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!

She's not cute.

So, because I'm a rotten, terrible mother, I tell my baby she's not cute. And this is the response I get. And then I want to eat her cheeks and squeeze her till she squeals. My babies are SUPPOSED to look just like me--and Syd does not. She has disrupted the status quo. And yet, just like Riley and just like Cole, I just couldn't love her more. And for those of you that have heard me say these terrible things to my sqishy squid, I'll let you in on a secret: she melts my heart with her cuteness, she has me enchanted by her adorability, and even though I threaten to sell her or give her to the meanest lady I can find, there's no way I could do without her. Judging by the way she plays me, I'm pretty sure Sydney has picked up on this.

YAY!

So my sister Muff took Syd's 6 month pictures on Tuesday night. Syd was a brat the majority of the shoot, as she was up way past naptime. BUT, because my baby sister is a professional, she got a lot of really great poses from my "Princess Beautiful". (Anyway, Muff says she got a lot of good shots). She for certain got an adorable pic and posted it on her blog, to ease my troubled mind. Go HERE to take a sneak peek. And prepare yourself to be amazed at her abundance of talent! Thanks so much to Muff and her "creative director", Chris. (Who also happens to be her husband). You both did an excellent job with my baby girl, and despite how much of a terror she was, you made her look adorable. I'm so lucky to have you two at my disposal!

Also, I have a couple videos of my little Squishy Squid. I've been wondering if the treat she LOVES contains crack. Because she seems overly excited every time she sees them. And this is AFTER she's been fed a bottle or various fruits and veggies. She SHOULD be full...but when you show her the Mum-Mums, she's exactly like her father is about chocolate. They must have an additional chamber in their stomachs. And btw, please ignore my voice. It's grating and scary, and I'm amazed everyone doesn't cringe at its shrill sound. For those of you that interact with me occasionally, thanks for pretending to overlook this.



After some panic about not getting her fix, this is the end result. I find it humorous, but also worry that there's something not-so-kosher in the ingredients. Remember what I said about my voice. The same goes with this video.

Misc.

Ahhh....SSSSSundayyyyy. (That was said with the Spongebob episode of "Sunday" in mind. For those of you that don't know what I'm talking about...it's not that I'm a gigantic nerd, it's just that you aren't as cool as you thought you were). How often do you have a day where you accomplish so much that you are actually excited about the next day and how you'll wake up with SO much less to do than you'd originally planned on? (If you said, "quite often" or anything like that, I'm going to consider you a liar for my own peace of mind). Anyway, today was one of those days for me. I took out the recycling, I cleaned the kitchen, I went for a walk, I spent time with the kids, I answered emails I read some, and I'm now posting on my blog that has been lonely and neglected for the past two weeks. If I had more days like this one, I'd be WAY more happy with my time management skills. As it stands now, my only major plans usually include changing diapers, wiping up spit up, fixing a couple less-than-exciting meals, and getting some sort of nap in. Anyway, I'm back. I don't know for how long, but I'm going to be better about posting. Because my last ones have been overly short and generic.

So, Leah, because you so nicely asked, I'll fill you in on the Lagoon Day Deux but first I have to mention a few important sidebars.

I had to inform you all about Jeff's Father's Day. To put it on record that we actually DID something. Maybe this will be our new thing--doing stuff on holidays and special occasions. I also needed to give my mama a big thanks for making a fabulous date possible, as it seems like they are very few and far between. (And, fyi, Moriah, I agreed with Kyle's assessment of our movie. Year One had it's funny parts and I have total crushes on both Michael Cera and Jack Black, but I was anticipating a TON more laughs. Also, I wished Paul Rudd had a more plentiful part and Jeff and I were the only ones that laughed at quite a few parts because I guess they were overly crude....but disgustingly hilarious).

The DAY after my "Summer is so great" post, or I guess it was called "Summertime"; all Hell broke loose at our house. Riley got so sick and lethargic that I knew I needed to take her to the doctor's office. It turned out she had an ear infection and that meant a lot of pain for her and worry and sleeplessness for us. Then Cole got sick. He was coughing like his little lungs would give out for a couple nights and of course, Syd became sick last, running a fever, overly snotty, and sleeping two hours on and two hours off. All that I had planned--swimming lessons, baby photos, and personal stuff like haircuts and errands and yard work, etc., was put on hold. For almost two weeks. That will teach me to praise the sunny time of year. My previous theory has now been proven. (Which is, Mainly, summer sucks....and the minute it fools you into thinking that it doesn't, you're regretting your momentary insanity). And yeah, I know I'm going to have a lot of comments disagreeing with that last statement.

