What Just Happened?

Ever have those moments that when they happen time stands still for a few seconds, you scrunch your eyebrows together, and go, "Whaaa?" It's like a little mini-shock to the system for whatever reason. I've seemed to have more than my share of those lately.

The other day, I had a meeting to talk to my insurance guy, and realized I had coffee breath. I reached for my purse to grab a mint to save him from having to try to talk to me without breathing. Normally, I can reach into my purse blindly, fondle a few items and I am able to pick it out. It wasn't there. I set the purse on my desk and started digging. I pulled out gas receipts from 2 months ago, an army guy, and a couple of deposit slips. No mints. I began to unzip the pockets (not that I ever put them there, but you never know). Nothing. Three minutes later, I admitted defeat. I went to pester my co-workers for one.

Fast forward two days later. I needed a pen. I opened my purse, and lo and behold, there are my mints, right on top sitting in plain view. No digging necessary. I froze. Huh? How does that happen? Do the contents of a purse just get randomly tossed around like clothes in a dryer, and suddenly what was on the bottom is now on the top? But I SWEAR, I dug all through my purse. It wasn't a small container either, about the size of my fist. Or is there some sort of evil sprite who borrows your items and then replaces them just to make you think you are going insane a teeny tiny bit at a time? (Didn't find the pen either.)

I love my husband dearly. I really do. He recently started his own business as a handyman and he's great at it. He knew a lot about home repair when he started, but there were quite a few things that he has researched and learned along the way. The problem is, our house has become the guinea pig. One of the projects that he was having a hard time mastering was texturing. You know, giving your walls or the ceiling those tiny bumps. Not really sure what their purpose is, exactly, but seems like everyone has to have them. Applying these little bumps is not easy. You have to get them relatively the same size and shape, and they must be spread evenly over the surface. During his learning period for this process, I came home and opened the door to the garage. Everything was textured. The walls, garage door....the light switch, the shovels hanging on the walls..... That was another of those moments where you just stop in your tracks, hand on door knob... Whaa..... (by the way, if you don't prime after you texture, and it's damp, it rubs off on clothing.)

This is the rail our garage to runs on.

He had another job paneling a guys basement. It was kind of this faux brick paneling. He ended up with a little bit of the materials left over and decided to hang it. But that was the only piece he had. So I'm not sure where he's going with that.

This is the only piece he has.

We also have these "Hollywood"  lights in our bathroom (they're not my favorite, they came with the house). But for those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, they are a series of large round bulbs in a line, usually hung over your sink. I think we were down to about 2 remaining bulbs that weren't burnt out, so hubby, trying to be an Eco-friendly guy, went out and bought energy saving bulbs. That evening, when I came home from work I ditched the coat and purse to go use the bathroom. I flipped the switch. I nearly went blind. I made a hasty retreat so I didn't resemble the Nazis in the Indiana Jones movie after they looked into the arc (of the covenant?) I stumbled backward and hit the opposite wall with a pretty good looking facial tan. I'm pretty sure the light from the bathroom would have been enough to illuminate our entire hallway and living room.

This is with every other bulb removed.

Not to mention some of the things I've said to my kids or seen them do. After scolding them for this or that,  I will actually think, "I seriously just had to say that?" Things like, "Get your finger out of the dog's eye." (Or worse, since my Shar Pei has one of those tails that curls up over his back.)

Poor Ripley.

Or, "Get that Play Dough out of your brother's ear!" Some of these sentences seem so insane, "I've told you three times now to quit jumping off there! If you break your arm, don't come cryin' to me!" (Such a fine example of a mother.) I've already told Big K that I hope he has kids just like him when he gets older. I vowed I'd never do that, and he's only six. Hubby also received that curse from his dad, which explains a lot.

My children have no problem with being naked. If you don't put their pajamas on right away, there are a LOT of things that I regret witnessing. One happened tonight. Big K was standing on the kitchen counter (which is not allowed) trying to get something out of the cupboard. Just as I happened to look up to tell him to get down, he says, "What's this?" and bends over at the waist to pick something up. Lord, I did NOT want to see that!



I'd like to know if any one else has these moments, or is it just me? Am I going insane a teensy bit at a time? Please let me know I'm not alone.

Inspiration (a Tribute to Transplanted Thoughts)

I'm new to the blogger world, very new by a lot of standards. I'm even newer to the blogger's social network. I joined a site called Studio 30+ and started reading a lot of what other people were writing. Some made me laugh, some I could totally relate to, but one particular totally hit me square in the heart. I found Transplanted Thoughts.

I don't know her. I mean, I don't know her personally, but I feel like I know her. I had maybe only read about 4 entries, so I guess I wasn't really prepared for her entry on January 24th. She lost her son David. And this wasn't the first time she had lost a son.

