Just a bunch of stuff (I'll warn you...I have serious ADD right now, and this post is ALL over the place).

So last year we skipped the annual zoo trip, simply because the last two years before when we'd gone, all the exhibits were being remodeled, and though two thirds of the zoo was closed down, they still charged full price and expected everyone to be grateful for the "We're sorry about all the construction, but by 2007, our zoo will be twice as big!" Whatever. I was pissed. Sorry or not, I wasted seven bucks on each of us those last two years. However, when I was told by a pretty reliable source, (thanks Kelli), that it was all good again, we decided that we'd take a look-see. Jeff took two days off this last weekend: Friday and Monday. It was sooo nice. He's been going to work at 8:45am and getting home sometimes at 9:00pm. I should be the super, understanding, let-me-rub-your-feet wife that drops everything when he gets home, but I am PISSED. What right does his boss have to expect him to be there for twelve hours? Seriously, twelve freaking hours, and that's no big deal to the boss, cause Jeff is on salary, so....yeah. I will stop talking about it right now, because this is something that I can gripe about for hours on end. All I can say, is that Jeff's company is lucky to have him...because seriously, I would be looking elsewhere.
So back to the subject. Anyway, Jeff took some days off, and on Friday, we went to Kung Fu Panda, which was really good. The kids were totally besotted with Po, the Panda. Watch it, and you'll see why. Then Saturday night Jeff and I watched a movie I swore to myself I never would: Lars and the Real Girl. And again, I was swayed by Kelli to give it a chance. I really liked it. It was awkward and painful at times to watch, however, it made me think. I have some experience with social awkwardness. (Gasp! Yes, me). I handle it in this way; I will go for broke around others, saying what I'm thinking, trying to be continually "on", and then days after, I will worry that I offended someone or was just completely stupid and no one will ever like me again--it's a thing. Anyway, Jeff is the opposite. He'd rather not say anything, ever. He'd rather be alone and away from anyone that isn't me or Riley or Cole. Sometimes it is actually painful for him to make small talk, or just continue a conversation with someone. He can do it, and he will...something that he's worked hard to be able to do...but Lars reminded me of how far my husband has come. If he never would have married...I can just see him being that guy completely afraid of any type of interaction, whatsoever. I love Jeff, and believe me, he knows my opinion on this, but I think he would have been pretty scary had he remained lonely and alone for too much longer. He'd be that creepy guy that continually lives in his mom's house, with no intention of ever moving. The one that no one really knew what was going on in his head, because he refused to talk to anyone and would avoid them at all costs. There would always be weird noises and smells coming from his room, and no one would ever be allowed to go in. Any family members have opinions on this that have watched the movie? Let me know. (And for the record, had I not have married Jeff, I'd probably be the crack whore that was too fat for a mini skirt, however I'd be too out of my mind on cheap drugs to care, and so I'd wear them anyway...while trying to sell myself. Completely ruining my business, and always being the most broke hooker in the world. I just want you all to know that I am well aware that I've totally benefitted from being married, as well. Just in a different way).
Sunday, as you all know, was Father's day. I'm pretty happy with the way it turned out, and I think Jeff was, as well. We woke up completely late, and then went to Bob and Maida's. My in-laws, for those of you that may not know. It's always nice to sit and visit, but it never seems like there's enough time to do so. This time especially. We had made arrangements to go to my dad and step mom's house for dinner. I was surprised with how relaxed the atmosphere was...usually I stress about stuff like this, because I worry that we don't have enough time to make all the proper stops, or it seems rushed and forced. But this Father's Day went well. I am going to go ahead and speak for Jeff and say that he enjoyed it, too...because he got everything he wanted, plus a poster from the kids complete with fluorescent hearts on it...and who can complain about that kind of stuff?
And today was the zoo. We slept in, and finally got up there around 2:00pm. We actually haven't ever gone that late in the day before, and I was worried it was going to be way too hot. But everything was new, and the misters were on, and we packed lots of gatorade, because it has electrolytes, you know. Both kids enjoyed it. Jeff and I enjoyed it. Definitely the best zoo trip we've had.
On the other hand, I'm well aware that this isn't my best post, but it's late and I'm tired. So, you'll have to deal. Also, I had four days of action pact adventure to get through, so just be grateful that I didn't give up all together and pretend it didn't happen. As far as this blog goes, anyway. 'Kay, I am going straight to bed. I keep staring at this screen, waiting for something fabulous to say, and it's just not happening. As you can plainly see. Goodnight.

