Tragic Heroine... or just being dramatic?

I've been contemplating delving into the Greek tragedies again.

I know, how many of us have even thought of them since High School, right?

But Clash of the Titans is coming out, and we just watched the original on television the other night. There is soooo much I've forgotten! (Or, rather, never learned as I was just reading them to get by and pass the tests! High School is lost on the young!)

I'm usually a Jane Austen type reader- love historical fiction! But, Greek Mythology is a type of historical fiction, right?

At any rate, I think I'm going to take the plunge! (I'm not holding myself strictly to this, though. I reserve the right to stop reading them anytime I feel like I'm getting zits, wearing pegged pants, or start doing my hair in a side ponytail. And I ABSOLUTELY draw the line at writing an analytical essay about it when I'm through!)

Anyway, my life is like a Greek tragedy, so why not? Huh?

*(I don't mean my father is a god and my mother is a mortal....)
**(nor do I have special powers.... but I do encounter many freakish people... and find myself wearing togas alot.... ok, maybe not!)

I don't like people knowing I'm stalking them....doesn't that defeat the purpose???

I just have to say, I don't often stalk blogs, but I do have my favorites I like to read on a semi-regular basis.

HOWEVER, when I see a blog visitor tracker on there, it makes me want to not read it. I don't know, I just feel like, Hey... just checking in and seeing how things are going, but I don't necessarily want you to KNOW that I am checking in.

It's like when you did a drive-by of a boyfriend's house in high school, really. You "drive by" but you don't really want him to know you are driving by.

Get it?

Just one of those things...

Ugh.

I've been planning this activity for a few weeks now, and I don't normally freak out about things.

But, today a hitch was thrown into the works at the last minute and I'm just a little frustrated by it. I know I can work around it- it's not like the end of the world, but I'm just a little discouraged. I'm in a new position in church and this is the first activity I'm in charge of. I just want things to go well. So, when a big "bump" comes along and makes things a little more difficult... well... it just wasn't what I wanted to hear.

Oh well. Forget yourself and get to work, right? Press onward...

"That which does not make us stronger, kills us."
- me

Speaking of psychological disorders...

I guess I'm still fixated on the "Hoarding" show I watched the other night that caused me to frantically clean and organize my house.

I've been thinking a lot about how crazy and illogical those people seemed on the show. I sat there thinking, "How can they not see how freaky they are?" But over the last few days I've come to a realization:

We're all freaky!

I mean, seriously. Can't you think of one totally weird or compulsive thing about almost everyone you know well? If you can't, I don't think you know them well. Really!

In my circle of acquaintences I know of all sorts of odd compulsions, or things that make each person unique. I was going to start listing them off here, but that might make some people upset. The key here, people, is that many of us probably aren't aware that we HAVE any freakish tendencies!

I, however, am fully aware of all my disfunctionalities! Just to list a few:
-I can't stand to have a cupboard door left open or a drawer open. I will get up out of bed to go check if I think there is any left open. Even if it's downstairs!
- I HAVE to have a clean living room if I know people are coming over. Drop by unannounced? You might find a seriously irritated me...not because I'm not happy to see you, but because my living room might not be clutter-free.
- If a dish I've made doesn't come out perfect, I am pretty mopey the rest of the evening...or for a few days. Even if it tastes ok.
-socks MUST match...no, white doesn't go with everything.
-I cannot...repeat: Can NOT just follow a recipe without changing something in it. Even if I've never made it before...it's a real sickness!
- I HAVE to sit on the second row at church. HAVE TO...it's like, if I don't, I'm not going to Heaven. I really get jittery and upset if I can't sit there. I know...need counseling!
- I REFUSE to touch the door handles at movie theaters and restaurants. I will wait for someone else to open the door, or if I have to, grab it with my sleeve.
-I WILL NOT sit in a hot tub if there are people I don't know in it. Who wants to take a bath with strangers and their dead skin cells?! Gross!

Well,It just goes to show, we can't judge another's oddities because we might be suffering from something much worse!

What are some of your freakish tendencies???

Those Hoarding Hoarders Are Hoarding!

We made a HUGE mistake last night.

We watched "Hoarders" on A&E.

My hubby said: "Hey- let's watch that new show 'Hoarders', it'll make us feel better about ourselves."

About 15 minutes into the show I'm looking around my family room... there's a sock, there's a car... over there is a piece of paper. Not much, really. I'm fine.

20 minutes into the show... wow, my kitchen counter is kind of cluttered...

The next thing you know, we are desperately cleaning the kitchen, the family room, the bedroom... frantically looking around for anything that might resemble those freaky hoarders on the show!

I don't think we'll be watching that show again. It's too exhausting!

I have a St. Paddy's Day Hangover...

Ok. Yay for St. Patrick's day and all that. (burp)

(Note to self: Tons of potatoes with sausage and bacon and onions with more potatoes with cabbage and bacon.... not so easy on the tummy.)

Do they ever just have, like, a salad in Ireland?

