Jumping on The Bandwagon...

So, it's Tuesday and since my noggin is full of random craziness, I decided to head on over to the Un-Mom's and join up for random Tuesday.  Because, come on, who doesn't love this purple button?

Okay, on to the random-ness....

My friend told me the other day that he was putting himself up on Craigslist just "for sh*ts and giggles".  Why on Earth would someone want to do anything like that?  For giggles, sure, everyone love giggles.  But for poop?  Why would you do anything to get poop?  I never understood that expression...
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I am totally kicking Diabetes butt lately. 

I'm down another 8 lbs. That's a total of 13 folks!  Yeah me!  Take that Jillian Michaels.  Seems pushing my luck is a great last chance workout.
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Behold, a rock from my oldest son's rock collection.

Oldest:  "This represents you Mom"
Me: "A rock?"
Oldest: "Yup."
Me: "I don't get it.."
Oldest: "Because it's solid, and has crystals."
Me: "Crystals?"
Oldest: "Yes, they're priceless gems, like you."

Awe....he wants something I just know it...
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The Almost-a-hubby got home before me tonight so I came home to a clean house, dishes washed, living room cleaned, dinner ideas 'o plenty.... And then he cooked, engaged me in conversation, cleared the dishes, and dried the pans. Without being asked, and without fishing for a compliment....

Awe... he wants something too, I just know it...

.....(and he may just get it)
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I told my son that I loved him, but right at that moment he was driving me bonkers.  He returned to me an hour later with "Love Coupons".  You know, the ones for a free hug or a free silly song sung off key, and at the top of their lungs? Yes, those.  Except my son returned with a pile of little coupons that all said "Go Away Oldest", "Leave Now Please", and "I Just Need Five Minutes". Brilliant. Now, don't I feel like an a$$? 

I'll take my "Mom Of The Moment" award money in small unmarked bills please...
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Finally, I'm learning a new language. 

Which one you ask? 

Would it be Brazilian, so I could finally speak to half the employees at my local mall? Nope. 

Would it be a language of Asian origin, so I could finally know exactly what those fabulous women at my nail salon are saying behind my back? Nope.

Is it Portuguese, so I could finally have a real conversation with my Mother-in-law-to-be? Nope. 

It's Pokemon. 

Because, I decided that need to be able to have a real conversation with my kids. 

Seriously, can no one speak Ms. Pac-Man or Donkey Kong anymore?

It really has become a lost language.

Perfecting The Art Of Living...

I was going to post something fabulous that my son made for me tonight. 

I was also going to post this crazy riddle of sorts. 

But that's going to have to wait.

Dan Pierce over at Single Guy Laughing posted a follow up post to his Perfection post that I mentioned a few days back.  His quest this time was to find a "Cure" For Perfection. Needless to say, I was humbled when he sent me an email to give me a heads up on this post's debut.  He wanted help from his readers in his search for a cure. He had three things he wanted us to write about. First, the hardest thing we've ever endured. Second, write a letter to ourselves then, from the now self, with words of wisdom. And third, I can't remember.  Because, I'm a bit "out of the box", and I just ran with it.  So I thought tonight, I'd share this with y'all... in all it's imperfect glory...

When I was little, I had all these great ideas of how life should be. My parents loved each other, they were high school sweethearts, first real loves, and led a very Norman Rockwell kind of life. My father went to work, my mom stayed home and raised all three of us. There was plenty of time for scouts, baking cookies, playing in the dirt, and truly enjoying childhood. Their life, in truth, was not all fabulous and romantic, and they never tried to make it appear that it was to anyone, least of all me. But, that was my perception of it. That was how life should be.

So, I moved out for college at 17 and eventually, moved in with my boyfriend, our relationship was comfortable, solid, and very unhealthy. I stayed much longer than I should, and realized it was time to leave when he was doing heroin in the next room, and I was standing in the kitchen making excuses for him. So I moved on, in search of the life I was supposed to have.

Four months later, I found myself clear across the country, and 1/4 mile away from an old high school boyfriend. My first love shall we say. This was all to "perfect" for words. The stars had aligned perfectly, and fate was dealing the cards that I'd always wanted. Within a year we were married. I had known him since he was 15, he was my first real boyfriend. I knew his family. I knew his values. This would be the life I was supposed to have. I thought if I was a good enough wife, he'd appreciate all that I was, and all that we could be together. And, five years down the line, I thought that if I could be a good enough mother, he'd become the father he should be. He didn't.

I thought he'd grow out of his childish ways, spending money on whatever he wanted, jumping from job to job, year after year. Instead, I had to dig us out of $30K of credit card debt, twice. I thought he'd grow out of the drinking, instead he began to spiral out of control, running up a $10K bar tab on my credit card. At the lowest point he was buying beer instead of baby formula, saying I should be able to "make" enough milk for both of the boys. I made excuse after excuse to everyone, and even worse, to myself. This was my perfect life with my high school love, my husband, my two children. Divorce was just not an option.

Until I woke up one day and realized that I had every symptom of a battered woman who'd never actually been hit. Like water dripping on a stone for 8 years, he had changed who I was. He had changed how I thought, how I acted, how I reacted to everything. He had changed what I wanted for my life. He had made me settle for something less than what I deserved.

That is when I told him to leave.

The divorce was quick, the 5 years after were hell. Suddenly, he realized didn't "own" me anymore. He dragged me into court countless times, filed fraudulent police reports, called DSS, and fought me on everything pertaining to the children. I was investigated by DSS five times over 3 years, because he told the children to say things that weren't true. I spent hundreds of dollars on therapy for the boys, had to change day cares multiple times, and spent endless hours in court. He refused to give me child support so I could verify additional income to the mortgage company when I was buying my first home. He watched my house from bushes late at night. He threatened me. He got violent with me. He kidnapped my children. And then, three years later, he married again. He had a new love, a new passion, a new target to control. The kids would return home from visits with stories of a happy home. I liked his new wife. She couldn't understand why we all just couldn't get along. As things settled down between he and I, unbeknown to me, they heated up for them. Literally. After many serious domestic events, one night they fought and (allegedly, there are still pending trials) he tried to light her on fire. Everyone survived, but the house burned to the point where it was condemned.
Watching the 5am, Noon, 5pm, and 11pm news that day, reading the headlines, hearing the talk, seeing the mug shots, all I could think was "That was the man that I had married." That could have been me and the boys in that fire. That could have been my home burning to the ground. And, that was the man I was going to have my perfect life with? No. Way. In. Hell.

