Ahem. I've an announcement.

Hello to you all once again. I'm pretty proud of myself for so diligently keeping up with this blog stuff. With all the driving back and forth to school, running kids to various classes, and multiple trips to fast food places, I'm amazed I can squeeze it all in. I'm assuming that because of this, a few things that I say might just fall through the cracks, as it's all been heard before. This is fine to me. Some things that I say are regretted ten minutes after I've written them...and I have a personal policy that rather than take it all back, I will just apologize later. This is a place where I feel I can say what I'm thinking when I think it. I'm not a perfect person, and I've made this fact quite obvious. However, I do believe that I am a real person...and realistically, I say and do and think things that are quite ignorant. Unfortunately, the person that bears the brunt of this, turns out too often to be Jeff. There are parts of him that I should understand better than I do. And maybe it's not that I don't understand, it's just that sometimes I am so concerned with myself, that his thoughts and feelings kind of get pushed aside. Anyway, this was just a little dedication to him, as I don't want to explain to everyone the ways in which I'm a clueless jerk sometimes. Suffice it to say, it happens to be true, and it happens more than I'd like to admit.
Also, this picture may get me into trouble, as Jeff has a thing about me posting photos of him when he hasn't done his hair. But as you all can see, it's just plain adorable. So I just have to post it and, in doing my usual, will apologize later. That being said, I feel like now I have weeded out those that are reading right now for the overly interesting information. So I'll get down to my announcement. For a couple weeks Jeff and I have known that we are expecting baby number 3. Yeah.
We are surprised. This happened right as we were talking about Jeff getting a vasectomy and leaving this possibility behind. So, naturally, it's been a source of stress. We are starting completely over. I will continue to get fatter each day and my gag reflex is becoming more and more unstable. Also, this means my posts will be more cliche' than usual. (Sorry Moriah).
On the other hand, though, we're excited. I find myself really thinking about all the things that I know are in store, and being okay with it. More than okay really, looking forward to this new baby. The usual uncertainties are definitely there, but I really thought this news would be along the lines of devastating. And here were are, laughing, remembering, and anticipating. I'm not one of those women that have to wait until the "bump" is there to let others in on the secret. Because truthfully, my entire pregnancies, until about month 7 are titled with the question: "Did she just gain a lot of weight? Or could it be she's pregnant?" And heaven help the person that asks me...because it has and it will happen.
So, there you are. Jeff is right, I cannot be a private person. I have completely lost that ability. But it's not something I can honestly hide, and so I feel like the sooner you know why I've become more angry, cynical, crazy, and emotional, the better.

Happy Birthday, My Love!

This is kind of a prelude to our family's day to day. Jeff and I will want one moment of alone time, and somehow, one of our kids is always there. As this picture was taken by Jeff, Cole managed to sneak himself and Noony in at the last moment. Long past are the days it was just Jeff and I....some days that hits home a lot stronger than others.
So, today is (or later tonight), Jeff's 31st. Unfortunately, all of his birthday gifts will be late...as I did a rotten job of ordering them online. This is the crappy thing about birthdays. You plan, and you plan. And then something happens that will totally ruin it, (like a back-order), and you are left looking like a serious chump. Left looking like your significant other isn't really that significant. So, this is an apology to my wonderful husband. I hope that your birthday is great, and I hope that you don't get the birthday blues, like we are both prone to do. For some reason when it's the actual birthday, it seems like there's this big anti-climax. Especially on a Sunday. Especially when I have a pluto-sized cold sore on my lip. Anyway, I just want Jeff to know what a valuable thing his birthday is to me. You're my best friend, and the greatest father, and still the sexiest man I know. I love you sooo much.

Wanna see something gross?

Ahhh...Those four words. I am always amazed at how I react to them. Do I want to see something gross? Not really...but now that you mention it, I guess I have to look and see if in fact, I do find it gross. And I can never answer "No". I will ask what it is, and an especially crafty person will ignore my question and just ask me if I want to see or not. The result is always the same: Now I have to see, so bring it.


What you are seeing here, besides some moles and a too-close-for-comfort look into my nostrils, is Herpes Simplex Virus....uh, 1? 2? I'm not sure which is which. Suffice it to say, there is no genital herpes going on, I swear. So whichever virus that affects the lip area, is the one I have. This, my friends is after a year of taking Valtrex...which, coincidentally, IS for genital herpes. A fact that I quickly expressed to my doctor, as I was asking what I could do about the enormous cold sores that I get once or twice a year. (He told me that Valtrex would make the viral outbreaks a lot less severe, and it works well, so why not?) This, though ugly, is very small in comparison to the ones I used to get. Jeff labeled me "turtle-lip" a few months after we were married...and that was being nice about it. There have been times that I've actually measured 2 inches of lip grotesquely covered in cold sore ooze. Too much information? Maybe so. But I wanted to realistically share with you what I have to deal with when I get stressed out or sick. This is why I try to remain ignorant of the terrible ways of the world, and try to avoid colds at all costs.
I've been stressed lately. (Obviously). I can't say why, it's a private matter....and Jeff has questioned my ability to be a private person. Well, this is one subject that I wont be sharing with all six of you that are reading this. So there.
The major problem with this physical setback, though, is the time it's occurring. My husband turns 31 on Sunday. He took today off so we could actually have some time to be together. Currently he's still asleep, and probably will be so for the next three hours. However, I wanted to go out today. I wanted to dress up and pretend that I didn't have any kids, and I wasn't that lady that sometimes doesn't shower until two in the afternoon and then still gets into pajama pants. I didn't want to wake up and look at my son while he's asking me a question and stops in the middle of it to ask what's wrong with my face. And then doesn't finish his question, but instead tells me, "I just don't wanna look at that", and walks away. I'm pretty sure pajama pants are still on the agenda today.
I'm sure that we will go out and do something a little out of the ordinary...it just sucks that this is when I get a cold sore--not when I am scheduled for a dentist appointment, or have to teach in church or at another time when it would be almost convenient.
I just want the record to show that I do feel bad about what a crappy wife I am at times. That being said, I also went against Jeff's request of putting a picture of the offending sore out here for the world to see. (Or, as I said before, you six readers). He told me last night that he doesn't like when people put gross stuff on their blogs...and I said it's a good thing it's my blog, and not his. I have to be the first to tell everyone that yes, I know there's a pretty disgusting problem with my lip, and I totally see it. I wouldn't want anyone thinking that I'm just not aware, you know? Do you? Well, you've read my other posts, so this shouldn't be too surprising.
Anyway, that's all I got for now. I'm giving you all a break, as this post is like, half as long as all my other ones. I'm pretty sure this is also because of my cold sore, so in that way, for you, it can be a good thing.

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).