Beautiful Girls

First of all, I want to tell a beautiful girl I know: "CONGRATULATIONS!!!"  My wonderful childhood friend Moriah is now officially engaged to a man that loves and understands her...and I wish them all the best.  Such great news to wake up to, this morning...perhaps not entirely my news to tell...but it's my blog, so I get to choose the content therein.  And Moriah is pretty particular in what/who she likes, so I'm sure Jason is awesome for her.  So happy for them!

Okay, I just had to start out with that, because it's by far the most exciting thing I will say in this post.  So, if you wanted the new and hip info, you got it.  Now I'm off to one of my usual rants.  
I've been trying to figure out what to post lately.  As you all know by now my life has recently consisted of trying to put our house up for sale, and sick kids, and sick Jeff, and sick me.  Not overly fun...and limiting in my computer time.  I mean, you know how you just continually go to the same sites over and over just to see if anything is new within the last 15 minutes, because you're bored, and there's nothing else to do? Am I the only one that does that? Well, I haven't even been able to do that recently.  I've been busy.  I don't think I've been this busy in a long while.  And it was just about as enjoyable as I'd assumed it would be...which was:  Not very.  
Our house is now officially on the market.  And I have to say, I'm impressed with the way Zip Realty has it pictured.  I was pretty much a wreck until the photographer came and shot most of the rooms and such...and now I can relax.  One good thing our potential buyers will be getting is a new tile kitchen floor.  Yeah, all the years I've been here I've coveted tile in my kitchen, and now we are finally getting it.  Hurray!  Just another reason that should no one show interest in our nest of love, we will be juuuuust fine with staying.  Here's the link to our realty internet site: http://www.Obeo.com/584043

Looks nice, right?  Better than our normal toys-strewn living space, but you can see why overall, we love our home.  (But not our neighbors). Make sure you use the panoramas feature.  That one's my favorite.  

So, in honor of love and engagement, I started thinking about what it all means. Did you ever see the movie, Beautiful Girls?  Yes, it's got Rosie O'Donnell in it, and yes it has some terrible language and an uncomfortable crush on Natalie Portman as a little girl, but it takes place in New Jersey, and that's how they all are.  ;)
Anyway, it's one of my favorites. Basically the plot is-surprise-beautiful girls.  And it kind of goes into the subjects of finding someone that you love, being with them, and enjoying being with them.  This guy is engaged, and he goes home to where he grew up.  And he's trying to find out how to know  when you've chosen the right person.  Does everything have to be perfect like songs and movies portray it?  And what about after the first kid--the sex seems...hurried and lacking in imagination?  And what about other "possibilities"?  I mean, they question fidelity and monogamy and why or if it's important.
So, I won't expose the ENTIRE film, but you now know the gist.  I really love this movie, because it takes a completely huge jab at the expectations of the physical part of relationships and questions everyone has about their perfect someone.  There is so much emphasis on physical beauty in terms of love, today.  But one person's opinion of beauty can be completely different than someone else's.  Like, Uma Thurman is an icon of beauty in our society.  I think she's pretty in an unconventional way, but I've heard she's extremely intelligent, and I think that always immensely adds to someone's physical appearance.   And, you know...some people DON'T think it adds anything but problems. 

