A pre-pre teen.

So, it seems like kids are maturing really quickly these days.  Am I the only one that thinks so?  It's officially been a week since Riley turned 11.  However, it seems like she turned sixteen.  And I'm not sure how I feel about that.  

However, she's my girl.  She's my beautiful Riley.  And I'm slowly making my way to the background...as the mom.  It's a weird feeling.  Maybe it makes me try too hard?  Maybe it makes me now see why those mothers that I used to mock now seem to make sense?  I don't know.  I do know that it's bittersweet.  Where I'm so happy for her, and a little sad for me.  

Riley's birthday was an all day event.  She invited her "besty", Abbie.  And our first stop was at Leisha's salon, Unleished.  Which I love, btw.  I am so sold on Leisha.  If you're looking for someone to do your hair, go to her...she's fantastic.   Leisha not only did Riley's hair, but mine, and Abbie's.  And she bought Riley some cake bites and a cupcake for her big day.  Love her.  

Anyway, I want to point out the top picture--where Abbie is putting make up on.  Riley bought that the day before.  With her birthday money.  I was a little concerned, as on the way to the salon Riley was fixing herself up.  And she had a love affair with blue eye shadow.  I know it's in right now, but I  started wearing make up at a time where that was a taboo thing.  If your eyes are blue, you avoid the blue eye shadow, a la Barbie.  So as I drove, Riley sat in front, with Abbie in back, and the girls passing the makeup compact between them for the 30 minute drive.  I happened to glance over to Riley and she was wearing A LOT of blue eye shadow.  Not really knowing what to say, I blurted, "That's a lot of Blue, Babe".  She replied with, "YUUUUUUP".  I started to panic.  Wracking my brain trying to find a nice way of telling her that too much makeup is too much, I glanced over to see her applying even MORE.  I tried to be nice.  "Riley, when we wear makeup, we wear it to accentuate our features.  We don't want to put too much on..."  She interrupted me, "I know mom.  I was taking some of it off.  I didn't want to be like, scary, or something".  
:)  I was immediately relieved.  And then confused as to who this person sitting next to me, was.  Abbie was more of the "more is more" mindset.  But it was a day for indulgence, I guess.

Our hair was done; Abbie chose purple, and Riley chose blue.  (I stuck with the orange as per usual.  However, I did have Leisha give me some feathers.  And I really love them.  No matter how young everyone else is that has them...(I tell myself this every time I fix my hair).  After being beautified, we were off to the Mall.  

Jeff and I decided to wait to let Riley get her ears pierced.  Actually, Jeff decided to wait.  Jeff initially said that Riley was prohibited from ear piercing until she was 13.  I told him that by the time I was 13 I had had my ears pierced four times.  He replied with, "Exactly".  And that was that.  But the last two years Riley's been asking me to be able to wear earrings.  And Jeff finally conceded.

She really started to get nervous around lunch time; asking questions, me reaffirming it would hurt, and that I always thought the second one was worse, because you knew what was coming....and she started to doubt the entire process.  I told her she could always back out, and that reinforced her resolve.  That's my girl.  ;)  I recorded the entire process for your viewing pleasure, and because I love my iPhone movie maker app.  

Lastly, Riley wanted to bowl.  Not my favorite, but it wasn't my day. And the guy I was sitting next to?  Very smelly.  After two games Abbie and Riley wanted another one.  But I was tired, we'd been gone for almost twelve hours...and I was having a seriously terrible time breathing.  Cause you know...the smelly guy. 

 I'm still a little sad that she just keeps growing.  I guess that's life and all, but I'm not as ready as I should be, I think.  Riley is my beautiful girl.  And she's a constant reminder to me of how I want to be--she's hopeful about people and kind and patient.  There are so many things she teaches me each day--and sometimes I learn them gracefully, sometimes not.  I suppose there's a chance I might catch on to her examples of how to be...it's something to work on in the upcoming years, rather than stressing about being and oldie.  ;)  Happy 11th, Baby.  We love you so.

Catch up.

