Friday, July 25, 2014

at the midnight hour... more more.

Friday night, kids are in bed, jammies on, when the husband gets one of those calls. And the poor guy has to suit back up and go for the umpteenth time this week and help the masses.   So I text Jane. She's married to my brother who was also called as a bishop last year, and  she's my go-to when it all gets a bit much. 


And in the meantime, I'll blog. A few of the promised before and after pics of the TEN FREAKING YEARS. 

At the Halloween orchestra concert I conducted. 

The night we got all officially engaged. 

Engagement shots. 

Just before Brasil got totally humiliated at the World Cup a coupla weeks ago. 

At an 80s party this February... I think. 

Last week. 

I used to get my hairs did. And bought clothing that looked good on me.  Now, I unashamedly care not for beans. And my main motivation in the clothing I buy is how much of this will keep me covered while I'm dragging one child through the store while another is on my hip, yanking at the neckline, chasing the third who is two aisles ahead of me, screaming for cupcakes and the potty. 

Like I said, it's a good life. But completely unplanned. 24 year old me would be totally weirded out. 


SO.  Yesterday afternoon I was feeding Thing 3 and waiting for the husband to come home from work when a nice teenage girl showed up.  It's cool, I knew her.  She just stood there at the door smiling at me and I was like... "soooo..... what can I do for you?" and she was like "Your husband is surprising you.  I'm watching the kids tonight."  

A night out??  I don't have to set up the sitter??  Niiiiice.  And then, in walks the husband with a dozen roses and chocolate.  It has not been the greatest week so I figured it was a "Hey, let's do something nice for you so you stop stomping around the house like an annoyed T-Rex" surprise, but it was actually a "Hey, we met 10 years ago today!" surprise.


TEN.  FREAKING.  YEARS.  I mean, I know the big wedding one is coming in January but that's still soooo far away.  Like 5 months.  Because yes, I got married that flipping fast.  But... dang.

And instead of being all goopy and dreamy about 10 years together, my mind is reeling from the fact that I am now 10 years older than when I was single.  DUDE.  What would 10-years-ago say about where I am today?  I mean, if I think about it, Jared seems about spot on.  He's got a fancy corporate jorb and he's a bishop and wears button-up shirts to work and Dropkick Murphys tee shirts when he's not at church.  That sounds about right.  But me??  I did NOT picture any of this.  I'm not saying I'm hating it, but I also don't feel like I made a conscious effort to become this half-crazed mother of three.  I feel like it just kinda happened.  I got married.  Then I had a kid.  Then... then... then... this happened. This is freaking me out. 

As I was panicking on the couch today, I decided to take a selfie of me to compare to whatever picture I could find of me 10 years ago.  As I was snapping it, it realized behind me was a closet with crap spilling out of it and a photobomb by the Dude, who has been belting out the lyrics to Schoolhouse Rock's Electricity and TROGDOR THE BURNINATOR all day.

Yeah.  That sounds about right.


Thursday, July 3, 2014

the one where we get to stare at my face

I should probably know how this happened and details and all that, but I have no clue - there's a YouTube channel up of a gazzillion vids from our live shows in GA!

Our singer is AFREAKINGMAZING and you should totally check out all the videos where she sings and melts me into a puddle on the floor with her gorgeousness, but since this is my blog, I wanted to share this juicy tidbit - that I WROTE! (and then played.  I'm the one with the fiddle - you know, the one an entire foot taller than the rest of the band)

I know what you're thinking.  Why on earth did the sound guys have a UHaul parked behind the stage for the entire weekend, thus turning every pic and video into a UHaul commercial?  Me too.


inspired by my newsfeed this morning

My grandfather had a poem written up somewhere, and I memorized it.  Probably incorrectly, but this was the jist that my brain held onto:

I have often thought that I could be better
if I was a bold and brisk go-getter,
instead of a slinking placid sheep
with an unscrupulous urge to oversleep.
But the world needs fellows like me, I'll bet
else who would the go-getters go and get?

It's like someone wrote it for me, right?  Anyway, it fits with my daily WHAT THE HUH?? today.

Who are the people who feel the need to go up to a waiter/ manager and complain that someone else is breastfeeding?  I mean, who ARE they?  And as you should all be aware, I am NOT a breastfeeding advocate.  It was one of the worst things I've ever survived (and no, it wasn't because it hurt - it was that fun disorder it gives me) and when lactivists come my way, I run the opposite direction.  When I hear all the data about how I'm doing horrible things to my kids by giving them formula, I show them my kid's test scores from school and their clean bills of health.  Breastfeeding is great, but the alternative isn't the demon it is made out to be.

(that's the harshest I'll ever rant about it.  if you can call that a rant.)

But if they want to do it, it's not a big deal.  If I see someone do it, I just think about how hard it is to mother no matter what our choices.  Even if they aren't doing the best job of covering up, I just look a different way.  Partly because when I did it, it was before all those awesome hooter-hiders came out and covering a nursing baby who is clawing at the blanket you are trying to keep that cover on WHILE fighting a mad suicidal monster inside of you is AWFUL.  More power to anyone who can manage to do it.

But really, who has the energy to go up to someone and complain about it and insist they stop? Who are these people?  I mean it - I'm not demonizing the people who get offended either.  We are all children of our Father in Heaven and I try not to demonize any of us because we all have our own invisible baggage we are carrying.  But with all that internal juggling, who has the time to go pointing fingers at anyone else?  Maybe they could teach me something about time-management.  Maybe if I organized my schedule better, I'd have more time to set aside for judging others.

And that goes for people who have the time/energy to complain to flight attendants/employees about other people.  I have limited time on this earth.  I'm not going to spend it demanding other people not go about annoying me.  (heaven knows there are enough things people could complain about ME - I'm trying to keep my glass house in one piece).

But then I think of that poem - and there ARE times when someone should stand up about things.  Things that are dangerous, hateful, whatever.  The world has been made a better place by people better than me who don't make a habit of minding their own beeswax.  It has its place, it really does.  The world needs whistle-blowers, abolitionists, suffragettes, etc.

So I guess what I'm saying is I'm glad there are people out there who aren't like me.

But take it down a notch, people.  There are worse things than someone breastfeeding in a Starbux.

HEAR YE. I need to document the fact that I ran 3 miles and didn't feel like death.  So just to make sure it wasn't a fluke, I did...