Just wonderin'...

OH, here's a hillarious version of "Danny Boy":

Erin Go' Braugh!!!!

Yes. This is my day. The day where people say my name wherever you go. The day where.....

What? You don't know what I'm talking about? You've never heard of "Erin Go'Braugh"?

Well, translated from the gaelic, it means "Ireland Forever". But to tell you the honest truth, since I was in 3rd grade, I've always kind of hated the term. When I was a kid my brother's stupid friend saw the cute little badge I always wore on St. Patrick's day, and the special shamrock shoelaces I would put on especially for the day, and laughed at me. I mean, outright, mockingly laughed at me. My badge and shoelaces said "Erin Go'Braugh" and when he asked what that said I told him.

"Bwahhhhh haaaaaaa haaaaaaa...." he guffawed, rudely. "Erin go-buy-a-bra! Haaaaa haaaa haaaaaaa!!!!!!"

Never have I wanted to punch somebody right in the nose as badly as I did that kid. Right there in the middle of the crosswalk as he stood there with his orange crossing-guard vest and flag. He was supposed to be our protector, our guard against ills that could threaten or hurt us. Yet, here he was mocking me- my name, my chest, for heaven's sake! I was only in 3rd grade- I wasn't supposed to buy a bra! I ran home, red-faced and fuming with anger, hurt, resentment, and malice. It was then I began plotting my revenge.

Being only 9, my imagination for suitable acts of revenge was limited, at best. Nevertheless, the very next day I exacted my revenge just as I had imagined it would go down...every last detail carried out to it's precisely intended effect. As the perpetrator crossed me and my friends that morning, I innocently walked toward him as though nothing at all had happened to shatter my entire self esteem. I smiled demurely and made as though to continue crossing to the other side. He never saw it coming. There, in front of several children crossing the street and standing at the corner, I lifted up my foot as high as it would go and I stomped as hard as I could onto his toes!

"You big, stupid Leprechaun!" I shouted. "I bet you made your mommy buy you that rainbow belt!" (incidentally, rainbow colored striped belts were all the rage at that time, so he was perfectly up with the fashion trends of the time.)

Granted, it was pretty lame. Looking back on it now I realize it could easily have made my shame worse, but luckily for me, we were all young and immature, and my comment was received with great success from the audience viewing. Huge roars of laughter errupted and I could see he was sufficiently humiliated- a 6th grader having been put in his place by little old me! I walked across the street with my head held high, still wearing the shoes with the shamrock laces.

Although I still hear him chanting "Erin go-buy-a-bra..." every St. Patricks' day, I do feel a sense of satisfaction as well. It will forever be known as the day I had my own little Irish victory.

Erin Go' Braugh! Erin forever!!!!!
*For some great Irish recipes to fix for dinner tonight, go to my recipe blog and try something new! I mean, who really likes corned beef and cabbage anyway, right?

*Update on letter to congressman about time change- warning: it's not pretty!*

I looked into how much it would cost to send a 63# package to Washington D.C. yesterday with airholes punched in the sides. (My hubby didn't get this joke...HELLO! Haven't I been threatening all day long to send the kid to D.C. and let them deal with him during this time change?!)

Yesterday's schedule went like this:

7:30- wake kid up
7:35- "Mooooommmmmm- I can't go to school. I have a tummy ache."
7:40- (dragging himself down his ladder, very dramatically)
7:45- "Mom. I'm serious, I'm too sick to go." (as he gobbles down two crepes.)
8:00- (after MUCH prodding) brushes his teeth, dramatically.
8:10- catches my eye- suddenly his hand goes to his stomach and he gets this pained look. Ya, I totally believe it. Right.
8:20- hobbles to the front yard with his scooter. He's "sprained" his ankle and has to stay home. Nuh, uh. Not doing that!
12:30 pm- caller ID on phone says it's my son's school. I pick up. Of course, I'll come pick my "sick" son up. Sometimes it's better to give in than spend the energy fighting. I drive the half-block to the school because, if he truly is sick, he won't feel like walking home. Why do I do this? I KNOW he's not sick!
12:35pm- "Mom, why did you drive? It's a beautiful day, we should be getting some exercise!" Me... ready to FREAK OUT!!!!!

Afternoon- (I'll spare you all the times, suffice it to say, the following was an on-going scene of drama and turmoil and dramatic, academy award winning performances.)
- took 4 hours to get 2 pages of homework done.
-"Mom, I just know if I watch a movie on Netflix my tummy will feel better."
-"Mom, I really don't think I need a nap! It's not going to help my tummy..."
-(after a 2 hour nap) "Mom, I think chocolate cake will help my tummy feel better."
-No, you can't play video games or with friends when you're sick.
-1/2 hour crying fest. This is where the Oscar award is given. It was truly something to behold. This is when I began researching my postal options for shipping him to Washington.

End Result: I am 100% opposed to the time change and I am boycotting it! I am getting up an hour later from now on, and you can expect me and my family to be an hour (and 15 minutes- like always) later to everything. The secretary at my son's school agrees with me. We are FED UP!!!!! Join with me--- UNITE!!!!!

