Pearls?

The other day Cole "scared" me, by being an "underdawater guy". He's been telling me a lot of the options he's been considering for his future line of work. Today he told me a couple times that he's going to be a dishwasher ..."cause I really know how to dish, Mom." I'm not sure what that means, exactly, because I am the one that ultimately does every dish in this house. But in another aspect, I was overcome with pride, as I know how to dish too. Speaking of, I have been thinking about the comments from my last post. I know, I know. I come off as a shrewish and materialistic She-Witch. And on top of that, I noticed that the name I chose for this blog is, "Rainey's Pearls of Wisdom". However, after every post, I end up asking for advice. Clearly, I'm not altogether sure about what the hud I'm trying to get across here. On the bright side, though, I am learning how to take constructive criticism. I shared your comments with my fabulous husband, the husband that wrote that fabulous post about me recently, and he said he agrees with those of you that think I'm a freak-show. But he says this in a way that shows he has gotten used to tip-toeing around my crazies for the last ten years. Brandy, Amy, and Muff: Two words for you ladies--first: Solidarity. And second: Sisters. To the rest of you, I'm trying. Obviously this control issue I have with Riley's clothing is a problem, because I have mentioned this exact situation twice. So I'm taking baby steps. I don't want to be responsible for turning my child into me...especially when she has so much life and creativity and love for everything.
In this aspect, blogging has been good for me. I am learning life-lessons without having the crutch of justifying everything as I tell each story. I'm also aware that I have the amazing effect of getting people to agree with the things that I say when speaking to them in person. All I have to do is use the Steele big-eyes as I explain my side of the story, and keep eye contact until the person I'm talking to nods their agreement. (This is a trait I have inherited from my father...I don't think I ever refused anything he said when he'd open his eyes really wide and yell. It was terrifying.) And if they don't seem to be agreeing with me, I just stare until they become uncomfortable, and argue my point some more. (Another tactic my husband has become accustomed to, and as I said before, has had enough time to resist.) So I guess my pearls of wisdom are essentially pearls that I'm considering and picking up from others. This has been pondered heavily the past few days, and even though I sound like a whining, wounded baby, I really believe that I'm learning...and growing. I'm still obsessive and compulsive but at least I'm getting advice on how to appear normal...for the sake of my babies. And as much as it hits my pride to say this; Thanks.

Awwww.

So I think it's almost a shame that I have to post anything else, because my husband says the kindest things. And I want everyone to read it, and know that it's ALL true. Like I said, I really lucked out with him.
That being said, I have to tell some more stories about how my mothering skills are really a work in progress. Riley and I seem to have conflicting opinions on her clothing. As I mentioned before, in the mornings before school, she likes to veto the outfits that I have, with careful consideration, laid out for her. This week I have realized that my go-to plan of just yelling and threatening when she discards my fashionable creations, for the tackiest, shabbiest pieces in her closet, might not be the best solution. Two mornings ago, I went into her room and woke Riley up for school. Now, I guess I really shouldn't say "woke her up", because she usually will grunt, pull the covers over her head and refuse to open her eyes until I've gone downstairs and started working on her lunch. Usually I have to yell up to her about three times to hurry up and then I know I can stop when I hear the bathroom door slam, as she's letting me know that she's getting dressed, and she's mad at me for yelling. Anyway, that morning's power-play was especially harsh. I had picked out a pair of jeans, and a shirt that is adorable. She yelled from the bathroom that she didn't want to wear that particular shirt, and I yelled back that I had already picked it out, and she really had no choice. (I'm agreeable that way). To make a long story a lot shorter, chaos ensued, and (can I use any more cliches in one sentence?) we argued for about thirty minutes; making me more and more infuriated. We had about ten minutes before we had to leave and I finally had these thoughts: "Why is this so important to me?, Is this really worth Riley crying?, If I give in, does this mean I've lost control? Or does it mean I can admit when I have taken something way to far?" Disgusted with my bi-polar disorder, I just yelled up to her, "fine, just wear what you want to. I don't care. I am done fighting about it."