{Shameless Reminiscing}
my cousin Randi, me, my sister Lora 
When I dated, and I didn't do it all that often, because it was scary and intimidating, but when I did date, I was never one of the hotties that guys saw and immediately went after.  Never.  Which was sad to me on a lot of occasions, because I had gorgeous friends that usually filled that roll.  I was one of those girls that once a guy got to know me, I became more attractive.  One guy told me that when he first met me, "he didn't notice anything attractive", (nice, huh?), "but when he got to know me I was just...so cool".  Zack from Future Shop.  Remember him, Keri?  Maybe you've come to the right conclusion that this guy wasn't prince charming by any means...but at the time, he was cute.  He was kinda funny, and I liked him. However, him telling me that really hurt my feelings, and I couldn't like him anymore.  I wanted to be that girl that the guy sees from across the room and he's magnetically drawn to her...and they live happily ever after.  
Now I kind of take a pride that that's the girl I was.  When I look back on my romantic adventures, which were few I'll add, I was the one that had to end them.  (Except in third grade when Jared Stafford dumped me after one recess.  I think all the hot 3rd grade girls were sick that day).  
Unfortunately, my taste in guys usually ran in the direction of the desperate and emotionally/mentally unstable...so when I did "end" those relationships...the process usually lasted until I or the guy moved a long ways away. Until Jeff.  I know this is the same story each and every time, but my life before Jeff was really sad and lonely.  I keep wanting to phrase it as: life B.J. (life before Jeff). But that could be taken way out of context.  :)
After Jeff, though...I finally actually understood the main point of Beautiful Girls.  That loving someone isn't always perfect.  It isn't always Valentines Day and kisses and essential oils.  It can be frustrating, and it's watching the one you love being totally vulnerable, and maybe looking less than fabulous at any given time.  
It's taking care of them when they're sick, and giving them time to themselves when they need peace and quiet.  It's respecting them, and wanting what's best for them.  It's being best friends.  It may not be that way for everyone.  I've heard it's not always exactly the same and I don't think that it should be, as we're all different.  But I do know that it's never perfect, and there will always be someone that will say something to you that may make you question your decision to be together...but you'll always know what you need to do.  You just know it.  
Anyway, that's my post.  If I could ensure that everyone would be as happy as I am in their relationships, I would preach continuously that getting engaged, and getting married is what everyone MUST do.  I can't.  But I do know what is possible.  That it IS possible to be so happy that you honestly have those moments each day where you're overwhelmed with all that you have, and your heart is always full where it matters.  Much love to you all.  I hope you have a great week.  
In the meantime, here's a couple a pictures for you to enjoy:

This is proof that Sydney is 100% Jeff's mini-me.  

And these are my nails and my new shoes.  I absolutely love them...and my polish?  Only took two coats, and that's cause I wanted them super dark.  
I told Jeff that today a cute girl commented on my nails.  She said, "I LOVE your nails, they're amazing.  I've never seen pink that hot".  Jeff then asked, "Was she six"?   Uh....Rude.  And yet, I still love him.  See?  And I'm pretty sure I just made my point. 

IALAC

Do you remember this acronym?  Or did you ever do this activity in school?  Sometimes it was my absolute favorite, and sometimes I dreaded that time of year.  Anyway, the gist of it was this:  You made your very own IALAC sign.  You got a sheet of paper, wrote the letters IALAC on it, (meaning I Am Lovable And Capable), and if you were me, drew some beautiful flowers or swirlies around the letters.  Then you taped a string to the sign, and wore it around your neck all day. 

(This person has obviously endured emotional trauma). 
The activity was to wear the sign in class all day...and if anyone was to hurt your feelings you'd tear a piece off of it, the size corresponding with the amount of "hurt" that they'd inflicted. And if someone made you feel good about yourself, you would then glue or tape a little piece of the sign back on.  They don't do this anymore, as obviously it was a LAME idea.  You had the kids that would say mean things to you just to watch you tear your sign up, and then you had people say things that weren't sincere or true in the attempt to help you fix it back up again.  

I remember that one year a girl told me that I was "fat and dumb and I couldn't even play tetherball". I hated her.  3/4 of my beautiful sign was ripped off by first recess.  Yeah, I'm talking about YOU, Amy "Fern" Hulet.  But I have forgiven you now, because I was told a long time ago that you went to college and got really fat.  And everyone there thought you were an enormous b!t@h. And regardless of whether or not that was true, it made it so that I'm not still harboring hard feelings. (In fact, had I been wearing an IALAC sign at the time, I totally would have taped a huge chunk back on). And btw?  I totally kicked your @ss in tetherball, Amy.  And you know it.

Anyhoo, I'll get to my point.  Though the idea was dumb at best, it did leave a lasting impression on me.  In fact, there are times when I get my feelings hurt, or I find out that I hurt someone else's feelings, that I wish there was a sign that told me or who I'm with, what's what.   So I'm trying to be better aware of what I say, and how it affects others.  So that's that.  This post originally started out with me totally ripping into a certain someone...and I thought that maybe I should be nicer.  Well, here I am...being nice.   Boooriiiing.  But I'm growing as a person, right?
New topic. This last week was kind of a nightmare.  Jeff had jury duty Monday through Friday.  Monday through Thursday he was gone for about 6 to 8 hours each day, and then Friday he was gone for 15 hours.  Being used to him being gone a total of 18 hours a week, I was put-out by his absences each day.  Add into the fact that Cole was sick, and then Syd got pink eye in both eyes, and we were trying to get our house ready for our realtor to check out...It was beyond annoying.  I ate a lot of chocolate.  And did a lot of caulking.  And somehow made an already messy house even messier after hours of "organizing".   
All I'm saying is that getting a house ready to sell sucks.  Getting a house ready to sell while having an MIA husband and sick kids, is even worse.  But on the other hand, if we can't sell it, we now have our small home just the way we want it.  So, win-win.  Right? 