Art City Funfare.

So the Art City Funfare was today. It was three and a half hours of hair-spraying, face-painting, cotton candy eating, bouncy house jumping, train riding, and magician watching fun. I have decided that being a good, "fun" mom is hard work. Not only did I have to tote all the snacks and camera, but then there were the jackets and the shoes...plus my huge belly is heavy, as well. And do you think I got any thanks? No. Just a ton of, "Mom! Don't eat any more of my cotton candy!", and some, "Mom! my hands are sticky and I need a wipe. YOU DIDN'T BRING THE WIPES?!"
But there were cute moments, as well. After standing in line for about ten minutes in the hair-coloring line, Cole totally chickened out. He first had all these extravagant plans...orange with black dots, or green with some orange stripes...and then it was his turn, and he panicked. I promised that he would look cool, and he'd love it, once it was done. But he wouldn't be swayed. Cole has some severe issues with his hair and is afraid of it looking "lousy", (his exact word). He wouldn't calm down until I told him that he didn't have to, and we'd just wait for Riley to get hers done. She was brave and went with green and pink stripes. FYI, it looked fabulous. Then, after Riley's hair was done, they both decided to get tattoos. For some reason, Cole didn't have any fears of that, at all. But neither one wanted a tattoo anywhere other than on their arms. We couldn't go too crazy.



From there, we were off to the bounce houses and such. Cole is pictured in this big dragon that stretched for about forty feet. My kids loved it, but said it totally smelled like Poo inside. This, however, wasn't very ironic, being that the dragon looked like a big worm, and the kids entered at its mouth and exited out its butt. Should I feel bad that my children are so hard up for fun they don't mind crawling through a jiggly tube that reeks of feces? I don't know. But I'm choosing not to look at it that way, I'm going to stick with the "I'm a great mom for getting off my butt and doing this with them", mind-frame. The worst part? By far, it was the magic show. Of coarse, my children loved it. Cole and Riley's manic laughter at the magician's jokes rang out just as loud as all the other hundreds of kids, I kind of felt bad that I couldn't join in their laughter, until I looked around at the other adults, and realized that they were all faking their appreciation of his sense of humor. So I joined in, and tried to laugh whenever Riley and Cole did. After eating my overpriced nachos with the still-frozen cheese, I sat there with my two little ones, trying to find a way to describe how they make me feel. I'm a really selfish person. I will be the first to admit this. When I think about life, I'm really used to thinking about the stuff that pleases me. But with Riley and Cole, I totally change into something else. I would have spent another three hours in Magic Hell, if it meant that they would continue to laugh like they were. It if meant they were as happy as they were, right then. I know that my kids are happy, I'm lucky that they are easily entertained. But sometimes, at moments like these, I'm just astounded at how happy they make me.
It hits me so hard sometimes. I remember when I first realized I was in love with Jeff. He was sick and pukey. We had just gotten to Seattle with Keri, so she could move some of her stuff to Vic's house. Jeff had been sick the entire trip up there, even though he had to drive, and it got worse as soon as we arrived at our destination. I was starving, and Keri and Vic had just invited us to go out to dinner, a nice place where we could eat burgers and stuff...my favorite. And Jeff said he was too sick. You wouldn't believe how difficult it was for me to decline their offer, and stay with Jeff, while he went back and forth from the toilet to the bed. (Actually, if you know me, you also know I love to eat, so this is actually an impressive sacrifice). Anyway, it was then, while I was lying next to Jeff, ignoring my rumbling stomach, rubbing his back, and really worried about how he was feeling, that I knew. I knew he was the one for me. It took him a bit longer, however, but you get the gist. For some reason, with Jeff, I was uncomfortable, and tired and hungry...but I still felt better being uncomfortable with him, than comfortable without him. Yeah, that was a wordy way of putting it, but it's pretty simple. With Jeff, with my babies, just being with them, even if I'm miserable, is everything to me. So, anyway, that's all for me tonight. All it took was some bad nachos and hair paint/spray fumes, and rotten jokes to rekindle all my loves. Not that they had burned out, but sometimes I just need an awakening, you know? So, for future reference, you can always find something for everyone at the Art City Funfare. Look how much I got out of it. It was a good day for the kids, and most definitely, for me.

