Different things.

A couple weekends ago Jeff took a couple days off only to come down with Strep Throat.  But, that gave me even more of an excuse to leave him here, take the kids, and go visit with Lora, who came up from Laramie to hang.  To make a REALLY long story short and sweet, Jeff suffered along with my house, all weekend.  And, a messy house + Cole + his coat + strawberries shoved into his pockets for a snack =  a smell very similar to a poopy diaper  that was shoved somewhere and forgotten about,  and many panic-attacks from me, until I found the smell-culprit.   (I was equal parts pissed and relieved--pissed because, strawberries in your pocket?  Really Cole?  In what universe is that a good idea?  And relieved because it WASN'T a poopy diaper, and my chance of being showcased as an unfit mother in the show, Hoarders, was lessened).  

Anyhoo, I had fun with Lora and Muff.  It was nice to pretend I wasn't a parent for a while...Riley and Cole played with cousins and Sydney stayed with Jeff for most of the time.  And when I came home, the house stunk, and Jeff was still a bit sick, but I felt relaxed.  Sometimes I forget that besides a mom, I'm also a person.  I decided it would be nice to take more time to do girly stuff with girls my age.  Women my age, whatever.  You know what I mean.  And if you're judging me for last weekend, I will tell you that last weekend I took Riley and Syd and two of Riley's friends to the mall.  On a Saturday, and they got to go on their own for a while, and then meet me back afterwards.  It was, what I imagine, parts of Hell to be like.  But, they had fun, so all was well.  Right?  Sometimes I let them do good stuff.  (Fyi:  Cole was invited to go, but he doesn't like the mall, and he wanted to watch online cartoons  All.  By.  Himself).

Anyway,  what else?  Syd has been going to her Kids Who Count classes, and she's made a ton of improvements, already.  She seems to understand so much more, and I've been taught a few really great things to help encourage more eye contact and such.  I'm thinking it's going to continually get better.  And let's see...Riley "graduated" from D.A.R.E, and the essay she wrote was so phenomenal that they asked her to read it in front of the school.  And fyi?  She did fantastically.  

As you can see, I'm loving my new iPhone camera App.  It's got so many filters and though I'm still figuring it out, it's big fun.  And lastly:  Ta-Da!!!  It's HERE!  

I bought some today.  And this is the kind that I really was excited to try.  Remember how I said that Jeff would be doing all the packaging for this product, the brewed chocolate?  This particular kind has coconut in it, antioxidants, vitamins, and so on and so forth.  I'm loving it.  And Shauna? You can buy it at the Spanish Fork Maceys, or any Maceys in the valley, just so you know.  It's in the coffee section.  But for those of you that are freaking out, it's NOT coffee.  It's cacao.  Or chocolate, whatever.  It's too complicated to explain, and you can find out more at www.criobru.com
I add a little milk, and a little creamer, and viola!  It's freaking awesome.  But it's not sugary.  It's a lot like coffee in that if you want it to be sweet, you have to sweeten it.  

 
It's fantastic.  I promise.  Jeff gave me a French Press for Christmas, so I'm a very, VERY happy girl.  :)
I hope you all have an excellent week.  And then a great weekend.  Jeff and I are going away for his birthday.  And being that it's going to be the first time that we've been away from Syd since her BIRTH, it's a bit scary.  But really exciting.  Whoot! (And Fyi?  I know that the "h" isn't necessary, however, when I say it, I add an h.  A very audible h.  So there). 

The dog days are over.

I really love that song.  I mean, I wanted to start this post with its lyrics...however, after Googling them, I realized I've been singing it wrong all this time, and that the meaning is completely opposite than I had originally thought.   I still love it and I'm feeling like the title, at least, satisfactorily explains how I'm feeling thus far.  So I'll use it.  I am pretty bummed I was wrong with the lyrics...especially since the way I sang it was way better.  
Similarly, I used to sing The Clash's "Rock the Casbah", as "rock the cash box".  Which to me, makes WAY more sense.  And is something I would totally rock if I had the access.  Jeff still makes fun of me.  But, I still sing it my way to myself.  Cause it makes sense to me.  And I feel like had I have been around at that time, The Clash totally would have loved my take.  You know I'm right.
Anyhoo.  I digress.  

