Little Tiff's wedding

See how much fun they're having? Meanwhile I'm getting grass stains on my butt. So, my husband and kiddies are boating right now. But, I'm here with my sisters. While Muff makes magic happen. Wedding pictures magic, that is. I'm technically supposed to be helping like Lora is--but I just wanted to blog, instead. I still have other pics to explain from my last post, I know...however in this I'm a bit clueless--and playing with my phone just seems a lot more doable.

Random photos from the last few weeks. I'll explain more, later.

Hypothetically Speaking.

Caution: At this point in time I'm not only under extreme stress, but irrationally PMSal, and of the belief that "it always takes one, to know one". So, just a little warning.
There are a few free passes in the English language where you're entitled to be completely honest....regardless of the backlash. And one of them, as far as I'm concerned, is the phrase, "hypothetically speaking".

(Before I get to that, though, I'd like to tell my old friend Sarah Baker that I really enjoyed meeting her adorable son and husband last Sunday. Despite our many nests of wasps in the backyard and the fact that they attacked her child, I had a lot of fun reminiscing of old times, and catching up on new ones. You look great Sarah! Thanks for stopping by, and you're welcome to do so anytime you're in the area. And I hope that Timmy isn't physically and emotionally scarred forever).

Okay, back to my semi-pessimistic rant. You see, this has been weighing on me, lately. I've been dealing with my own extremes of stress, as we all do, and yet, life goes on. I'm still expected to juggle my everyday stuff and have obligations that continue, regardless of where I am "emotionally". Again, like we ALL do. And these are some vague examples of what kinds of trials I've been coming across. For my personal journal. (As you can tell, this will be a long, drawn out post. You may want to skip it. This is the final warning).

Getting to my point. When starting a question with the words, "Hypothetically speaking", basically you're alleviating yourself of any responsibility for anything you're about to say. Does that make sense? You're essentially saying, "Say this happens". And in reality, it HAS happened, and usually it's happened to you or someone you're close to, but you can pretend that you're the third party that's just happened to overhear everything, and is casually concerned about all possible outcomes.

For instance. Hypothetically speaking, what if you know someone that is as ignorant as you are politically, however, that person makes accusations and overly dramatic statements that they insist are absolute truth? Would you think that person is a hypothetical "dumb ass"? I would.



And hypothetically speaking, what if someone tells you that essentially, you're an idiot? Because you're doing something that they do ALL the time, but would never admit to--not in a million years. Would you consider that person a hypocrite? Cause I would.

Say you know an adult that is beyond childish. One that you can barely stand to be around because of their incapacity to be rational. Hypothetically speaking, is there anyway to tell them nicely that being around them just gives you a ginormous headache? Hypothetically speaking, of course, I'd really like to know.


And if you know someone that requests and commands by using guilt, hypothetically speaking, is it safe to assume that they should be avoided at all costs? And deemed untrustworthy, because they will just try to play on your emotions to get you to do what they think you should? Without giving any concern as to something like....it being your life and maybe you should be able to make your own decisions and happiness?


So...yeah. If I were saying these things to someone's face, it could be considered rude, or disrespectful, or me just trying to cause trouble and hurt feelings. But all these instances are hypothetical, you see. So I can't really be held responsible for how someone will take all the questions I just hypothetically asked. Or can I? You can be the judge. Have a good week, suckas. And you should really try to avoid instances/people that just bring you down and make you miserable. If, hypothetically speaking, you know anyone like that.

Anne Rice--You Suck.

Okay, you see this picture? You see Spike's face? This is the reaction to Anne Rice saying that her vote for Sexiest Vampire (kindof) Alive is Bill, from True Blood.
WHAT?! Apparently she hasn't even READ the books, by Charlaine Harris, so this opinion is based on her watching the show, only. SHE WAS SUPPOSED to be a leader of the vampire empire! Is this the result of her becoming "Christianized" all of a sudden? Or has she, to put it nicely, just let herself go? Needless to say, I'm pretty convinced she's now senile.

Tribute.

This is not the greatest post in the wo-orld. This is just a Tribute. Because my Jeffrey is so in tune with yours truly, he'll appreciate that. However, he doesn't appreciate this picture--he says he hates it. But I'm a fan...and this is my post. So he can just deal, because he never asks me whether or not he can use certain pics when he sabotages my blog...so there. Anyway, getting to my point.

A few months ago Jeff surprised me with a Mother's Day post. And it was...awesome. He was sweet and kind and praising. I will point out that love is blissfully blind a lot of the time, but he made me feel loved, nevertheless. So when Father's Day came around, I couldn't bring myself to write a post to him, it was too much pressure. Not because I didn't have anything to say, but because I didn't want to HAVE to come up with something...something good. Does that make any sense? I wanted it to be sincere. Not something just for Father's Day. I wanted to have time to really think.