Which brings me to the hardest thing I have ever endured. Life. Or, rather redefining what I thought my life should be. It was at that point, I stopped hiding who I was, and what was really going on. I talked freely about my failed marriage, and how I was an enabler in a horrible co-dependant relationship. I talk about how hard it is for me to not control things. I am open about my struggles with money and will help anyone with their financial woes. I worked with therapists and behavioral doctors to find the true roots of both my son's behavioral issues, which I now know are severe ADHD (two different types) and Autism Spectrum. I fought teacher, doctors, and institutions to find holistic "cures" for both, and agonize over choices of medicines. I celebrated my buying my first home on my own at 29, and have given up on keeping my house perfectly in order. Houses should look lived in, damn it. I have made no apologies for my son's homework not being done, that permission slip that was not returned until the last minute, or that my youngest's karate Gi is not pressed perfectly, because honestly, I didn't feel like it or have a spare minute to do it. My kids hear the words "We don't have the money for that" as often as they here "I love you", and they respect me more for it. I am the only true parent they have, and if necessary, the only one they will ever need. My body is beautiful, complete with all its extra soft squishy ness, stretch marks, and horrible nearsightedness. My talents are plentiful, and my story amazingly simple. I am a survivor of life. And in re-discovering all this, I have found an amazing partner who not only embraces all this, but adores it.

If I could tell my self then, what I know now, it would be to do it all, exactly the same.

Life is about perfecting the art of living.

And, art is in the eye of the beholder.

HTML Still Hates Me...

Dear Imaginary Friends,

I have a confession to make. 

In an ongoing over obsession  to pick apart improve my blog, I lost you all.

I see all these pretty blogs and wonderful widgets and I just want to try them all out.  I just wanted to make a few changes.  Tweak this, change that.  I wanted to add a comment feed that would allow me to comment directly back to all your funny anecdotes and words of wisdom. Instead, I blocked comments all together.  I tend to over think things, and it was brought to my attention that my URL may offend the little person community.  So, in an effort to be politically correct, I changed it.

And then I realized, I've spent most of my life being politically correct.  I don't need to be PC here.  This is my blog and if someone is truly offended by my sense of humor, then they don't have to read.  So I'm back.  Forever to be found at Mom-2-mental-midgets.  Because my kids are small and crazy.  And, I've lovingly called them that for years. It is not meant to disrespect any little person and definitely not, anyone who's mentally ill. 

'Nough said.

And I promise not to leave again.

On purpose anyway.

Because as I've learned over and over,

HTML hates me. 

He Also, Has Such A Way With Words...

The youngest was out helping the Almost-a-hubby build a fence the other day.  They are cutting down the wood, leaving some sizable chunks left over.  The youngest is sitting down, clearly intensely thinking about something...

"You know what we should do with this wood?"
"What?"
"We should cut it into a heart shape, then cut out the middle, then put a picture of you guys in it and give it to Mom for her birthday."
"That's a great idea!"
"Yeah, we could put lights on it, or write something on it too."
"You could do that."

Pause for more intense thinking...

"You know, we're going to DC in June."
"Yes, we are buddy." 

And then, with a dead serious face...

"There's a lot of great men there.  You've really got to step up your game if you don't want Mom to leave you for one of those guys."

Fighting back laughter....

"Step up my game?"
"Yeah."
"Ok. Then, I guess I'll step up my game." 

He's Got Such A Way With Words...

My oldest is turning out to be quite the man. After all, in a meer 6 weeks he will be entering the double digit stage of his life.  Yup.  The big  1-0.  He's extremely creative and artistic. He's very out going and has lots of friends.  He's also very literal, and often doesn't understand jokes or humorous situations.  Irony is completely lost on him.  I often have to explain why some thing's funny which, quite honestly, takes all the fun out of it.  But every once and a while, he cracks me up when he says things like this....

The importance of personal etiquette....

"Mom, I got a bloody nose in class today."
"You did? Why."
"I had an itch on the outside of my nose and I rubbed it too hard and it stared to bleed."
"Well, that's not really a bloody nose, bud."
"No, but now *insert latest girl crush here* thinks I'm a nose picker and she doesn't like me."


On personal style....

"Mom, the ladies love me.  They all think I have perfect hair."
"Maybe that's because you have that cool hair cut.  You've got hair like that Beiber kid."
"Ah, no way Ma.  Beiber has hair like me."


On math and aging gracefully....

"Can you help me with my Math homework?"
"Sure buddy, what's the problem?"
"I have to add all the ages of my family together and get one number."
"But that's not right bud, I think you added something wrong."
"No, I didn't. I'm 9, my brother's 8, Stunt Double Dad is 44, Bonus Brother's 16, and you're 40."
"I'm 40?"
"Yeah."
"Try 35"
"Oh, well, you look 40."

Upon watching the contestants on "The Biggest Loser" weigh in....

"Oh Mom, look at how much she weighs."
"Yeah, buddy she's pretty unhealthy"
"Do you weigh more than her?"
"No buddy."
"Oh. How much do you weigh?"
"About 30 lbs more than I should."
"Oh, so you're obese..."

Upon seeing my wedding dress mostly constructed....

"Mom, that is the most beautiful dress."
"Thanks buddy, I'm working really hard on it."
"Yeah, but you're gonna need to make it bigger there." (points to hips)
"Why do you think that?"
"Because that's never gonna fit you."

And finally, we had the "talk" the other night.  He wanted to know all about how babies are made.  I was open, candid, let him ask all kinds of questions... to which he replied...

"That is so gross.  I'm never doing that. You shouldn't have told me that"
"Then why did you ask?"
"Because, I didn't think it'd be gross."


That's my boy.

He's got such a way with words.

Unfortunately, they're not always the best choice of words.

Going Postal...

Shhhh...

Come in real close...

I'm gonna tell you a secret...

The Post Office is broke.

Oh, wait you knew that already?  Perhaps it was the thousands of news articles regarding closing offices, stopping Saturday delivery, or the forever increasing cost of a stamp.  Yes, it's true.  The P.O. is billions of dollars in debt due to years of mismanagement and the hands of the government.  What many people don't know, is that it's actually a private company.  Has been since the 80's.  Except for one little thing... it has to ask the government's permission for everything.  It literally takes an act of Congress to change anything in the Post Office.  This is why my office has five branches, in two towns, that run with the same staff.  In addition, the town also has two other Post Offices in our town within 1/4 mile of each other that run absolutely no mail out of them. Each of them has their own staff, postmaster, and zip code. They remain open, due to the  family of one of the congressman living in the area, who likes their P.O. Box number. Brilliant. 

Due to the company's dire situation, we have been told to shut the lights off when we leave the bathroom. Seriously.  And, they have also cut back on non-necessary supplies, like bags and elastics. Yes, bags.  Because we never deliver packages in the rain and snow.