I also just found out that The Dog Days Are Over has been featured on Glee.  (Haven't seen it, yet). And, though I enjoy watching that show, I'm a hypocrite in the respect that I kinda have to consider bands as sell-outs when they just give their works over to it.  Or sell them.  Whatevs.  In any case, it kinda bums me out that no one has any qualms about having a bunch of spoiled actors belting out music that was written with one intent, only to be featured and squeezed into 45 minutes of fake high school drama.  (And usually have the audacity to do it better than the original).  That's a tangent I'll not start tonight.
The Dog Days are Over.  And I'm using that to put an end to my February drama.  It hasn't fully been abolished or anything, but I'm honestly trying to adjust my attitude in a positive way.  I've been going over previous posts and this seems to be a cyclic thing that I do each and every year.  However, I guess the point is to continue trying, right?  Not succumb to the fact that I have come to rely on having the appropriate downs for the highs in my life. 
I went to Relief Society on Sunday.  "YAY for Rainey!!!!!!!"  Just cause I felt that it was needed. And it was.  A lot of the time I come away thinking, "that was nice".  And it is.  It's nice to sit for an hour in a room full of women that are nice, and experience a lot of the things that are similar to my life.  Sometimes it's borrrrrring. And sometimes I have a hard time looking at Sister so-and-so after she's gone on for twenty minutes about something that I completely disagree with or don't care about. (Oddly enough this doesn't happen as often in my new ward...I think it's because all of the members are older, and less naive about what being a "good person" entails).  But there are times when I feel like I made a connection, and feel like I heard something I really needed to hear at that exact second.  Regardless of how terrible and hedonistic that makes me sound, I want to put in the human factor, as well.  That I am human...that I'm a Mormon that's trying to do the best that I can do...and though I fail miserably in comparison with a ton of other Mormons that I know, I'm honestly okay with it.  I'm good with knowing what my limitations and priorities are.  Will I go to Hell for just stating that?  I don't know.  But I'd also have to add "great big religious liar" to my list of faults, if I didn't.  Anyway, moving on.

The lesson was:  "Stop being so hard on ourselves".  And, especially after the past month I have had, it was like a message just for me.  Honestly, I think that in a lot of areas I'm easier on myself than I should be.  Like exercise, diet, sleeping hours, and then all my numerous daily time-sucks that have no real value.  But, I'm hard on myself when it comes to being a mom.  Am I ever doing enough?  No.  And when I think about it, I get very overwhelmed.    And when I think about whether or not I'm being compassionate enough, or charitable enough, I never measure up in those areas, either.  Then there's the fact that I'm undereducated, and uninterested in developing different skills, and so on and so forth.  Anyway, I realized that even people that have no real understanding of me or knowledge of me, have their own issues with all these things.  And sadly, this is another cyclical thing that happens in my psyche.  Some days I am content with trying and other days I'm really frustrated because I failed to accomplish.  So right now, I'm back to being okay with just keeping busy; and trying to learn what I can do to maybe help Sydney understand the things she has a hard time with.  And understanding that it doesn't happen miraculously in a single week, like my dreams sometimes portray.  And taking pleasure in her accomplishments.  Rather than expecting something even more grand to happen next, I need to enjoy each and every little step.  Like when she called my phone an "iDod", (iPod).  Pretty amazing when you think about it.  And so different from my other kids.  The world has changed so much in only eight years.  I need to keep remembering that, as well.  And I'm trying.  Each day, each new word, or sign, or dance, or whatever, I'm trying. So, now to stuff NOT about me...

This is Riley in her class, during her wax museum project.  She isn't showing it here, but she was VERY professional as Elenore Roosevelt and wax-like when we came in.  All the 5th graders had a red button you could push, and then they'd stand and spout whatever details they had memorized for the person they were imaging.  Riley got the award for "most wax-like", and it was very well deserved, because she impressed me with her professionalism through all the passersby.  (Cause, when you impress me, that's when I KNOW it's good). Syd had fun there, too.  