(The shirt that caused all the unhappiness)
Now, let me take you back to my childhood. When I was in the fourth grade I had a pair of blue pants. These pants also had a red heart-shaped patch sewn into the butt of them, as they were purchased at a yard sale by my mom, and there was a part that was, shudder to think, "worn out" on the left butt-cheek. Now I'm not dissing on yard sales, much of my wardrobe and childhood toys were purchased at said places. But it was the patch on the butt, the one that my mom sewed on; calling it "Carebear like", that still gives me grief to this day. I remember only having about four pairs of pants total, counting the blue ones. And this made the number of times a month these pants were worn, relatively high. One day, I still remember the boy, Jared Stafford, said to me, "Rainey, what happened, did you blow the butt out of your pants?" From then on, they were SO not the pants I wanted to wear ever again. I remember crying and telling my mother that I would do anything to get rid of them. Luckily, I got to...I gave them to my younger sister, Lora. (Needless to say, my two sisters also have horror stories about these same pants).
I heard Riley coming downstairs, and I had just finished making her breakfast. I noticed that she had found a different shirt, and put it on. Regardless of just thinking of my blue pants and how I hated to wear them for the previous reasons, I told myself that I just needed to let it go. I was still pissed, but I just mumbled for her to eat her breakfast. She looked at me, and said, "Just a second". I just grunted an okay, and told her to hurry. For the next few minutes I just unloaded the dishwasher a little harder and louder than normal while I fumed until I heard Riley come back into the kitchen. I looked up and noticed she was wearing the "offensive shirt". I stopped, and looked at her, as she stared at me. She went to the toaster and grabbed the English Muffin that I had toasted for her, and sat at the table, eating as if nothing was unusual. Right then I felt like a loser. How is it that I'm the thirty year old, and she's the one that will soon turn eight? I asked her why she changed and she said, "because I just didn't want you to be mad at me." It was right then that my questions were answered. YES...I am a self-absorbed, overly shallow mother that seriously needs to re-evaluate her priorities. Especially when it comes to my daughter.
I was touched, and I was humbled. So I made a deal with her, (even though it pained me to no end). From now on, I get all fashion-say Monday through Thursday. However, Fridays are all hers. Yeah, I'm a giver. I know I'm ridiculous, but these are the things that my daughter is teaching me. I learn from her and am a better person because of her. I'm just so thankful that Riley is the way she is, because I know it can't be easy. If any of you have some sort of advice as to what I can do to avoid being so obsessive-compulsive, please, for my sweet little girl's sake, fill me in.

Rain My Love

So, this is Jeff writing about Rain. I have been thinking that Rainey writes such great things about all of us that I should turn the tables and write some stuff about her. So, I broke into her computer and into her blog (hopefully she will forgive me after she reads this) so that I could do just that. I just thought that all of her readers (growing more impressively every day) should know how the people she lives with feel about her.

Let's start with Cole. Her little Bubbers. He adores her. When he is upset and she is not around, he will go up to his room and stare out the window until she comes home. This is because no one can make him feel better (when he's not 100%) than she can. They can play together in a way that you just know how tight they are. She teases him and he gives it right back. If either of them goes to far the term "It's just a joke" get's pulled out and everything is fine between them. She gives him so much love that it breaks your heart sometimes.

Now Riley and Rainey have this push and pull that could drive an outsider nuts. They constantly struggle to maintain a balance. And yet they are so strong together. Just today Riley and I were watching a movie together and there was a princess (hello, Riley + Movies = princess) that Riley thought was really pretty. After telling me this she added " but not prettier than mommy, because no one is prettier than mommy". Right there I knew how much she loves her mom, and how much she is my daughter (because, yes it is true, no one is prettier than Rainey. That means you Angelina Jolie).

Now for my view. I would not be here if it weren't for her. I don't mean that in a "she's made me into the person I am today" kind of way (though that is so very true too. Yes I use way too many parenthesis, get used to it) I mean it in a "I would not have made it to this age if she hadn't graced me with her light" kind of way. If I had made it this far it would not have been pretty. I started my life (and my path) over when I met her. She is the most amazing person I have ever met. She is everything I could ever want in a soul mate. Everyone she meets is better off for having known her. In a previous post she mentioned that I "get her". Well she gets me. Those of you that know me know how unlikely that is. My only goal in life is to give her (and as an extension of her, the kids) whatever they need to be happy. That's not happy as in "any wish they have is granted" but happy as in "genuine happiness, feeling good about who you are and what you do". I may not be able to fulfill this but I going to give it my all, she deserves it.