Hello Readers.
This last week has gone by so quickly, I don't even know where it went.  I haven't even been wasting my time online.  What. Is. Up?!  Right?  Anyway, Cole had his eighth birthday on the 8th.  He played hooky, and he and I had a mother and son lunch date. But first, I must give a ginormous thanks to my sister-in-law, Kelli.  Right before Jeff and I took off for Park City, she brought ME a gift.  Even though it was Jeff's birthday.  Fantastic!  Right?  I was so excited.  And this was it:  

Adorable!  I love it sooo much.  Unfortunately, my head is exceptionally large, for a woman.  I'm guessing it is for a man, as well.  Unsurprisingly, this doesn't do a lot for my self-esteem, but, it is what it is.  I always see cute hats, try them on, and wonder, "why do they make them so small'?  Let's just say this:  the reason why Cole's head is so big?  May not just be because of the Anderson genetics.  Kelli suggested I get it wet, and S-T-R-E-A-T-C-H it out.  It was a fine suggestion, cause look how fabulous it is on me: 

Unfortunately I have to share it with Syd.  Just like EVERYTHING that's mine.  But, I'm so happy with it.  And Kelli made it just cause I said she needed to make me one.  And she loves me.  I said it before and I'll say it again....I'm a lucky girl to have such awesome, talented people in my life.  That do stuff for me.  ;)
And now, back to Cole...because sadly, not everything is about me.  
At his choice, we traveled all the way to OREM to eat at Red Lobster.  He used to frequent the establishment with my dad, and he'd been asking to go eat shrimp for a long while, so I decided it was time.  

He thinks that pictures containing him putting various things into his mouth, are hilarious.  Hopefully, he just keeps it to during mealtimes.  Cause that could become really gross, really fast.
I kept trying to get a picture of Cole and me, on our lunch date.  You see, this is why I need the fourth generation iPhone, rather than the third.  Cause taking self portraits is pretty important.  Especially in this house where NO one is going to take my picture, but me.  I guess I looked rather pathetic, so the manager of the restaurant came out and took one of both of us. 

But I rather liked mine better...even if it didn't really include the actual "Birthday Boy". 

Pictures of me, minus my stomach, just feel more presentable.  I know this is supposed to be about Cole's birthday and whatnot.  But does he really want to see that?  I'm guessing no.  Rest assured I'm also making these decisions with him in mind, as well.  I'm not that self-obsessed.  Sheesh.  Before we left for Red Lobster, Cole came in and asked me if he could tell people that it was his birthday.  Not getting it, I said, "Like who?"  He said:  "not like, random people or anything, just my servers, and stuff.  You know, so they know it's a great day."  I said he could tell whomever he saw fit, and then found myself telling EVERYONE that it was my special boy's eighth.  Because of my lack of shame, he was rewarded, quite nicely:

I took about four bites, and he went to town.  Cole isn't much of a cake eater, but he loved it.  I know it's probably not the best for him because of his gluten problems, but, it was his birthday, so I let it slide.  Even though I wanted to eat like, WAY more than I did.  Does that make me an excellent mother?  Yes.  Yes it does.  
After Red Lobster, I drove Cole home to Jeff.  They then took the rest of the day doing "guy stuff".  Cole bought Pokemon cards with his birthday money, (ALL his birthday money, which I thought was a bit over the top, but I guess it's not my money)...so big thanks to grandma and grandpas Anderson, Fairbanks, and Teeples for making that happen. And Aunts and Uncles.  You've officially helped put MORE clutter in our home.  This is the only picture I got from Jeff's time with him: (See what I mean about no one taking pictures but me)?  

They went to the Diary of a Wimpy Kid, Rodnick Rules movie, to the Provo Beach Arcade, and the toy store nearby, and Target, and Walmart and then home.  He said it was his best day ever.  I'm glad he had such a great day.  I love my Bubbers SO much...for reals, I do.  He makes me happy.  

Finally, this is something that I did with one of my new iPhone apps:  (I know it's a bit rough, but it only took me like, two minutes to do, while the boys were celebrating Cole's birthday).  
I don't think I can tell you how much I am in love with my phone.  It's like, how I felt about my Blackberry....x a bazillion. (And Leah?  I can hardly get pics of my kids, either.  I've deleted at least a million blurry photos from the last three weeks.  But, the picture app I have is called Instagram, and it was free.  I don't know if it was a special, or not.  And the video one is called Film director.  I love how it allows me to put music, pictures, and video from my phone in one program).  Anyhoo, that's my phone information for this time.  Have an amazing week, Suckas!!  It's the kids's spring break, so I'm loving life right now.  So much that it's gonna be annoying for you all.  Hasta!

That time of year.