The buttons weren't as fun to push, as to take, so the 5th graders kind of just sat there, and looked panicked whenever one of their buttons was taken and thrown to the ground, courtesy of Squid.
It's not an easy task to take her anywhere, but she sure enjoys being in the thick of everything.  Or destroying it.

Last weekend Riley came to me with a HUGE snarl in the back of her hair.  She has been asking to have it cut short, but Jeff has told her he likes it long, and reminds her that after he'd cut her hair when she was little, she'd always want it long again.  So she would then tell me she needed a trim, because I sometimes do that for her.  She's like me...she hates to wait for any type of hair appointment.  And I kick myself in the butt, every time.  This time, I kicked hers.  
Thinking I'd take about three inches off, just till her birthday, when she gets some color put in it, I didn't worry about being too careful.  And then I went and cut a super huge chunk out.  Like, between five and seven inches.  How?  I don't know.  I was due for a nap, but that's my life, usually.  So I'm not sure how I failed so miserably.  
Anyway, after seeing that ginormous chunk of hair on the floor, the only thing to do next was to try to even it up.  And that was a fiasco as well.  So off to Walmart we went.  On a Saturday.  Because it was an emergency.  For reals.  
For the record, she was willing to deal with it.  But I remember having the "spike" in my fifth grade class.  And it was because of a haircut gone totally awry.  And not surprisingly, it wasn't as punk as you'd think.  It was more like is she a she?  Or a he?  And I got a lot of questions on the topic.  Riley's hair wasn't as dramatic, but it was uneven.  And it DID look like her mother, Rainey Anderson, cut it.  Which is no sort of compliment.  So I had to see if my mistake could be kinda remedied.  

I was a bit nervous.  The lady that did it kept asking Riley HER opinions on this or that, and I kept telling myself that Riley's almost 11, she should be able to answer, no matter how many times I wanted to yell, "WAIT!  I don't think she gets what you're asking..."  The end result was a bit scary for me, as well.  It was shorter than it's been in a long time, and I had told the lady not to fix it...I've learned the hard way that no matter what type of style you get at Walmart, you let them style it, and you go home in tears.  So I waited to see how we could work it out, and as you could see, Riley loved it.  She was really happy.  I wan't as convinced.

But after some product and actually putting some effort into her bangs--not work.  Effort.  I think it turned out really cute.  And it really fits her.  It's easier for her to wash, and she has no regrets.  So all is well.  
Before I end this post, I feel like I should say something about Cole.  But honestly?  He's so consumed with Pokemon right now that it's all he talks about, thinks about, draws, and watches.  And when he tries to tell me Pokemon stuff, I feel myself reacting the same exact way I did in Pre-calc, when I was in it those two weeks before dropping it like a hot potato.  I disconnect and go to a place that's far, far away from anything Pokemon.  But, I guess we all need our little pleasures, right?  Cause the dog days are over.  Now for the fun stuff.  Or at least the better-than-wretched-stuff.

I've been called out.

I don't like the month of February.  I never have.  Now, before those that have birthdays, or children's birthdays, or whatever in this month take offense, this does not mean I don't like you.  Or them.  I just don't like February.  It's short.  I know it's only like, three or four days, but that throws me off.  I'm always relieved to see March because it means that I've paid all my bills and gotten all the appointments and such out of the way--and now life kind of gets back to a normal pace.  I know it's just weird.  I know it makes no sense.  But I also know that I'm the girl that takes two weeks to get used to daylight savings and springing forward time changes.  (Which I also hate, btw. Springing forward, especially).  
When times were harder, financially, February used to kill us.  I dreaded it all year long...and it's become habit, I guess.  I thought I would make it an entire month before posting again--letting all my February crap settle before I took to my keyboard.  However, Amy told me that I needed to blog.  And it's 3:36 am.  And I feel really, really sick.  Like, the when you have the flu.  And all your body just aches.  And you're so tired, and your head is fuzzy...but you can't really relax.  I think Syd has the same thing, because she was tired at like, 8:00pm tonight.  After waking up from her nap at 6. (This will all become more relevant, soon...I'm just setting stuff up).  Basically, I'm sick, I'm tired, and I'm trying to explain myself after I've been out of the game for a while.  So bear with me.