I'm running out of time because she will be home soon (she is at her book club right now, and yes this is the last parenthesis). So in conclusion I would like to express my happiness that she has started this blog because it has given her a lot of confidence in her writing ability. Many of you have expressed your pleasure in reading it and I want to say thank you. I have been trying to get her to write for years and I think this blog was the boost she needed.

Keep on reading, I know I will.

~Jeff

odds and ends

Life is good. Riley just got her report card, and other than her ability to tune out everything her teacher says, she is pretty-much brilliant. Not that I'm bragging, but I am her mother. Anyhoo, things have been going well all the way around these past few days. I have just started my book club book, which is due by Friday. I haven't been very excited to get into it, because of the title: Kite Runner. The problem is the kites part. I hate kites. I loathe them. Perhaps because they frighten me, and I then I have to feel like an idiot when people laugh and say, "You're AFRAID of them? WHY?" Well, I really don't know. I'd fix it if I could. It's probably because as a kid when we would go out to fly a kite, I was so terrified of first, breaking it while trying to get it in the air, and second, letting it go because my arms just refuse to be held accountable for such a huge responsibility. (Coincidentally, one of the reasons I was afraid to have a child, as well. Thankfully, I got over it). In the book, kites haven't made a huge appearance thus far, so I'm enjoying it.
Let's see...I have had some depressing moments, too. I went to a girl's night out that my in-laws occasionally put together. Everyone was having fun teasing a couple teenage girls about their rumored love lives, and then one of them asked why we make it our business. I, to try and be funny, then said, "Because we are old and now have to live vicariously through you." I don't think that she was even listening as I said it, but it made me start to think. I will never have that time in life back in which "I think he likes you", is a phrase I live or die by. And don't get me wrong, I love my husband, and am so glad that I found him. But it just made me think about how much time in my life has passed, and how pretty much each day, circumstances are changed like that. That was a little disconcerting. On the other hand, I would never really want to go back to that time again. Knowing now that I am in fact older, fatter, and have more wrinkles is a bit of an ego blow, yes. But I'm also more confident of myself than I have ever been, and I'm actually "okay" with who I am. I like me, kinda. So in that aspect, I would never want to go back to being younger. (Obviously, I'm still crazy, whether I'm old Rainey or young Rainey. And I still find that the grass is always greener everywhere else, because of that. Also, tomorrow this could all completely change, because, refer to the "crazy" part.)
My sister-in-law is doing great with teaching Riley and her niece dance lessons. I saw a bit of their routine last night, and it was really cute. Riley, unfortunately, is looking to have my dance capabilities, in that she forgets the next move and everything is a bit less smooth than it should be. But I think with practice, she'll be so much better. Next time I might just have to record and then post her progress, because as her parent, I have total bragging rights. Good job, Amy. (I'll also record and post Cole's stuff, too...just because he's technically not taking dance classes, doesn't mean he can't shake it, occasionally).

Another example of my superior mothering skills...