As a parent of two boys, I can't even imagine losing a child. I can't even allow myself to think of anything happening to my children. Since I hadn't read more than those few entries, I actually caught my breath for a moment. My throat constricted and the tears started running down my face. I wasn't prepared. I re-read the entry, and cried some more. I started reading previous posts, marveling at this woman's amazing dedication and strength. Knowing how it was going to end made my heart break even more and my admiration for her was overwhelming.

My oldest son, Big K, had already been tucked in and was sound asleep. My youngest was still fighting it, and I had been short with him earlier when he refused to stay in bed. I heard the shuffling of little padded pajama feet, and looked up to see him standing beside me. His brow was crunched up in concern, he tilted his head to the side, "Mommy, why you crying?" I couldn't speak.  I knew if I allowed myself to say words out loud, I would completely break down. I only managed to shake my head. He reached over with his little chubby hand and wiped the tears off of my cheeks. I realized how trivial it had been for me to be upset with him earlier.

"Ready for bed Little Man?" I tried to manage a smile. He nodded, and grabbed my hand. He wanted to sleep in mom and dad's bed. After tonight, I was half-tempted. "No honey, your bed tonight."

"But my scared."

"I'll sit with you."

A shaky, "Okay."

I held up the blankets as he slid in and situated myself on the edge of the bed. I laid one hand on his back and the other on my lap. He reached for my hand intertwined his fingers with mine. I stared at his little face, as he attempted to keep his eyes open. I tried to memorize every little feature; his long lashes, his tiny nose, heart shaped lips, the feel of his soft skin and rosy cheeks. I thought again of what I had read tonight and couldn't help thinking, "What would I do if that were my child? How could I ever continue to live?" I didn't think I would be able to. Colors, music and laughter would no longer be a part of my world. I would want to go to bed, pull the covers over my head and never have to get back up. Again, I asked myself, "How could she go on?" Yes, I know you must continue for the sake of the rest of your family and the needs of your other children, but wouldn't there be a void that would threaten to suck the very life out of you every day? Every reminder?

I looked down again at Little Man, who was gazing up at me. He has this uncanny ability to sense when something is going on with me know matter how I try to hide it.

I unlaced my hand from his and lay my head next to his on the pillow. He snaked his tiny little arm up around my head so that my chin was resting in the crook of his elbow, and patted the top of my head. He touched his forehead to mine, looked deep into my eyes and said, "My wuv you mom. For ebber. You're da best." And just like that he fell asleep with a little grin on his face.

The tears started again. As his breathing became deep, the way it does when they are fast asleep, I closed my eyes and said a little prayer:

"Please Lord, if you are listening, please help me to appreciate when my children are good and happy and to be more understanding when they're not. Help me to remember that childhood is short and I should cherish every moment, that a clean house and work deadlines are not as important as the quality time I get with my family. Grant me the knowledge to help them grow to be the best people they can be. Remind me to lead by example. Please, please, please, keep my children safe from life threatening diseases and other harmful things, but if it isn't Your divine will to do so, give me the strength and the courage to be able to deal with whatever may come my way. I would also ask that You embrace David when he enters your kingdom and comfort his family as only You know how."

I slipped quietly out of his bed, went to the next room and knelt by Big K's bed, whispered, "I love you to the moon and back," brushed his hair aside and kissed him on the forehead.

So if by chance you read this, Amy, your story has changed my life. I hope that maybe in your time of sorrow, it would bring you just the smallest bit of comfort to know that because of you and David, I am going to hug my kids a little tighter tonight and every night from now on.

Thank you for that.

If you'd like to remember what REALLY matters in life, read her story:
http://transplantedx3.wordpress.com/

Send In the Clones

A while back, I remember everyone having hissy fits about Dolly (I think that was her name) the sheep, because she was a clone. People were up in arms thinking that the human counter part to cloning sheep could not be too far away.

I can't help thinking, why is this a BAD idea? Really, do you have any idea how much more I could get done if there were two of me? I currently work full time as an Art Director (which is a pompous way of saying I'm a designer who has lots of responsibilities, supervises people, and if things go wrong it gives them someone to blame). I'm also a freelance graphic designer on the side, and now I've gotten into blogging. In my current "real" job, I work on a deadline, so I am completely stressed out for an entire week. Overtime can be anywhere from 8 hours that week, to nearly 40. (I don't get paid overtime, I'm supposed to get comp time. Yea right.) Every time deadline rolls around, I vow that I am NOT going to put that many hours in again! I type stuff like, "Your lack of planning and timing does not constitute an emergency on my part." in my facebook status. Probably because I want to vent, (but can't at work), or maybe because I want people to feel sorry for me, which they should.(As a rule,  I do not "friend" any of my co-workers.) Sales reps will call me at home...at night, during supper or as I'm putting my kids to bed. They have to be the most selfish people in the world. But I'm a wimp, or have an amazing work ethic (whichever) and always manage to meet deadline, even if it means I'm drinking coffee at 11:30 at night so I can finish 20 more ads before 1AM.

