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.