are lots of ripe tomatoes growing from the plant.

And that is how I remembered everything on this list.  Right now, I am writing it from memory, using this method. The rest of the list is as follows:

Rice

Key Lime Pie

Oranges

Grits

Peaches (again)

Onions

Potatoes

Huckleberries

Popcorn

GoldRush Apples

Sweet Cream Pie

Blackberries (also twice on list)

Strawberries

Mayhaw Jam

Meat Pie

Sweet Potatoes

Easy peasy. I typed off that whole list from memory in about 20 or 30 seconds.

That was actually a super cool experiment.  And I bet that I will still be able to tell you this list a week from now, just from memory.

Ok. Now that I have officially bored you to tears, revealed my inner nerd, and completely muddled the whole concept of past versus memory, I will say Adios for today.

Make some great memories!!

I asked my kids the other day if there was any special food that they were hungry for.

You know, one of Mama's specialties. Not that I refer to myself as "Mama", but in this case, it just seems appropriate. 

I don't know what I expected, exactly. Lavish praise of my culinary skills. Blue eyes looking up at me and pleading that I make my "special meatballs"?

What I got were shrugs and "I can't think of anything's" and then a "The only thing you make that I really like is haystacks" from the 10 year old.

Are you f'ing kidding me? I have been cooking for these kids for years...making all sorts of delightful dishes, and collectively they can only come up with ONE thing that they like that I make???  You know what??  You know what????   Mac and cheese for the whole bunch of you for a year!!  Then we'll see if you remember anything good that Mama used to make!

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I purchase an audio book on I-tunes. I am trying to find a way to make my treadmill time more interesting. As if that is going to happen.  Now, I can't for the life of me figure out how to get it from my computer to my phone.  It is driving me crazy.

It is titled "The Witness" and if I can't figure it out pretty soon, I'm gonna need a witness to the fact that I took a sharp object to the computer screen.  Or my phone. Or both.

Speaking of phones...I love, love my I-phone.  I honestly would never hurt it. ^^  I use it constantly.  In fact, I have been wondering if my phone is the reason that I have developed adult A.D.D.  It seems I cannot keep my mind on one thing for longer than about 30 seconds.

I feel constantly distracted.  Hmm...just wondering if there is a connection.  But...moving right along...

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The other day my girlfriend said "I'm just not an App girl."  That's like saying you don't like watermelon. Or cheeseburgers.  Or McDonald's french fries. Or Paris in the spring. 

Why would you NOT be an "app girl??"  Apps are friggin' awesome!  I use them for everything.  You know the saying, right "There's an app for that".  I have found this to be quite true. I have an app for tracking the food I eat and the money I spend. I have an app for reading and listening to the Bible. I have an app for checking the weather, a dictionary app, an app to play Hangman or any other number of games.  I have a camera app. An app for playing Solitaire.  A GPS app and a Pandora app. An app to locate places that are close to you and an app called Sound Hound that you can turn on and just hold up to your radio in the car and it will tell you what song you are playing.  And that's just the beginning.

Jeremy is totally terrified to hook up his phone to our main computer because he doesn't want to get all of my apps onto his phone. He says it takes him FOREVER to delete them all!

Although, recently, my 7 year old son has asked for an app called "Potty Racers".  Which I downloaded.  Something about that name just seems wrong.  What exactly do the Potty Racers do?  See who can get to the bathroom first? And then there are a limited number of stalls?  Or who can go to the bathroom the fastest?

Or...possibly, none of the above. Because when I watched Kendall played, the game seemed to be mostly about these Porta-potty looking machines that you had to try to get through/over the water to the other side. 

*****************************************************************************************

If you ever are thinking that "working for home" sounds like a glamorous and/or easy way to make a living, call me first. I will give you a free consultation wherein I try to dissaude you from trying the whole "work from home" thing.

For me, it has lost it's charm years ago.  Yes, I am my own boss. And therein also lies the problem: I am my own boss. That means there is NO ONE I can delegate anything to.  Not even the filing. And nothing happens unless I do it. And I cannot "leave work" because work is at home.  Plus, since I have various clients, it seems like one of them is always needing something.  Sometimes, I feel like the flexibility that I get with being my own boss could easily be replaced by the seductions of a cubicle, a place that I could go to and leave from, someone who brings me my coffee and calls me by the wrong name, and a side benefit of no one calling me at home.