For those of you that don't know, it's Jeff's birthday tomorrow.  (The 6th-- Just in case this gets posted after 1:00 a.m. and I am made to look like an even bigger liar than it I already am).  Turns out, he is currently sick.  Some kind of cold that the kids have as well, and I am feeling the back-of-the- throat tickle, complete with runny nose, so I'm sure that one of these days I'll be able to say I'm sick, as well...Fingers crossed, right?  Yeah.
Anyway, I've already tapped my "making-Jeff-happy-cause-he-deserves-a-great-birthday-sources".  Some, repeatedly.  :)
So maybe I can tell him how great he is, how in love with him I am, how fantastic a father he is to my babies....and the list goes on and on, in this post.  I'll give it a whirl.  
I'd mentioned in my last post (and fyi?  There is SO much I need to tell you all, but it will have to wait until next time, as this post is supposed to be all about Jeff...so back on topic), that Jeff and I were going on a weekend getaway.  Two days of just the two of us.  I had reserved a room for a couple of nights in Park City.  I didn't think we could go any further away...Jeff and I haven't been away from the kids in eight years.  I could say nine, because the last time we went away I wasn't pregnant with Cole, yet.  Believe it or not the thought was really blissful, but the actuality of doing it?  Pretty scary.
I know I said this on Facebook, but I don't think the true sentiment is there.  Jeff and I wouldn't have gone if it wasn't for Muff and Chris.  I know that seems a bit extreme, but anyone that has kids knows it a huge deal to find someone to watch them.  Someone that you can implicitly trust, and preferably, have a sense of love there that resembles your own.  They were so great to leave their house, come to ours and not disrupt our kids anymore than we already were.  Anyway, as this is Jeff's post, I'll just say a huge THANKS SO MUCH to them, once again, and continue with my story.
It was a surprise.  Not the getaway, but the location.  And I'm actually shocked that it remained so, because Jeff is rather nosey.  I mean, if I have a gift, or if I buy something new, or if I try to be sneaky in any way, he finds out.  He says it's because I'm a terrible liar/hider.  But I say it's because he decides he just needs to "look around" for some reason around holidays, birthdays, or any other date of special recognition.  Or maybe it's because he has three spies that tell on me for absolutely EVERYTHING.  In either case, it's hard to hide stuff.  And, after being with Jeff for so long...there's only so much you can hide in any situation, otherwise he freaks out about it.  It's like someone that HAS to test the water for about two hours before getting in.  There's no way he'd go for a swim without the proper time for adjustment.  And this is how any change in life is, for Jeff.  He's got to get used to the idea, envision himself doing it, have days to consider the possibilities, and tell himself it's a good thing.   If I would have bombarded him with the information and told him that day that we were taking off?  I wouldn't have gotten him out the door.  It's stuff like this that has taken me years to figure out.  
Anyway, after a late start on Friday evening...because some guy showed up and tried to sell Jeff meat, (hilarious, right?), we were off.  I told him where to drive, and then he figured out Park City after we went through Heber.  

This is what I was most excited about.  Jeff loves baths.  I'm not a fan, really...I feel like I waste time if I take one.  However, this was an all-about-Jeff weekend, so I hoped he'd be happy with it.  He was.  

The first couple hours were kind of awkward.  How long has it been since we both got to decide solely on what WE wanted to do?  So long we sorta forgot how.   We decided we were hungry.  And chose a place to eat NOT for their kid's meals.  It was fancy living.  We chose RedRock Pub--it was quite close and so not our usual, so it was nice.  However, I made a mistake in ordering:

Minestrone sounded like a good idea at the time.  But the funny thing about this soup is, it looks exactly the same way coming back out.  I won't tell you how I know this, but trust me.  Something that I'd always wanted to try was fried green tomatoes.  And they had them there, and they were way good.  Also, my stomach has absolutely no beef with fried foods.  Just keeping it real, folks. And Jeff ordered, wait for it....a turkey sandwich!  However, he informed me that the fact it had cranberries on it was him stepping WAY out of his comfort zone.  I was proud.