They have also implemented a no hiring clause throughout the office.  Which means a few things.  First, they are not promoting anyone into regular positions for at least 2 more years.  So, that means the people at the top of the list now, like me, will have been waiting not 8 years for a permanent position, but at least 10 or more.  Instead, as people retire, they are breaking up the vacant routes creating 9 to 10 hour a day routes for the existing regular carriers, and they've restricted our work area.  This is leading to more injuries, and illnesses, and bad hangovers  unscheduled sick calls.  Which, in turn means more work for the part time carriers.  Which is great, since that's how my mortgage gets paid, right? Right... for the most part.

The no hiring clause also means that no new people can be hired as well.  Currently, in our office we have 31 routes.  Five of them are permanently vacant, and an additional three more are expected to be vacant for at least a year or more. We have 14 substitute carriers.  With those routes needing coverage every day, that leaves us with 6 carriers to cover days off, emergencies, vacations, and playing hooky general stupidity. Two of those carriers are allowed to work limited schedules and duties.  This leaves us with four versatile carriers. 

Four.

So everyday, I go to work any one of the 27 assigned routes I know (some days it's a complete surprise), as well as pieces of any route that also needs coverage.  Which means typically, 4 out of 6 days we are carrying 11 to 16 hours worth of mail routes.  Did I mention that we are all still expected to do this within a nine hour day? And, after we change the clocks back, we'll be expected to do this in the dark.  In my case, I still have to pick up my son by 3pm, run him to his after school programs, return to work, and finish my job in a professional and acceptable manner. I can not get a day off for doctor's appointments, or anything else of a personal nature, so they all must be scheduled into my work day. I haven't eaten a lunch at work in 8 years.  In an effort to better understand, I asked my boss a few questions today regarding the staffing in our office.  It went something like this...

Q: Are you planning on hiring anyone?

A: No we're in a hiring freeze.

Q: Office X just hired 2 new RCA's last month...

A: I don't know, everything I hear says we can't hire new. But I won't hire any one anyway.

Q: Why?

A: Because I'm getting rid of routes, and the hours will dry up next month.

Q: Okay, let me get this straight.  You're creating bigger routes by breaking down others, causing regular carries a day off every week (more hours).  You're forcing regulars in on their days off now, because you can't staff the existing days off, causing them to earn another day off.  And currently, the regular carriers have enough existing time off to keep every substitute carrier working everyday for the next two years.  Some of that time has to be used before December, or they'll lose it. And the hours are going to dry up?

A: Yes. And if they don't I can borrow staff from other offices, but I won't really do that either.

Q: OK, but if you do that now, it will still take a year before they can actually be a high functioning part of the office and they still won't be available for peak days that every office needs.

A: Well, so what do you want?

Q: I need a day off for my Grandfathers memorial. Or, at least a day off for doctor's appointments.

A:  No. And as for the doctor's appointments, I'll just schedule you minimally from here on out.  Why are your eyes rolling?

Q:  Because that's not a solution.  And we both know, that you can't just not schedule me.  Remember 3 weeks ago, my scheduled vacation?  The one I had to work four days of?

A:  Well, then routes will just go vacant, so you can sit at home.

Q: I don't think you're hearing what I'm saying.

A:  I think I hear you perfectly.

At this point, I had to walk away. I respect that he's got a job to do, but it's this type of brilliant head-in-the-sand management approach that got the Post Office where it is today. 

By the way, I believe he makes close to six figures a year.

I need to play the lottery before work tomorrow,

Since I am not after all, going to my Grandfather's Memorial.

So, You Think You Can Sew?

Who's idea was it to make their own wedding dress anyway?

Oh yeah.  Mine.

After polling my audience (thanks again to all that contributed) I have finally come up with a design for my dress. As a student of Design, a seamstress for years, Halloween costume aficionado, how hard could this possibly be?  Seriously?  I made 5 wedding dresses as my senior line in college.  I worked as a design assistant and production manager for a bridal accessory company after college.  I had designs in magazines at 20 years old.  Getting my ideas out of my head and into real life would be a piece of wedding cake, Right? 

I finally found the perfect fabric for my wedding dress.  I decide to take the easier route and look at patterns to use as the bones of the dress.  I find a Vogue pattern that seems just right, so I purchase it.  A week later, Mom and I go back to a different location of the same store and she agrees on my choice of fabric.  The pattern however, she's not thrilled with.  After much scouring, we come up with another pattern that is closer to my end design.  The original pattern gets exchanged for this new one.

Two days later, I purchase the fabric. Excited, I drag the dress form out of the attic, and begin to set it to my measurements.  This is no easy task.  After adjusting all my bone measurements and outfitting it with my best fitting underwear, I begin to drape it so that I can get an idea of how the dress design will play out on a "live" model.

She's old and a little wrinkly, just like me.

Three days later, after painstakingly hand pleating, ripping out seams, restitching, trimming, re cutting, swearing, and waking up in the middle of the night thinking that there's someone standing in my bedroom, I think I have the top just right.  All that without even opening the pattern!  I decide to iron out some of the finer wrinkles and pin marks within the pleats and do this...

ALWAYS check the iron first kids...

Seems, someone  like me forgot to clean the iron after the last project.  So, here is where three days of tireless hand stitching ends up...



My kitchen trash never looked so good...



Defeated, I decide to just start with the pattern.  As I open the pattern, I find that the "bones" of this pattern aren't at all what I want the end dress to look like.  So, off I go to the fabric store to exchange the pattern for, you guessed it, the one I had bought the first time.  But, of course, they didn't have my size.  My size was at the store a half hour away. The store I had returned it to.  So, I make the trek and thankfully, secure the correct pattern. This is made more embarrassing as the sales people in both stores remember me. Yup, that's me, the neurotic bride-to-be. I also picked up some more fabric for emergency use.

So, I start again.  All the measurements are correct, I have altered the pattern to my liking, and this puppy should fit like a glove.  If a glove didn't have boobs.  What the heck?  Four hours into this I have ripped out countless seams, and stuck myself with so many pins I no longer bleed.  I am now a certified contortionist, as I have had to bend my arms backwards around my head in order to pin myself into this masterpiece.  Ever tried to fit a dress on yourself?  Don't.  After considering rolling it up in a ball and shoving it in the back of the closet, at midnight, I gleefully raise the ivory satin white  flag and surrender to sleep.  As I laid in bed, I thought of how else I could have spent that $20K design school tuition. 

Morning comes and I do all I can to avoid this craziness.  The boys have now nicknamed the mannequin, "The creepy lady that wears Mom's bras".   The Rent-a-hubby is now wondering who this new big-boobed woman is that has taken residence in the bedroom.  I had no intention of working on the dress that day, but like a horrible addiction, it pulls me in.  It's like she's talking to me.  Taunting me.  I am weak.  The youngest and I start cutting more fabric and draping it over the front.  He offers constructive opinions, throws in an over the top compliment, and then asks for something outrageous that I've already said "no" to 3 times.  Can't blame a boy for trying, right?  Remarkably, the dress in my head begins to take shape in front of me. 