Anyway, our last Lagoon Day I had mentioned the "L" word, pee, the Collossis, and the Terror Ride. I don't know if any of you have ever seen the show, Grounded For Life....it's about a trashy family and everyday stuff. I love it. Anyhoo, Jeff and I watched it regularly a few weeks ago on DVD. One episode mentioned the family going to Coney Island, and it being "Gay Day", where apparently Gay men all gathered, and parts of the show were about how the family dealt with questions from their kids, and their own issues as parents and such. No, it wasn't as PC as I would have liked, however, after our Lagoon Day, I guess it never is. So, when we went, I'm not sure if there was a name for it or not, but there was a very big gathering of 'women with an affinity for women'. I spotted many rainbow sweatbands and necklaces and tattoos and families, and couples.
Now, I've been trying to let Riley and Cole know that there are different cultures, and people, and preferences, in a way that is gradual and as non-shocking as possible. Earlier that weekend, Riley and Cole had been looking through one of Jeff and my Entertainment Weeklys, and they came across a picture of Ozzy Ozbourne and started laughing so hard at the "funny looking lady", that I had to go over to see what they were looking at. I tried to explain to them that who they thought was a lady was actually a man....and that there are different people that dress differently and have different hair, etc. Anyway, after they both expressed that it was "weird" to them, they let it go, and there was no more mention of it.
Until Lagoon Day. Cole was with me, as Riley and Jeff were in line for a huge roller coaster that Cole would NOT even attempt. A couple walked by and Cole said: "Hey mom, why are those guys holding hands?" The thing about Cole is that he doesn't have a quiet bone in his body and the guys were actually women. So I was a little embarrassed, and I told him that they weren't men, they were women and they were holding hands because they were good friends. (How do you explain a relationship to a six year old boy, anyway? Especially when most grown men don't get it). Anyway, I was saved when he made his own connection and goes, "OH! You mean like that man in the magazine that looked like a lady? And some ladies look like boys?" Embarrassed, I said, "Yep. That's kinda like it", and tried to get him to focus on something else. Unfortunately, that show that I'd previously mentioned painfully illustrated the explanation of what we think of as unconventional relationships, to children. While watching it, I thought, "That's so NOT how kids would act". But I was proven wrong. I'm gonna work on that.
The other two stories involve Cole as well. I say this not because Riley is boring, but just the opposite. Riley was a riding machine! The only ride she truly wouldn't try was the Blast Off Re-entry where it takes you way up and just drops you. Cole tried a lot more rides than the first time, but he was still a big chicken. Jeff and I found that he doesn't mind how fast they go, they just need to be closer to ground level. It's the high rides that he won't even attempt. Anyway, an odd choice, I thought for Cole, was the "Terror Ride". He just decided that it looked fun, and he wanted to go. Nevermind the fact that the ENTIRE time he burrowed his face into my side and wouldn't look at anything. So I began telling him everything that I saw, "There's a werewolf", and "there's a bat with glowing eyes", and "ooooh, that's a scary Frankenstein". As soon as it was done, and we went out into the light again, he looked around, and skipped off to where Jeff, Riley, and Syd were waiting. When I caught up with him I heard him telling them, "and there was a werewolf and a scary and bat with glowing eyes, and a Frankenstein...." Everything that I had said he actually had listened to, and passed it off as his own adventure. He's truly my son.

And lastly, was the pee story. So Cole decided he loved The Bat. He claimed it was his favorite ride. On his fourth or fifth time I went with him and Riley. They had decided to ride together and I'd ride behind them. As the ride came into view, I watched a little girl get out of the seat and she was...dripping. From her seat. I kind of panicked and offered Cole to sit next to me, in back and he said that he'd already promised to be seat buddies with Riley. I didn't have the heart to tell him what I'd saw...so I helped him into his seat, and he looked at me with a confused face and said, "it's really wet, mom". I told him someone must have been sweating a lot, and he seemed to think that made sense. I have convinced myself sometimes the lies I tell won't count against me. As for the Collossis, I can't remember the story. Sorry...sometimes I think the nutrasweet I consume each day might somehow affect me.
Okay, it's now time for me to hit the hay. I'll fill you in on more later. But for now, I have to get some sleep.

More of our date

So here we are at Paradise Bakery. We are ready to enjoy some sandwiches and soup--again, thanks to my momma. She not only supplied babysitting for the kiddos, but some Father's Day dinero that I made Jeff put to good use--and buy me dinner.