Well, I tried. I wanted to create some sort of example for my children of what Easter is really about. Why we, as an LDS family, celebrate this holiday. It's not just about the transformer action figures and the Littlest Pet Shop cutesy animal thingies. It's also not only about the Reeses Peanut Butter Eggs, a fact that I do have remind myself during the frenzy of pastel colors, chocolate, and fuzzy animals that seem to line every shelf around this time of year. It's about being with family and being thankful that we have this opportunity. It's about remembering our Savior, and the sacrifice made for all. This is something that I truly believe, and is truly dear to my heart. But I'm also one of those people that take many precautions to avoid preachy individuals and situations, so I find this kind of thing hard to talk about. I want it to come across as peaceful and hopeful and graceful. Not something to be laughed about or be uncomfortable with. The gospel part of my life has really brought me so much joy, so it's a subject I'm a bit protective of.
Anyway, getting to the subject, we went to church. We really try to do this most Sundays, and sometimes we don't, just like everyone else. But I wanted the kids to get the story of Jesus's Resurrection from a source that doesn't get overly emotional or is telling them completely complex information. Sacrament went well, the kids played with the toys from the Easter Bunny and seemed quite content. True, they probably weren't listening, but our Sundays meetings are three hours long...and sometimes even I feel like I can't make it all the way through. After Sacrament meeting, I was asked to help out with Cole's class and sit in Primary with them, as well. This was how my last two hours of Church were spent. I enjoy Primary because the kids are funny, and if you listen, you really learn a lot about the people in your ward. (Note to Self: Try to remember more often that when you are talking to others, especially about others, the kids are always, most definitely listening.) I have heard stories about whose parents fight over what, whose older siblings got in trouble for doing something, and lots more that I won't mention, seemingly how I am hoping that the people that teach my children have the same decency. Being in Cole's class was a humbling experience. Not only was he all over the place, but he was loud and obnoxious, and along with all the other kids that were in Primary, he got an Easter egg. The rule was no kid could open their egg and eat the candy inside until they got home. I don't really understand why people that teach children seem to think this is a legitimate request, but, whatever.
We sat through the lesson, and I was impressed with all the little kids and their answers to questions throughout. Then it was time to go home. My kids were SO ready to get back to the baskets of candy and toys from this morning. For some reason, they can't just play in their rooms, they have to bring all their toys downstairs into the living room and spread them all around. I was in the kitchen fixing our Easter ham. (An already -cooked, spiral ham that really only had to be warmed up for forty-five minutes). It still took me longer than it should have, and caused me more stress than my regular masterpieces of various combinations of macaroni and cheese. And while I was "preparing" our meal, I listened to the kids playing. I was happy, because I heard them kind of re-creating the Resurrection with their Hasbro toys. Not that that's the special part, because it could be a little disturbing, as well. I was just impressed that their Sunday class lessons were actually heard. I listened to Riley say, "Oh no! She's dead! She's DEEEAAAADDDD!" and then Cole said, "Just have Jesus touch her, then she'll come back alive. Because Jesus can do that, right?" (This came from miracles mentioned today that Jesus had performed.) Riley agreed, and then I stopped listening, because this pre-cooked ham was NOT going to kick my butt. Later, as we were eating, we talked about what we learned in our classes and Cole and Riley both impressed us with their memory retention. I smiled and looked at Jeff, and starting telling him about how wonderful today was, and how great it was that our kids know so much...and he said, "well, did you hear what Cole said about Jesus earlier?" I smiled, still enveloped in my motherly bliss, and said, "you mean about Jesus bringing someone back from the dead?" He kind of laughed and asked if I had heard what he said after that, and I told him I was too involved in the making of the glaze for my ham. Well, Jeff then proceeded to tell me that after Cole had said what I'd heard before, he went on to say,"Or maybe I could touch her and bring her back to life. Jesus can do that, so how hard can it be?" After Jeff filled me in, I was grateful that my children weren't struck by lightening in my living room as I was making dinner. I guess I still have my work cut out for me as far as instilling my religious beliefs to my children goes. So I will continue to work on teaching them and myself. And perhaps pay more attention to what they perceive, because my selective listening skills may become their and my downfall. Wish me luck, with this short attention span, I need it.

Happy Easter!

So Happy Easter, everyone! It's early in the morning and I just went down to fill baskets, because not only do my children get super-excited for the Easter Bunny to "bring them prizes", as Cole says, but also, as blasphemous as it is, I look forward to eating my most favorite candy all year. Mini-Cadbury eggs and Reeses Peanut Butter Eggs...ahh, delicious. Every year about this time I gain ten pounds, and I enjoy each scrumptious ounce. My pants complain...but in all honesty, they pretty much always do. Tonight/this morning, however, I found a surprise left by Riley and Cole to the Easter Bunny. This year, they took matters into their own hands. Perhaps it's because I have been threatening that if they don't clean their rooms, stop fighting, stop whining, etc., that I would write a letter to said bunny and tell him/her that my children don't deserve anything this year. (Ah, I love the power that holidays give me.) But as I got all my basket-making supplies together and went downstairs, I noticed this little message from my kiddies: Can you believe that? I had told them that there probably wouldn't be a egg hunt because this year I'm sure the Easter Bunny would be really busy. Cole didn't want to be outdone by Riley, so he decided to work some magic of his own. He showed off his natural affinity for rabbits by drawing a picture of Noony. They are smart kids...even though at times their intelligence is a little annoying. I filled their baskets, and made Jeff take over the egg hiding. That way, when or if they complain about there only being two eggs each for them to find, I won't have to get offended by their lack of appreciation. Now I'm excited for them to wake up and find all their little "prizes". Also, I'm excited for Jeff to get what I got him...He's worked so hard lately and deserves something cool that he doesn't need . However, knowing him like I do, he'll probably want to take the stuff back, and then I'll get mad, and then it will be a true holiday; Steele-style. (That was my maiden name, for those of you that don't know.) So have a happy Easter and eat lots of candy. Because I am going to...and I really don't want to be the only one that gains ten pounds in the next week. So, please be unselfish, and really think about what I've asked. Peace-out, yo.