The next day was Jeff's choice of movies.  He had it all planned out and scheduled when and what we would see.  However, we slept in until 2:00 in the afternoon.  When I woke up, I had a text from Muffy from five hours earlier saying that she had made all my kids breakfast...homemade chocolate chip pancakes complete with whipped cream.  I kinda worried that Riley, Cole, and Syd would never want us to come back home....but only for a while.  It was time to get dressed and do some shopping, (my choice), and then watch movies, (Jeff's choice).  
This was my big purchase:  

I was all about Jeff this trip, for sure.  But sometimes, when I see something I absolutely love, I gotta be about me, too.  Also, my bag doesn't need to double as a baby's carry-all anymore, so I was looking to downsize.  That's what I told myself, and that's what I'm sticking to.  
We then went to the movie Sucker Punch.  I will say right now that it is every nerd's fantasy wrapped up in one..complete with beautiful colors and fishnet combat wear.  However, it was a really great flick.  I enjoyed it, and the cheese it totally got away with, just because it was done so well.  I'm glad that Jeff wanted to see this movie with me--I really thought he'd save it for his upcoming guys-movie-night-out.  And I was more than fine with that.  But now that I've seen it, I have to admit it was awesome in the theater.  Perhaps I'm a bit of a nerd myself, but that's like the most far-fetched option I can think of.  

We also watched Paul.  I have a very intense love for Simon Pegg and Nick Frost...and especially their collaborative productions.  So I was way excited for this.  However, it wasn't as great as I was hoping.  Yes, there was some funny stuff.  Unfortunately, it had what I like to call, "An Adam Sandler Movie Ending".  If you don't know what I'm talking about, then you may just enjoy it more than I did.  

Aside from that, we just enjoyed being together.  Only having to decide and do what WE felt like doing.  It was really nice, and I miss it, already.  I did miss the kids, too...a lot.  The curse of being a parent, I guess.  But my time with Jeff was and will be treasured.  I saw a facet of him that I haven't seen in a long time just due to responsibilities, and...life.  
So here's my mushy birthday message to my husband:  I love you.  I'm grateful that we've been together for a sufficient while, and you still make me laugh.  And laugh at me.  (And sometimes with me).  I'm grateful that we take the time to try to understand each other, even if it doesn't always happen.  But we do always respect each other, and that's something that you've taught me.  I still wake up happy that it's you that's next to me.  I still go to bed at night happy that you're the one I kiss goodnight.  You make me happy, and you've given me everything;  our children, a life that I love, and full control of the check book.  I still feel like I'm the happiest girl in the whole USA.  And that's cause of you.  I hope your birthday is excellent...even though you're sick, and we already had our weekend getaway.  Maybe I'll go nuts tomorrow and make you lunch...maybe I'll rub your feet. Who knows? 

 "Love makes you do the wacky". ;) And how could I not love that guy?
Happy Birthday!

Different things.

A couple weekends ago Jeff took a couple days off only to come down with Strep Throat.  But, that gave me even more of an excuse to leave him here, take the kids, and go visit with Lora, who came up from Laramie to hang.  To make a REALLY long story short and sweet, Jeff suffered along with my house, all weekend.  And, a messy house + Cole + his coat + strawberries shoved into his pockets for a snack =  a smell very similar to a poopy diaper  that was shoved somewhere and forgotten about,  and many panic-attacks from me, until I found the smell-culprit.   (I was equal parts pissed and relieved--pissed because, strawberries in your pocket?  Really Cole?  In what universe is that a good idea?  And relieved because it WASN'T a poopy diaper, and my chance of being showcased as an unfit mother in the show, Hoarders, was lessened).  

Anyhoo, I had fun with Lora and Muff.  It was nice to pretend I wasn't a parent for a while...Riley and Cole played with cousins and Sydney stayed with Jeff for most of the time.  And when I came home, the house stunk, and Jeff was still a bit sick, but I felt relaxed.  Sometimes I forget that besides a mom, I'm also a person.  I decided it would be nice to take more time to do girly stuff with girls my age.  Women my age, whatever.  You know what I mean.  And if you're judging me for last weekend, I will tell you that last weekend I took Riley and Syd and two of Riley's friends to the mall.  On a Saturday, and they got to go on their own for a while, and then meet me back afterwards.  It was, what I imagine, parts of Hell to be like.  But, they had fun, so all was well.  Right?  Sometimes I let them do good stuff.  (Fyi:  Cole was invited to go, but he doesn't like the mall, and he wanted to watch online cartoons  All.  By.  Himself).

Anyway,  what else?  Syd has been going to her Kids Who Count classes, and she's made a ton of improvements, already.  She seems to understand so much more, and I've been taught a few really great things to help encourage more eye contact and such.  I'm thinking it's going to continually get better.  And let's see...Riley "graduated" from D.A.R.E, and the essay she wrote was so phenomenal that they asked her to read it in front of the school.  And fyi?  She did fantastically.  

As you can see, I'm loving my new iPhone camera App.  It's got so many filters and though I'm still figuring it out, it's big fun.  And lastly:  Ta-Da!!!  It's HERE!  