Shown without proper foundation...
It was laundry day and it was my last clean bra.

On a roll, although hesitant that my good fortune will never return, I must stop and meet the demands of my only day off for the week.   Around 5pm the crazy lady sucks me back in again, by 8 I have made significant progress, shown here at a side view, because the front is still missing...

After a week of Supermom style craziness, I return to the dress, just in time to bust out the lace...

The photo really doesn't do it justice.  It's an intricate pattern of floral and vines in cream and silver.  It is lightly beaded along the edges and throughout the pattern in sequins, pearls, and seed beads. Compensating for the hem is a pain because the lace has a finished edge and I don't have my shoes yet for a final measurement.  The plan is to inset this on both side godets of the center front, then painstakingly cut out pieces of the lace to use as appliques.  What was I thinking?? Not my smartest idea... 

So I set to work once more on the front and insets, pining a few cut lace appliques randomly to see if the design will come together just right or really piss me off and end up in the trash. After all that, I end up with something like this...

Please ignore the front wrinkles... I hate to iron.
Although, feel free to marvel at how clean the living room is.

So that's where I'm at for now.  As you can see, I ended up using elements of all four dresses, the lace from #1, the empire waistline from #2, the criss-cross pleating from #3, and the bias cuts of #4 (every piece is cut on the bias, now that was fun).  I used the straight fitting design because a puffy princess style just wouldn't work in the parlor car of the train. For those who may have missed my venue post, you can see it here. The other advantage of this style is the ease of alteration for my aggressive 30 pound weight loss.  Oh yeah, 30 lbs, I'm on day three and I already want to stab someone with a fork.  Just in case, I made the dress to fit me now.  I am still debating a small duster style train of lace only.   It's beautiful in pictures, but a pain the rest of the night unless you bustle it up underneath.

I may, or may not post more pictures as the final details of the dress take shape.  This is largely due to my superstitious behavior regarding the groom not seeing the dress before the wedding.

Because he reads every blog post, and can't be trusted. 

Perception...

Last April, a friend of mine and her twenty year old son were beaten down in their driveway by four masked men with a wrench and left for dead.  They lived in a nice house, in a decent part of town, are not wealthy, and for all intents, lived a very uncomplicated life.  So why did this happen to them? 

Perception.

She lived in a big house that she'd owned for over 20 years,  had several Jeeps always parked in the driveway because her husband's a mechanic, and her son uses marijuana that he has a prescription for.  All of these things made her appear to have money.  The big house, the Jeeps, the husband's predominately cash business.  Her son's medical conditions allowed him a perscription for pot.  And that's what these four Men were after.  Money and lots of drugs.  Neither of which this family has.  In fact, her son didn't even have any pot in the house.  But after the fact, that didn't matter to the assailants.  They wanted them dead.  Over a misguided perception.

My friend will never be the same.  But they are alive because of her 15 year old's fear and instinct to run away.  The men didn't "finish the job" because they thought he was going to call the police. His instinct to run to safety saved all of their lives.  I bring this up because yesterday Dan  over at "Single Guy Laughing"  wasn't laughing.  Instead he posted something about an infectious disease called "Perfection".  Although  a very long post, it made me think.  A LOT.  And I found that for me, it's less about Perfection and more about Perception.  Perfection implies that there's an obtainable goal, however unrealistic that may be, to work towards.  Perception is knowing that you don't, and may never be able to obtain that goal, so you make it appear that you've achieved it.

I see this everyday at work.  Because if you want to know what's really going on  who else do you ask than the mail person?

I'm going on a great trip to the Caribbean this week, so I need to hold my mail.  On Sunday you can redeliver it... along with the three Certified mailings from the mortgage company since I'm six months behind.

I'm standing at the door to a small apartment with a Corvette and an F250 in the driveway, when the gentleman pulls up on his brand new Harley Davidson.... just in time for him to sign for his Court summons for non payment of child support. 

Dogs outside, kids playing in the yard, owner says, "Oh don't worry, MY dog would never bite"... later that evening you're nursing 42 stitches because her dog did.

The Pastor and I  have been happily married for 12 years.  He's such a traditional and romantic man. It's how we keep the romance alive...  as well as the multitude of sex toys and videos I deliver only on Wednesdays when your helping out at the soup kitchen and can't get the mail.

Generally speaking, we are all guilty of this to some degree.  Especially now, with the invention of such social networks like chat rooms and Face book. Quick show of hands please... Who's got a Face book friend who has posted "How much they love their kids", or how "Amazing their boyfriend is"?  Most of us do.  Because we all know people who want to make their life's Perception to better than what it is. 

Blogging is another one of these "white lying" forums.  When I first started the Rent-a-hubby noted how I could spin my life in any direction.  On line, I could be who ever I wanted to be.  I can make up a crazy fictitious name, heck, I could clip art pictures of people and call them my family.  I could paint as pretty a picture as I wanted. 

But I didn't.

Here's the thing.  We all want things we can't have, or make it seem like we have it all together.  We all want to be that person that people look at and say "I wish my life was like theirs, I would do anything just to live one day in their shoes".  There's nothing wrong with that.  But don't we all feel better when we're validated in our struggles?  When we're having the worst, most craptastic day ever and we start to read other's experiences about the same things? 

And this is why I don't candy coat things. Unless it's a cupcake. 

You can read any of my "Fridge Worthy Posts"  and see how much I love my kids and family.  But, daily you can read about my struggles with being a single Mom, having  two sons with severe ADHD or the youngest's struggles with Autism Spectrum.  I have written posts about coupon clipping and struggling with the boy's dead beat father.  If you stay with me long enough, you may even hear about my dealings with the Family Probate Court System and the stupidity of DOR's Child Support Enforcement division. Now, that's an adventure. 

My point is, parenthood, marriage, life, money, death... its' not all fun and games.  Nor is it easy, simple, or glamorous.  And while I do actually love the life I'm now living, a lot of the time it sucks.  Some days I just don't have it in me to make small talk at the mail box, cook another dinner, or deal with my boys when their being... well... donkey butts. 

That's why I only read and follow blogs and posts that are REAL.

And, that is why I have my own blog.

About my perfectly imperfect life.

And my perception of it.

Monday Moment...

After a very long week,
Other people's infants are better than Prozac.

Conversations With An Evil Genius...

4:50 AM...

scuffling heard in bedroom, then soft whispering next to my bed...

Evil Genius:  "Let me have my DS back, I don't need to be grounded anymore.  Let me have my DS back, (pause) I've been really good.  Let me have my DS back."

Opening my eyes to a boy not 6 inches from my face,

Me:  "Ahh Buddy, What are you doing?"