Yet, I do not want to be ungrateful. I had a dream. I pursued it and made it happen.  And while it may have its downside, it is certainly not a nightmare.

*******************************************************************************************

But speaking of nightmares.  I had a terrible, terrible, vivid dream the other night.  In it, my worst fear as a Mom came true.  I stood by the front door and witnessed my daughter about to get run over by our pick-up.  Just when the tires were about to either miss her little body or run over her, I woke up, completely shaken.  It was horrible!! I don't know when I will possibly forget the dream.

And...then there is this:  Was it some sort of a warning for me? Was it a premonition? Or was it just a stupid dream?  Anyway you look at it, it was awful.   Sorry, I know that was kind of a downer in this otherwise (mostly) upbeat post.  But it was on my mind. So I wrote about it.  I tend to do that.

*******************************************************************************************

Jeremy was gone over the weekend. He went to Chicagoland Speedway with 4 other buddies.  He had an AWESOME time, he tells me.  In fact, as he told his buddy Mike, it just might be the "most fun he has ever had."  I tried not to be offended by that.  What about all of the FUN times you and I have had together over the years, my dear husband??  Are these now but vague recollections...overshadowed by three days and two nights at a NASCAR track?  Wow! Where have I gone wrong?

Anyway, I would like to say that I missed him terribly, but I actually had a really good time.  I got a ton of cleaning and organizing done and that felt really good. It seems that the "feeling better" after kicking the sugar habit is just now kicking in and I seem to have a boundless supply of energy. (Hmm...I wonder if I could use the work "kicking" one more time in that sentence??  I bet I could make that happen.) Let's just hope it lasts. But while it does, I am throwing stuff out of our house by the garbage full. Literally.

While Jeremy was gone, I got together with a friend and we just sat and talked for 6 or 7 hours. It was awesome! I got to bed at 1 PM.  I watched a movie. (Definitely, maybe -- That's the title of the movie. Not the consensus of whether or not I watched the movie.)  I slept in and I got to spend some quality time with my kiddos.  I went to the park with some friends on a gorgeous Sunday.  On the way home, I was in such high spirits that I called out to the back seat "Anybody want ice cream cones??"  Of course, they all did.

And then, on the way home, I cranked up "I gotta feeling" to an incredibly high decible and sang along, snapping my fingers to the timing and bopping my head back and forth with gusto. When I glanced back at Derrick, I am pretty sure that he tried to hide behind his ice cream cone and avert his eyes, because sometimes, its just hard for a 10 year old to deal with a Mom who is acting like a hyped up teenager. Hey, I had fun!! Just go back to eating your cone and stop staring.

That said, it was nice to have Jeremy back home.  I woke up when he crawled into bed beside me at 2:30 this morning.  And he got up to see the kids off to school.  We still have a lot to catch up on.  I am always one for getting all of the information and stories I can get.

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I went and got my hair cut today.

I am a little embarrassed because my roots are VERY grown out right now.  In an effort to save money, I have stopped getting my hair colored at the salon and have been having a friend do it.  But I still go to the salon for my haircuts. Is that a salon faux pas?  I don't know.  Maybe I should Google it.

Anyway, it is very high time for my roots to be touched up, but it doesn't suit my friend to do it until next Friday.  Which is fine.  But I wondered if my hair stylist was totally appalled by my hair.  Maybe it kind of hurt her heart to see hair in the shape mine is in?  She had the good graces not to say anything.

PS -- Whenever she styles my hair, it turns out looking nothing like I style it.  And not necessarily in a good way. I always feel like she is trying to turn me into a 50's house wife.  The way she shapes my bangs...all curled under, and the way she teases the hair at the back of my head and then puts these extra floofies (yes, I made up that word.  It rhymes with poofies.) in weird places.  I always feel like I need to shower and change my "do" before I should go in public.  But I don't. Mostly because I am, yes, THAT lazy.

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That is all. Because I feel like, in the mood I am in, if I write anything else it might come out even more embarrassing than what I have already written.  You'll thank me later.

Good-bye for now, peeps!