So, just to clarify it's not like I had to have a couple months to figure out some nice stuff to say about my husband or anything like that...I just wanted whatever I said to be sincere, and a surprise. So...surprise, Jeff. Not only am I starting this off with a picture that you told me you hate, but now I'm going to go into some from-the-heart stuff that will probably embarrass you.

We watched the movie, Coraline, today. As a family. I don't want to give anything away, but one of the main points of the story was being happy with your family--regardless of the fact that they aren't perfect. And, let me assure you, this isn't me saying I'm satisfied with Jeff even though he's not perfect....this was about Riley and Cole looking to Jeff and I and saying that they love Jeff and me...that they're so happy with us, even though sometimes we suck as parents. (They even left that last part out). And I say that mainly because of myself. Because sometimes I'm not patient or the best listener, or willing to use my imagination for hours on end. Yet, my little ones still love me. And Jeff. And they still say--actually say that we're the best parents and they'd never want anyone else. Hearing that makes everything worthwhile for me.

Anyway, I started thinking about that...how just hearing it now and then makes everything worthwhile, and realized I was ready to post some severe mush and gush to my better half. But before I get to that, a lot about me.

I kind of want to explain myself. I realize that some of you reading this aren't fortunate enough to see/interact with me on a regular basis. Some of you are, and wouldn't go as far as describing all your time with me as "fortunate". So for those of you that are like, "What? Aren't you perfect in every way?" I'll fill you in on a couple of things--and shake your very foundation. I'm not easy to live with. Sometimes I get pissed, and I'll honestly have a reason. Sometimes I will be grouchy and irritable just cause I can. And then when I feel like being nice and when I feel like being fun, I can do that, too. But usually it's on my terms. And living with me, I know is hard because you never know what to expect. Am I going to be fun, happy Rainey? Or am I going to be paranoid, pessimistic, nagging, poor-me Rainey that has a big chip on her shoulder for no apparent reason, but it's there? Who knows? Sometimes I don't even know...this can change over the time period of a couple hours. I like to joke about it, and remind you that I'm "complex", or "complicated". But when we get down to brass tacks it's really just that I'm an unbalanced and an emotional tailspin that can bring my entire family down with me.
I'm telling you all this NOT so you can be like, "Oh Rainey, it's not that bad!" or, "We all have days like that!", or "You're over-exaggerating!". Because those of you that have seen me at my worst know that what I'm saying about myself is true. I'll make myself feel better by saying that I do try to control it, but in all honesty, sometimes those crazies that I keep bottled up just find a way to escape, and hurt whomever is nearby.
K....so, the point in telling you all that? It's this: Jeff puts up with this on a daily basis. Especially now that he works outside of the house only two days a week. Sometimes I don't have that extra time to "pull myself together" or "focus on the positive", before he sees that I'm having a hard time dealing with my issues. (Usually because I not so nicely tell him that I'm having a crap day and I need to get out of the house).
It's taken a while, but he's become that guy that treads lightly. I hate that I've done that to him. At the same time, I really appreciate him taking that on himself. He diverts my aggressions from the kids--if I have to be a completely horrible person, he's there to take me on. He's there to tell me to go take a nap, or go to Walmart and get some groceries, or ask me if I need some time in our room just to myself. He sees that change in me, he knows I hate it, but it's something that shows it's ugly head every now and then. He's very good about making it as un-obvious as possible that I'm out of control and just need to simmer down. (Because if he actually said it like that, I'd probably turn into a hideous monster, much like the Hulk. Only much scarier).
You see how scary that is? I mean, this is that relationship where Jeff is actually the abused spouse. Words can hurt...and I can say some really terrible things. And sometimes I do. I'm not saying, "look what I can get away with", because I know deep down that no one can put up with that abuse for too long...but this is me being completely honest and telling you that sometimes I even hate being around me.