Just an update...

Okay, let me apologize for something in my last post, as I have yet again, completely stepped into it. As far as my opinion of Home-schooling goes, it is solely based on an eighth grade experience, and to be perfectly honest, I had completely forgotten that Taryn has and is being home schooled. I have never noticed Taryn or Erik to be anything but well-adjusted, smart, funny, and adorable kids. So I apologize. When I think home-schooling, I think about the twins from my eighth grade class. I didn't stop to think that what I'd be writing would be taken as mean or hurtful. Yet another example of my verbal diarrhea and lack of understanding. (The first being a comment I left on Shauna's blog about numerology....I didn't even think about it being less than nice until Jeff pointed it out. I was just confused and have no idea how that stuff works). And I want to point out I also wrote that if I had to be with my children all day, and actually have to teach them something, it would drive me crazy. My bad and I humbly ask your forgiveness.
That being said, I wanted to give you an update on my mothering skills. (Perhaps another day will be a lesson for me in tact, we shall see). I realize that last night I rambled about what a rotten mother I am. Well, not that that has changed overnight, but I do want to say that I am proud of my progress today. Riley has a speech in class today and I actually allowed her to dress herself. Admittedly, I'm a bit anal in this area of motherhood. I have this need that my children look cute all the time, that their clothes are clean, that they are matching, that they look fashionable. Also admittedly, I know that this doesn't make me sound like a good mother, but more of a shallow stage-mom that yells at her kids and puts way more pressure on them than necessary. For the record, when we are home, they can wear anything they like. When they are going somewhere, that's when I get a little obsessive. Anyhoo, I had picked out her clothes for today last night, and she changed it around on me this morning. Normally, this results in an argument, and her telling me that she doesn't like what I picked out, and me telling her that she looks fabulous and just to trust me. Being the great kid that she is, she rolls her eyes, but lets me win. Today, I was the loser. So I am showing you a picture of what she wore..remember that she'll be getting up in front of her class today to give her speech on "how to draw a shark". (Her idea, by the way, because she's just creative like that). I did give into temptation, and talked her out of her pink leopard-print headband and my black/grey/white knitted scarf, but other than that, this is her creation, completely. I figured if she's going to be up in the public eye, she should be in something that she feels is fabulous....regardless of what I think. At the end of the day, I'm sure I will be right back to calling my children "Doofus" and "Fart Face", those are staples in my affectionate vocabulary, though can be misconstrued as malicious, derogatory names. But hopefully, they will look back some days and think that I tried. Isn't that what matters? I hope so....in either case, it wouldn't be a bad idea to just start saving for major therapy sessions.

