Tags.

I actually have had a couple of tag games thrown my way, lately...so I decided to do them both at once. One of my cousins did a memory tag, where all commenters(you), list their first memory of the poster (me). So if you choose to, try to think about your first memory of me, and if it doesn't include my bad breath, boogers, or me showing very possible butt-crack, feel free to share it. (Even if it is embarrassing, which the chances are very likely, you're still invited to list it). In return, anyone that wants me to list a memory of them, may list the memory tag, or, just go on with their posts, and I can randomly list a memory on their blog...just as long as YOU know why I'm randomly commenting a memory. I'm sure there was a more eloquent way to describe this process, i.e., rules and such...but hopefully every reader is getting the basic gist.
The second one was the Tag from Amy. I need to list six random things about myself, for your reading pleasure. Get ready to be amazed.

1. According to the Hogle Zoo, I am approximately the size of an adult, male, Orangutan. (Just a little bit taller).

2. I make up words. I will say something...and Jeff will say, "I don't think that's even a word". I figure, if I said it, it's a word. If there is no definition of it, I can pretty much use it however I like. If there is a definition of it, and it's completely different from how I used it, I file that away as a lesson learned.

3. When I am singing in my car...I. Sound. AWESOME. I mean, seriously. You wouldn't even believe it.

4. Fall, to me, means new TV shows. Also, it means that new shows on DVD will become available for sale. I LOVE TV on DVD. It makes me happy.

5. I'm having a lot of WTF moments while reading Breaking Dawn. For fear of spoiling anything for anyone, that's all I will say.

6. I hate my hair. Hate, hate, HATE it. Even though it is my own fault, I am reminded each time that I look in the mirror, that I have the worst hair in the world. And it makes me sad, every time.

Okay, there are my six random things. Not overly interesting, sure. But totally random. As for picking people to tag next, I'm going to let you all off the hook. Basically, I think everyone has done this already...but should you feel like doing it, I'll be the first to blog-stalk you and make a comment. Cause, I really love hearing random things about people. Usually, those are the only things I can remember. Later dudes.

Okay, I'm changing my mind. I TAG KELLI. Now wow us all.

two thoughts.

Okay, so there are a couple of things weighing heavily on my little mind. First off, I'm rarely affected when celebrities die. I was sad about Heath Ledger, because let's face it...he was hot. Also, after seeing Dark Knight, I am convinced he was coming into his acting prime. That's just a waste, you know? But I'm sad today about Bernie Mac. I don't really know why...it's not like I'm a Kings Of Comedy aficionado or anything, but I did think he was funny. I actually liked the Bernie Mac show, and all his little parts in the "Oceans #" movies and Tranformers were quite fabulous, I thought. Also, I remember hearing a couple weeks ago that he went into the hospital because of Pneumonia...and thinking, "he'll be out in a week...no one dies of that anymore". Sad.
The second and completely unrelated thought is I HATE that stupid, dumb Katy Perry song: "I kissed a girl". It's on every single radio station in the state...and I find it pathetic that she's getting so much recognition for it. Because, hello, IT'S BEEN DONE BEFORE! It's not like she's breaking new ground, or anything. The same song, the same gist, was recorded in the '90s by Jill Solibule or something...I don't know how to spell her name. I supposed if she hadn't written and sung about the same exact experience then I'd have to give Katy Perry some credit for being ballsy enough to put it out there. But this is just flagrant recycling. Come on, people. In the words of Syndrome, it's "lame, lame, lame, lame, LAME!" My question is though, is it everywhere that this song is big? Or is it just Utah? I mean, surely there is more chart worthy stuff, somewhere, right?
Anyway, I just had to enlighten you all. Happy Monday. That is all for now.

I got friends.

