Heavy on the drama, please.

My son. And Noony. Noony is the smallish white one, for those of you that don't know. Also a permanent member of our family for the past three and a half years. His fur is a bit dingy and matted, but he is loved beyond comprehension. I was never faithful to only one stuffed animal, so I am always amazed at the loyalty that my children have for their "babies". Cole is going through a phase right now that kind of breaks my heart. He'll be starting Kindergarten in around six months and he's having these doubts about himself. During the day he'll ask me things like, "Do boys kiss their best friends?" Meaning, is it okay that he'll kiss Noony's head at night. Of course I love the cuteness that is my son and his rag-tag bunny; in his arms day and night. This bunny also talks in a weird, falsetto voice, and sings, but only to Cole. I should clarify, Cole is the only on that actually HEARS Noony, but Cole will repeat everything for him, if necessary. Then there's the question he asked me today, which was, "Mom, do I have to be anna adult?" After having him repeat it a couple times, I found out he was asking if he has to grow up. And then he said he didn't want to grow up, because he just wants to live with me. He and Noony want to live with me. I told him that he could live with me for as long as he wants, and he'll always be my best boy. That seemed to satisfy him, and he ran off apparently pretending that Noony was a plane or something, because he was making a buzzing sound and moving his arm holding the rabbit in some sort of spastic windmill motions. As I watched my baby running circles in the living room, I was a little sad. He's going to go to school, and he's most-likely going to hear that loving stuffed bunnies isn't very boyish. And he'll also probably pick up that wanting to be with your mother and father forever also isn't the coolest goal in life. Why do they grow up so fast? I'm suddenly becoming aware of this desperate feeling, of needing another baby because I can't stand that my other ones are growing up. I know that's crazy, and I also know that you can't just have babies forever--popping another one out when you feel the absence of complete adoration. I want to be like Cole in that I only have eyes for him and Riley, and no one else compares. But I have a cheating heart. Unlike Noony, my little ones are growing up. They will want different things, and different people...I can't just keep them with me, never changing, always thinking I'm perfect and the best friend they have. So this is yet another heartache in world of parenthood. Next time I'll fill you in on the way Riley is growing up, and leaving me, little by little. I wouldn't want anyone to accuse me of favoritism. I just want to know, can anyone tell me how I get my kids to stay right where they are, right now? All my problems would be solved, and I wouldn't have to even THINK about starting this whole heartbreaking cycle again. I'm open to suggestions.

A few observations, lest you think I'm totally oblivious.

Hello all. I think things are getting out about my blog...I have about five total readers. Take that, Perez Hilton. Five people prefer me over you. Unless they're cheating on me, reading my blog just to appease my fractured ego, and then gorging on all of Perez's celebrity gossip and catty comments. I'll just remain in my constant state of denial. I'm happy here.
So right now I want to make a little shout-out to my husband. Here I am, lying in bed and he is here beside me, snoring. Not loudly, mind you, just audible. In a way, it's a comforting sound. It's what I have slept with for the last nine years, and it's a bit like my bed, in that I just can't sleep right without it. I was thinking today at how different my life has been since I've been married. I really like it; which is something that those of you that knew me growing up, has changed quite a bit. Jeff gets me. He knows that I have to take a two hour nap after visiting with my grandparents. He knows that when he comes home and I tell him I've had it with the kids, I need to go take a bath, or go shopping, or go read. He knows I read trashy romance novels that I'm embarrassed about, and he never makes fun of me for it. He knows that when I'm around his family I trash-talk him because it always gets a few laughs, and allows me to blow off steam at the same time. But he also knows that I couldn't handle it if he did the same to me. And he doesn't. Sometimes I wonder how Jeff and I have made it for so long...well, maybe nine years isn't that long, but to me, right now, it is. Especially, because I am involved. I'm a selfish person. I demand time for myself, and I complain about anything and everything, and I get pissed if I'm not taken seriously, and I have little compassion for things that I don't understand, or haven't really experienced. Yet my husband stands by me. He knows I lie. A lot. He calls me on it now and then, but he's really careful about it, because he knows that it will embarrass me. And yet, he loves me, and I know he does. For some reason it is difficult for me to tell Jeff how appreciative I am of how much he does for our family and at the same time I will be completely offended that he didn't notice I cleaned our bathroom, and congratulate me, accordingly. I wish I had the patience for our children that he does. I wish I could play with Riley and Cole for hours and not get bored, or have the patience to teach them little things that take time and precision, but that's not me. I've tried and I get frustrated. Jeff just does it naturally, and I'm a bit jealous of that. And at the same time, I'm so grateful that he's here with me, a willing team member of our parenting duo.
I'm sure it's hard to be married to a crazy person. I am constantly changing the rules, and I really don't remember to let Jeff in on it. But he deals, and he still has this way that lets me know I'm the one for him. So the next time I rant about how he throws his wet towels on the floor, or do some sort of impression of him telling me he's hungry and he can't fix himself something to eat, please remember all the good things that I've told you here. Because there are so many, and he deserves so much better than me, yet, he still makes me believe that there is no-one else he could want more. How did I luck out? I could never say for sure, but I did. Big time.