My checkup status

Okay, so I'm four and a half months along. Still sick and such, because I'm SICK THE ENTIRE TIME. It's something that surprises people, even though, every time they ask, I tell them the same thing. It's annoying. Much of what happens to me is, these days. I'm buckets of sunshine, as you know. Anyway, Riley and Cole had to come to my checkup and they were fabulous. (I know I'm not into the ' exam every time' frame yet, so I didn't mind them being there). They both got to hear the heartbeat of the baby, and they were pretty excited. Riley told the doctor that she hopes it is a girl, so they can both go out to get ice cream. When this would happen I really don't know, but that seems to be her take on what sisterhood is about. When the doctor asked if she could take a brother out to ice cream, Cole looked up from his coloring book and said, "I don't like ice cream", and went back to finishing his new specialty, another "rainbow" Ironman picture. Riley looked at the doctor like: "See?"
On the 24th of this month is my ultra sound. I'm still thinking this baby is a girl. But people-and you know who you are-are cracking my resolve. On the other hand, I will know for absolute sure on the 24th...so those of you that mock me, will soon be wallowing in your own shame. You're all invited to give your opinion, but know now, that I will NOT be gentle about your being wrong. Just have to make that clear.

what I like.

So Jeff has had it with me. Lately I've been starting every sentence with, "I hate...". And I do...I hate Walmart, and the fact that I get in the twenty items or less line, and there's a person with about forty items in front of the two people in front of me...and not only does she exceed the number of items, but she's run back somewhere in the store TWICE while we all stand there, waiting. I DO hate that. I also hate getting Redbox movies, when I've had Jeff order it online, and I'm just there to pick it up...and yet, I get stuck behind that lady with the two impatient kids, that chooses to READ each and every movie promo, meanwhile, her children are running out in front of oncoming carts, and their mother, completely oblivious, stands there, reading about a movie called, The Orphanage. I hate that, too. But I do like some things. I like when I get free stuff. I got a free razor today at Walmart, because some guy was handing them out. I shaved my legs and other stuff, and I feel nice and smooth--and this miracle was accomplished by something that I acquired free. I like that. I also like Ice cream right now, and this new soap that my friend Moriah sent me that smells fresh and clean...and I just smell it all day. I like when Riley and Cole play together and Cole throws his arms around Riley and says really loud and choppy-like, "I love my sista!" And Riley looks at me and laughs and says, "I love my little brother". I love that. I love when Cole talks about the baby, and how he wishes it would just hurry up and come out--because I feel the same way. And then I also love how Riley patiently explains to him that it needs to grow and develop some more, otherwise, it will be sick, and unhealthy. This is something I both hate and love to hear...hate that reality completely sucks, and love that my little girl is so smart and understanding. Anyway, so there, Jeff. I like and even love some things, still. I don't hate everything. Mostly, everything just pisses me off. And I feel like I'm getting bigger everyday, so I'm entitled to this.