My daughter

So my daughter is taking dance. From Amy, no less. She and Amy's niece, Aislynn, (I hope that's how it's spelled), go on Tuesday evenings and stay at Kory and Amy's home for an hour, hopefully listening long enough to Amy to actually learn something. Sometimes when I look at my daughter, I am overwhelmed. I ache. I think about how I felt in the second grade, insecurities I had, and feel so protective of her, I almost want her to stay home and teach her myself. Except, I know it would drive me crazy, and I'm too afraid she'd end up like those kids that were home-schooled until the eighth grade....I remember a brother and a sister that would hold hands down the halls. Not a good situation for eighth grade fraternal twins. Yes, they were teased relentlessly. Yes, it was mean...but it was just too weird. I can't do that to my daughter. Sometimes I want to, though.
However, it seems like she doesn't have many terrible experiences at school. I'm grateful for that, and I am grateful that she's so beautiful. She has her friends, and she has her boyfriends, and she's smart and funny. All the things I wished I was for so many years. And yet, I hope and pray that her self-esteem isn't like mine. It's hard having a kid that goes to school. I want to know how her day was, and I get a, "good". Granted, that's better than some horrific story of ridicule and torture, but sometimes I wonder if there's something more I need to do. If there is a way that I can draw out more details about her day.
She was mad at me tonight. I don't like making her mad, I don't like making her sad, but it seems like something I do often. I expect her to act completely grown-up, and take care of her brother, and never make wrong decisions....I put all this pressure on her. I don't even realize I'm doing it sometimes. She's only seven years old. Yet she's responsible and she's thoughtful, and instead of being super content with all that, I expect more from her. She got an "Oops" note from her teacher today. Apparently she was "squawking like a bird instead of sitting quietly during work time". Somehow, upon first reading this, I felt like this was an extension of me...I was embarrassed because she isn't completely A plus material every second of every day. I was embarrassed, because I truly believe that, "I have totally taught her better than that". So I took away her Wednesday play date. She started crying like I had just punched her in the face and then I got upset because she didn't automatically understand and agree with her punishment. I'm too hard on her a lot of the time. I take her for granted. I might just be a little jealous of all her beauty and talent and niceness and creativity, underneath all the pride. Why am I telling you this? I don't really know. I guess maybe to confirm the fact that I am so not a perfect mom and that Riley is a strong girl. Stronger than I could ever be, and I'm amazed every day at how great at everything she is...a trait she has most-definitely inherited from Jeff. Anyway, I guess it comes down to me not having to worry about her as much as I do. She deals with everything so much better than I ever could. She's actually taught me how to have more faith in myself, just by the faith she has in me. It's odd, how much I learn from my children. Things I know I couldn't have ever understood without them.
So, I have decided that tomorrow I'm going to be better. I'm going to try to be more understanding and motherly and less sarcastic and spacey and PMSal. I'm going to look at my beautiful little girl and say things that will let her know how I really feel, that I'm so proud of her and thankful that she's so fabulous. It's easy with Cole, because I can just grab him and squeeze. With Riley, I get, "Mooooom, what are you doing?" So sometimes it's hard to gage what is and what is not acceptable. But I'm going to do more. I'm going to be firm, yet loving. I'm going to accept the fact that she's strong and smart and she's still only seven. I'm also willing to take any motherly advice as to how to not screw up my daughter. So should anyone have any tips, please let me know.

I just gotta vent.

So today I had a rude awakening. My son, the apple of my eye, my darling, my best boy ever, etc., is a complete BRAT. I know I say this often, but today, right at this very instant, and for the last, oh, six hours, I mean it. I am shocked and amazed. And yeah, for those of you that read this, it's obvious I have a soft spot for Cole...maybe more than obvious. I think it's mainly because he's a constant in my day-to-day, and he's always thinking I'm wonderful. I don't know about you, but being put on that pedestal has kind of grown on me, so on days like this, when I just want to sell him to the highest bidder, it always comes as a surprise. Wednesdays are our playdate days. Riley has a friend, Olivia, and she has a little brother, Henry, a year older than Cole. Today being Wednesday, they came over, as it's my turn to have them for a few hours. Things were going fairly well, I had a massive headache, so that tells you that it wasn't all smiles and laughter as they ran screaming through the house, and destroyed my clean living room. This is the price you pay for your children to have friends. Is it worth it? I'm still trying to decide.
Anyway, Riley is great with her friends. They have a snack, play with all the Littlest Pet Shop toys, or Polly Pockets, or with Olivia they like to re-create scenes from the Spiderwick Chronicles Books they read. This is fine. This is encouraged, because not only are they adorable as they do their pixie spins and make their forts, and cuddle their pets, but they are even tempered, and nice to each other, and giggle, and occasionally, if I'm lucky, I hear about Riley and Olivia's boyfriends and how cute they are, and how they were chased by them at recess. I like those stories. Cole, on the other completely opposite hand, is loud. He is bossy. He is a tattletail and sometimes says mean things that I call him on, and then he says, "Mom, I was just making a joke...." Like I'm the biggest prude on the planet. But I have standards...I can be mean to whoever I like. My children, cannot. Especially to other kids. Especially to friends they have invited over.
Cole has taken to the phrase: "Don't tell me...." He uses it often. Some examples are: "Don't tell me you want me to pick up all those toys", or "Don't tell me I have to walk while you look at groceries", or my personal favorite, "Don't tell me you're fixing that for dinner." So today I heard a couple of the "Don't Tell Me's", and Henry, Cole's friend, saying, "I'm going to tell you that, I am." Cole would let out a frustrated, "Uhhhhh!" after Henry would say that, as if shocked at the audacity of his friend's cheek. Anyway, that was all fun and games until he started on the "It was only a joke...." He would tell Henry to do something, completely bossy. Then if Henry was playing with his own toy, Cole would say something like, okay, since you're not listening, you can't come over next play day. I would step in and tell Cole that that isn't how we talk to our friends, and if we can't play with each other, Cole, and only Cole, would have to go to his room. Cole looks up at me, and also looks a little surprised that I'd been eavesdropping, and says, "Mmmooommm, you know, it was just a joke". I told him it wasn't funny, and then he gets all teary-eyed and said that it's not nice when I don't laugh at his jokes. I told him that we don't laugh when the jokes are mean, and continued into the kitchen and started on cleaning my disgusting fridge. Just so I could intervene, should the need arise. About an hour went by and my headache was worse, so I went and laid on my bed. I dozed off and the next thing I heard is Cole's pirate sword being thrown around. I know this because it makes an annoying electronic clanging noise when it hits something. I then hear Cole shout, "You hit my finger! You aren't supposed to hit!" I stayed in my bed, waking up, and afraid of what was going on. Riley came upstairs yelling that Cole needed me, and he'd locked himself in the downstairs bathroom, crying. I had her go tell Cole that he could come up and talk to me. (Because I am a lazy woman, and I just couldn't get my butt moving). He was screaming like he'd lost a limb the entire way through the kitchen and up the stairs, and then he gets to my room and yells "MOM! HENRY HIT ME ON MY FINGER WITH MY PIRATE SWORD, AND HE DIDN'T EVEN SAY SORRY....WWAAAAAHHH!" I looked at his finger, noticed a tiny, red blotch and proceeded to tell him that that's why I don't allow people to swing things around in my house, someone always gets hurt. He told me he's not ever having friends again, and I shushed him, because he was talking way too loud and totally overreacting. He sniffled, and had to go get a dry washcloth from my bathroom, to "wipe his tears", before heading back into the fray. As soon as he got downstairs, it sounded like there was never a problem in the first place as he went back to playing. I sat in bed a little longer just wondering what the odds are that my son has bi-polar disorder.
When their friends left, Cole came up to me and told me how excited he was for Henry to come over again. It's looking like the odds are pretty good.