(Written yesterday)

I have a headache today.  It is a really bad one.

The kind that makes me want to close my eyes and curl up in a ball in my bed.  The kind that feels like a migraine coming on and makes my mind work at about 2/3 capacity.

But I am at work. So I can't crawl into bed and I can't stop using my brain.

I have noticed this many years ago: If I take Tylonol as soon as I feel a headache coming on, it usually doesn't get too bad.

Still, somehow, I often barely notice or just brush away the realization that I have a headache until I have already had it for 2 or 3 hours.  I'm busy and its not that bad yet, so I just let it go.

Then I pay for it. 

The other day I was talking with a friend and she was saying how she had this recent flu and strep throat and she was popping Ibuprofen like nobody's business.

She knew that her body was in a lot of pain, but as long as she kept downing the pain pills every 4 hours, she was fine. 

She made a comment that I have been thinking about since.  She said that as long as she kept ahead of the pain by being pro-active, she was fine.  But that if she waited too long to take her medicine, it didn't go well, because then she was just "chasing the pain."

In the days since that conversation, my mind has been fingering that phrase.  Feeling around its edges and trying to figure out the lesson that is there.

Something about that phrase resonates with me.  Chasing the pain.

We all have hurts in our lives to a greater or lesser degree.  We have those things that in our lives, that, when we look back on them, cause us pain. 

We have those relationships that are hurtful and maybe things are scabbed over, but just below the surface is a lot of stuff that isn't dealt with.

Do you ever get in a funk and start feeling sorry for yourself?  Feeling like nobody else has it quite as bad as you do?  Maybe feeling like life was somehow unfair to you and that you got more than your share of heartache?

When you CHOOSE to persist in those kinds of thoughts patterns, pretty soon, instead of being pro-active, you are "chasing the pain."

Because now you are feeling raw and somewhat powerless against the strong emotion you are feeling.  At the beginning of the downward slide, you have some choices that seem fairly easy at the time.  You can choose to just focus on other things. You can choose to ask a friend to pray for you. You can choose to claim the truth of God's word.

Speaking from personal experience, once you have wallowed in the pain long enough, it is much harder to climb out. You find yourself chasing the pain. 

Maybe you chase your pain with self-pity. Maybe you chase it with alcohol.  Or with lies. Possibly with food or something else you use to try and forget.

So next time you feel yourself sliding down that slippery slope into whatever pain is your own special vice, ask yourself the question:  Do I want to choose to believe truth right now and head this off at the pass? Or do I want to spend the next days/weeks/month chasing the pain? 

My Dad told me about this quote the other day and I thought it was SO good. And I think it bears repeating and fits with this post.  It is "Emotions seem to be one of the least reliable yet most influential forces that guide our lives."

I find that to be true in my own life sometimes. And even now, as I am struggles to make some adjustments and changes in relation to my marriage, I find myself wanting to let my emotions control me instead of what I know to be true.

Anyway, that's my challenge for the day!

I will see if I can write what is on my heart. 

Sometimes I have these thoughts all spinning around in my head and they make a lot of sense and seem very connected, and then when I sit down to try to write them out, it feels like I don't know where to start and I wonder if it will come out sounding as cohesive as it feels in my brain.

But I shall try.

As a lot of you know, yesterday I had a terrible morning with my kids.  I felt like I failed. I felt regret and I felt sadness.

The rest of that story is what I want to write about.

I posted that blog yesterday morning because a lot of times, when I am feeling something deeply, writing it out really helps me to get perspective and also helps me to move past whatever I am dealing with.

I shared it with all of you, because, even though it felt really vulnerable, I have a goal to be an honest and open person. Whether on my blog or in conversation or the way I live out my life.  And sometimes being honest feels scary and vulnerable.

This may seem like a rabbit trail coming up here, but it is not.  Trust me!

We are studying the book of James in our community group/Bible study right now.  The very first part of the first chapter of James talks about trials and about how our faith and perseverence can grow through trials and how good can come of them.

We were challenged to think about how God can bring good out of those low times in our lives and how God can leverage those times for growth in our lives and for His glory.