Dear Congressman who decides if we should keep Daylight Savings or not...

I know you are probably beyond the age of having to deal with grade-school age children. I know you probably never had the responsibility of dealing with them on a daily basis for very long when and if you did have them because your ambitions to be a great politician required that you work long, late hours. Therefore, I feel you may need to be enlightened on a certain subject:

Daylight Savings Creates Demon Children!!!

I know you weren't here last night when my son begged not to have to go to bed at 8:00- his usual bed time- because it still only felt like 7:00, and it was too light outside to be bedtime.
I know you weren't here at 10:00 when he was still awake and crying because he couldn't get to sleep.
I know that while you were quietly enjoying your warm beverage and bagel this morning, my son was sobbing and reenacting the end-of-the-world scene from ______ movie where everyone loses it because we're all gonna die. But let me assure you, it was not pretty.

I am on my "last nerve" here. Why do we have to be put through this, not once, by twice a year? For what purpose? I live in the city- we don't need to stretch the daylight hours. My husband leaves when it's dark and gets home when it's dark no matter what time of year it is. We don't do any farming or animal husbandry! I do laundry and dishes. I can do that no matter how dark or light it is outside, believe me!

So, because you have chosen to vote for this ridiculous, unnecessary, inhumane practice, I am going to have to send you my son to deal with. It takes- at the very least- a good week to get him acclaimated, so be warned. He will get out of bed about 50 times after you put him down for the night. He will need many stories and lots of reassurance and long talks. He will need constant prodding in the morning to get out of bed, eat his breakfast, stop laying on the couch, put his coat on, get off the floor, brush his teeth, don't lay down in the bathroom, stop shuffling his feet, crying won't keep him from having to go to school, no a hurt toe won't let you stay home, no- your tummy ache doesn't mean you have the flu- you can't call me from school, no I didn't wake you up 5 hours earlier than I normally do...

Don't worry, congressman. You will survive, but you may lose some hair this week, and probably the rest will turn white. Your crow's feet will be more apparent and everything will sag much more. You may not have energy to do dishes or laundry...oh wait, you probably have someone to do that for you. Well, could you send them my way this week, please? I'm DONE, and it's only Monday!!!!!


Sincerely,
me.

Empty Crib Syndrome...

Today is the last day I tend my cute little Maddie.

She makes me smile. She makes all of us smile. We stood around her like 3 awe-stricken idiots this morning watching her lay there holding her blankie up by her face--- just staring and staring and staring....

She's been the only way I could get my hubby up early the last few weeks. I'd bring her in to wake him up and he'd grin and get up immediately so he could hold her and squeeze her little rolls of fat and kiss her pudgy cheeks. Apparently I just don't have that same power over him, though I have rolls and pudgy cheeks too!

Yes, it is going to be nice to have my day all to myself again. I won't have to time the laundry and grocery shopping with nap times and feedings and diaper changing.

But, I'm going to miss having a little baby around. She has brought a little bit of pink sunshine into this house of mostly boys. I will be outnumbered once again.

:( sniff sniff

The Lord's Earthquake Warning (article)

The article below is a testament to the Lord's awesome power, and to his being lovingly aware of us here on Earth. Let's not ignore those little promptings we have- you never know how much the Lord is trying to help us!

Meridian Magazine : : Church Update: In Chile: The Lord’s Earthquake Warning

A nice way to wake up...

My son turned 9 on Saturday.

I'm not old enough to have a 9 year old! Last week was a whirlwind of meetings and scouts and birthdays and service projects and church...I didn't get a moment to breathe!

This morning, as I was dreading getting out of bed and wishing so badly I could just hit the snooze button but knowing I couldn't because any moment my neighbor would be showing up with her fun, cute, adorable little baby for me to tend, I heard something that made my heart soar.

It was a little bird. I don't know what kind... I've heard it my whole life. It comes in the spring and it just has a simple little chirp. 2 notes daaaa-daa.....daaaa-daaa.

This bird has always held a special place in my heart. For some reason it has always reminded me of my Grandma and Grandpa. I would hear it often when I was over playing at their home only a few blocks from mine. This morning as my eyes were closed I heard that tiny little song and I could smell the tree outside my grandparent's house, could see the big tire swing and hear my grandpa tinkering in his shop. I could smell the grapejuice from the kitchen where Grandma was canning her grape juice, and I felt, as I did back when I was a child, that the world was good and all was well.

I breathed deeply in as I opened my eyes and the bird's song faded. It seems early in the year for that little bird to be here. Wait... it's my Grandpa's birthday today! I had almost forgotten!

He must have sent me that little bird to help me realize that all is well. He is in Heaven with my grandma, and they are looking down on me. Life may be hard sometimes, but we have little beauties all around us to remind us that it is also wonderful!

Thank you little birdie, Thanks Grandpa, and Happy Birthday!