Insomnia...and the chaos it creates

I have no idea why I'm up so early. I just woke up about twoish, and couldn't go back to sleep. Preparation for the baby? I have no idea, however, I find it annoying. I don't know if I've told you this or not; but I find pregnancy annoying, in general. Okay, I've told you, but only like, a thousand times, or so. I was talking to Jeff the night before last, and he made the comment that "You never write about me...." I was actually surprised at this, because he's a private person. For my long time readers, a couple months ago I posted a long entry just about him, and when he first saw that picture of himself, he got all huffy and was like, "why is my picture up?" and "What are you writing about me and why?" I guess in his defense, he knows that when I get around his sisters and mom that's when I feel like I can gripe about all his annoyances. Also, he knows that my blog is a place where I gripe in general, so putting the two together, I guess, could be scary. But no.
I was nice. It was a miracle, and highly unusual, but I was nice. The sad part? I have to complain about stuff...it's a way for me to de-stress, turn the little things into jokes, and realize that yeah, I'm overreacting. Also, it's nice to do it around his sisters and his mom, because they can laugh with me, and tell me stuff about when he lived at home, and then I can either feel justified in my complaints, or I can be thankful that we all eventually grow up. This was hard for Jeff when we first got married. (And I SO wonder why?) But now he lets me get away with it with a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, and the knowledge that if I complain to someone else and get the proper sympathy, then I won't complain as much to him, so it all works out for everyone. Except maybe for my sisters-in-law and mother-in-law...but they are all awesome enough to realize that I need to whine a lot, and they pretend that what I say, matters. To be fair, I feel that I need admit this somewhat important fact: Jeff has never complained about me to others,(to the extent that I do, anyway), that I know of, and that's because he's a saint. However, this is another reason why he is better than me...because I'm a fat whiny baby that couldn't handle it, and when people know about my faults, it embarrasses me, and he knows that. (How am I still married? Your guess is as good as mine.)
But enough about that. This is supposed to be a little insight into Jeff's day to day, and I'm veering off into the "me" category, yet again. It's so hard to stay on task this early.
For those of you that aren't "in the know", Jeff is a graphic designer. He's got real talent. Artistic talent. I wouldn't say this if it weren't true...as I can't even draw stick people, and I'm well aware and accepting of this. Also, he's got this ability to see things on paper and put them down. I look at paper and go back to my old standby: Bubble letters that suck, and hearts and stars. I'm really grateful that my children inherited Jeff's talent and imagination...because I'd feel like a total failure if I had to explain to them that the reason they have no talent is because of me. That's no fun to tell kids. So basically, I just helped bring the fabulous looks to the gene pool, and the ability to be overly dramatic.
If you haven't seen it yet, you need to check out Jeff's website. It's www.jeffective.com Yeah, this a bit of shameless advertising, but I'm his wife, so I can do this. Right now he's working on variant CD covers for his friend's band. Anyway, that's what he's enjoying working on right now. He's also doing a lot of rendering of buildings, working on logos for various companies, and re-doing the sound and graphics on some medical instructional stuff that I couldn't figure out if my life depended on it.
But he loves the CD cover project, and this is where you get to see what Jeff brings to the table. He will perfect every detail. He's done some really amazing sketches, and finalized them, and I hope that his friend and the band realize that they are taking all my husband's time. This is what he really loves to do, and I have to admit, it's something when I fantasized about what my husband would do for a living, he'd have a job like this. I just didn't want it to be such a time consuming occupation. (So you see? If I'm not complaining, I'm just not saying anything...something I think Jeff figured out a long time ago). I have a very cool husband. And I know that is such a high school thing to say, but it was one of my prerequisites, you know? He had to be funny and kind, and cool. And I got all those plus a bunch more that even though I whine about, I love. He has done so much in these past three years, career wise. Each day there's some new project that would scare the crap out of me, and he steps up, and makes it great--beyond great. Maybe this is why I don't post a lot of stuff about Jeff. Because I'm a bit jealous, or because I go on and on about it, and it's probably a lot of both. But in reality, he's my best friend, and I'm so proud of his accomplishments. It's amazing to me to see the stuff that he creates...and I don't give him the credit he's due. So here you go, My Love. Here's my, "somewhat casual" post about you. Hopefully, between the rambling of a sleep deprived woman, you can see some of the things I've been trying to say. And if not, definitely check out his website. Then you'll know for sure.

"Norbal"

First off, thanks Kory, Lora, and Moriah for your input on my last entry. When Jeff came home today he told me that with all my rambling, it was hard to decipher what I was trying to say. After a debate between us, he said that it was difficult to find that simplicity in my post. Basically, I want my kids to know that if they aren't the best at something, if they don't feel like they need to be part of something that I want them to be, I want them to feel free to tell me. I don't want them to always do what they think I expect them to do. I want them to be able to open up--I need to constantly remember how hard it was to be a kid, and try to have empathy and sympathy as they express themselves. I want to have an honest, loving relationship with each of them, and let them know that I understand that though they are siblings, they are so different, and I encourage and accept that.