I said these very words on Tuesday night at community group.  "I think that one of the ways low spots in our lives can be used for good is that it gives us an opportunity to show humility, by asking others for help and for prayer, etc.  And, it also gives other people an opportunity to be a blessing and speak into our lives and give to us as we walk through these difficult things."  Not realizing how soon I would be able to put this into practice in my own life, even in a small way.

Yesterday morning, I wrote that blog, hit "Publish" and then wondered if I had been a bit too honest.  What if people judged me? What if people thought I was a terrible Mom?  What if someone wrote something hurtful on my blog comments? 

Instead of any of that happening, I just want to tell you all how much you lifted me up yesterday!!

I had a hard morning. I was feeling discouraged. I knew that I had failed my kids (especially Kendall).

YOU all were SUCH a huge blessing to me yesterday, and I just wanted to thank my friends for the way that they encouraged me and walked beside me and just plain down cared.

Not only did a number of people leave encouraging notes on my Facebook post and my blog (I appreciated every one and the wisdom and love they contained), but I also had a friend text me as soon as she read my blog, I had phone conversations with two friends and when I saw my friend Karlee around lunch time, one of the first things she asked me is if my day was going better by now, and another friend said to me "Now you know some things you can do differently. Tomorrow will be better. You'll be prepared." and then offered some helpful advice about maybe waking my kids up earlier to allow for more time to get ready.  They listened to me and didn't make me feel stupid when I started to tear up in the re-telling of how my morning went.

My heart felt SO much lighter.  I picked up my kids from school.  I had brought a little treat along for them to eat, as someone suggested.  I chatted with the kids while we drove to Derrick's doctor appointment, and when we pulled in the parking lot there, I stopped and turned around to Kendall and apologized for how I had gotten upset with him that morning.

After I said I was "Sorry" and explained what I had done wrong, he came up and his chin quivered a little and then he gave me a huge grin and hugged me and said "I forgive you, Mom!"

Then, after we got home, we went through his dresser (as another friend had suggested) and put all his fall/winter stuff in there and pulled out some sweatshirts he liked and just got to spend some time hanging out together.

And this morning was SO much better.  I was happy, the kids were happy, and everything went well. I resolved to not repeat the mistakes of yesterday. 

I just wanted to share all of this as an example of how, when you are surrounded by truly great friends and people who care, being honest and vulnerable and being willing to admit your mistakes can be really freeing and worthwhile.  I think sometimes what stops me from sharing is that I don't want to be a drama queen. I know everyone has a bad morning sometimes. I don't want people to think that they need to just build me up or that I am seeking attention when I write something like that.  All of those things can keep up from being authentic and honest.  And I think that is a shame.

I am continuing to learn that people don't necessarily need our advice on how they could have done something better and they sure don't need our negativity or our criticism or our harshness. Especially when they already know full well what they did wrong and are beating themselves up for it already.  Showing love doesn't mean we never speak the truth to a friend, but if we DO feel led to speak the truth, then it MUST be in love for it to be effective!

I am a better person today because of the encouragement and love that you guys showed me yesterday and today! I feel encouraged as a Mom.  I feel like "I can do this!"  I feel lifted up.  I feel inspired to continue to be that person for other's when they are having a rough day or a rough time in their lives.

And I just wanted to tell you "Thank You" from the bottom of my heart!!  And to encouarge you to take that extra minute to write a note, make that phone call when a friend is or your mind, or send that encouraging text to just say "Hey, I'm here with you.  I understand and I care."  You never know how much of a difference you will make!!

PS -- I still feel like my words an inadequate to express what I am feeling and how it is all connected in my head, but I hope at least some of it comes through in what I wrote.

I stand in the kitchen staring at the pictures of my three children.

It is their school pictures from last year. I look into their bright eyes and see their happy faces in photographs and I feel the sting of regret.

The house is quiet and the kids are all long gone in the big yellow school bus.

I am left wishing there was a rewind button or a re-do switch I could hit.

We didn't have the best of mornings.

Kendall was up early and came down the steps as I was sorting laundry.  He said his tummy hurt.  He says that a lot during the school year.

I asked him if he is nervous about school and I told him I think that is why his tummy hurts sometimes. He says he's not, but all summer his tummy was totally fine.  I asked if he wanted to take a Tums.

I had my mind set on going on my walk/run and getting back just in time to wake the rest of the kids up for school.