Tag, you're it!

I got tagged by one of my favorite sisters, Kass. So here it goes:

A. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning.

B. Each player answers the questions about themselves.

C. At the end of the post, the player tags 3 people and posts their names, then goes to their blog and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they are tagged.

10 years ago I was:

20 years old. I lived with my parents, and it was the loneliest time in my life. I was still attending Sheridan College and waiting to get out in the Spring. I was in the middle of my "finding myself" phase, which lasted about 8 more months. I was determined to do everything that had been denied or forbidden all my previous years, and I did. The only difference, was it made me even more miserable, and more lonely. So I got a call from my cousin, Randi, and I moved to Utah, about four months later, and told myself that I would just do whatever the heck I felt like. I was tired of hating life. And then I met Keri Anderson at a job I loved, and had a great friend, and then I met Jeff....the love of my life, and the rest is history worth remembering.

5 things on my to do list today:Tuesday

1. Go get dressed!

2. Go get Riley from school

3. Go to Riley's Patriotic Program at her school

4. Fix dinner, or most likely, get some drive-thru.

5. Play a game with the kids and Jeff and send them to bed. Then watch a Redbox movie. You hear that, Jeff? You have to pick one up!

Things I would do if I became a billionaire:

-Pay off all my debts!I dream of that day...

-Take my family on a trip to Ireland.

-I would share the wealth, with family and friends. CLOSE ones.

-I would become a Philanthropist

-Definitely have a hefty savings

-I would adopt some more kids. With that much money, there would be no excuse not to. I also would have time, and so would Jeff, to not work, and our kids would be our existence. That would be freaking awesome.

3 of my bad habits:

1. Obsessing over my weight/looks

2. My Diet Mountain Dew/Coke/Soda addiction

3. I get really pissed if I don't win at games

Places I've lived:

-Buffalo, WY

-San Clemente, CA (One day I really want to take Jeff and the kids there).

-Springville, UT (I love it here right now. I don't know how I'll feel once it gets bigger, but right now, it's great).

5 Jobs I've had:

-Soft-lines section at Kmart

-Building homes with my grandfather, mom, sisters, and brother. I still have the scar on my shin from the nailgun--thanks Jess!

-Customer Service Rep at Future Shop...where I met my husband.

-Selling shoes at Famous Footwear. My most terrible job ever. I sometimes still have panic-attacks thinking I have to go back there.

-A Mom. Definitely the hardest, but so worth all the rewards. However, the pay totally sucks.

Something most people don't know about me:

It's really hard for me to be physical. I am uncomfortable with hugs and stuff outside of my immediate family. So when and if I give one, I really mean it. I don't do it unless I really want to express true feeling. I am very freaked out about making people uncomfortable, or people thinking I touch them too much.


Okay, now the people I tag are: Keri H., Amy A., and Lessley T.