As for respect, no, I didn't mean for it to be a political debate. My Bush comment was just that..mine. I want Riley and Cole and this new one to know that they are their own person. And if someone threatens that, they have the right to defend themselves, no matter who it is. (Like that old man at McDonald's in the kid area that yells at them because they are being too loud...sometimes you just gotta say, "Hey, notice that this is an area for Children. If you have sensitive ears, I suggest you go out and eat with the big kids"). I want them to be kind, but to always know they set their boundaries. They never have to prove themselves to me, because I love them and accept them wholly. With other people, that's a different story, and they'll learn that as they grow. They'll learn all this stuff as they grow. Like Kory said, I stress daily about it, too, but I really feel that my children are kind and thoughtful, and that really tells me that things are at least going in the right direction.

Anyway, I just wanted to clear that stuff up. As usual, I was more wordy than I intended to be, but I just wanted to emphasize that my last post wasn't an angry rant. I'm sure I'll have some down the road, but that one wasn't. The end on all that, I promise.

Secondly, Leah, I was so glad to hear from you! I'd love to hear how you're doing and such...but I couldn't get into your blog. It kept kicking me back to the google homepage, so maybe if you read this, you can let me know what I'm doing wrong. And if part of your blog title is Babylars...does that mean you've had one? I'm SO intrigued.

Okay, so about my title of this post. Norbal is the word that Cole uses for Normal. I find it quite amusing, and it's hard for me to correct him on this. He really insists that if he picks out a shirt or some pants that they look "Norbal". If I try some new food dish, and offer him some, it never fails: "Mom, I just want Norbal mac and cheese", or "I don't think that smells Norbal. I need to frow it away, Mom." And off he'll go...wasting something that's perfectly fine, because he questions it's normal-ness. Even though I laugh, I have been trying to tell him that not everything is normal. And normal is different for each of us. I told him yesterday that some people eat bugs dipped in Chocolate, because he was having a fit about the only thing that can be dipped in chocolate is peanut butter. Otherwise, it's just not normal. He first was upset that I wasn't being honest, so he had to use our family's equivalent of the safety sentence--we have to be honest, no joking at all, when someone asks, "Is that the truth"? After telling him yes, he was devastated and nauseous and told me he had to "go frow up", as he ran to the bathroom. I really think that school is going to be a much-needed experience for him. But I stress, as well. He'll be that kid that comes home and asks me questions about all the things he hears during the day...and every question will be punctuated with, "Is that the truth?" In some ways, this scares me more than anything. Not that I have to tell the truth, just trying to find the right words to explain things. It sounds like a relatively easy task; to answer children's questions in a way that's truthful and able to be understood, but it's not. They look at you, and the answers provided always lead to more questions...and they just keep getting harder. So if someone has all the go-to answers, please help those of us that don't, out. So, because it's super late, and I have to GO WALKING tomorrow, (Gotta motivate myself, you know), I decided I would end this post with a hand drawn portrait of our very "Norbal" family. Cole drew it, and told me that because this is something that he's good at, he wanted to make a picture of our family, "like dad does". We decided to put it on our fridge, instead of on the wall, like Jeff's pictures, but that doesn't mean it's any less special, it just means that he likes to continually "touch-up" his artwork. He likes to examine it every now and then, take it down, and make additions or scenery or whatnot. So Jeff and I had to take a picture to ensure that we had his simple masterpiece, in addition to what the final version will look like. Cole named each and every one of us, and word for word, this is what he said. And THAT, my friends, is the truth.