I just wanted to say thanks to all of you that commented in my time of need. I feel better knowing that most moms don't feel like mothering is easy, and that making all the decisions, everyday, isn't as cut and dry as some people make it out to be. Now I feel more normal, less stressed, and validated. Also, hearing that I'm a fabulous mother from all of you was a nice pat on the back. I may have to print out the comments section and frame it...just so others can "accidentally" see it when they visit my house. (I'm sure I'll come up with some covert, believable excuse as to why there are three copies sporadically placed in different areas of my home, plated in glass). Just kidding. Kind of. Like I said, to all you: thanks, I appreciated it.
Also, thanks to my husband for not only continually telling me to "not even think about it", and threatening to go punch the previously posted-about person in the face. (Now if THAT'S not a true example of manliness, I just couldn't tell you what is). Also, thanks to him for helping me figure out the problem I had with posting more links to blogs that are fabulous. Er, apparently when you type in the number of people that it can show, it WILL ONLY show that number of links. I mean, who knew, right? I just couldn't have been more surprised. (Or non-computer savvy). So, sorry to all that were thinking I had intentionally snubbed them. It just turns out that I'm a complete moron, and this shouldn't be news to anyone, really.
Lastly, I wanted to apologize for the last bit of my last post. Namely the part when I went off about everything disgusting me, and sounding very much like a "Man Hater". I don't hate men. I mean, remember all my boyfriends? I don't even hate men that read Guns 'N' Ammo magazine, even though I mentioned it. I was just on a rant...and usually when that happens, I use whatever example that pops into my head at that moment. No, this isn't a good quality, and yes, I'm aware that I should probably think more often before I write. However, I don't. When I'm mad, I go for the jugular. Jeff gets on the receiving end of this bad habit quite often, and it's not fair, and I should be able to exercise some control by now. But I don't/can't. Or, I've failed in all my attempts so far, I should say. I'll continue to work on it.
Anyway, I'd like to be confident enough in myself to say I don't usually doubt...but that would be a lie. I do try to get over it, and be better, because if I continually worry about what kind of person I am, I feel myself shut down and start to panic. Doubting myself as a mother and a wife though, is worse because instead of only me, it involves the people I love most. Long story short, it's really nice to have friends and family that are willing to comfort and console me. So thanks all. Next time I have an emotional issue, I'll make sure I post so you can make feel better about myself. :)
Just kidding. Sort of.

Cowboy Up.

(Photo by Cole)