Let me say that I do love our house.  And Kass and Amy, if Syd had never come along, we wouldn't be moving for like, 50 more years.  I know our neighbors suck, but I really like it here.  I have met some great people here, and made friends.  So if it turns out that we're here for a while I'm okay with it.  We're a bit scrunched, but in the broad spectrum of things, we can pay for it, and we are happy.  I don't think you can ask for much more than that, you know?  But I still can imagine myself suddenly becoming a millionaire and having like, three rooms all to myself just for my crap.  Even a happy girl can reach for the stars.  

And one last thing:  It was doppleganger week or something on Facebook.  And I couldn't think of anyone that I look like....except maybe Kelli Osborn? I mean, if she still had dark hair and some moles and still ate meat?  I don't know.  I was told recently that I look like Jodi Piccoult. 

And, uh...I didn't see that resemblance at all.  But it got me thinking, we all see ourselves differently than others do, I think. My brother Jason told me that I remind him of Kat Denning, and that wasn't bad at all.  MUCH better than Jodi Piccoult.  What do you think?  Any ideas?  Don't worry, I refuse to wear an IALAC sign ever again, so there will be no physical evidence of crushing my self-esteem. ;)

Happy Monday

So this post will be short, as its from my phone and I need to take the kids to school. And I've been writing novels lately and for some of you, its just WAY too much. We have been trying to get our house ready to put up for sale. This process sucks. I'm worried that people won't be charmed by our quaint little love nest. All this stuff needs to be done and fixed, and my inner clueless-perfectionist is coming out in full, neurotic force. I'm using this picture of Syd to ground me. Because though she's so sweet in it, she hates that hat almost as much as wearing shoes. Yet she still summoned up a smile for me. I'm gonna try being like that this week. If it doesn't work out, then I'll just go back to my pessimistic and complainy self. But at least you all know that I've put forth the effort. And points for trying, right?

Poor Me.

Even though I am this person now, there are still days I truly feel like this person:  

So I'm telling you now, that you may just want to skip this post, as I'm a bit of a sadsack presently, and it may be a total waste of your time.  Honestly?  When I read posts such as this, it just pisses me off.  I mean, I know we all have our days when we feel less than stellar, but I just find people that insist on fishing for compliments..lame.   In fact, there's a certain blog I stalk in which that person does it often.  (Also, this person is very good about telling you why you should compliment them). And, because I would rather do anything than housework, I usually end up reading it--and being overly annoyed with that person.  Yes, I bring it upon myself for being nosy.  (Let me say that I see nothing wrong with fishing for sympathy.  As it's my favorite thing to do.  And I've already admitted on countless occasions that I'm the biggest hypocrite I know).  I don't know why I feel like I need to complain about stuff that really isn't all that particular, but I WILL complain, because that's what I do. 

Anyway, moving on. 
I can't really talk about this with Jeff.  And sometimes that makes me mad.  So I'm typing it out.  And the reason I can't talk about it with him, is because he reacts to me the same way I react to the aforementioned blog.  It just annoys him that I have a really sweet deal, and yet I still find some excuse to feel sorry for myself.  And by feeling sorry for myself, I mean poor me:  I'm getting older.  Poor me:  My childhood was crappy sometimes.  Poor me:  I'm not and never will be a size 6.  Poor me:  I'm not the smartest person in the world.  Poor me:  My face is breaking out and I'm 32 years old.  Believe me, I feel petty.  I KNOW this is petty stuff.  But what I want to know is, do other people feel this way?  I mean occasionally?  Is this just a girl thing?  Do guys do this?  I know there are times when Jeff is mopey, but that's usually because he's been working a bazillion hours and hasn't slept in three days. And he never feels guilty about eating something that he really wanted just then--it's never the embarrassing, pathetic stuff that in my head, seems to be all encompassing RIGHT.  THIS.  SECOND.  I thought I left this behind in High School.  I mean, for the most part, I have but there are still those times that it sneaks up on me.  And then I can't get it out of my head.  Again, like in my childhood when I was a crybaby....I still am, btw, but I have it better under control.  I used to threaten myself that I would punch my own face in if I started crying at that moment.  And no, it didn't work.  Like me trying to control my own lame crybaby, mopey feelings--it seems to just escalate things. 
It's not like I don't have a lot to be responsible for, I have Jeff, and my kiddos, the house, the cars, the lawn, the day to day living stuff, etc. and it keeps me pretty busy, and my concern for these items comes before my own...Unless I'm having one of these times.  Then I'm just, "poor me". 