Earlier last week, Riley asked me what the word, "respect" meant. I told her the definition, and she asked if I respected anyone. I told her "yes, there are a few people", and then she asked me why I respected them. I told her there a bunch of reasons, but mostly because they had done something to show that showed they respected me. I have more on this, but I need to touch on some other stuff, first.
I'm gonna wax poetic about the song, "Handlebars" By Flobots. First off, let me say, I KNOW. I'm sick of it too...it's on every radio station, and because my son loves it, I must endure it each and every time it plays, usually about 5 times, when I'm in my car. But, despite being sick of this song, and it's widespread commercial interest, I must concede that it makes me think. The first few times I listened to it, I enjoyed it's catchy tune, it's fun refrain, and the way Cole bobs his head to the bass line, and tries to sing along. After the first few times of listening to it, however, I found myself comparing it to the personality of boys. This is because I look at Cole, and everything about him, even if he's not saying it exactly, screams, "Look at me, Look at me!" I thought that was humorous. As my little Bubbers is that kid that believes he can do anything, as all kids should. Everything falls into two categories. The first one: I Would Be Completely Awesome At That, and the second: Uh, Totally Not Interested. He goes between these two options daily, and it's one or the other, there is no in-between. Whatever he's not interested in, shouldn't exist, basically, and whatever he does, he doesn't think that anyone else in history has done it even close to as perfectly as he.
Then there's the second part of the song. Where the positive of that complete faith in self can be less than glam. The part where if he chooses, he can send someone to jail, just because he doesn't like them, he can start a holocaust, or should he choose, just push a button and bomb whomever is pissing him off at that particular time. This is what's sad to me. Because all kids start out with this complete love of self...and it's the best thing for parents to watch. We think this way, too...that there's nothing our babies can't handle or do fabulously. But to grow up without having anyone tell you that maybe your ideas aren't that evolved, or maybe your opinion isn't that educated...you can easily turn into this self-centered person that believes that anything they do is justified. Not only justified, but law, because of the sheer awesomeness that is them. They get to a certain age after all those years of being catered to, and then won't even think about the slightest possibility that they are capable of making a mistake, or just being a jack-ass. (I'm just going to throw this out there, because it's totally who I imagine as this song is playing--George W.). I know, some people will find massive offense in this, but this is my blog, and therefore, my opinion, so deal.
Anyway, back to not only my son, but my daughter, too. I love them, and I believe--I know that they can do anything. I also know that they learn each day, through trial and error, and I have to acknowledge their mistakes as much as their accomplishments. This can be in a positive manner, mind you, not something that has them terrified to voice an opinion or thought. (Like shaming, for instance. My father swore by it...not me, so much. I want my kids to feel like they can keep an open mind...not so brow-beaten that whatever someone older says has to be gospel-truth, and therefore, they must respect it). That's another beef I have today, and I'm trying to kind of go back to the respect issue...there are just too many extremes with kids. On one side, they must be respectful and polite and all those adult-pleasing qualities. On the other, they need to have self-esteem and stick up for themselves. I feel that these usually cancel each other out, if the older generation have their way. Like my parents...their first concern was that we kids were polite and demure. It didn't really matter that we had no clue who WE were, or how to set boundaries so we could protect ourselves. So though I have issues with this, I'm grateful I went through it. I know quite a few things NOT to do...and I think in this day and age, it's important. I'm not saying I want my children to be brats, no one does. But I do want them to know that I believe in them, and that there is always room for improvement. Also, that beings one's best is most important, rather than someone else's idea of what's best, and, that just because someone is older, richer, more educated, or more respected; doesn't ever mean that they DESERVE respect. They deserve kindness, as I think that everyone does. But respect has to be earned, no matter who the person is. I feel like I need to earn my children's respect, and if this is the case, why would I expect them just to blindly follow someone else? Okay, now I'm rambling. I could go on forever about this, but for you, I won't. I'll try to get back to my previous point...however long ago that was.
Respect and whatnot. Basically, to answer Riley's question, and this is what I told her, it's all about what you're comfortable with. Respecting someone is honoring what they say, and acting accordingly; just being attentive to their opinions and suggestions. The key word, attentive. Not being obligated to do what that person says, or having to believe or think the same way they do. I feel that this is the hardest part of parenthood; for me, anyway. I want my children to believe in themselves and be able to believe in others. Yet, I don't want them to be utterly disappointed when or if someone they believe in, lets them down. Because it happens all the time. As long as their foundation is strong in Jeff and I, and they know that they are loved and appreciated, and respected, I really think that they'll be able to find that in others. I want Cole and Riley to both go on believing that they can do anything. But I also want them to realize that they have strengths and weaknesses, and it's perfectly normal, perfectly okay to have both. We all need to have something to work toward, not having everything handed to us. Anyway, that's my deep thought for tonight. Let me know whether you agree or disagree.