Evil Genius:  "Hypnosis.  Thought I'd give it a try."

~~~~~~~~~~

The fabric has been chosen for the wedding dress.  The dress form is out and I have begun the draping process to see what will work best in the design... Evil genius enters...

EG:  "Is that the fabric for the dress?"
Me: "Yes, do you like it?"
EG: "Yes, because it is very shiny, and you should be the most sparkly, shiny person there, because it's your day... it's all about you."
Me:  "Thanks buddy, but you still can't have the remote control helicopter with spy camera"
EG:  "Well it was worth a try, anyway.  When your done can I have the mannequin?"
Me:  "For what?"
EG:  "Target practice"

~~~~~~~~~

There is still a lot of talk in our house regarding a tree house.  For those who may have missed it, you can revisit it here.  My son has drawn many plans.  Many , many plans...

Me:  "OK, what's that?"
EG:  "It's a grenade launcher"
Me:  "And that?"
EG:  "That's where we mount the paint ball gun"
Me:  "I don't think we need that kind of protection around here Buddy."
EG:  "You never know Ma, those squirrels can get mean."

~~~~~~~~~~~

Trying to pick out an after school activity this year is proven to be tricky...

EG: "I think I would like to try Gymnastics this year"
Me: "And, what about Karate"
EG:  "I'll go back to Karate after gymnastics, but I feel that's the best way to even out my Ninja abilities"
Me: "Okay...  well, why don't we look in the rec. center book to see what they have."
EG:  "Okay, No wait Ma, I know what I want to do.... This!...

          Introduction to Chemistry  Ever wonder what those mad scientists are doing on TV?  Learn  about atoms and basic elements.  See how to combine chemicals, and  what combinations cause dramatic reactions. 

 Warning- This program is very messy.