I bought some today.  And this is the kind that I really was excited to try.  Remember how I said that Jeff would be doing all the packaging for this product, the brewed chocolate?  This particular kind has coconut in it, antioxidants, vitamins, and so on and so forth.  I'm loving it.  And Shauna? You can buy it at the Spanish Fork Maceys, or any Maceys in the valley, just so you know.  It's in the coffee section.  But for those of you that are freaking out, it's NOT coffee.  It's cacao.  Or chocolate, whatever.  It's too complicated to explain, and you can find out more at www.criobru.com
I add a little milk, and a little creamer, and viola!  It's freaking awesome.  But it's not sugary.  It's a lot like coffee in that if you want it to be sweet, you have to sweeten it.  

 
It's fantastic.  I promise.  Jeff gave me a French Press for Christmas, so I'm a very, VERY happy girl.  :)
I hope you all have an excellent week.  And then a great weekend.  Jeff and I are going away for his birthday.  And being that it's going to be the first time that we've been away from Syd since her BIRTH, it's a bit scary.  But really exciting.  Whoot! (And Fyi?  I know that the "h" isn't necessary, however, when I say it, I add an h.  A very audible h.  So there). 

The dog days are over.

I really love that song.  I mean, I wanted to start this post with its lyrics...however, after Googling them, I realized I've been singing it wrong all this time, and that the meaning is completely opposite than I had originally thought.   I still love it and I'm feeling like the title, at least, satisfactorily explains how I'm feeling thus far.  So I'll use it.  I am pretty bummed I was wrong with the lyrics...especially since the way I sang it was way better.  
Similarly, I used to sing The Clash's "Rock the Casbah", as "rock the cash box".  Which to me, makes WAY more sense.  And is something I would totally rock if I had the access.  Jeff still makes fun of me.  But, I still sing it my way to myself.  Cause it makes sense to me.  And I feel like had I have been around at that time, The Clash totally would have loved my take.  You know I'm right.
Anyhoo.  I digress.  

I also just found out that The Dog Days Are Over has been featured on Glee.  (Haven't seen it, yet). And, though I enjoy watching that show, I'm a hypocrite in the respect that I kinda have to consider bands as sell-outs when they just give their works over to it.  Or sell them.  Whatevs.  In any case, it kinda bums me out that no one has any qualms about having a bunch of spoiled actors belting out music that was written with one intent, only to be featured and squeezed into 45 minutes of fake high school drama.  (And usually have the audacity to do it better than the original).  That's a tangent I'll not start tonight.
The Dog Days are Over.  And I'm using that to put an end to my February drama.  It hasn't fully been abolished or anything, but I'm honestly trying to adjust my attitude in a positive way.  I've been going over previous posts and this seems to be a cyclic thing that I do each and every year.  However, I guess the point is to continue trying, right?  Not succumb to the fact that I have come to rely on having the appropriate downs for the highs in my life. 
I went to Relief Society on Sunday.  "YAY for Rainey!!!!!!!"  Just cause I felt that it was needed. And it was.  A lot of the time I come away thinking, "that was nice".  And it is.  It's nice to sit for an hour in a room full of women that are nice, and experience a lot of the things that are similar to my life.  Sometimes it's borrrrrring. And sometimes I have a hard time looking at Sister so-and-so after she's gone on for twenty minutes about something that I completely disagree with or don't care about. (Oddly enough this doesn't happen as often in my new ward...I think it's because all of the members are older, and less naive about what being a "good person" entails).  But there are times when I feel like I made a connection, and feel like I heard something I really needed to hear at that exact second.  Regardless of how terrible and hedonistic that makes me sound, I want to put in the human factor, as well.  That I am human...that I'm a Mormon that's trying to do the best that I can do...and though I fail miserably in comparison with a ton of other Mormons that I know, I'm honestly okay with it.  I'm good with knowing what my limitations and priorities are.  Will I go to Hell for just stating that?  I don't know.  But I'd also have to add "great big religious liar" to my list of faults, if I didn't.  Anyway, moving on.