When I was in high school, I worked at a sandwich place, and my boss was a repugnant pig.  Not only did he brew his own beer and wine in the closet on the premises, but he also would allow all the GIRLS he'd hire, (because he would only hire girls), taste it when it was ready.  Remember Leah? Not about the tasting stuff, about the grossness that was Greg.  Now, this really didn't affect me, because I wasn't one of the girls he was interested in.  I just made sandwiches during the lunch hour, the evenings and weekends.  He hired some beautiful girls, because he wanted them.  And he'd flirt shamelessly, as long as his wife, whom lost more than 100 pounds in order to "save their marriage", stayed away from the shop. 
K.  Now all that information was basically useless, but I had to give a little background before my main point.  

There was one girl in particular that he absolutely doted on.  And this wasn't surprising, because she was doted on by EVERYONE.  She was athletic and smart and what I thought of as truly beautiful.  She was on the "A" team in every sport, and she was in every academic honor, so teachers loved her, too.  Physically, she was tall with a very girly-athletic build, brown hair that was curly and shiny, a big smile and freckles that she hated, but they completely added to her look.  (I am a freckles fan, you see.  Because they're adorable, duh). 

Her name was Brittany Lashley.  She was a couple years older than me, and we weren't friends, by any means...she had her group of friends, was massively popular, and I was younger and awkward and shy and not popular.  Not a lot of things that she was. But when I worked with her, it gave us the opportunity to talk.  To just be people in a place that either had to acknowledge each other, or have a very silent five hour shift that would seem like 30. It was during these times that I think the high school paradigm that I'd created began to shift...because she had everything.  Everyone knew who she was, her family was wealthy and they seemed really put together, and then adding in the previously mentioned stuff, I couldn't find a reason that she'd be the way she was.   

Brittany was like, the least self-confident person I ever met.  And maybe I say that because my expectations were so high that when I found out how she worried and fished for compliments and got upset about the dumbest things ever, it floored me.  Here I was, probably weighing the same amount as she did, and it was NOT athletic muscle, and being about five inches shorter than her, two years younger, not nearly as smart, not as many friends, and no one, except for a few of my close friends gave a crap about how or where I was.  I literally would spend the entire five hours of work telling her that she was worthwhile and no, I didn't think her boyfriend was cheating on her, (though I did and he was), and no, her butt wasn't fat, (it was great, really), and though her honors courses were difficult, she could only do the best she could.  (I think that there were only like 2 honors courses available to seniors at that time, and then they were called "College Prep", so in comparison with real honors courses, they probably didn't).  

And then there was the way Greg, our boss, would drool all over her, and she ate up the attention.  And not that it isn't nice to have someone admire you, but Greg was the equivalent of the scary gas station guy that seems okay until you remember he works in a gas station, and he says something so repulsive to you that you never go there again, even if you're on empty. I don't know, it was just surreal to me, you know?  And it ruined something...I couldn't ever think of her the same way, again.  Instead of idolizing her and thinking she was something extraordinary, I just sorta...pitied her.  Kind of like when you hear that an actor or a model or a comedian gets to this point where people kind of know who they are, and then they kill themselves.  Yeah, that's a really drastic comparison, but my point is, why do we have such a hard time accepting and embracing that that's the best of us, and focus on our worst?  I honestly wonder if it's human nature, or if it's severe lack of self worth, because if there's anything I hate more than anything, it's me being sulky and sad about stuff that is beyond my control, when I have so much to be grateful for that I can't even list it all.  It could be so many things...but I think what would kill me is if I found that I am someone that is made worthwhile by what others think of me.  Because I have no pleasing facts about myself to myself.  Does that make any sense?  Maybe not, as I'm tired...and this post has taken me forever, and if you've given up reading a long time ago, you're more than forgiven because if this weren't about me, I totally would have.  

