'Round here . . .

(which is one of my favorite Counting Crows songs . . . don't hate--that album, uh CD, okay, I probably had it on tape, came out during a fun time of life when hips were something I wanted and bikinis were a questionable idea for a whole other reason than they are now)

I digress.

(what else is new, though, right? I don't think writing a parentheses-free blog is possible.)

Anywho . . . things around here are steady. I was telling some friends last week that I couldn't tell you the actual date, I just know that if it's Monday, I better make sure I'm caught up on groceries and laundry for the week and if it's Tuesday, I need a lot of caffeine and the burb needs a lot of gas to get the people where they belong. Wednesdays mean I need to get up earlier to get a shower before Bible study (and yes, sometimes I need a personal destination to inspire a shower in the morning). Thursdays are so amazing but require precision, staying on schedule and hitting traffic lights just right. And Fridays may mean speech therapy, preparing for dance competition or catching up from the hay-day that is Tuesday-Thursday. I can keep all of that tucked away in my brain, but throw in an event with an actual calendar date like a birthday or a doctor's appointment and I am apt to miss it or wake up in a panic several times before the right day afeared I have missed it.

This week I thought I had my stuff together . . . until the babysitter texted me that she was on her way and sorry she was running a little late.

(Imagine record coming to a screeching halt.)

Sitter? Coming to my house? But I'm not at my house. Or in need of a sitter. Unless today is my doctor's appointment. But it's not because I know it's Thursday. And today is Tuesday.

Scroll back through text messages. (Aka, my memory.)

Shoot. I scheduled the babysitter for Tuesday . . . and I need her Thursday.

Blonde mom texts back babysitter who is (thankfully) amused and also available for my ACTUAL appointment on Thursday.

Yes. I have a calendar (and I LOVE it) and a to-do list that I follow and RELISH crossing things off of.

But. Sometimes the nutrasweet from Tuesday's caffeine load bleeds into my brain space and I lose it for a bit.

Pop Culture

Pop Culture Confessions:

I love movies and books and US/People magazine.

I love books that turn into good movies so much that I went (with several of my ultra cool friends) to a Twilight Marathon in November and watched all 4 released Twilight movies back to back. The last time I was up that late, I was administering breathing treatments to my toddler.

I am SO STINKIN EXCITED for The Hunger Games movie that I find myself frequently listening to the Taylor Swift song from the soundtrack. And I have already made plans to go to that midnight show in 3 weeks!!

(And if you have NOT read The Hunger Games, I highly suggest you march yourself to the nearest book selling location and buy all 3. Then, before you start the first one, make sure there is enough food and clean clothes for about a week and kiss you family goodbye. You won't regret it. They are captivating and emotional and thought provoking. Maybe one day I will do my analysis of the books, but you should know that simply on an entertainment level they are AMAZING!)

I LOVE Oscar night. Josh and I had a red carpet party before we had kids . . . complete with ballots and prizes and movie-themed foods. But these days we are a little more low-key about the night. I printed off ballots for he and I and we had a little competition between ourselves. I don't want to rub it in, but let's just say that I don't have to make school lunches several days this week. It was a fun night. I looooved Octavia Spencer's reaction. I was bummed for George Clooney. I think that no matter how good he does, the Academy just can't give him the Oscar.

Caroline and I laid on the couch and watched the Red Carpet together . . . Dear Lord, please freeze her right now!

I am showing amazing restraint and have TWICE passed up the chance to buy US Magazine this week with COURTNEY ON THE COVER. I am using my self control and plan on just watching her tonight (and get in the longest line at the grocery/Target every time so that I can eventually get through the entire article).

Sigh of relief

Yesterday was a hard day for me as a mom. I can't remember if I've mentioned it here, but Tru has a degenerative corneal disease. Our amazing eye doctor (the lovely and talented Dr. Brent James) caught it very early and has been way on top of it, so his prognosis is great. In a manner very uncharacteristic of myself, I googled it once the day we found out and only clicked on one link (a reputable one). I read the information, I cried for about 5 minutes and then I dried my tears and said, "It's going to be ok."

And I truly believe that it will.

(By the way, googling ANY symptom is NOT recommended . . . my friend, Cory, and I have decided that apparently EVERYTHING is a symptom of brain tumors because every symptom we have ever googled has it listed as a possibility.)