The lesson was:  "Stop being so hard on ourselves".  And, especially after the past month I have had, it was like a message just for me.  Honestly, I think that in a lot of areas I'm easier on myself than I should be.  Like exercise, diet, sleeping hours, and then all my numerous daily time-sucks that have no real value.  But, I'm hard on myself when it comes to being a mom.  Am I ever doing enough?  No.  And when I think about it, I get very overwhelmed.    And when I think about whether or not I'm being compassionate enough, or charitable enough, I never measure up in those areas, either.  Then there's the fact that I'm undereducated, and uninterested in developing different skills, and so on and so forth.  Anyway, I realized that even people that have no real understanding of me or knowledge of me, have their own issues with all these things.  And sadly, this is another cyclical thing that happens in my psyche.  Some days I am content with trying and other days I'm really frustrated because I failed to accomplish.  So right now, I'm back to being okay with just keeping busy; and trying to learn what I can do to maybe help Sydney understand the things she has a hard time with.  And understanding that it doesn't happen miraculously in a single week, like my dreams sometimes portray.  And taking pleasure in her accomplishments.  Rather than expecting something even more grand to happen next, I need to enjoy each and every little step.  Like when she called my phone an "iDod", (iPod).  Pretty amazing when you think about it.  And so different from my other kids.  The world has changed so much in only eight years.  I need to keep remembering that, as well.  And I'm trying.  Each day, each new word, or sign, or dance, or whatever, I'm trying. So, now to stuff NOT about me...

This is Riley in her class, during her wax museum project.  She isn't showing it here, but she was VERY professional as Elenore Roosevelt and wax-like when we came in.  All the 5th graders had a red button you could push, and then they'd stand and spout whatever details they had memorized for the person they were imaging.  Riley got the award for "most wax-like", and it was very well deserved, because she impressed me with her professionalism through all the passersby.  (Cause, when you impress me, that's when I KNOW it's good). Syd had fun there, too.  

The buttons weren't as fun to push, as to take, so the 5th graders kind of just sat there, and looked panicked whenever one of their buttons was taken and thrown to the ground, courtesy of Squid.
It's not an easy task to take her anywhere, but she sure enjoys being in the thick of everything.  Or destroying it.

Last weekend Riley came to me with a HUGE snarl in the back of her hair.  She has been asking to have it cut short, but Jeff has told her he likes it long, and reminds her that after he'd cut her hair when she was little, she'd always want it long again.  So she would then tell me she needed a trim, because I sometimes do that for her.  She's like me...she hates to wait for any type of hair appointment.  And I kick myself in the butt, every time.  This time, I kicked hers.  
Thinking I'd take about three inches off, just till her birthday, when she gets some color put in it, I didn't worry about being too careful.  And then I went and cut a super huge chunk out.  Like, between five and seven inches.  How?  I don't know.  I was due for a nap, but that's my life, usually.  So I'm not sure how I failed so miserably.  
Anyway, after seeing that ginormous chunk of hair on the floor, the only thing to do next was to try to even it up.  And that was a fiasco as well.  So off to Walmart we went.  On a Saturday.  Because it was an emergency.  For reals.  
For the record, she was willing to deal with it.  But I remember having the "spike" in my fifth grade class.  And it was because of a haircut gone totally awry.  And not surprisingly, it wasn't as punk as you'd think.  It was more like is she a she?  Or a he?  And I got a lot of questions on the topic.  Riley's hair wasn't as dramatic, but it was uneven.  And it DID look like her mother, Rainey Anderson, cut it.  Which is no sort of compliment.  So I had to see if my mistake could be kinda remedied.  

I was a bit nervous.  The lady that did it kept asking Riley HER opinions on this or that, and I kept telling myself that Riley's almost 11, she should be able to answer, no matter how many times I wanted to yell, "WAIT!  I don't think she gets what you're asking..."  The end result was a bit scary for me, as well.  It was shorter than it's been in a long time, and I had told the lady not to fix it...I've learned the hard way that no matter what type of style you get at Walmart, you let them style it, and you go home in tears.  So I waited to see how we could work it out, and as you could see, Riley loved it.  She was really happy.  I wan't as convinced.

But after some product and actually putting some effort into her bangs--not work.  Effort.  I think it turned out really cute.  And it really fits her.  It's easier for her to wash, and she has no regrets.  So all is well.  
Before I end this post, I feel like I should say something about Cole.  But honestly?  He's so consumed with Pokemon right now that it's all he talks about, thinks about, draws, and watches.  And when he tries to tell me Pokemon stuff, I feel myself reacting the same exact way I did in Pre-calc, when I was in it those two weeks before dropping it like a hot potato.  I disconnect and go to a place that's far, far away from anything Pokemon.  But, I guess we all need our little pleasures, right?  Cause the dog days are over.  Now for the fun stuff.  Or at least the better-than-wretched-stuff.