So I've decided that despite the fact that I'm a wife and a mom, and a woman, and a decision maker, and house cleaner, and grocery shopper, and a car and house taker-carer, I'm also "poor me".  I'm also that person that has to have down times so I can really enjoy my up times.  I'm complicated and weird and still have thoughts and emotions that I don't know what to do with.  But I do believe that I'm good for my family.  Whatever else, I do believe that, and so I really cling to it in times like this. 
Anyhow, thanks for stopping by.  If you did read this novel, I hope you won't be fired from your two hours of non-productiveness.  However, if you do, I'm not going to blame myself.  See how far I've come?  ;)

A few of my Favorite Things.

So I have been meaning to do this post for a while now.  But I kept having to find stuff that would make the cut.  And, I had to weed out that that wasn't as fabulous.  Phew.  Now you all can know true awesomeness.  I'm a giver. But I've told you that. And see how studious I look in my glasses?  Boom.  


I've mentioned my best Wyoming pal, Moriah's website:  http://www.gleegarden.com.
Basically, she gets input from all her friends, famous and non, (I'm unfortunately in the "non" category, but I'm still smokin' cool, obviously), about everything worth knowing about.  Make-up, Jewelry, Gizmos, Decor, etc; there really isn't anything she doesn't cover.  And she updates it daily.  So I read her reviews, and try some things, and lust after others.  It's actually been like watching an infomercial.  But about interesting stuff.  So, I'm copying her.  I can find cool stuff.  I can!  Hide and watch, Suckas. 


Anyhoo, let's get this party started.  So, I have to rave about the series I've been reading.  Yeah, yeah..I know I should just put it under the "what I'm reading" category to the side of my blog, but these books are deserving of something more.  Firstly, though, let me tell you about the greatest program ever:

I came upon this site like, four years ago.  It's been so radical, I can't even tell you.  My public library sucks.  It never has the books I want to read.  But I've gotten so many books from Paperbackswap that it makes my head spin.  (Fyi:  Just because the site is called "paperback" swap, that doesn't mean it's limited to paperbacks.  I've recieved comics and graphic novels and hardcovers).  And what's the greatest part about it?  They've been FREE.  Yeah, I have to pay shipping, but that's it.  Check this program out.  If you read, it will save you so much money.  And you're recycling.  Do you have some old books lying around that you didn't think were that great?  Try this program and you won't be sorry.

*Also, if you do check it out you will notice that there is a DVD swap, and a CDswap.  I'm a member of CDswap, and it's saved me thousands of bucks.  Seriously.  I'd totally recommend this, too.  (And so would Jeff, for those of you that are highly skeptic, like he is).  

Now, for my literary recommendation: 
I'm on book #9 (Shown) in a series that's been around for quite a while, and they even turned it into a TV show a few years back.  But, it was kind of lame.  Luckily, I'd read a couple of the Dresden Files books before seeing the show, and I wasn't deterred from continuing.  They keep getting better.  Sometimes I have to savor a book series...this is one of them.  It's something that I have to slowly go through, so I don't end up at the end, not being able to wait for the next book to be written.  I imagine myself kind of like Kathy Bates, in Misery.  If I could find Jim Butcher, lock him up, and have him write adventures of Harry Dresden just for me?  I would.  Anyway, I've told you what kind of books I like to read.  These are them.  Minus some of the usual skank. (For anyone that's interested, below is the beginning of the series).

As you all know, I don't have TV.  Anyway, you should know, cause I've complained about it quite a few times, and if you can't remember, SHAME ON YOU.  Because of this, I'm not overly clued in on those "As seen on TV" items, like others are.  For instance, remember the Christmas before last when I got some Snuggies sent to my front door for someone else, and I had no clue what they were?  Yeah, yeah, long story short, I ended up stealing them, but that's not what I'm talking about right now.  Right now, I want to tell you about these: 

That's right, Yo.  Now my CANS of Diet Dew can be bottles.  And I like to match my cans with one of the six different colors of tops I can choose.  You're nothing if you don't accessorize.  Believe it.  
I was innocently shopping at Target, (surprise!), and I saw a package of these hanging by the soup section.  (I know, right?!)  So I took a chance and bought them.  Having NEVER seen the infomercial, I was going on faith in American genius.  And my faith was rewarded, my friends.  In addition to myself, Riley and Cole are hardcore believers in the pure wonder that is:  Bottle Tops.  Fun for everyone. 