For those of you that DO get a chance to be around me, you know that when we get together Jeff is the butt of a lot of my "Men" jokes. Last weekend we went and played games with in-laws and I told some less-than-shining moments that Jeff occasionally has, just to get a laugh. Because I'm a laugh-whore. And though sometimes I know it hurts him a bit, I find myself not being able to control it; afterward hating that I made him feel embarrassed or taken for granted.
For instance, I'll say something like, "Oh, Jeff doesn't let me go to bed until like, 3 am in the mornings. And then I'M the one that has to get up with Syd at 7:00." Then I go off about how he has ruined my sleep schedule, and how if I'm grouchy it's his fault, and so on and so forth. Not once does he mention that I sometimes just lie awake not being able to sleep because my anxiety is keeping me up and I'm just too focused on meaningless things to sleep. So he stays up with me. Or I'll tell everyone about how I don't get nearly the help I need cleaning the house...even though like right now, I'm on my butt in front of the computer. And he has never told one of my stories that would definitely coax a laugh and probably a shudder of fear at the same time like, "Oh yeah? Well Rainey got SO pissed that all the frozen food items wouldn't fit into the freezer the other day, that she had to lock herself in the bathroom to calm down after we all watched her slam the door on our food a couple times. Spilling all the frozen vegetables on the floor and ruining the Eggos."

Anyway, this post is turning out to be all about me...and that's not my intent. I just wanted you all to see that I am so lucky to have Jeff. To prove that he works hard at the day to day of just being around me. That he's kind and patient and tries to understand when and why I'm so rotten. That even though I'm sure that I'm a nightmare a lot of the time, he makes me feel pretty. He makes me feel loved, and he never makes me feel bad about who I am. Even the psychotic parts. He is our children's best friend. They know that should anything happen, anything at all, they can tell him. Even if it's telling on me. And though I joke about NOTHING in our house happening without being tattled on, I'm grateful. Riley, Cole and Syd know that he's fair and he thinks things through, and he's level-headed enough that he can handle anything. This is something I can't give them. I couldn't be as reliable as Jeff is. And this is one of the many things that I need from him, too. I can tell him anything....and he's patient, and he tries to understand and think about it. I know that when he tells me something, it's not with the rash impatience that I would answer with. He's thought about it, and he's considerate of what it might mean to me.

I love Jeff. He's my best friend. He gave me my babies. And I still think he's the sexiest man I've ever seen...and he just keeps getting more so. If there were words to describe how great, how wonderful, how perfect he is for me...without sounding completely brainwashed and weird, I would use them. But like I said, this is just a tribute. A lot of the same stuff you've heard before, but stuff that always means something, no matter how often you hear it.
LOOOOOVE YOU BAAAAAYBEYYYY!

Hmm....

So I was picking up Jeff's and my room, while Jeff was lying on our bed, as he threw his back out about five hours previously. (Somehow, as you get older, this seems to happen more and more frequently and it's totally random). Jeff threw Sydney up in the air a couple times to show me how much she loves it and how much it makes her laugh, and afterward, couldn't walk anymore. This caused us to both be in the same area at the same time, and making us completely vulnerable to Cole's ever inquiring mind.

Cole: "Dad, what do scientists actually do, if they don't really make Hulks?"


Jeff: "Well, Scientists..."

By then Cole was already gone. As far as he was concerned the explanation was probably impossible and apparently boring.

But, as far as I'm concerned, a pretty valid question.

She's crafty.

So, yes, I'm talking about me. And yes, you all know that in fact I am NOT crafty, however, this last weekend I tried to be. You see, a grand prize was on the line, and my competitive streak kicked in. As I was working with my glue gun and scraps of paper the song "she's crafty" kept running through my mind. From Beastie Boys License to Ill album. Ahhh....good times. Thus, my post title.
Anyhoo, I thought I would tell my little story of how being completely pathetic can make winners out of us all. A "feel good moment" for those of us that aren't good at anything. Most of you have no idea how this feels...but I'm a regular in the circle of the talentless. And btw, this is a looong, post that may be a good distraction from your everyday work regime. So if you get so bored that you want to die while reading, no offense here. I got that way a couple of times as I was typing, however by that time I'd already invested WAY too much time to quit. Much like this entire experience.
I was invited to a "garden party" last weekend. As I'm not of the regular party-going crowd I wasn't sure what all a garden party entails. One thing in particular though, was that we were to make a hat for the occasion. And there would be a prize for the best hat there. My original plan was to do something along the lines of a princess hat....like the big cone with the streamer coming out of the top. I felt like that was something I could maybe handle. So I began gathering my materials...because I refused to go buy stuff. Because I'm cheap. I had all these toilet paper and paper towel and Christmas wrap rolls that I'd been saving because the kids said they'd wanted to be spiders for Halloween this year. And then a couple weeks ago changed their minds. So, instead of taking them to the recycle bin, I decided they would be my "raw materials".