I've been called out.

I don't like the month of February.  I never have.  Now, before those that have birthdays, or children's birthdays, or whatever in this month take offense, this does not mean I don't like you.  Or them.  I just don't like February.  It's short.  I know it's only like, three or four days, but that throws me off.  I'm always relieved to see March because it means that I've paid all my bills and gotten all the appointments and such out of the way--and now life kind of gets back to a normal pace.  I know it's just weird.  I know it makes no sense.  But I also know that I'm the girl that takes two weeks to get used to daylight savings and springing forward time changes.  (Which I also hate, btw. Springing forward, especially).  
When times were harder, financially, February used to kill us.  I dreaded it all year long...and it's become habit, I guess.  I thought I would make it an entire month before posting again--letting all my February crap settle before I took to my keyboard.  However, Amy told me that I needed to blog.  And it's 3:36 am.  And I feel really, really sick.  Like, the when you have the flu.  And all your body just aches.  And you're so tired, and your head is fuzzy...but you can't really relax.  I think Syd has the same thing, because she was tired at like, 8:00pm tonight.  After waking up from her nap at 6. (This will all become more relevant, soon...I'm just setting stuff up).  Basically, I'm sick, I'm tired, and I'm trying to explain myself after I've been out of the game for a while.  So bear with me.


Today Sydney had her first meeting with the Speech Therapist.  Not surprisingly, she qualified for help.  Kids who Count have to first assess your child, see where they are on some sort of scale, and if they qualify, your child will be accepted into the program.  With her physical skills, she would have been passed over, the Therapist told me.  She's got mad physical skills.  :)  However, because she's really low on commonly used words, and she didn't get that she had to "feed the teddy bear with the spoon", (It was a whole bit in the series of tests), and she had no interest in pointing out to the Therapist the items on her laminated pages, she scored so low that it balanced everything out.  Thus, Syd is now official.  Officially what, I'm not exactly sure...but we are now totally committed to this program.  I'm relieved.  I'm glad that she's getting help, and that I'm getting help.  Because this has been something that's been eating at me for a while now. 
I'm also kind of sad.  I know kids develop at their own levels.  And I don't know if it's because I'm not feeling my best anyway, but I guess what it comes down to, is that I don't want anyone to tell me that my kid is sub-par.  Does that make sense?  I started tearing up when the Therapist, who was really kind and fun, btw, but when she started telling me how Syd was going to score.  Having someone put a number on your--I can't even think of what to call her, because her importance to me is greater than anything I can think of at this moment, but having someone put a number on that, is rough.  Especially when they break it down and tell you what it means in respect to all the other supposed children out there.  That she's really behind.  That even crack-babies are talking better than she is.  And before you assume I've just caught whatever Charlie Sheen has and will now start saying the most asinine things you've ever heard as truth, let me say that I KNOW that's a terrible way to think.  But I thought it.  And it broke my heart for her, and for me...because I'm so rotten and I think such awful things.  Please believe me when I say that I honestly am contrite about my thoughts.  Some of the time I really hate the things that I find in my head, however fleeting they may be.   
Syd was tired.  I would have put her down for a nap, but the Therapist had a cancellation and so she came right at Syd's nap time.  And let me say that she was a good girl.  And for the first thirty minutes she really tried.  But then she was done, and she was ready for bed, and she was pretty pissed that we apparently weren't getting all her hints.  Or allowing her hints to pass as her telling us she was done, and ready to sleep.  So she resorted to crying that mad cry when she stares at you and keeps getting louder and louder, until you give her what she wants.  It's a fairly easy system to figure out, I'm sure she's not too happy about me trying to change the rules.  
Anyway, that's all I'll say about that for now.  There's a lot of things I'd like to say, but I can't really be held accountable for my thoughts around 4 am.  Because usually they seem to be bleak and destructive towards myself.  
I will say this, though.  If Oprah were to have a couple kids, and then have to worry about them being on the norm with everyone else, she would be more of a yo-yo dieter than she already is.  Because I am in a place right now where I am literally all over the place.  Sometimes I can't eat anything because there's too much to do, and I'm too distracted.  And then other times I can't stop myself from eating a ton of some kind of comfort food at a ridiculous time.  I think this hurts my mental state, as well as my physical state.  Because I seem to be on the verge of tears a lot...and hating myself for various reasons.  And I don't say this for sympathy...I say it for solidarity, maybe?  Like, does this happen to others?  I've mentioned the person I blog-stalk just so I can be mad at them for the rest of the week because they say dumb things.  Things that are something straight out of high school, and try to pass it off as healthy adulthood.  I don't know why I read their stuff.  Sometimes I fantasize about responding to them, and I have so many great things to say...so many burns that they'd be crying for weeks.  And then I realize that that's MY high school self coming out, as well.  The one that I didn't recognize then, but do now as a definite bully.  
Anyway, do I live my life that way?  I wonder this, sometimes.  I try to tell myself that I'm not overly shallow and boring, but maybe I am.  Maybe I'm that person that others turn to when they just need to hate someone or something. 
On that note, I hope March brings better things.  I hope I can be more positive and generous and less angry.  I hope I can improve so I'm not in the "permanently bitchy and pessimistic" section on the scale of my life.  This was all way too much information.  But that's kind of why I've been pretty quiet in the blogging world lately.  I'm trying to be better.  I think a new month will help.