Anyway, because of the disease, Tru's corneas are coned instead of rounded which makes glasses only partially effective. To slow it's progression and give him optimal sight (which I learned is critical by age 9), Tru Bud needs contacts. This made me sad for 2 reasons . . . One, have you ever seen anything cuter or more handsome than this?

 I don't want him out of glasses because I am in love with them! And, well, the second reason is because the thought of dealing with Tru and contacts made me a little . . . terrified, mortified, petrified, are you getting my point? It takes 2-3 of us to get eye DROPS in, you can imagine how well yesterday went as we attempted (with medical assistance) to put in a very small, hard contact. (They have to be hard to smush down the coning of his cornea.)

Let's just say when we left, I am pretty sure Dr. Julie (Brent's eye partner) left for the day . . . to drink heavily. I know I wanted to.

What broke my heart even more than the embarrassment of having my 8 year old throw a MAJOR fit/panic attack was the thing we had to keep repeating to him . . . "We don't have a choice, buddy." For just a little bit, that reality weighed heavy with me. Oh yeah, he has a DISEASE. Contacts are not cosmetic or fun, they are necessary to slow the progression of a disease that could eventually lead to a corneal transplant. Boo.

We were able to get one contact in and out and quit while we were ahead(?). We will try again in a few days once Dr. Julie has had time to call in her tranquilizer prescription (I think I am kidding about that). And we all recovered from the incident and went on to have great days (even Tru who is so resilient and always has been).

And, today, I am thankful that yesterday is over. I am enjoying the fact that the only thing on the calendar today is the option to meet a group of buddies at the park. I am loving Sascha's self done hairdo and bracelets (thanks, Amy! She has NOT taken them off, except to bathe).

I am so glad it's Friday and can't wait to cheer some dancing on tomorrow (RCDC ETJODT!) I am ecstatic that I didn't give up diet coke again for Lent (sorry, Mom). I am pumped that by going gluten free I have been able to stop taking my thyroid medicine and feel better than I have in YEARS!

There is so much to be thankful for, so today is that sigh of relief that comes when you have had a hard day that doesn't define you. It's remembering that God formed Tru in my womb . . . every little detail right down to that cute button nose and coning cornea and has a plan for Tru's good that includes keratoconus. And it's a sigh of relief because the alternatives to what's going on with Tru's eyes weren't as simply fixed with contacts. (And I didn't learn that info from google.)

Well, I'm off to shower--I want to be a blessing to those friends at the park, not someone they can't stand down wind of.

Judge me if you want to, but . . .

I must devote a post to The Bachelor.

I almost don't know where to start.

Let me say, though, that if I really cared about the BEST fit based on families and personalities, I would tell Ben to choose Lindsay. (Since I am sure my opinion matters to him.) She is precious and beautiful and fun and seems normal and her family seems like a great fit with Ben.

Kacie B owes her daddy big time. I hope that somewhere in Tennessee tonight they are celebrating what a great job he did protecting her. And in a few short weeks when Ben's "relationship" falls apart immediately after "After the Final Rose", she will not be the one humiliated and hurt and plastered all over the tabloids. (But FYI, if your dad is a teetotaler and old fashioned when it comes to dating, perhaps, just perhaps, dating a wine maker you met on a reality dating show infamous for hook-ups and break-ups is NOT going to over well with him and maybe, just maybe, you should have seen his disapproval coming. )

Sorry, Nikki, I just don't see it. At all. I think you owe Kacie's daddy big time too.

And now, to Courtney. I am fairly certain that he will choose her. Because he is a stupid boy who canNOT get past the line under her name that says "Model".  Because she is good GREAT at showing skin to distract him when he begins to get suspicious about her true colors. But seriously the faux wedding? And could she and her mom make any more of the same sour puss expressions? And I am almost certain they have as little personality as Courtney. And really? If those girls were catty about everyone, then maybe Ben should ignore them, but when EVERY OTHER GIRL YOU "HAVE A CONNECTION WITH" TELLS YOU COURTNEY IS THE SHE-DEVIL YOU MIGHT WANT TO LISTEN.

I must admit that I am intrigued by the previews for next week . . . I mean Switzerland, more Courtney drama and a surprise visit from someone?!?!?!?!?! Truly, this may be the MOST DRAMATIC SEASON EVER.