Today Sydney had her first meeting with the Speech Therapist.  Not surprisingly, she qualified for help.  Kids who Count have to first assess your child, see where they are on some sort of scale, and if they qualify, your child will be accepted into the program.  With her physical skills, she would have been passed over, the Therapist told me.  She's got mad physical skills.  :)  However, because she's really low on commonly used words, and she didn't get that she had to "feed the teddy bear with the spoon", (It was a whole bit in the series of tests), and she had no interest in pointing out to the Therapist the items on her laminated pages, she scored so low that it balanced everything out.  Thus, Syd is now official.  Officially what, I'm not exactly sure...but we are now totally committed to this program.  I'm relieved.  I'm glad that she's getting help, and that I'm getting help.  Because this has been something that's been eating at me for a while now. 
I'm also kind of sad.  I know kids develop at their own levels.  And I don't know if it's because I'm not feeling my best anyway, but I guess what it comes down to, is that I don't want anyone to tell me that my kid is sub-par.  Does that make sense?  I started tearing up when the Therapist, who was really kind and fun, btw, but when she started telling me how Syd was going to score.  Having someone put a number on your--I can't even think of what to call her, because her importance to me is greater than anything I can think of at this moment, but having someone put a number on that, is rough.  Especially when they break it down and tell you what it means in respect to all the other supposed children out there.  That she's really behind.  That even crack-babies are talking better than she is.  And before you assume I've just caught whatever Charlie Sheen has and will now start saying the most asinine things you've ever heard as truth, let me say that I KNOW that's a terrible way to think.  But I thought it.  And it broke my heart for her, and for me...because I'm so rotten and I think such awful things.  Please believe me when I say that I honestly am contrite about my thoughts.  Some of the time I really hate the things that I find in my head, however fleeting they may be.   
Syd was tired.  I would have put her down for a nap, but the Therapist had a cancellation and so she came right at Syd's nap time.  And let me say that she was a good girl.  And for the first thirty minutes she really tried.  But then she was done, and she was ready for bed, and she was pretty pissed that we apparently weren't getting all her hints.  Or allowing her hints to pass as her telling us she was done, and ready to sleep.  So she resorted to crying that mad cry when she stares at you and keeps getting louder and louder, until you give her what she wants.  It's a fairly easy system to figure out, I'm sure she's not too happy about me trying to change the rules.  
Anyway, that's all I'll say about that for now.  There's a lot of things I'd like to say, but I can't really be held accountable for my thoughts around 4 am.  Because usually they seem to be bleak and destructive towards myself.  
I will say this, though.  If Oprah were to have a couple kids, and then have to worry about them being on the norm with everyone else, she would be more of a yo-yo dieter than she already is.  Because I am in a place right now where I am literally all over the place.  Sometimes I can't eat anything because there's too much to do, and I'm too distracted.  And then other times I can't stop myself from eating a ton of some kind of comfort food at a ridiculous time.  I think this hurts my mental state, as well as my physical state.  Because I seem to be on the verge of tears a lot...and hating myself for various reasons.  And I don't say this for sympathy...I say it for solidarity, maybe?  Like, does this happen to others?  I've mentioned the person I blog-stalk just so I can be mad at them for the rest of the week because they say dumb things.  Things that are something straight out of high school, and try to pass it off as healthy adulthood.  I don't know why I read their stuff.  Sometimes I fantasize about responding to them, and I have so many great things to say...so many burns that they'd be crying for weeks.  And then I realize that that's MY high school self coming out, as well.  The one that I didn't recognize then, but do now as a definite bully.  
Anyway, do I live my life that way?  I wonder this, sometimes.  I try to tell myself that I'm not overly shallow and boring, but maybe I am.  Maybe I'm that person that others turn to when they just need to hate someone or something. 
On that note, I hope March brings better things.  I hope I can be more positive and generous and less angry.  I hope I can improve so I'm not in the "permanently bitchy and pessimistic" section on the scale of my life.  This was all way too much information.  But that's kind of why I've been pretty quiet in the blogging world lately.  I'm trying to be better.  I think a new month will help.