I've been thinking a lot about something that was said to me recently. Something that I wouldn't have been able to deal with regularly, however, now that I'm pregnant, can't handle at all.
I won't say who exactly said it, because as you all know, I am NOT a gossip. (Two minutes out of each day, anyway). This happens to be one of those two minutes, so I'll not mention names...but I will give you the gist of everything. Anyway, first things first. I will own up to a lot of things about myself that aren't exactly happy or shiny things. Namely, and most obviously, my chubbarrificness, and my mental instability. After years of struggling with these downsides to my overall person, I'm finally coming into understanding that these are things I can't exactly change, but things I can continually work on. Also, they are both easier to joke about, than cry about when I have to face reality. So I will be the first to admit that I have quite a few negative aspects...this is okay. This is I think normal, as most people have a quirk or idiosyncracy or just plain embarrassing fact about them that isn't something they share in first introductions.
There is one thing that I can't be flip about. It's so important to me that when questioned by others, I usually am reduced to tears...because I just can't stand the possiblity that this is true. It's the famous good mom vs. bad mom debate. Am I a rotten mother? I hope not, I seriously do. That being said, I will admit that some days I have no patience. There are days that I sit and read and don't do anything motheresque. There are days that the whining of my children sounds like nails on a chalkboard to me, and I feel a headache coming on, and the only way I can get around it is to take a nap. Obviously these aren't my best days...these are days that I would never even be considered as a great mom. But, am I a ROTTEN mother? Do I neglect them? Am I turning them into serial killers or sociopaths because of my personal breakdowns? For the most part, I don't think so. Sure, I feel massive amounts of guilt, because I see other moms that have double the kids I do, that work, and that seem like they always have everything together. But that's not me. It's unfortunate for my children, truly. But I'm being realistic.
Anyway, I have been accused of ruining my son. Apparently, he's too much of a "momma's boy", and he spends way too much time with me. In this, I have basically erased all manly characteristics that he may have developed by...by what? By being with his dad all the time? By playing with the kids in the neighborhood? I will admit that he loves me. I will admit that his attention to me makes me happy. That when he and Riley come up to me and give me a hug or tell me they love me, that's the making of my day. But I was told that this is wrong. (Note: Riley is fine. Because she's a girl, she can spend time with me without turning into that freakshow that eats her boogers and scabs and will never have any friends. That, at least, is a relief). That he's not out there swinging sticks around and tearing grasshoppers apart and calling other kids names that are demeaning and rude, means he's going to have severe problems. So, because of this, I'm setting him up to be the picked on kid. In turn, he'll have no self-esteem, and then he'll act out, and then he won't have any friends, because everyone else will think he's weird and have some kind of unnatural love affair with his mom. Some of these things were actually mentioned as the "not named" accuser was trying to make their point. I, instead of saying something somewhat coherent, started crying and doubting myself like a little beyotch.
The problem is, I really worry about who my kids are going to turn out to be. I want them to know that as cliche as it sounds, they truly can do anything. That no matter who they are, I love them and am proud of them, and they constantly amaze me with their love and kindness and brilliance. But sometimes I'm reduced to that crying girl--the one that is so completely scared that I'm ruining two perfect little beings, by all the poor decisions I make. When someone else other than me points it out, it's all that much worse. So I guess my question is, what can I do to ensure that my little boy is comfortable being a sensitive guy, and yet, be that man that everyone expects him to be? I've seen so many examples of "men" that just disgust me. I find that Jeff is the best example to Cole, because he's kind and he's smart and he's thoughtful and yet, he's not afraid to do things that "true men" just don't do...according to the guns and ammo magazines. But Jeff can't be here constantly, because he's out there, supporting us. And so he's with me, day in and day out, and it's been said to me that I've completely dropped the ball. How do I cowboy up? All the suggestions I hear disgust me, because there's no way I want my son to turn into that boy that's just a jerk, and so often idolized because he's the epitome of what men are supposed to be like. So, like I said, let me know. I'll probably cry about it, but I'll try to see the other side, too. Just don't tell me I'm a rotten mom...because that's where I draw the line.

That Time Again.

