I am not here

I’m at the dentist.

Hopefully just getting an x-ray and an estimate.

Why am I talking about myself like a car?

I’ll update later.

*grumble grumble*

This takes the cake

Friday night was the school carnival, otherwise known as pay $50 to support the PTA and get dragged around collecting more stuff that you don’t need in your house.  There was face painting, a fire truck, martial arts demonstrations, and enough bouncing inflatables to make all of us throw up our industrial grade pizza that cost four tickets apiece.  I think the cardboard box it came in might have tasted better.

But the kids had fun, and once we got into the spirit of the event (and found the popcorn and snow cone ladies), life was good.

That is, life was good until we busted out at the cake walk.

My poor boys have been trying to win the cake walk for FOUR years now.  They beg beg beg me to sign up to make brownies for the event, and then remind remind remind me every single day that I said I’d do it.   And every year, even though we go over the rules as to how the cake walk operates and remind them that not everybody wins, they still are bitterly disappointed, nay distraught, that they don’t win.

Towards the end of the evening, I was in the library with Baby B (which apparently no one calls a library anymore – it’s the MEDIA center – whatever) and I could hear the wails of Baby A as he roamed the halls trying to find me.

Sobbing hysterical wails.

I knew immediately that, once again, he was singing the cake walk blues.

I tried to console him but the thought of not bringing home a plate of dried out brownies was just too much for his little heart to bear.  We went to find Dad to make our dispirited exit from the carnival, and as we were about to leave, Craig happened to stick his hand in his pocket and, lo and behold, out came 9 more tickets.

Enough for each of them to take one last crack at disappointment.

So off we went – I pushed Travis, and Tommy and JJ stepped around the circle so quickly you’d think they were walking across hot coals.

The music stopped.

We held our breath.

The letter E was pulled out of the box.

And who would happen to be standing on the letter E?

Three people.

With the same last name.

One of whom had to take this picture.

Have a nice day.

I need a distraction…

It only took me four hours to pick up the phone and make the call , but I did it.

And they can’t see me until Tuesday.

So I have four more days to wrap myself around an axle prepare for the big dentist appointment, which will only be a consultation, for they know if they try to touch me in any way, shape, or form other than to take an x-ray, they’ll have to pry me off the ceiling tiles.

They have promised massive amounts of whatever hallucinogen that I require for the “real” appointment.  We all agree that’s a fantastic idea.

In the meantime, I need to take my mind off things, and since sugary foods are verboten, I decided that a little eye candy would make a fine substitute.

Yes, fine indeed.

I’m also going to to distract myself with a Pineapple Diet Dr. Pepper that Amber swears I’m going to love.  I won her Sonic card give-away, which is slightly amusing since she won my Starbucks card give-away about 10 days ago.

It just took a tiny little guilt trip. I swear this wasn’t rigged.

And just in case all of the above doesn’t do the trick, I’m headed here for lunch with a girlfriend.  Their website says they have “a soothing atmosphere with a blissful tang”.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve always felt blissful drinking Tang.

Made me feel like an astronaut.

Spacey.

Hopefully like the happy pills will make me feel next week.

Have a nice day.

Dread doesn’t just describe a hairstyle…

I have to go to the dentist.

Remember sometime a couple of weeks ago that I said something about fearing the dentist?

“Fear” doesn’t quite capture the emotion.

“Panic” sounds better.

“Hyperventilating panic” really fits the bill.

I think it stems from the fact that growing up on the back side of nowhere, most of my dental treatment was administered without the benefit of novacaine.

None.

Zip.

Nada.

Our water wasn’t flouridated (or even sanitary) and as a result, I had approximately 9,457 cavities as a child.  Cavities that had to be filled without numbing agents.

I remember the dentist hitting a nerve one day and it literally brought me out of the chair.  Mom remembers me coming home asking where we kept the gun. (What a witness for Jesus I was THAT day.)

I have had to hide this phobia from the kids because I really don’t want them to inherit it, and so I faithfully put on a brave face every six months and haul them in to their dentist, all the while hoping against hope that I won’t be asked to accompany them to the back room.

The noise, the smell….GAAA!!!!!!

I faithfully floss and brush in an effort to stave off the inevitable, but the inevitable has happened.  I have a toothache.  Boatloads of Advil in the last two days haven’t dented the pain.

I think it’s time.

This is not fun not fun not fun not fun. But it’s not a problem that’s going to get better with time.  So I’m calling today to get an appointment.  And documenting my intentions so that you can hold me accountable.

Do any of you share my fear?  What do you do to make the experience as pleasant as possible?  Do you take an iPod? A Xanax? A tranquilizer dart?