~~~~~~~~~

EG:  "Ma, Can we go to Walmart?"
Me:  "Why?"
EG:  "I need ammo"
Me:  "For What?"
EG:  "My slingshot.  I need to protect the house if there's an ambush."
Me: "An ambush of what?"
EG:  "Water balloons."

~~~~~~~~~~

Seriously, THIS is what I'm up against....

Some days, I don't think I stand a chance.

Notes To Self...

Dear Body,

I know I have not treated you well, and for this I am sorry.  You remind me of this daily as I attempt to get out of bed each morning, knees cracking, carpal tunnel burning, back wrenching.  I know you are tired, and you have good reason.

Your shoulders have had to bare the weight of the world, and provided a much higher vantage point for small children.

Your hips have danced many a night away, long before they carried a toddler on each.

You skin is thick, from years of horrible adolescent teasing,  yet remarkably, still retains sensitivity.

Your forehead has four distinct wrinkles now, worn in from worry and stress.  But, they can not overshadow the less subtle, and more frequent ones that now grace your face, from knowing much joy and laughter .

Your hands are rough and calloused from real old-fashioned hard work.  Yet, they are still the first thing they reach for, when they need to know I am here.

Your waist was gone long ago, proof of many good meals eaten.

Your stomach, once taught and smooth, now the road map of the great journey called motherhood.

Your eyes are tired, from far too many lost night's sleep, but still sparkle at the prospect of a new adventure.

Your feet have stood and waited, but provided a strong foundation for every thing worth waiting for.

Your legs have run many miles right into trouble, and have run just as many more, to carry you out.

Your heart may be older, but it can still skip a beat.

Your mind has balanced many checkbooks, multi-tasked many projects, and has faithfully stored infinite amounts of wisdom and experience.  It has also written many a love letter, thrown caution to the wind, and done nothing on a Sunday afternoon.

In a few short weeks we will be 36, celebrating another milestone with those we love most. I appreciate all that you've endured with me in the last 35 years.  I promise to be kinder to you in the years to come. Eat more salads, and nap.  Stretch my legs, and breathe it all in.  Let someone else worry, ask for help, and enjoy the simpler things.

Simpler things, like birthday cake.

It Hit Me Like A Train...

When I was twenty and got engaged, I knew exactly what I wanted.  I lived 1200 miles from home, and managed to organize and plan the entire wedding without once flying home.  This was largely due in part from many family and friends who helped out, and my ability to let go of the "unimportant" details. My first wedding was a great time.  We had our reception on a boat Fourth of July weekend and, at one point in the evening their were fireworks displays in any direction.  We had lobster, good music, and great weather.  But that is where the great time ended.  My marriage was not a great time, which spiraled quickly into disaster during the last two years of our 8 year run.

This wedding is different.  Very different. Which I hope means that the marriage will be different.  Very different. I want a very small wedding.  I am under no pressure or obligation to invite that cousin's sister's roommate, or allow the nieces to bring random dates I don't even know.  My dress is still designing itself (although Mom and I found the perfect fabric today) and I have no desire to have a first dance or even a dance floor for that matter.  So, while this works well for my fear and anxiety of doing it all over again, the planner in me is going nuts. I have looked at countless options, dates, guest list combinations, budgets, etc. Finally, I came to the realization that the actual wedding will just all fall into place. That at some point, it will just hit me. 

Like a train.

Imagine  with me...

Having 22 of your closest family gathered around as you quietly recite your vows on the lawn of this antique depot.  It's a beautiful late summer night, with ocean views. In the near distant back drop is this 100 year old fully functioning bridge, lowered just for your evening.

After the ceremony you board the train, completely restored, and are enveloped in a history dating back to 1848. You are instantly transported back to a long gone era of romance and a slower pace...

As you and your new husband settle in with appetizers and champagne, you glimpse out the window and see this...

The tables have been set with beautiful linens in your own private car with an antique full tended bar. 

Your guests have a full menu of appetizers, salads, and entrees, not just chicken and  fish.  Food is fresh, carefully chosen by what's in season, and prepared by a culinary staff any five star restaurant would envy.  Your cake is custom designed to your specifications, multi layered in chocolate and vanilla, with a special gluten free cake for you and your special Best Man. Your favorite sparking wine was custom ordered  for your champagne toast. 

The trip lasts 3 hours and rolls through beautiful county side, river ways, and fields. 

The kids always have something new to see out the windows. 

The younger ones may even be lulled to sleep as the night goes on by the rhythmic motion of the train car and click clack of the rails.

Surprisingly, although everyone is local,

none of your guests have experienced this hidden gem before.

It is simple.

It's hundreds less than the budget.

It's romantic.

Sometimes,  perfect experiences are worked for and carefully planned out.

And sometimes, they just hit you like a train.



Now, if I can only get the Rent-A-Hubby "on board"....

My Craptastic Week....

First and foremost, thank you all for your kind words on my last two posts.  I never imagined that I would get so much support from my whining and ranting.  I have made many new imaginary friends through this blog which has truly  become my personal diary with spell check . For that, I am grateful.

My week as a whole can be summed up in one word, compliments of this imaginary friend....

Craptastic.

When my sister, the Kindergarten teacher, called me on Thursday, she asked me to use it in a sentence so she would better understand it's full meaning.... 

ME: "My week has been pretty Craptastic.  You know, when everything in your life seems to be crappy, and then turns out in the end to be pretty fantastic? But don't ask me to spell it."

SIS: "But, that's the beauty of it, it's a new word, you can spell it how ever you want, like those crazy parents that name their kids normal names like Brianne, but spell it Breeanne.  Really? Three vowels in a row?  I'm pretty sure that's not English."

I love my baby sister.  Any hoo...

My youngest son's medication is working beautifully.  In fact, I haven't even had to raise my voice. Not once.  My neighbors don't even know me anymore.  This particular medicine has a 48 hour turn around, so I have already seen changes in his behavior and he's experiencing very few side effects. I was able to also get him set up for therapy next week, hopefully she'll be able to help him through many of the "Daddy" issues he's been having. 

On Saturday, the Rent-a-hubby and the youngest continued building the fence in the side yard.  It's coming out beautifully, and going up faster than I ever imagined.

I scored an upcoming day off next week.  After the first of many dental appointments for my new braces, my Mom and I will be attempting to find fabric for my dress. For any who may have missed it, you can see some ideas here.  I'll be posting the fabrics and a tentative sketch of the final dress design soon.  Promise.  I used every one's input and came up with one that I think will be spectacular.

I've lost five pounds, which is a good start to getting my sugar under control again. For anyone who may have missed it,  I have type 2 Diabetes.   Normally, I actively try to control it with diet and exercise, rather than medication.  I have been very successful at this, until  the loss of both my grandparents, where I regressed into my familiar pattern of comfort eating.   But, I'm back on track now, focused on healthier eating and fitting into my wedding dress.

With everything going on, the Rental and I haven't even thought  to raise a glass in celebration of our upcoming nuptials. So, Saturday night we visited a friend for some good music, great conversation, and even better food. Although it wasn't planned this way, it became our engagement dinner celebration.  And, let me say, it was a real dinner.  He made clam chowder for an appetizer, from scratch.  The entree was porter house steaks and two sides.  The first was mashed potatoes, layered with cheese, and twice baked into a casserole.  The second was caramelized corn with green and red peppers and onions.  It was to die for.  Needless  to say, no one had time for dessert.  

Now if I could only get him to cater the wedding.

The Rental left the house for his 6:25 tee time this morning. I would never get up that early for Golf, not even if you promised me cake. How did he get up that early you ask?  Compliments of a bee sting to the eye at 4:30 am. So, today's plan includes finally calling the exterminator for that stupid bee's nest we can't seem to get rid of, house work, more fence building, and movie night with my two best men. They've been up since 6 am and I haven't had to yell at all.  Or, get out of bed to break up a fight.  Or, make breakfast.  It's looking like a great day.

So, there you have it.  

(minus the bee sting).

Started out bad, ended up pretty fantastic.

Craptastic.

I love that word.

Difficult Choices...

So, my week's gone from bad to worse.

My son is on the equivalent of a two day in-house suspension.

He's 8.

Before I was a parent, I knew all the answers.  I would not spank.  I would take a night to myself a week, for me time.  I had all the patience in the world.  I would never yell. And, I would happily always read bedtime stories, and run them to soccer, and cub scouts, and play dates.

