Is it Monday again?

Bubba had PNEUMONIA, which is sad yet liberating. I’m telling you, a mom knows when her child is sick. The Doctor looked surprised when he told me his diagnosis. Probably because Bubba was running around the room acting like a normal 20 month old.

I’m grateful for doctor’s and modern day medicine. But I’d REALLY be grateful if all three kids would stay healthy for our upcoming vacation at the RANCH! So cross your fingers for me.

Other thoughts on my brain today are that Rosie O’Donnell/Elizabeth Hasselback feud.  I can honestly say that I see both sides, but it just reaffirms my belief that I don’t like to discuss politics with friend, co-workers, anyone really. I couldn’t last on a show like that because I would take everything so personally. I have my beliefs, you have yours. I believe people are entitled to their opinion. I enjoy hearing both sides of the story. What I don’t like is an individual being made to fell stupid of ignorant for their opinion.  And you are certainly not going to change how I believe by making me feel that way.

I have had close friends who’s views have been on opposite ends of the spectrum. I’m happy to say we still remain friends, there are just things we don’t talk about. 

The older I get the more I enjoy my little comfort bubble. That scares me to admit. It makes me feel like I’m even older than my 30 years. But when I’m out with a group where I’m completely in the minority, especially when the subject of politics or religion comes up, I just don’t have the fire that I used to. I’m not as willing to throw myself under the train so to speak.

I know it’s because I’ve been sheltered for the last 8 years. I’ve become too comfortable making the same types of friends.  

It’s Memorial Day, my poor Husband is working, my kids are running wild. At least I have managed to feed them two meals thus far.  I knew the day started out poorly when I wanted to sleep till 11 am.

So maybe on Memorial Day I need to say something about people that have past and are dear to me.

To my little brother Derek, I hope some day I have the chance to get to know you. Maybe you were the one sibling in the family that wasn’t as stubborn as an ox. Maybe you would have brought a certain peace into our home of ruffians. I don’t know. But I hope someday I’ll find out.

To my Uncle Bill, you had a really cool collection of vinyl’s. I’m sure we would have jammed together.

Of course my grandparents and great-grandparents that I’ve had the privilege of knowing. Thanks for forging the way. It couldn’t have been easy. But in a way I envy those days. They sound simpler in so many ways. We have too many decisions to make in these times.

So that’s about it for today. There is no structure to be found in this post. But that’s okay. It is Monday afterall. Monday and I have never been friendly with one another.

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If I wasn’t a mommy…

• I’d be a backup dancer~ I still try to shake my groove thing when no one is watching. Sometimes I get caught. Like the time I was attempting the Robot, in the kitchen. Husband walked in while I was doing that pose, you know the one where your elbow is cocked in the air and your forearm swings like its a loose hinge?  If you didn’t get all that, if ever we two should meet, I’ll demonstrate.  Well he walked in and caught me. I jumped, squeaked, and cover my face like he would just disappear if I didn’t see him.  He’s never let me live that day down.
• I’d be a photographer for National Geographic.  And I would write. I used to think I’d marry the writer, not that Husband can’t write but I’m a tad controlling.  I’d of course take his input and “use what I could.” He would just be there with me in the throws of the jungle, lest I was hit on by the pygmies, or something.
•  Maybe I would have a few more triathlons under my belt, maybe not. One in each state.
• Become an anthropologist, and study different tribes in Africa through living with them for years until they accepted me as one of their own. I’d write books about it. I’d be a specialist. Everyone would want me on their talk shows.
• perhaps I’d live on a sailboat, and moor at different places around the world.
•  maybe I’d try out for Reality Television
• maybe I’d be so popular on that show that I’d become some T.V. Host for an obscure cable channel.
• I’d join the Peace Corps

I used to think that if I was old, I couldn’t enjoy traveling.  I think maybe seeing my Grandma pull over at one too many rest stops put the fear in me.  But I felt such a panic to get out and do and see everything before gravity got a hold of me.

I’m realizing now that there are still time for those dreams in my future.  Who DOESN’T want to see a 50 year old back-up dancer at a Gwen Steffani concert?  And I’m really looking forward to traveling with the Husband. He’s never been past the North American continent. He’ll be a great traveling companion, and perhaps the pygmies will still try and hit on me in 20 years.

I am grateful for being out of the rat race. I worked for a great corporation in my twenties but I remember feeling a bit like a mouse on a wheel. (Hence the “rat race” Eve. Duh! and, does anyone say duh anymore?) But seriously, I wasn’t cut out for it. I knew I was just making money to spend it, then make it again. I had no drive to move up the chain. I didn’t want more stress or responsibility.