Help a sister out…

Ranger Rick Safety Tip

 

It would be wise of you to ventilate small enclosed areas before emptying the contents of a bottle of Clorox on the floor and scrubbing for fifteen minutes with your nose mere inches from the offending fumes.

Can we say dirt-dive?

It might also be wise of you not to let your bathroom get in the state mine was in the first place.

Have a fume-free nice day.

 

Tuesday Tidbits and SUSAN!

Good morning, dear Reader.  I’m jacked up on a little too much coffee this morning but really, is there such a thing as too much?  It has been a glorious morning already.  We were out the door on time, there were no tussles in the car over the window seat (I think J’s just given up on ever sitting there – he automatically heads to the back), and we rocked out to a little Def Leppard the last three blocks to school.

And I was slightly amused that the children asked me turn down the volume.  Mama does love her 80s arena rock……

I have a little bit of randomness here today, for I am scattered and unfocused.

1.  First things first, a big shout out to my brother Paul for admitting to me that he reads my blog.  I have the best brothers IN THE WORLD.  They are all special to me for their own unique reasons, but Paul is special because he has never minced words with me and has always told it like it is.  He’s not one to judge, and he helped me navigate the tricky college years by being my friend and confidante (and my home away from home since my parents were overseas).  And he gave me the radar detector. ‘Nuff said.

2.  I think Skype is a beautiful thing, but now my mother can see if my counters are clean.  I need to rethink where I keep the laptop.

3.  I smell like the tuna fish sandwich I fixed for J’s school lunch.  I’d much rather smell like the Pringles that accompanied it.  But I resisted.

4. Lauren is celebrating her 100th post today.  Go over and give her a big “Woohooo!” and enter her give-away.  And now I’ve lost you all to Lauren’s page, for I know how you all are about the give-away (ahem, Candace).

5.  My friend Tracey posted this video on her Facebook page last night, and I absolutely loved it.  First, because the contestant’s name is Susan, and second, because I can relate to her story.  She quietly lived her life out of the view of the busy world, nursing a dream in her heart, and doggone it, she did something about it.  Watch and be moved (especially since it took me 45 minutes and three calls to Whimzie to get it to embed properly), and then go do something you’ve always wanted to do.

more about “Dailymotion – Susan Boyle on Britain …“, posted with vodpod

Have a nice day.

Feast your peepers on this

Here are the four men in my life.

The three little ones could not stand the sweater vests.

The big one about lost his religion trying to pose for shot after shot because I couldn’t get them all looking at the camera at the same time.

I had to threaten them with no egg hunt to get them to smile.

They straightened right up.

Then ditched the vests six seconds after the picture was made.

I just wanted to document them wearing something other than a Spiderman t-shirt.

And that I remembered to brush their hair.

Have a nice day.

P.S. – They liked this picture better.

Oh, all right!

Normally I do a random number generator for my give-aways because I want to be impartial.  And I should have done it this time because the stories, people, the stories you told of children that would be crushed beyond belief were pure evil, I tell you.

Pure.

Evil.

But there was one long-time reader who was pure evil genius.

She sent in reinforcements.

The winner of the adorable alligator apron is Candace.

Because she begged.

And sent her husband in to beg for her.

“Go in there and get me a toddler, H.I.”

Laugh.

Out.

Loud.

Have a nice day.

And one last thing…

When I was 8, I sat in a chapel listening to a woman named Hazel talk to a room full of missionary kids, most of whom had sat through more church services in their young years than most adults in their lifetime.  Truth is, she wasn’t telling us yet another story about Jesus.  She really didn’t need to.  All of us could recite the story of Jesus by heart.  Some of us in three languages.

Instead of telling us something we already knew, she issued a challenge to examine our own relationship with God.

Our personal “insert name here” relationship with God.

I remember with such vivid clarity the almost physical realization dawning over me that I was trying to skate on my parents’ coattails in terms of relating to God.  I had assumed that because we were a “Christian family” (and a missionary family to boot – didn’t that count extra, God?) that I was covered in the whole Jesus department.

Wrong answer.

My eyes were opened that day that I, Susan, needed to make my own decision about who I thought Jesus was, and how I wanted to relate to Him.

Just the two of us.

I prayed that day for Jesus to forgive me of assuming a relationship where none existed.

I deliberately placed my life under His care and in His keeping.

It has been the defining relationship in my life.

You’ve read a lot of facts about me this week.

But I would hope you remember this one truth:

100.  I am a follower of Christ, reconciled to God Almighty through the blood Christ shed for me.

Grace and Peace to you, Dear Reader, this very Good Friday.

Susan

Really? You came back??

Are you sick of me?  I’m sick of me!  I have nothing left to say about myself.  Zero.  And yet I ramble, and give away cool things.  First things first.  The winner of the custom knit, one of a kind, available-only-here washcloths is……

Elizabeth!