Now I am a parent.  I have no money for babysitters nor a night out to myself.  My patience for children wore out shortly after my first, when I realized I'd never sleep straight through the night again. Reading a bedtime story usually results in my falling asleep in their bed, I practically live in my car running them all over the place, and no one has time for a play date. Much to my dismay, I have spanked. And I yell.  I yell a lot.  Because I care... A lot.

No one plans for a special child.  And when  there's no family history, everyone always assumes that you did this to them.  You caused their emotional trauma, you're spoiling them, you're not establishing the rules, you're not doing your job.

I did not plan for my son to have Autism Spectrum.  I didn't even have any idea what this was.  I went to countless doctors and therapists trying to get to the root of his behavior.  Each one came up with their own assessment, slapping another label on him, and sadly, another medication. 

Then one day, I discovered a holistic, natural way to stop much of his behaviors.  The Gluten Free diet.  It's difficult, but after 6 weeks, he came off all medications and was able to be in a mainstream school.  I felt vindicated.  There was nothing wrong with him. I was not the bad parent everyone thought.  And more important, he would be able to thrive without medication.

This has worked well for three years.  We've had a few hic-ups along the way, but for the most part he's been quite successful maintaining his diet and routine.  Until now.

Today I had to put my son back on his medication. 

I am not proud of this choice, but it seems the only way to get through whatever is going on in his noggin' right now.  Their hope is that with theropy, he can work through his anger and then come off the medication later.

My hope is that threre'll be less yelling.

So, How Was Your Day?

Here's the thing.

Reality Stinks.

And when I get stressed out, I obsess about things.

I will take the one good thing, or the only thing I can control, and I will completely over obsess about it.

Last year, it was diet and exercise.

The year before it was money.

Right now, I'm obsessing thinking about the wedding. Because it makes me happy.

Today was the first day of school.

There is only one after school care program that my son can attend.  There is no transportation to get him from school to that center everyday.  I am his transportation.  Which means that everyday, I must either be done working, or be able to pick him up at 3:15.  To do this, I must work a 9 hour shift into 6.5 hours.  This is very stressful and it sucks the life out of me every day.  Every day for nine straight months.

Today I picked up my youngest son and he informed me that he hates his teacher.  Hates her.  No amount of talking, coaxing, or bribery was swaying him on his initial opinion.  So for 5 hours, I listened to how he was never going to do his homework, how he'd stay back, and then be a third grade drop out. Great.  It's gonna be a long 179 days.

It was also the first day of Karate.  Now, I love my social time with the other Karate Moms. I do not love  that my oldest son whinnied and complained the entire time, about how unfair it was that he had to sit there. Because we've never sat at his wrestling matches  for two hours. Right?

At this point, both my sons proceed to tell me how much they hate their life, how I'm so "not fair", and how I'm "the worst Mom ever".  Excellent.

I came home to the fence that the Rental and I had started building the day before.  And, while it is actually coming out beautifully, I am instantly reminded of how long it will take to finish, due to lack of time, finances,  resources, etc.

I have a scorching headache, which I know is because of a sugar imbalance.  I am a comfort eater, and loosing both my grandparents inside of six months has sent my Diabetes spinning out of control. Which is not good.  Not good at all.

Struggling to still stay positive, I wanted to talk about the wedding.  It was at this moment, sitting beside me at the kitchen table, the Rent-a-hubby informs me has no idea when he'll be ready to set a date. Which I am really okay with, since the thought of getting married again scares me to death. (Yeah, I'm an enigma wrapped in a riddle, I know.) Tossing around ideas for the wedding however, actually makes me smile.  It's my happy place.  It's the thing I'm clinging to when my kids tell me I suck, I have a rough day at work, and I don't feel good.  So what I really didn't need to hear was all the stuff I was purposefully, blissfully, in denial about....

We already have a trip planned to DC next year, so money will be tight, and it wouldn't be practical to plan a wedding anytime before, like, December.

The braces will be on until at least May, so all photos are off limits until June.

Our living situation is still complicated, and unsettled. And, I refuse to marry someone I can't live with.

I hate it when reality takes all the wind out of your sails.

So after putting the kids to bed, completely loosing my temper with the youngest, and finding the Rental completely engrossed in his riveting episode of Wipe Out, I retreated to the shower.  Where I proceeded to cry like a baby, where no one could hear me, and then proceed to blog about it, knowing I will probabbly regret it come 6 AM, and will have to remind myself to revisit my rules of not blogging when I've had a crappy day.

So to recap...

My kids think I suck.

My work is going to give me an ulcer.

My youngest is going to give me a heart attack.

My ice cream is going to send me into a sugar coma.

I'm still making my wedding dress though, so I can look fabulous while locked in the bathroom, eating ice cream, until the men with the white coats take me away.

Hope your day was better than mine.

Catherine...

She was born the third girl of six.  She grew up in suburbia, sharing her room with four girls, never knowing privacy, and dressed in eternal hand-me-downs. Once a year, they went into the big city and bought new shoes. This was a big deal when she was little. But, it wasn't about the shoes, it was about the experience. They moved when she was young, to a bigger house even further into Suburbia. She still had to share her room, her stuff, and her privacy. There was more space in this house to fill, so three brothers filled the extra rooms, finally giving her a total of eight siblings.

She grew into a teenager.  She dated many boys.  Sometimes she juggled two in a night. She didn't want a steady boyfriend, she had other things to do.  This one boy in particular, hearing her words, reluctantly agreed. Instead, he came over to the house just to hang out with her sisters.  That deviously sneaky man with an agenda, became her husband at twenty.

They were married in traditional style, to every one's pleasure but theirs.  They bought a little house, in an even more remote part of suburbia, for the outrageous price of $6,000.  It had no working bathroom, so for the first week they had to make routine runs to the gas station down the street.  He worked day and night turning their shack into a home. She planted flowers outside, which the neighborhood hoodlums would then pick, and try to sell back to her.

They sold the house for a profit, and moved again.  This house had a working bathroom.  Life was good.  Until the first tax bill came,  double what it should have been.  She was told to just pay it.  She was told to relax, that they'd figure it out somehow.  She was told there was nothing she could do. She marched her 5 foot 2 inch 110lb. self down  to the town hall and took on the old crotchety men of politics. She fought on principal. She fought so no one else would have this happen to them.  She fought and won.

She blinked and had two daughters, 18 months apart.  She stayed home. She raised them happily amongst the other kids on their suburban "Sesame Street". She entertained, hosted every family party and cook out. She babysat every one's kids, and managed her husband's growing construction company.  They were financially poor, but rich with many other things.  Her daughters grew up wanting nothing, and had no idea of how tough things were.

Fast forward six years, she has a son now too.  Born during the biggest baby boom in the area, 3 days before Christmas, there was no room at the "Inn". A make shift room in a closet would have to suffice in the hospital where she had to stay.   Her daughters had many things on their Christmas list that year, the only one in common, was to have their Mom come home.  She eventually came home on strict bed rest, and true to her personality, still managed to run the home from said bed. Additions to their house were built, bathrooms were added, and just when things were exactly the way she wanted them, they moved again.

Standing on 2.5 acres of woods, in the middle of no where, he went on and on about plans, clearing trees, and east and west facing windows. She couldn't see it.  But she had faith that it could be done.  Months of clearing trees, hammering nails, screening loom and aged horse poop by hand for the perfect lawn, it was done.  They moved in to their four bedroom, three bathroom home with two car garage.  During a hurricane.  They had no power for two weeks.   With whining, grimy, children, she persevered.  Without a shower.

She was a mini van Mom, long before it was cool.  She endured Irish Step Dancing, baton twirling, soccer, baseball, football, Daises, and Girl Scouts. She survived three sets of teenage years, each one completely different. She survived driving, dating, academic challenges, weird neighbors, and two dogs.   She survived the housing fall out of the 80's. She survived two driving trips to Florida, coordinated several family road trips all over our piece of America, armed with only a paper map and a CB radio.  She organized many, many summers on the cape, on a budget of nothing. 