Although my worries now have the capacity to be the worst they could ever be, like the loss or sickness of a child or spouse, my joys have that same potential.  I wouldn’t understand how happy I could be, if I didn’t have my kidlets. I know I sound sentimental. And maybe one would think that my excitement over my toddler’s first exclamation of “mommy, I poopoos” is only because my day to day life has no other real thrill in it. That could possibly be true.

I like to think of it as I helped create this life and I’m taking this journey with them. I’m  learning to communicate for the first time, through them. I’m seeing the world through these fresh eyes. All three pairs of them. Suddenly that other stuff is comparatively not as exciting.

My 5 year old has never seen “The Ranch” before. We’re going there in 2 weeks. To him that is as thrilling as me travelling to the Great Wall of China. 

One might expect a conversation during with 3, five and under mindless drivel. But I get to hear comments like “If a human is friends with a rhinoceros, it might not turn out so well.” FRESH CONCEPTS! I’m tellin’ ya!

Spaghetti dinner, I’ve had it many times in my life. My children devour it like it’s sugar coated.  And really they’ve only had it a mere 260, 156 and 78 times in their life as oposed to my 1560. It’s also one of the few meals all three agree on and there is a certain satisfaction in nourishing another human life. 

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, out of all the things I’ve done, and all that I could be doing, my wisest choice was to marry a sweet man and raise some kids. I know in the end my joy will be full.  

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It’s a long long road…

What a long and strange day for me.

I was whisked back about 15 years as I was forced by State Law to retake my written and driver’s test to obtain a new driver’s license.  I was nervous to the point of nausea…but as I reminded my husband last night, I have never failed any type of licensing test, EVER.  Today was no exception.  I did pass both with a hugePHEW! But because I live in the boonies I spent a couple of hours driving back and forth to the DMV to retrieve the proper documents that I didn’t realize I needed. Should have checked before hand.

I was overly frustrated with my oldest. He’s only five. How can I train him to be more respectful. He’s getting so mouthy. I never expected that from him. He was such an obedient and loving toddler. 

I spent the afternoon with 12 eight year olds.  This became both aggrivating and hilarious. The comments that come out of these girls mouths really make me laugh. I wish I had a memory for quotes so I could share them. There were just too many moments there. 

Then tonight, Hubby left for Scouts and his weekly late night b-ball game. I made sure to put the kidlets to bed earlier than usual.  I enjoy these nights where I really have some time to myself…  

So of course I spent the evening BAWLING. Yes, I’ve been crying my eyes out on my wee pillow. Did you watch American Idol?  Well I did, and although there were many moments of overdone celebrity cheesiness, there were many many moments of humbling. stark reality.  When they showed clips of the African slum…they compared it to the size of central park, and it was packed with houses made out of mud and paper.  Children, so many children without parents. So many people dying of AIDS and Malaria.  I was just sobbing.  Then they showed Louisiana, and still two years later there are so many living in these little trailers, not even full sized trailers. These camping trailers, packed together to house families that lost their homes in the hurricane. There is not a lot of “scope for the imagination” in these places, but there is a lot of crime.  
There were many other disheartening stories. It hurt to watch.  

There was just this feeling of helplessness that came over me. I know I can send money, but I’m so tainted with these big commercial charities. You never know how much of the money really gets there.  When I was growing up, one of my close friends lived next to this family and their huge mansion.  When I asked what the father did for a living I found out that he worked for The United Way.  I’ll never forget that.  Why did this man that worked for a charity foundation make so much money to live in excess as they did.  I didn’t get it, even then when I was young. Since then I have been hesitant to give freely without to charities such as this. If my family sponsors a child I don’t want the money going to Sally Struthers and her T.V. commercials. Show me something legit. Show me something I can send my money to and know that it’s not paying for someones million dollar home.  

Mary, from Owlhaven has adopted 4 children from around the world if I’m correct. She’s in the beginning process of adopting more. This brings some peace to me. I know there are many like her.  They’re helping one child at a time.

I don’t know where this is going. Never blog with PMS, and you can quote me on that one. You’ll regret it in the morning.

I want this world to be a better place. I want to be a good mom and wife, with everything that that entails. I want to be a crusader.  How can I do this?

My cheeks are still wet and I’ve used every inch of my sleeves as a snot rag.  But I feel okay. I had a good reason to cry tonight. Tomorrow I’ll work on that good mom and wife thing. Because I do have some control over that.  

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