Thanks.

I wanted to respond to all your comments via post, rather than commenting in the appropriate section.  Because I know I have a lot of things to say and why not give you all a "pretend post" to glance over while you're faking your way through work?  
First off, the relief I feel is very freeing.  I have been able to sleep, and that in itself has made me feel less anxious and heartsick.  I don't know what I would do without sleep.  I would need to be locked up or something, because life looks a lot more dreary without it.  
Anyway, Kids Who Count called me today.   They made another appointment for Syd a week from today to have two specialists come out and give me their assessment of her.  I'm a little nervous, because no matter what, whenever there is any kind of "test" to be taken, I worry.  But I'm going into this knowing two things.  One, Syd is smart--she can figure stuff out that Cole still has a hard time with.  And two, she's really started to learn more and more in the last few days.  Also, I think having Peggy come out and exceed my expectations gave me a new view.  I'm less down on myself for Syd having hardships.  We are gelling more, and she's honestly trying, and I've found that I have more patience, and more readily accept that it will take time. 
More on that as it unfolds.

Again, much thanks for all your stories, inquiries, support, and just all-round good vibes.  It's all been felt.  I know that a couple of weeks ago between Cole and his gluten intolerance, and Syd's little meltdowns here and there, I was ready for a vacation.  From my life.  And the sad part is, I know that my problems, in comparison to a lot of people out there, are quite minimal.  But they always feel bigger.  

 I also said I really felt alone in this...and before, I was a bit afraid to blog about it.  Because it's personal.  You know, she's my baby.  

But I should have been more confident in your willingness to show love and help, and most of all, understanding.  I guess it's true that we all love someone more than we knew possible.  And they hold such a private and special place in our hearts.  And we share that feral, fighting protectiveness over them.
Brandi, Keri, Kory, Kyle, Lora, and Sharon.  Thanks for your love and concern.  
Amy, Erinn, Kass, Leah, and Sarah C-B:  I appreciated your sharing stories of concern about your little ones.  You know, to me, it's easy to see how smart and loving and confident all your kids are.  Whether it be in pictures, or just seeing them as they are around you.  I think Leah's comment of the Lord giving us our babies specifically to US is completely true.  We know them.  They know us, and we usually can give them the leeway they need to let them be them.  
However, sometimes life interferes.  And it's hard to keep perspective when you're so close to everything.  (And Moriah, I should have just told myself to rely on your advice about everything, because you were totally right all along--just like you always are).   :)
Leah, I feel like you nailed a lot of what I feel in your comment.  I do have a lot of guilt...because I drank Diet Mountain Dew while I was pregnant.  Because I was taking anti-depressants up until the day that I found out I was pregnant.  Because I'm so unhappy and uncomfortable while I'm pregnant, and I fear that the baby picks up on that, just by growing inside of me.  And I worry that somehow my babies think that's their fault.  Jeff tries to understand, but he just doesn't know what all that feels like.  I was supposed to give her this place to have the best start possible...and I wasn't perfect.  So sometimes I think that all that guilt that usually is put aside after you have the baby, hangs around...and then pounces when anything remotely negative or worrisome rears its head.
It's never meant to be easy, I think.  I'm always paranoid when things are going too smoothly, as well...so I guess I'm never satisfied.  But I know I'm loved.  And I know Sydney is loved, and I have  friends and family that honestly care and are willing to share their hardships, in order to help me get through mine.  I'm a lucky girl.  Love to you all.