So I left him alone in the dark living room and told him I would be back soon.  As I was sitting down to put my running shoes on, I remember thinking to myself that maybe this would be one of those times where I should put aside my plans and do the unexpected.  Maybe I should just sit and snuggle and chat with him for those 20 minutes until the other kids needed to be woken.

But I didn't.

How often I seem to do that.  Let my agenda get in the way of my intuition.

I got back at 10 till seven and Nikki had just woken up.  I woke Derrick and everyone started getting ready.

The kids have a list of chores they have to do in the morning.  Get dressed, eat breakfast, brush teeth, get backpack, the boys have to feed and water the dog, etc.  Just a simple list.

The thing is:  They are supposed to do all of this without any reminders and if they have to be reminded, they don't get a sticker that day and they miss out on the prize at the end of the week.  I have found that this cut out on a LOT of nagging and reminding and prompting on my part.

But it is only day 7 of the new school year and I have given them a few reminders along the way, especially to Nikki, because she is just learning.

I am getting tired of reminding.  They should know by now!!  Kendall has already done this all of last year, so when I see him dressed, but with nothing else done, sitting on the kitchen table, putting together a puzzle instead of doing his chores, it makes me mad.

I don't yell, but I get right up close to him and I say, through clenched teeth and in a voice that I know was probably almost worse than yelling and with a look in my eye that could kill "DO.YOU.HAVE.ALL.YOUR.CHORES.DONE?  Then WHY are you sitting here putting a puzzle together!!??"

He immediately gets tears in his eyes.  My sensitive, soft-hearted but oh.so.frustrating son!  But I am too hard hearted to really care or apologize, at least not right then. 

When I think back on it later, and maybe even at the time, I feel defeated. Because it seems to me that one wrong just sweeps away a whole mountain of things I have done right, and in the matter of a few angry sentences spoken, I can erase ten times that I have spoken softly and kindly, even in the midst of stressful situations.

I am reminded of what I read not long ago in the "1000 Gifts" book, and I feel the sting of conviction.

She writes "Do I really smother my own joy because I believe that anger achieves more than love? That Satan's way is more powerful, more practical, more fulfilling in my daily life than Jesus' way?  Why else get angry?  Isn't it because I think that complaining, exasperation, resentment will pound me up into the full life I really want?  When I choose - and it IS a choice - to crush joy with bitterness, am I not purposefully choosing to take the way of the Prince of Darkness?  Choosing the angry way of Lucifer because I think it is more effective - more expedient - than giving thanks?"

Wow!  And wow!  I even KNOW this in my head, and yet I can't always seem to make it reach my heart!

Now Kendall is hurt and as I've learned a long time ago, "hurting people hurt others."  Next thing I know Nikki is crying because Kendall shoved her as they were in the bathroom trying to get their teeth brushed. 

It is cold and raining outside and isn't going to warm up much today.  Kendall is wearing shorts and a t-shirt, despite the fact that I told him it wasn't going to be warm today and he should dress accordingly.

I tell him to get a sweatshirt.

The one he wants to wear is dirty and needs to be washed.  I noticed it the other day. I am doing laundry this morning, so I tell him that he needs to get a different sweatshirt, because that one needs to go in the laundry.

He doesn't like any of his other sweatshirts, he tells me.  I say "Well, then, at least wear a long sleeved shirt."

After a while, he calls to me from his room "Mom!! I need you right now!"  He needs help with the long pants he has picked out to change into and he can't find any long sleeved shirts in his drawers. He is almost crying again.

I say "They must be there somewhere" as I rummage frantically through the drawers.

Because now I have a son who is standing in his tidy whities while the bus could show up any second and the other two kids are already out in the driveway waiting.

Turns out, the weather has been so warm that I never got any of Kendall's fall clothing up from the basement yet.  There is not a single, long sleeved shirt to be found in his entire dresser.  But there are two sweatshirts, both of which he refuses to wear because he "doesn't like them."

I give him a quick hug and tell him he just has to go with his t-shirt and long pants, and when he steps out the door, he is crying again and says "But I'm gonna be cold." 

I say "Just go!! I'll go downstairs and see if I can find another sweatshirt for you."