So last Thursday I had to go register Riley and Cole for school. Actually, I was about four months late for registering Cole...I guess I was supposed to go do that stuff in April, however, I didn't get the paper that was in Riley's abyss of a backpack that told me the information. I actually called their school on Monday, just to ask if there would be another time to do it, and found out that later in the week was the day to register the kids, or they would miss out on their first day of school. So after I filled out endless amounts of paperwork and such, they will now let both my children occupy some of their space. Hopefully. A Kindergarten teacher took Cole aside and "tested" him. I was a little worried because I haven't worked with him the way I should have this summer. I was too busy complaining about being pregnant. Anyway, while I was busy trying to find addresses for our dentist and doctor, Riley sat next to me, and Cole was hopefully "Wowing" the teacher testing his abilities. So when he was returned, about ten minutes later, there were only two logical explanations. Either he showed extreme genius and showed her he knew all, or he didn't do very well. I'm afraid to say, it was the latter. She looked a bit concerned, and I asked how he did. Apparently he only counted to five....and I know that he can at least count to ten...usually to twenty. And then he "showed no recognition" of any of the alphabet. We worked and worked on it before Riley got out of school...and he was doing well. But like I said, this summer I completely dropped the ball. I did find it confusing that he hadn't retained ANY knowledge of letters.
As it turned out, actually, he did. I went to the dollar store and bought some alphabet flash cards and Jeff's been working with Cole the past couple of nights. Cole went from only recognizing and naming three of the letters and then two days later, knowing 24 letters without help. I guess when he went in to test he got some fruit snacks, and decided that he'd rather eat WITHOUT having to think. I have to admit, that sounds like something I'd do as well. From then on, he'd decided he was done. The woman that tested him mentioned "special classes" or the possibility of "all day kindergarten".
Really all he needed was the reality of actually having to KNOW this material. Before he just kind of thought it was all a joke. Now each night he goes through numbers and the alphabet with no problems. Occasionally, some mistakes, but no problems. This is typical "Cole", however. He decides when he wants to get serious about something. I worry about this. I worry about him going to school and the teacher saying something like: "Okay, this is the way we write an 'E'." and then Cole, because he's Cole, will say, "No it's not." Just because he wants to say that, and just because he refuses to believe that's the only way to write an E. This is just an example, of course, but typical of my son. He refuses to believe that he HAS to conform to anything. In school, this is a personality trait that just may cause some problems. Not that I really want to discourage it, because I think it's very important to his learning process to question everything the way he does. But I do want him to be polite, and eager to help his teacher make her job as easy as can be. I mean, he's my son, so I love how he does everything...I love how his mind works, and how he questions. But I also know how taxing it can be on my patience. Given both the facts that a teacher has to deal with approximately twenty other children with their own personality quirks, and that they are not inherently loved because of biological bonds, I worry that he'll drive his teacher to insanity. I've found this with Riley. Everyone that knows her knows what a soft-spoken girl she is. What a GOOD girl she is: polite, smart, kind, beautiful, and sweet. At school, she's a completely different person. She's boy crazy and giggly and bossy and still kind and still good, but has hardly any control over her own actions. Normally, she is all control...but at school, with friends, it's different for her. However, I can see how she enjoys the freedom of being someone else, someone she chooses to be. I can also see how it drives her teacher batty. Especially after the eighth time of telling her to pay attention. I guess my point is, even though you take the time, (or in my case with Cole, don't), to teach your kids the things they need to know, and to teach them how to act or behave....they ultimately are their own people. This is a relief to me, as much as it's nerve-wracking. I want both Riley and Cole to keep surprising me with the people they are. And keep impressing me with the people they are. When I imagined having a family, there were all these rules and steps we'd all follow. But the fact is, I'm dealing with individuals, and I'm still learning that this gives you all these wild cards that consistently and shockingly show up. It's scary, and it's wonderful. Just like my kids. Just like being a parent. So as school starts, I have to try to remember that though they're going to be trying my and their teacher's patience, they are learning, and they are becoming their own people. Once again, it's time to start the process...and I'm excited. I know they won't dissapoint.

A bit of this, a little of that.