8

Timestamp: 2009-04-09 00:55:43 UTC

Congratulations Elizabeth!  Drop me a note and let me know what colors you’d like and I’ll get started on them right away.

And today is the final give-away for the week.  And it is so dadgummed cute that I really just don’t even want to give it away.  But before I tell you what it is, I have to tell you a story.

Yesterday was a crazy day for me, and I had intended on running out and finding a fun little trinket for the giveaway, but time got away from me.  Because often time does slip away when you’re sitting in the living room of one of your favorite bloggers drinking coffee (shh…don’t tell my doctor) and catching up on what’s been happening since the last time you were together.

Can I just once again say how much fun Kellie is?  And she is CRAFTY!!!!  I did not know this about her.  I knew she was creative, but truly, she is ridiculously accomplished.

While we were chatting and talking about whether I could learn to sew a curtain, she said “Catch me up on what’s going on in Blogland”, for she has been unplugged all week in observance of Easter.  After making sure to point out that the rest of us felt like heathens for coming out to play every day, I told her that she was missing out on the daily giveaway on my blog.

She immediately perked up and said “Give away one of my aprons!” and she went and pulled out the most beautiful pink-piped alligator children’s apron that she MADE in all her fabulousness, and people, it is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.  I’ve never wished more for a daughter than I did yesterday. (And my son who wore it for this picture wished that there was someone of the female persuasion in the house to take over the duty as well.)

You must have this.

You absolutely must.

Made by Kellie.

Mailed by me.

__________

And speaking of me….

76.  Since I’ve had children, I cry at the drop of a hat.  I think I still have hormonal imbalances that haven’t corrected themselves.  Or maybe it’s new imbalances that are presenting themselves.  Either way, I’m a wreck.  Hallmark commercials?  BUCKETS of tears.

77.  Sometimes I hit the button to get directions in Spanish at the ATM.  Or order in Spanish at McDonalds.  Just to see if I’ve still got it and also to freak out the order taker.

78.  When I was little I slept with the covers over my head and tucked around my body with only the tiniest of airholes for I was convinced that monsters lived under my bed and would grab me given the opportunity.  As an adult, I still cannot sleep with an exposed toe, foot, or leg. Even in the dead of summer when it’s blazing hot outside.  

79. I dream vividly and sometimes violently.  I have smacked my beloved in my sleep more than once.  And kicked him.  And almost choked him once because I thought he was a vampire (Note to self:  no more Twilight before going to bed).

80.  I am partial to JIF peanut butter.

81.   I put peanut butter on my waffles and it annoys me that one cannot get peanut butter for one’s waffle at the Waffle House.

82.  When at the Waffle House, I order my hash browns scattered and smothered.  With cheese eggs since I can’t get peanut butter (see #81).

83.  My preferred way to eat scrambled eggs is with a side of refried black beans and tortillas.

84.  Corn tortillas, never flour.

85.  I still have my tonsils.

86.  I will throw a party as an incentive to get my house cleaned.

87.  If I invited you over to dinner, chances are I’d use the cloth napkins, light some candles and serve you in the formal (and the only) dining room.  You’d most likely be served  steak, a once or twice baked potato, and a salad if I knew you weren’t twitchy about green things.  If you asked if you could bring something, I’d tell you “dessert”, because I’m not a huge dessert maker and I’m sure my kids would love to eat something other than a boxed brownie or banana pudding.

88.  But I’m also spontaneous enough to call at 5 and say “Hey, we’re having tacos in thirty minutes and my house is a wreck.  Wanna’ come over?”  And we’d eat at the kitchen table or on the deck or wherever we could find a place to sit.

89.  I prefer regular Coke over Pepsi, but I prefer Diet Pepsi over Diet Coke.  But since I don’t drink sodas anymore, I don’t know why I even bothered putting this in here.

90.  I like having an answer for every question, and sometimes I’ll just make stuff up so as not to leave the question unanswered.  The key is just to say it with confidence.  This annoys my husband who relies on me to give him accurate information with which to complete his Sunday crossword puzzle.

91.  Most nights, I go to bed around 11:30.

92.  My alarm goes off at 6.  What time I actually get up is anybody’s guess.

93.  As much as I joke about feeding my kids cereal, the truth is that typically I will cook five nights out of the week.

94.  But I don’t cook breakfast.  Craig does.  Every single day.

95.  I am madly in love with my husband.

96.  I madly love my drive-me-crazy kids.

98.  I am grateful for my less than conventional life.

99.  I can’t believe I made it to the end of this list.

I do believe I’ll make you wait until tomorrow for #100….

Have a nice day.