The Oscars

This is red in lieu of the red carpet. Genius? Definitely. Ironic? A little bit, because I could really give a rat's neither regions about the Oscars. I just love all the buzz people have to go with it; who's wearing what, who got snubbed, who looked like a mermaid...isn't there something more important to life than couture dresses and an actress's "baby bump"? My goodness. I live in Utah, for heaven's sakes...the HOME of the baby bump. Round here, baby bumps come by the million and really, it's all the same. Okay, minus the gowns and diamonds that totaled together would pay for a few countries to climb out of their impoverished holes. Now, don't get me wrong. I love babies. I can honestly say that. I love their smell and their coos and their little yawns and stretches. I can't say I always felt this way but after squeezing out my own little bumps, so to speak, I found that there really is something to all the baby hoopla. (In all honesty, my babies weren't bumps, they were mountains, and I was a force to be fanatically run from--not only because of my superior size, but also my "I'm hating everything and everyone", demeanor).
I am confused, however. My experience with motherhood was quite an awakening. I suddenly had this little person that controlled my entire existence. Every whim they had, I was at their beck and call...and little has changed as they have gotten older. If this would have been the way I was expected to act when I was married to Jeff--to give up everything, every extra second, just because he wanted to be held or fed or bathed or talked-to, I could claim being taken advantage of, possibly even abuse, if I counted all the sleeplessness, the guilt, the worry, the uncertainty. Yet, as a mother, it was expected. So what has this got to do with the Oscars? Yeah, I can see I've rambled, and things are probably fuzzy. I guess my point is, sometimes I am astounded at how EVERYTHING can become some sort of trend. Now it's babies. I guess in the broad spectrum of things there were worse ones: The low riders and G strings, how everything eighties was back that one summer, and my personal nemesis, the skinny jeans. Those are just plain evil--these thighs will never succumb. But again to my topic, babies are different.
My babies are the best people in my life. Sure, there are times when I would love to have some kind of conversation with an adult other than my husband, about something that makes me feel smart or sophisticated--I don't even hope for both anymore, one will do just fine. But during the day all the "I love you, Mom"s, or "You're a funny Mom"s, or even MOOOOOM!"s, bring me this huge piece of serenity because I know that no one can do whatever needs to be done, better. Over a week ago I was in SLC all day with Jess and Gabby and Jeff stayed home with the kids because they were sick. Jeff was supposed to come with me, but we decided it was more important for him to stay with Riley and Cole. I was gone from 7:30 am to 7:50 pm and after I got home, Cole came down to talk to me. Riley had already succumbed to her drug-induced stupor, but Cole fought it, and waited until he heard me. He came in with those big dark bags under his eyes, and said, "Mom, I waited for you all day. I had to give you a kiss and a hug goodnight, and tell you I love you. Now you say you love me." How could I say no to that? Suddenly all those days I wonder about the time I am possibly not putting to good use working or developing some kind of career, or going back to school to confirm what I have already come to guess--that I'm dumb as a rock, don't seem like any type of wrong-doing at all. I have all this guilt sometimes that my Riley and my Cole maybe miss out because I don't have a lot of worldliness to offer them, or money for things that kids want to do--like go to Disneyland and play on a soccer league. And I really wonder those days that it's just Cole and me and it seems like he is going to drive himself and me crazy as he waits for Riley to come home, because naturally, I'm boring. Yet, it was one day, one Saturday I wasn't there, and he missed me. He actually had to come down to tell me a few things about his day and just hug me, touch me, and let me know that he loves me. I get weepy thinking about it. I can't explain it, I'll never be able to put into words what my children do for me.
So I guess when I say I'm confused, it's that I don't know why Hollywood is so obsessed with babies right now. When I think Hollywood, I just don't think about a lot of people willing to put aside their figures, their careers, their lively hood, just for that one little person. Sure, it's new for a while, and then they can sell their "baby's first outing" pictures, and then they can bring the nanny in when, and let me use one of my favorite lines from Hot Fuzz, "This shit just got real." And true, too, they can offer their children every worldly prize that they could ever dream, and it would be of the highest quality.
I really hope I'm wrong. I really hope that there aren't any more of the Brittany Spears category of these new Celebrity parents because that's what concerns me. I'm sure her little boys have a lot of stuff. But they don't know that they are above and beyond anything money could buy. How could they know that? What will become of them? It seems like such a lonely and soulless world. I could go on forever, but for you, I won't. I will stop typing, and I will go upstairs, and I will check on my little ones. I will thank God that they are mine, and they are happy and healthy. I will be happy because they are everything to me, and I have a husband that encourages me to stay home with them...and doesn't mind that we will probably never have the luxuries that some lucky dogs do...i.e. a trophy wife, sans cellulite, and donning perfectly-globed breasts. There's just me, and my little girl, and my little boy, and my husband that's home by eight. Who needs the Oscars?

We all feel like poo...

Do you see this green? Yeah, this is what I've been dealing with for the last week. Riley and Cole came down with the flu this last Saturday. From there, we have dealt with goopy eyes and diarrhea, stuffy noses, fevers, and sore throats. Jeff and I joined the sick club around Tuesday, and it's just been fun and games ever since. The doctor told me to keep Riley away from public places until she's not contagious anymore, and so she's missed this last week of school. You know, I'm really scared that Riley's Principal or Teacher will come take her away from me some day...simply because she just doesn't go to school. Why are my children always sick? Well, that's the million-dollar question. If you could answer this for me I'd appreciate it. However, the reason must be outside of the possibility of me being a rotten mother, me freezing my children out, and me just not feeding my children the proper food. Cause, guess what? Those reasons have already been mentioned. (Thanks, Grandma!)