Hooooowwwwdy Ho. I am basking in the glow of my smug happiness. With my last post, not only did I get to vent, get affirmation on my feelings, and get a response from my husband, whom tears my heart out with his silence each time I put grueling effort into a good read, but MAIDA COMMENTED ON MY BLOG. (Don't be hate'n playas). In a perfect world, this wouldn't cause me gloat and say in so many words,"Na-nana-nanan-na! " But most if not all of you know the real me, and I have to point out that I just massively rock. That being said, I will be ending my bragging rights now...for a while, anyway. (Okay, I realize the possibility is high that Maida just decided to become part of the Anderson commenters, because a lot of us have said that comments are what make this whole posting-on-our-blogs, worthwhile. But I still have to point out, because I'm THAT person, that my blog is where it all began. BFF Maida!)
Anyway, this was a good week. Not just because of the previous statements, however fabulous they may be, but....just because? I mean, in all honesty, I was still grouchy a few days, and I had my "crying" day on Saturday, and I think I started a bit early on Friday night, but still. All in all, it was better than average. Just the fact that I'm saying this means there is hope for me. Hope for the next drug-free about sevenish months...(cause, you know, I have to feed little Sydney for a while after she comes, and though I don't do it for as long as recommended, I figure she'll have two older siblings to fill her in on how it was still a HUGE sacrifice for the entire family), anyway, that these next months can be overcome. Maybe not entirely happily so, but overcome, just the same. Am I an adult, or what? I'm a giver. That's what I am. Maybe Jeff should paint a mural of me...with one of those otherworldly haloes around my head, while I smile off into the distance. That's how I'm feeling.
To be fair, though, I was a bit pissy on Saturday. Until I got the kitchen, and made the kids get the living room, under control. I took a picture today of what our weekends look like. The kids work all week to try not to be whiney, or fight, or just bratty in general to get "bedtime points". For those of you that don't know what they are, it's just Jeff's and my way of ensuring that we can watch our shows in peace around 9:30pm. Technically, we try to start around 8:30, but realize there will be at least five interruptions of MASS IMPORTANCE before they finally are convinced that should they push our buttons one more time, they will forfeit any bedtime point we were willing to give. In turn, they redeem their bedtime points--they each must have at least four, (one for each night), for an evening of freedom in the living room, where they have full access to the fridge, movies, and bedtime is whenever and wherever they crash. (They just know that Jeff and I still require our time for shows, and that though we are more lenient on Friday nights about their constant interruptions, we still get grouchy after the tenth one. And yes, there is always at least a tenth interruption). Anyway, as you can see, our home quickly turns into a dumping zone when they are allowed their full redemption of bedtime points. It seems that EVERY toy they have in their room makes its way to the living room floor, along with blankets, pillows, snacks, water bottles, etc. It's enough to make me feel like strangling everyone, however, it's also a terriffic bargaining tool, so I have to take the good with the terrible. (Also, I had to take a "tame" picture of the floor, because I'm just too embarrassed of this pigsty to let you all know what kind of squalor we live in during the weekends).
And though we try to give the children some rewards for keeping themselves in check, like all chaos, there are severe downsides. The floors are usually so covered in previous metioned stuff that favorites are often damaged in the mess...because Cole likes to throw stuff, Riley likes to lay on top of everything, and neither of them want to pick up anything unless I'm threatening not to make any breakfast/lunch/dinner/or snacks the next day. So Friday night Riley rushes into our room with one of her Littlest Pet Shop toys. Cole evidently threw it for NO reason, and it's head broke off. I was actually quite impressed with Riley's ability to keep herself together. (Afterall, this time it was her little black spider, and for the record, it is well-loved). The tears were there, her voice was warbly, but she held it in, while Jeff inspected the damage, and told her, "I'll see what I can do". Now this is always amazing to me...because I grew up in a house where Mom was overjoyed to throw all our crap away, and I completely picked up on it. The kids now know that if they show me anything that is slightly damaged, my reply will either be, "then toss it"(my foremost and favorite), or "just wait
till your dad gets home and ask him". Which always works better on both Riley and Cole. Lately it's kind of gotten to the point that if Jeff isn't here, they'll show me the damage for a little bit of sympathy, and then tell me that they're "just going to wait until Dad gets home, and he'll probably fix it."
I usually look at their damaged stuff and think to myself, "yeah right. That's never getting fixed". But Jeff always impresses me. He's the guy that used to sew, actually sew Riley's rubber Polly Pocket clothes after they'd been torn by her jamming their little sharp feet in too hard. Eight stitches into a Polly Pockety rubber bathing suit top is no small feat, I will attest. I tried it once, and got so mad that I had Riley crying and me swearing while tearing Polly's shawl in half because it was just too difficult. (I was even on my meds at the time--yes, it's true).
So I looked on while Riley was showing us what I thought was the end of her little black spider, and was surprised when Jeff promised he'd fix it the next day. Sure enough, I heard the drill going in the afternoon, and thought he was making some home improvements. But at a closer look, found that he was fixing Riley's toy. And apparently, he'd made the same alterations to a transformer earlier this week, for Cole. Crazy enough, they just don't bounch back when you twist their little machine arms all the way around. (So take that, all my in-laws that are making major home rennovations. My husband puts his extra time and energies into working on my children's endless supply of toys).
You may ask why I posted that entire story, but this is my life, so take it or leave it. I also wanted to point out, in my skewed way, how much I think of Jeff. How just in these little, trivial things I see how much he loves my babies and me. So I have to kind of brag about it, because I'm a braggart, and I enjoy it so much. (Just in case you hadn't noticed).