I've said time and time again that if I could, I would drink everything.  I love the feel of a bottle in my hand, or a fancy drinking container, or a very special mug.  Add that to a delicious beverage, and I'm in my happy place.  I guess you could say that it's a very good thing I abstain from alcoholic drinks, as it could be very detrimental to me.  With my love of beverages and my mainly Native American/Irish background, well, that could cause even more behavioral problems than I already have.  Anyhoo, moving on.  I've already shown you  my beloved bottle tops, now for my ceramic coffee cup--or hot chocolate/Chai tea cup, as is the case with me.  

Isn't she pretty?  I love the silicone top and the sleeve that protects my lips and little hands from the hotness within.  Completely dishwasher safe, so protects my little hands from disgusting dishwater, too.  It's a must-have people.  For those of you that enjoy a warm drink now and then, make your way to Boarders, and pick one up.  I'm sure you can get them elsewhere, also, but that's where I found mine.  (And Jeff's).  I don't know about all you, but at times I have to justify purchases for myself with purchases for Jeff, as well.  I don't want to be deemed more stingy than usual, by any means. 

These are recent.  And totally addictive.  My sister-in-law, Shauna dropped these off my house a few nights ago--just cause she wanted me to have the "best biscotti", and those were her words, my friends, not mine.   Five delicious flavors to enjoy with one of my favorite warm beverages.  Can I just tell you how fancy I feel?  Each time I try I different flavor, I'm sure that one is my favorite. But I will say this:  the German chocolate one is divine.  It was one of those things that I ate with great trepidation....because with each new bite, more was missing.  I'm not sure where she got them, but I need to know.  As I'm almost out.  And I'm jonesing, big time.  


Okay, that's all for now.  I do have to say that it's a good thing that my friend Moriah's blog is the professional one, and mine isn't.  As she cares about spelling, and grammar and other stuff that companies find important when advertising their wares.  But I know good stuff when I see it/use it/taste it.  So go shopping, and know you're gonna be pleasantly surprised.  Later dudes.



 

In a Funk.

So many things are happening, but they're "so-so" in the interesting department.  However, for the sake of giving you all something to read other than miscellaneous Facebook comments and spam emails, I'm giving you the details, anyway.  Yoooou're welcome.  

Syd and I are currently sick.  Not just coughing, sniffing sick, but in-need-of-a-toilet-constantly sick.  (Or, in Syd's case, diaper change and massive consumption of A&D ointment, sick).  Yeah.  Things just got too interesting, didn't they?

In other news,  Cole has lost his second front tooth, however, his previously lost tooth has already started growing in, so the chance that  he's not doomed to repeat my 3rd through 6th grade look, has just gotten better.  Did that even make sense? 

Riley now knows that there isn't really a Santa Clause or any of those other "fun to believe in" beings.  After a few of her questions regarding the unlikely coincidence that Santa has the same penmanship as Jeff and I, and that Santa ALWAYS uses the same wrapping paper that we do,  Jeff and I thought that she had figured out the entire system and decided to let her in on the fun.  However, we were completely wrong, and she hadn't figured it out.  After some tears and confusion, we told her to remember that the true meaning of Christmas is being grateful that Jesus was born and the Holidays will still be very fun,  and that "Santa" will always be dear to our hearts, because his example is to reward those that are good to others and make children happy. We also told her that we'll need her help during the holidays to be our best sidekick for her little brother and sister, who are still "believers".  Like the Riley we know and love, she accepted the responsibility with grace and enthusiasm and we recently instated her to be the tooth fairy for Cole's aforementioned tooth.  She did a fantastic job.   
Syd has decided to stop saying MaMa, for BaBa.  Normally this wouldn't upset me, but she is still adamant about saying "DaDa", and my jealous nature seems to be as prominent as ever.  She has been so sweet, even though she's felt crummy, and when I came down with what she has, I realized that what I had originally thought of as her being "whiny", was actually her being brave and stoic. Because these stomach pains and dizzy spells are killing me. 
Jeff is constantly working on some freelance stuff that makes me feel like I'm married to an android having an affair with his laptop.  I know that this means money for us and a lot of hard work for him, but sometimes...especially when I'm sick and PMSal, I just want him to drop everything and pay attention to me.  That's not too much to ask, is it?  
Anyway, I am hoping that things are on the mend.  Jeff's freelance is getting finished up, (and I do want to point out that I'm thankful he's in such high-demand), Syd and my stomachs seem to be on the way toward feeling better, Cole says he "feels" a tooth growing in his empty pit, and Riley is now excited to be a "Santa's Helper" next year.  I have high hopes for the upcoming week.  I do have to attend Parent/Teacher conferences on Thursday after the kids have school, and then we all have a four day weekend.  So that's good stuff, right?  Hope so. 