I started out with the cardboard rolls. About three wrapping paper ones and a couple paper towel and toilet paper. This is what I ended up with:


Jeff and I had a few laughs. It was obvious that even the cone/streamer design was too complicated for me to handle, so I just began "feeling" my way along. This is usually par for the course when I try making something. Forget directions. I hate directions. Directions involve me doing reading I just don't feel like doing. But this time, I couldn't admit defeat. I couldn't let some paper hat kick my trash. So I soldiered on. After hours of work, umteen sticks of glue through my glue gun and tons of paper later, I ended up with this:

Obviously it was ugly. My sister had sent me a couple pics of her hat, which was cute and supposedly "Derby-ish". Something I later found out is desirable in the hat-making scene, though I'm still not sure what exactly it means. I won't tell exactly how many hours it took me to get from the previous pictures to this, but rest assured, it was simply pitiful that something that hideous could take so much time. I put it aside and put Syd to bed. She was as pooped as I was, as she had helped me "organize" my supplies all night, which added to my timeline. Jeff and I watched Kill Bill, and I tried not to stress over my lack of creativity.


Saturday morning I got up determined to make my hat cute. I have to say, I'm pretty lucky as far as being a mom goes. Both Riley and Cole told me I did an excellent job on my hat...and they thought it was pretty. Riley even said to me, "Mom, for someone that never really draws stuff or makes stuff, I think you did a really good job". (Honestly, it was a bit of an ego boost to get her approval).
And Cole said it reminded him of something he needed to "meditate with". I'm not exactly sure what that meant, but he's kind of been on a big meditation kick, so I'm sure that he wouldn't meditate wearing something that totally threw off his chi.
Muffy sent more hat pictures. And they ticked me off. (Meaning it was cute. Her hat said: garden party, and mine was a oval-esc paper hat with more paper hot glued onto it....in the shape of something you'd see on a Devo music video). So in order to cuten it up, I cluelessly worked on it off and on all day...pretty much avoiding any type of motherly tasks. And, as previously mentioned, my children and even Jeff supported me. It was hard for Jeff to understand how I could possibly take so much time on something so trivial--something that he could have done in a half hour. But, I am not Jeff.

I figured some bows would pretty it up. But obviously that was too complicated for me, as well. So after investing more time, I came up with this:

And only had time to make two of them, as I kept failing and burning myself with the hot glue gun. It was time to go show my complete failure to all the garden party attendees. I got dressed and Jeff said that he was going to take my picture, just to document all the time I spent. And then I was on my way.

After meeting up with Muff and getting to our destination, I noticed a few things. One, the back yard that we would be "partying" in, was beautiful. Like, professional garden beautiful. The girl that threw the party is a book-clubbie of ours, and her father did all his own yard work. It was no less than amazing...I've never seen the likes of it. He also loved birds. He had about four different homes scattered throughout his back yard containing parrots, and exotic pheasants and cockatiels.

Two, I was grossly underdressed. I showed up wearing jeans and a T-shirt, while everyone else was sporting cutesy summer wear. Dresses, pantsuits, linen ensembles. And lastly, EVERYONE'S hat was different from my creation. Like, completely different. And I was suddenly too embarrassed to actually show what I had spent my weekend working on. I guessed I missed the whole "Southern Bell" vibe, while everyone else just had the innate knowledge that that was the theme. Somehow I got way off base by ending up with "upside down plant holder".


Some of the lovely ladies of the evening...and I missed taking a pic of the hostess and her mom. (Sorry Andrea!) The party was catered, and candled and lovely and delicious and fancy, and all things that told me I should have made more of an effort. Andrea and her mother, Fran went above and beyond I don't think I have ever taken the time and thought that went into each and every food course, decoration, and little gifts that they showered us all with. So when it was time for party-goers to explain the ideas behind their hats and how they searched for the perfect elements and whatnot, I began to panic. But I finally beat my insecurities down and decided that I was going to use my ONE true talent. My ability to B.S. When asked to see my creation, I went into full "selling it" mode. I suddenly bragged about it being created out of recycled materials, and how I had used toilet paper rolls to create the shape and such. (Something that I'd been embarrassed about before, but took a chance that by bragging about it, I'd convince others that it was just me being "earth conscientious"). And then I sold them on the fact that after I was done with my hat for the evening, instead of throwing it away, turned upside down would make a lovely plant holder, and really, how much more "garden-esc" can you get than that?

So, the end result, my friends, is that I WON THE FABULOUS PRIZE!!! And it was a vote by my hat-making peers, I'll remind you. I won lotions and gourmet popcorn, and candies, and bath salts and flowery stationary and lots of stuff that was well-thought out and good smelling and extra fancy. And the girl that showed up with the gigantic piece of crap wearing the holy jeans and sporting sweat rings under her arms WON!!!!!! Being pathetic and talentless must be a talent all on its own. I am proof. That was my weekend, y'all. Hope yours went just as fabulously!