"Secrets, secrets...they're no fun. Secrets, secrets...could hurt someone". --an antecedent taught to me by Kassie Sanders in the eighth grade.

Okay, most of you that read my blog have a signifigant other. So I feel that you have a clue as to what I feel for Jeff. He's my best friend, he's my confidant. Also, he's a lot of other things that I won't mention, because that's just something you don't write for all relatives/friends to read about. Anyhoo, I wanted to know what your opinions are on this.
I had an event in my life where I was "sworn to secrecy". Now, the person that did it may or may not ever feel that he or she can ever trust me again, but I have to put this out there....I acted in ignorance, apparently. Or Not?
So, despite that I took the oath that I WOULD NOT TELL ANYONE, I told this secret to Jeff. In all honesty, I didn't think that for a second, this would be wrong. Yeah, occasionally I start stories around certain people with, "Don't tell Jeff this, but....", for the most part though, if it did made it back to Jeff, somehow, I wouldn't be overly surprised.
Bah, now I'm all over the place. But I had to get you to see that I'm not just completely untrustworthy, just questioning what the definition of that truly is. Does that even make sense?
I told Jeff because of the reasons I have listed before, and the fact that except for when I'm pregnant, I just feel like he's a more manly extension of me. (Pregnancy changes this for obvious reasons, and those of you that have seen me lately, will know what I'm talking about). But when I talked to him about not telling anyone else, he asked me why, and I told him, "because it was a secret". So then he says, "So why did you tell me?"
Why indeed. This is where my whole theory is questioned. He then proceeds to tell me that he's been sworn to secrecy about something for the past two weeks, and hasn't told me, so.... And just like that, I am PISSED.
For those of you that know Jeff, you should also know that this turn of events would be completely opposite if the tables were turned. If I admitted that I'd been keeping a secret from him, not only would he be hurt that I didn't tell him, but he would not be above implementing various forms of torture on me, to get the entire story...no matter how small, or unimportant. So for those of you that wait with baited breath, wondering whether or not I got the full scoop, I did. I simply reminded him of what he'd do if I had merely said the same words to him. (And, for the record, it wasn't that interesting). My point is, though, don't other couples do this? I guess I just figured that's the way it is....Jeff is my link to the "outside" world. "Outside", in it's simplest form meaning, "Not Entirely About Riley and Cole, and What I Did at The House All Day". So if I've got something to talk about, something I thought was funny, or something that I heard, or some sort of idea that may have just popped in and then popped out, further supporting my hypothesis of mental instability, I'm going to tell him about it. I know Jeff, and I know that he's not going to tell everyone as soon as I'm out of earshot...but someone please, is my view of this completely skewed?
So I just need to know how OTHER couples do this. Do you keep stuff from your spouse? Just little or big stuff? (Note: This doesn't include stuff that you forget to tell your spouse, or stuff so trivial that you just don't think about it again until something that triggers your memory....I mean, SECRETS). Am I just a whiny, insecure baby that thinks if Jeff keeps anything from me, that something is "off" with us? Now that I write that, I see how lame that makes me, but...it's the way I feel. Cole actually came down to get a water bottle for bed, and overheard me asking Jeff why he would keep a secret from me? And didn't say anything about what we were talking about, just took his water and went back to his and Riley's room.
The next night, however, Kelli and Kyle watched the kids while Jeff and I went to Dark Knight....(we hadn't been to a movie together since our anniversary in January, so thanks Kelli and Kyle for making that possible). When we got home, Kelli told me that Cole had said something weird to her, and with Cole, this is not only totally possible, but expected, so I asked her what is was. She said that he came up to her and said, "Do you keep secrets from Kyle?" I kind laughed and told her our entire ordeal...(BUT NOT THE SECRETS)!
So this is my question for you all: "Do you keep secrets from: (Insert signifigant other here)?