I get up at 5AM every morning. I wish I could only explain how this is so very opposite of every fiber of my being. It's not to work out, which it should be, it's just to make sure that I have time to get myself ready before I have to get everyone else up and out the door. Kaiden's school bus leaves at 7:17AM. (Not 7:15 or 7:30...7:17.) I have found out that if we are not in the car before 7:06, there is no way we'll make it. I don't mean I stand at the boys' bedroom door, flick on the light, say, "Good morning! Time to get up!" and walk away to enjoy my cup of coffee. No way. My oldest could sleep through a freight training zooming by his bed. I have to grab his clothes for the day, rip the blankets off of him, and dress him like a limp rag doll. Seriously. I know this is probably some sort of enabling thing that will haunt me later, but I have found that it is just WAY easier and a lot faster for me to do. Once he is dressed, I drag him out to the living room couch and repeat the process with the youngest. Then the hubby finally gets up. He's able to have HIS coffee. I throw a frozen waffle in the toaster for the youngest (since that is what he has EVERY day) and try to extract what the oldest wants to eat while he sits there in a stupor.

I am responsible for picking up the kids from daycare 90% of the time. Which is why I have to work from home a lot. After that, there is supper (which during deadline is pretty much whatever I can slap together in 5 minutes), homework (and you'd be amazed at the amount of homework a first grader has!), bath and the regular bedtime struggle all before 8:30 at night.

I suffer from a lot of guilt since I feel like my face is buried in my computer way too often. I usually try to multi-task. So while helping my first grader with his math, I'm also trying to change an expiration date on an ad, or I'm going through corrections in my email needed for a freelance job. I used to work exclusively in my downstairs office. That was good and bad. Down there I could hear all the stomping around, sometimes yelling, and noises where I thought they were going to come through the ceiling. I was able to get most things done somewhat without interruptions, but now that I have a laptop upstairs, I have become way too available. It's hard to keep track of billable hours that way. Also when I would emerge from my cave, usually late at night after everyone was asleep, I would come upstairs to find the house totally trashed. That is the worst feeling. When all you want to do is drag your butt to bed and you see that the left overs from supper need to be put away, or the puddle from bath time needs to be cleaned up.

Where is my husband in all this? Well, he'll help me out...but only if I give specific directions. I'm tired of having to tell everyone what to do and when, usually 3 times over, in order for it to be done. Initiative people! I know that I am responsible for this. I've been told that I just need to be more assertive with them. But where does reminding cross the line to nagging? I don't want to be that wife or mother. But I hate having to be the drill Sargent all the time too. It's wearing. And at some point, I think I just resigned myself to the fact that if I want it done and done right, I'll just have to do it myself. I've often thought that I should start a journal exclusively for my hubby. You know the one. It should be titled, "If anything happens to me..." and it would be loaded on all those little things I do that he may or may not know how to do, because, to be honest, I'm not sure he'd be able to handle it by himself. (I'm sure he'd adapt, but the journal would save him a few years.)

On top of all of this, throw in the occasional birthday party, doctor/dentist appointments, calls from school or daycare to pick up a sick child, being sick myself, and random necessary errands. How do people fit that all in? I see moms who have 3+ kids and it seems to be a breeze for them. Someone give me a handbook, please!

So clone me! I would have someone to work my 40+ hours a week, while I stay home and finally shovel the dust off my ceiling fan, pay bills, and update my insurance. Or I could have a night out with the girls (the ones who haven't totally given up on me, since I seem to have no time to go out). I would get my son to his baseball game on time AND have groceries bought and put away AND gas in my car that's running on fumes. My husband would probably be happier as well, since right now, I'm usually too tired to enjoy any alone time with him...not to mention he's usually in bed by 9:00. I would be able to be both nurturing, attentive and productive. I could actually read that novel a friend lent to me 6 months ago. I could go for a walk, go to a movie, have a garage sale, or volunteer when they need a chaperon for my son's field trip.

I really do try to fit everything in. I do read to my sons before they go to bed. I make special suppers for them when I can. I try to run my errands over my lunch hour, so that my time can be spent with the ones who mean so much to me. I try to have meaningful conversations with my children (even if it has to be in the car on the way home). I go to every game, event, party that they need me at, and rearrange my schedule just to do so. I even think we might go rollerskating next Sunday...but we might have to skip church to do it.