Marriage was hard.  Family was difficult.  They had many ups and downs.  There was a time she thought she'd leave.  But she didn't.  She was the glue that held it all together.  After 20 years, she ran off to Vegas, met up with Elvis in his chapel 'o love, and married that same boy all over again.  Finally getting the wedding she'd wanted.

Her oldest daughter got married.  Her husband fell off a roof, spent months in the hospital, and came out a changed man.  A man, appreciative of what he had, and of the life still yet to come.   Her youngest daughter got married.  Her first grand children came, both boys.  Her oldest daughter pioneered her way through her divorce. Her son got married.  Two more grand children, her first girl and another boy.  She moved again, back to her home town, a house with all the comforts of home, 7 acres, and a frog pond.  She hosted many parties, refereed many a family argument, ran the business, baby sat, and recognized the healing power in a good cup of tea.  Another grandson was born, she lost her mother. Another granddaughter was born, and she lost her father. She was never as strong as she was then, and never as vulnerable.  She was never as flexible and accommodating as she was then, and yet still stubborn and set in her ways.  She was never as sad, and yet still new so much happiness.

They come to her home for a good meal, seeking comfort that isn't really found in the food.

Never set foot in college, yet they come to her seeking wisdom.

She is stronger than any professional athlete, with more stamina than any triathlete.

She is nuttier than any squirrel, and more beautiful than the hummingbirds.

She is the glue.

She is the reason I am who I am today.

She is my little Mom.

Happy Birthday.

For The Ladies...Wedding Junk...

For anyone that's new here, I recently got engaged.  So now the Rent-a-hubby is more of a lease, with option to buy.  And, while we are excited about this new chapter, we will be enjoying the idea of being engaged for a while for a multitude of reasons.

First, my vanity.  I have recently decided to have braces put back on (because those horrible three years of teenage torture weren't enough) to correct the teeth that were knocked out of line when my wisdom teeth came in.  And, I'll be damned if they'll be any more scandalous pictures of me with metal mouth that mysteriously show up on face book.

Second, the destination wedding that we both said we would love to have?  Unfortunately, neither of us has the $12,000 to pay for it.  So, no trips to Atlantis, Bermuda, Hawaii, Cinderella Castle, or any other fun destination. This wedding, will be paid for in cash.

Third, we've still got a lot of family "stuff" going on.  Good and bad.  We kind of need to see how some of that pans out.

So, we have not set a date.  Or, even a time frame.

But we have decided a few things.

As it is both of our second wedding, the ceremony will be small, with only immediate family.

The wedding party will consist of our 3 Best Men, one for him and two for me. So once again, in all photos, I will be surrounded by all my boys.

After dinner, we're bailing on all of them and going to Vegas.

VEGAS, BABY!

And, I will be making my dress. 

Yes, you read that right.  I have a design degree and can sew quite well.  And you thought I was just a mail lady?  Anyhoo...  I thought you'd like a peek at my dress ideas.  And, I thought, I'd like some opinions.

OK.  Few rules and facts before we start.

1. I don't get a lot of time to sketch in the mail truck, so don't judge my doodles.
2. I am well endowed (don't hate) and am looking to flatter, but also support the girls.
3. I am going with ivory, silver, or golden colors... no white...with 3 boys, that ship has sailed.
4. I would love a Nov / Dec wedding, so think pointsettas, white lights, classic Christmas trees etc.
5. I love low cut back styles, but I have a tattoo on my lower back that I do not want to show.
6. All of the dresses are floor length, Dresses 1 and 4 have small duster style trains.

Here goes....Dress One...

Simple spaghetti style dress, snug to the hip on an angle.  All that swirl design is lace, heavily embroidered in crystals and pearls. It has a 1 foot duster train that can be bustled up for later.

Dress Two..

Again, another spaghetti style dress, with empire waistline.  Bodice is again, embroidered lace, as are the straps. Dress is two layered chiffon over silk satin with hand embroidered detail of beads and crystals running down the front and on skirt edge. I was thinking ivory chiffon overlay and a gold satin underlay to add variations of color. Back of the dress is very low, with 30 delicate satin buttons for luck.

Dress Three...

Lace across shoulders that clasps in the back.  Criss-cross design of chiffon overlay, with low cut back.  Shirt is chiffon and satin to the floor.  Plus to this dress is that I can construct the bodice almost like a corset so the girls can't escape, and it will suck in the waist line.  Minus to this style, chiffon pleating at the waist can be horrible to the waistline and hips. 

Dress Four...

Actually the most challenging.  This dress is all in the cut.  The lines are actually the seams, all cut on the bias.  By changing the direction of the fabric, you change the sheen, thus giving the illusion that you're "wrapped' in silk.  This dress has sleeves, low back, and small train that couldn't be bustled.  The entire shape of this dress comes from the bias cuts, so it would actually be the most form fitting of all the dresses.  Think 20's styles classic gowns...

And that's all I got so far. 

I may use one, or a combination of all four. 

I'm just not sure.

What 'cha think? 

I'm A Winner!!!

I was supposed to be on a much needed vacation this week.

I was supposed to be white water rafting and zip lining through treetop canopies.

I was supposed to win the state's lottery.

I actually worked 4 out of 7 of my days off.

The only river I rafted was the lazy river at Water Wizz.

I did win the virtual lottery, and accepted this award from Portia...

And this award from Queen of the Rant.....

YEAH!!! 

I'd like to thank the Rent-A-Hubby, my bratty children, and my nutty family and friends for giving me something to complain  inspire me to write about everyday.  I'd thank the academy too, if I only knew who and where they were. Darn, pesky retraining orders.  Any how...

I hope I don't disappoint... Don't let the blond hair and blue eyes fool you, I'm a blog award virgin.  And, in true Mom micro-management style, I'm going to attempt to combine the rules and requirements for both into one streamlined blog post.  Ready?

1) Thank the wicked cool  fabulous people who gave me these awards...

Portia... THANKS!  I'll have coffee with you any time! Although, I'll have to learn your real name...

Queenie... THANKS!  I'm so glad to see someone thinks I have substance.

2) Copy the awards into a post...

    Done.  (I think... html hates me.)

3) Tell 3 things about yourself... 

• My favorite flowers are yellow roses. They stand for friendship, which I believe, is more important than love. 
• I have only one regret in my life, and it's not what many who know me would think.
• I believe that some things are just ment to be.  Example? I always wanted 4 children.  All Boys.  After my divorce, I chose to not have any more.  I met the Rent-a-hubby shortly after, and we ventured to Disney with his son (then 12) and my two boys for vacation.  Watching them run from ride to ride, argue like family, and cram themselves together on the couch back at the hotel, I realized I finally had my four boys, weather I wanted them or not. 

3b)  Sum up your blogging philosophy in 5 words...

• It's cheaper than retail therapy.

 4) Post a picture that you love...

My Monkeys... A Few Years back... When they were cute and did what we told them to do.

5) Share the love...  I'm going to try and not repeat anyone that's already received this award. But here are just a few of my favorites. (Please don't be offended if I missed you, the kids are driving me crazy demanding selfish things like food, while I try and post.) If you're not stalking them already, please do. Because, why else would we all send our most personal thoughts and most embarrassing moments into cyber space?

Here goes, in no particular order...

• 
  
  Christie at these are a few of my favorite things.  This is one of the few blogs I found totally by accident.  She has a great way of combining the sweetness of motherhood with the reality of raising three kids... and a husband. She just revamped her blog to a more personalized style (which I love) and you must stop by her photography site while your there.. Amazing stuff.
• Captain Dumbass at  Us And Them  I found him when he was featured as a blog of note.  With over 700 followers, three boys and a full time real-big-boy-job, he still finds time to comment.  He's Star Wars obsessed (his wife is known only as Supreme Leader), has an oh-so-cute new baby boy, and the best header I've ever seen on a blog.  (Sometimes I really wish html didn't hate me.)
•  Sneaky Momma at Sneaky Momma Blog Design.   OK.  It's all about blog design.  Which is good.  Because HTML hates me.  HATES ME.  Seriously, it's a great blog for answering those crazy computer-speak problems we all have.
• Dan at Single Dad Laughing.  I'm so glad he's laughing.  Single Dad to Noah, he's divorced twice, and loves M&Ms.  His blogs are regularly updated, offers blog promotion for an easy three payments of one pound bags of M&Ms, and is quite entertaining.  His blog takes me a bit to load since I'm not technologically advanced, because as you will see, HTML loves him. 
• Debbie at Debbie Does Drivel.  She's waaay up there in Maine, yet her humor transcends the country.  And who doesn't love her "Clippings from the fridge?"
• Crazy Cox at My Own Brand Of Crazy.  It's like she's living my life, but 10 years into my future, and with one extra bonehead boy.  'Nuff said.

 So Not the week I planned... but a good week none the less.

Two awards...

I picked up another stalker follower, which I love....

Oh, yeah, and the shiny diamond was a nice perk too.