And I will end with this little observation. (Let's pretend these girls read my blog.) You have chosen to go through (what I imagine) is a fairly extensive interview process, possible psych evaluation, legal debriefing and signed untold contracts, disclaimers and the like and have probably watched at least one of the previous debacles seasons before agreeing to be 1 of 25 girls chasing shamelessly after the same guy while drinking insane amounts of alcohol and going on dates in groups where you ALL take turns kissing him. (The poor girl who kisses him last . . . I hope he sprays Binaca in between each girl.) During all of the prepping for the show and watching of the show, did you really miss the part where there were going to be 24 other girls? I'm just not sure how to help these poor souls in the limo being carted off can really say, "How did this happen? Just last night we were making out in Brazil and now I'm going home? How could this be happening? I really loved him (after 2 group dates and 3 cocktail parties) and could really see myself as his wife!"

Still here....

Don't give up on me! I will update soon, just swamped with life for now!

Oh. My. Yumminess.

Trust me (and if you were in the midtown Target yesterday, you can second this), Sascha is NO angel. But, oh my precious goodness, she is such a lover. And funny. And seriously loves me. And I am beginning to see true remorse when she is disciplined (not everytime, but I'm hopeful). And she and Bo are a hoot together. And right now she is singing Jesus Loves Me while sitting on the toilet. I am still amazed that my heart can feel like it is beating outside of my chest a 4th time.

This is my favorite pic of her recently. It just sums her up. (And kind of reminds me of my Uncle Keith because there are lots of family pics of him doing the same thing.)

And this one too . . . we are big fans of Yo Gabba Gabba. She loves Foo Fa.

Hurt Feelings

Well boo.

I am one of those people who HATES for anyone to be mad at them. I think that people pleasing might actually be what runs through my veins and NOT blood. There are obviously exceptions to this side of my personality, and, from time to time, I speak my mind to people other than Josh and my kids, but 99% of the time, I do anything and everything in my power to keep the peace.

(And yes, I know that this is one of those things that can be good or bad. And yes, I am working on boundaries and balance. And please don't be mad at me for being like this. Hahahaha.)

Anywho. Today, I found out that one of our neighbors (and I'm pretty certain I know who) called to complain about our dog barking last week.

Seriously, people, it was 10:15 in the morning and there were 2 city workers in the ditch right behind our house for a good 30 minutes. Had I KNOWN they were going to be there, I would have brought him in before they came, but once they got there, Tate was not leaving them alone.

(Which, by the way, is part of why we got a dog. To, you know, alert us when strangers were traipsing around our property. So, good boy, Tate.)

And, in my defense, I tried to bring him in, but he would have nothing of it. He kept running between me and the workers growling at them and trying to keep me back. (God love him.)

Once they left our house and moved on, I heard dogs a couple of streets away barking at the guys.

People, they are dogs. They bark.

Tate is never outside before 8:30 in the morning or after 8:30 at night and during the day, he is inside off and on depending on the weather and his and my mood. Of course he barks some, but we have a bark collar and he wears it 95% of the time when he is outside. (I would prefer no comments on that part. Josh and I argued over it a lot and our vet convinced me it was harmless and a good thing to keep neighbors happy.)

Of course, last Wednesday, he was let out without the collar on.

So now I am cycling between anger and embarrassment and hurt feelings and guilt and considering making everyone on our cul de sac and the next banana bread and leaving a note of apology and explanation.

But I am pretty sure that I know which neighbor it was because it would be just like him. And I am pretty sure that family washes their cars (and boat) enough to water a small nation. And I'm pretty sure that if there is ever a water reduction thing this summer, I will be watching them like hawks. And I'm also pretty sure their kids got in a fight one night and cops had to be called.

But whatever. My dog is definitely the problem.

(And I probably need to add bitter to that list of emotions I am cycling through.)

(And the people pleaser in me really feels the need to add that I have NOTHING against clean cars. I envy them. I long for them. I just have more to do these days than hand wash mine several times a week. But maybe I should. No judgement unless you are the neighbor who called. And then there is judgement and bitterness and anger and embarrassment and hurt feelings and guilt.)

So, needless to say, after I found out, the first thing I did was bring Tater-Totter in. (And can I say that at the vet, where we also board him on trips, he is a crowd favorite. They get SO excited when I call to make an appointment or reservation for him. He is a joy.) I guess he will have to be bored and get all of his energy out in here until I am done pouting.

(And ps, I really hope this post made everyone happy and no one mad. Heehee.)

(That's only a little true.)