He heads down the lane while I quickly run downstairs, find the tote labeled "Kendall - Fall 2012" and rummage through. Thankfully, there are two sweatshirts near the top. I don't know if he will like these either, but I grab both and run out the front door.

The school bus is already at the end of the lane, but Kendall is only halfway there.

I slip my tennis shoes halfway on and I run, yelling his name, holding out the sweatshirts.  I don't know what the bus driver thinks.  Kendall is still sad.  Almost crying. I know it is because I spoke harshly to him.  He looks at the two sweatshirts I hold up.  A decision must be made. NOW! I can tell by his face that he doesn't really like either one, but finally he picks the blue and orange Adiddas one and shuffles off to the bus.

Nikki turns around, and now she's crying because "She needs a sweatshirt too".  She is wearing long sleeves, so I think she is fine, but it is too late. The bus is there. The driver has already waited long enough.

The kids get on the bus and it leaves.  I come back into the house and I feel like "What the heck just happened?"

It is the stuff of nightmares. Not being able to find things and the bus is waiting.

I sit at the table with my head in my hands.  How do I go so wrong?  How will my kids ever grow up to be healthy adults with a Mom like me? 

I pray.  I thank God for second chances, even when I feel like I don't deserve them.

I contemplate going to the school at lunch time.  Taking a sweat shirt for Nikki (even though by then she will probably have long forgotten that she wanted one) and taking Kendall in my arms and apologizing to him (he will not have forgotten). 

And then I stand and stare at their pictures. I look into their eyes and I wish I could hit the rewind button.

I love to feel inspired when I write. I love to feel passionate and engaged with what I am writing about.

I fell off of the "no sugar, no white flour" wagon with a loud thump on Sunday.

Jeremy was gone for most of the day helping a friend with a siding project.  I was home with the kids. We didn't go to church.  It was one of the most restful Sundays I have had in a while.  Go figure.

Fall was in the air.

I was totally in the baking and food-making mood.

I thought and thought about what I was MOST hungry for.  I allow my one treat per week and when you only have one treat per week, then you want to make darn sure it is worth it.

I pulled out cookbooks and sat on the floor looking through them.  I wanted to make some sort of an apple crisp with caramel but we were out of caramel.  So I just settled for a regular apple crisp.

I also decided to veer away from the normal "frozen pizza" Sunday night supper and make some cheese and bacon potato rounds and have them with leftover meatballs.

Somewhere in between all of that I decided to make soft pretzels.  I am not exactly sure how that happened.

I mixed them up, let them rise, punched them down (I have no idea why you have to do that with yeast stuff...I don't understand the science of it...I just do it!), and let them rise again.  And then the kids helped me roll them out. 

That was a process in itself.  We were supposed to make the ropes of dough 20" long and so we got out the tape measure to check how we were doing with each one.  We had enough of dough for 11 pretzels and a teeny one that Kendall wanted to make.  Then we did the whole "boil them in baking soda water" thing as instructed, and I put them in the over to bake and set the timer and went downstairs to the computer.

Next thing I know, Nikki is yelling that the timer went off and I came up to a smell of burnt pretzels.  It had said to "bake 12 - 14 minutes" and I had set the timer for 12 or 13 minutes, and yet they were burned!! I was a little frustrated. I should have stayed up there and watched them, I guess.  Just the bottoms were burned, so we salvaged everything we could and dipped them in some nacho cheese sauce and they were SO yummy! 

I don't know how many I ate.

And then later I had some awesome apple crisp (warmed up) with vanilla ice cream. It was heavenly.  My "one treat" turned into 2 and then some. And now I owe my friend Lisa more money!   Somehow, I feel like it was worth it.

(Since nothing came up when I searched for "soft pretzel burned" on Pinterest, we'll just go with this picture)

When I read something like that I feel SO compelled to see what score I would get on a reading test.  So I took a few.  And apparently I read between 400 - 450 words per minute but my comprehension is only about 50%.  Which knocks off quite a few points. 

Here's the thing:  When I am reading a book I skim parts and I don't retain nearly all the details of the story because it is not all important to me.  I just want to get the main theme and the parts that I find particularly interesting I spend more time on.  It works for me.

Stupid comprehension tests anyway.