Eleven Years.

K.  It's Early.  Or late.  Whatever.  But today, in a few hours, Jeff and I will have been married for eleven years.  I've been pregnant and given birth three times, we've lived in two different places, Jeff has had four jobs.  Our lives have changed a bazillion ways.  And there have been some really hard times.  It sounds weird saying that now, because our lives are going so blessedly well.  But there were times when I didn't know what we were doing--if we'd make it. Not just Jeff and I, but our whole family.  Would we ever get to a point where we could feel like we weren't drowning, financially?  Would we ever feel like adults...people that could take care of ourselves and our little ones? I remember times of feeling helpless and scared--of questioning what it was exactly that I thought I was doing.  
When Jeff and I were first married, life was different, as I've assumed by now it always must be.  We were two different people from very different families that quickly decided to become a team, together.  Getting through those times of figuring out what we would do about situations, and opinions, and personal beliefs was pretty difficult, and I imagine that stuff would be VERY difficult if the two people were really convinced that one or the other's way of life was the "right" way.  It took Jeff and I a long time, and some confusing moments to figure out what our stance was on everything important.  Sometimes we agreed, and sometimes we didn't....but we learned that by respecting each other, by having the outlook of being best friends and individuals, we circumvented a lot of pitfalls.  

A lot sooner than expected, we found that we were going to have Riley.  And she's been with us almost as long as Jeff and I have been together.  I remember my first initial reaction to knowing Jeff and I were going to be parents.  And it wasn't overly thrilled.  I'm ashamed to say that, now....because I've gotten older, and I've seen that baring children isn't something all of us get to do when we feel like we are ready.  That breaks my heart, because my children bring me so much joy, but I also have seen that so many of us are needed in different ways.  That it may not seem fair or make much sense, but if there is one thing that I've had to learn in my marriage, and in my life it's that for some reason, everything isn't up to me.  There are choices that I make time and time again, that never work out....and then, maybe they do, but not when I expect them to.  Call it what you will, God, Karma, Fate, I choose the first, but I feel like I've been taught a lot of things.  I'm grateful for that.  This keeps me thankful for the victories, even when they were something I initially didn't think I wanted. And faithful that good things happen to good people.

Anyway, enough about me.  This is mainly about Jeff.  And Riley, and Cole, and Syd.  These past 11 years have gone by so quickly.  My oldest is almost 10.  This was really inconceivable about nine years ago.  Jeff has seen me at my worst.  Lived with me, at my worst.   And he's still here.  He's helped me turn into a parent.  He's supported me and our babies.  He constantly amazes me with how gifted a father he is...how my children love him and want to be near him, always.  How if I, or the kids, or anyone need something, all they have to do is ask, and he'll make time for everyone.  He lets us know that we are most important...and I'm high-maintenance enough that this is a huge factor of our relationship enduring. There are so many things that Jeff does for me each day, everyday, that a lot of the time I take them for granted.   I forget to thank him for the work, the love, the support, the advice, the listening ear...he's everything to me and for me.   Thank you, My Love.  There's no one else that could give me everything...but you do, and you always have.

I hope you'll excuse my randomness, as I'm tired and excited, and a bit overwhelmed by the good things in my life right now.  But know this:  If the next 11 years are anything like these past ones, and I can share them with these people?  I'm in.  And very happy about it.