Riley's patriotic program was earlier last week. It's always amazing how many people pack themselves into a crowded auditorium. They come to watch their children rush through lines that they don't understand, thusly, causing the audience to be unable to understand what they're saying. But they are adorable doing it, so isn't that the only thing that matters? I love to go to these things mainly because this is when I can observe my daughter in her element. She is that girl that doesn't like the limelight, but if she "just has" to entertain everyone, then so be it. She will entertain the crap out you. Also, I can get glimpses of her boyfriends that she tells me about throughout the year. As her mother, I am always impressed with her selection process. She will tell me about them at home. They must be funny and cute and nice, and another important prerequisite is, "they need to listen to me". (Meaning Riley, of course). Also, this is just an interesting tidbit, the kid that walks right in front of all the cameras is Cole. And yeah, he walked in front of everyone. Multiple times.

It's good to be a gangsta....

N'Kay...I watched Officespace tonight with Jeff. I forget sometimes what an excellent movie this is. I really wish sometimes that I could have one of those photographic memories and could remember all those classic, witty lines and use them in conversation...yeah, the majority of people I converse with wouldn't remember or know these lines, and that would not only help make me appear more intelligent, but more importantly, more humorous. My great friend Moriah Love sent me a link to the blog, "Stuff White People Like", and I've seriously been thinking about that the past couple of days. It's embarrassingly accurate and I am wondering how I fit into almost everything written, especially because I am part Native American. Obviously. (FYI, This is where all my genetic downfalls come from, as well. Right, Granny?)
Anyhoo, I have been fully contemplating # 77 of "Stuff White People Like", which is "musical comedy". Now this, for me, is 100% true. Give me a cute, funny person, and I'm delighted. Give me a cute, funny person with a guitar, and I'm obsessed. No, they don't have to have an excellent voice, but mix in some wry lyrics with some silly facial expressions, and you know I'm a fan. The newest post, T-shirts, is true as well. If you haven't checked it out, and you are white, you will find some similarities, I assure you. (There may be a chance you'll find some similarities even if you aren't fully white, i.e. me). So Moriah, if you're reading this, thanks for introducing me to this site.