The lady who yells at us on Sundays...

Every Sunday night we have a ritual. We usually have a big, sit at the table, lunch right after church, so we usually do snacks for dinner that we eat on the couch as we watch some TV. We like reality TV the best. We like to make fun of people and we feed off each other. We are pretty stinkin' hilarious if I do say so myself. I usually end up in tears, and while I've never wet my pants from laughing so hard, I have had a few close calls. I love that about my kids, they are quick and witty and hilarious. (I'm pretty sure they get that from me. HEE HEE:) But that's off subject, let me reign it back in here...
We don't usually put much effort into the snacks, but we like to bake cookies or brownies or cheese sticks or something warm. I don't know what it is, but even if it's brownies, eating something warm makes it a meal instead of junk and that takes away the mom guilt. Don't ask questions, just go with it. Regardless of what you may have heard, I'm not a terrible cook. I'm not going to star in a cooking show any time soon, but I'm not bad. EXCEPT on Sundays. I don't know if I'm too laid back and just not on top of things on Sunday's (the day of rest) or if I shouldn't be cooking so much so I'm getting zapped, or what it is, but without fail I start a fire in the kitchen EVERY SINGLE SUNDAY. I'm not kidding. We have had the dish towel left on the burner fire, the something spilled over in the oven fire, the funnel cake oil fire, the smoked (literally) veggie fire, and last night the adding the soda and vanilla to the caramel sauce at the same time causing a reaction and huge flammable overflow fire, to name a few. The problem is not the fire, I am great under pressure, and I have taken fire safety training when I was trying to adopt the kids, so I know how to keep it under control. The real problem is the lady that lives in the smoke alarm. She totally bugs. She starts out calm and slow, saying "Danger, Fire, Danger, Fire" over and over, but as she goes along she gets faster and more intense and while that might SEEM helpful, it totally isn't. And she's LOUD. Like, Eardrum piercing loud. And she isn't easy to get to shut up either.
 The first time it happened the kids didn't know what was going on and they ran outside and across the street to our designated "safe meeting place" yelling  "Fire! Fire!"(I'm sure the neighbors love us.) But since then we have come up with a system. The fire starts and I get busy shutting that sucker down while Adia grabs the step stool and Ethan grabs the Children's Dictionary of Spanish Words book (It's large, but light weight and gets good air flow without tiring out your arms too quickly - it's a science.) We all meet up under the fire alarm, where Adia has the stool perfectly positioned and Ethan hands over the book. I climb on the stool and go to fanning while the kids open all the windows in the house and turn on all the fans. With any luck the heater kicks on then and helps blow all the smoke out rather quickly. Sometime, when we bring our A game, we can air it out before the lady ever starts yelling at us. Other times we aren't so lucky, but we have improved a lot since we first moved in. I know some of you would  suggest I stop cooking on Sundays, claiming that I am putting my children in danger or being a bad example. But I prefer to think of it as a good thing. It builds unity, helps us learn to work together efficiently, and provides memories that will last a lifetime. AND it reminds us to change the fire alarm batteries regularly and review our fire safety plan while we're at it. Plus, you didn't taste the peaches and cream stuffed french toast smothered in that caramel sauce we made. That makes it all worth it in the end... Yum!

My biggest fear.

See I can't even add a picture of a real mouse, that's how scared of them I am.

I know, given the situation I'm in and all of the things that could potentially happen in my life right now this might sound crazy, but literally one of my biggest fears is having a mouse in my house. I'm not the kind of person who scares easily. I don't mind extreme sports, I can squish bugs and spiders with my bare hands without thinking twice, I kill rattlesnakes with garden hoes, a black cat crosses my path?- no problem, I'm pretty brave for the most part. But when it comes to mice I have a real sincere fear. It comes from my mom, I'm sure, but regardless, I become totally irrational when I even see a mouse. I have to lift my feet when I see a mouse on TV, I get so scared I can't even scream, I make this high pitched moaning sound instead, and do this little shudder/ bum shake dance. It isn't pretty, but I literally can't control it. Last summer I put a plastic storage bin out on the porch until I had a chance to take it to storage. Somehow a mouse fell into it and couldn't get out. I paid my son ten bucks, offered to do all of his chores for him for the rest of the week, AND told him he wouldn't have any punishments for the rest of the day if he would take the bin to the end of the driveway and dump the mouse out for me. (good parenting, I know:) It was totally worth it.
When I was married my husband and I had a deal: I would take care of all the blood and bugs if he would take care of the mice. It worked out great for us, but now that I'm alone, I don't know what I'd do if  there was a mouse in the house. I can set a trap fine, but once it caught a mouse what would I do then? I'd move, that's what! That's the only logical solution I can come up with. I'm much too responsible to call 911 over a silly mouse, but I certainly can't get close enough to get rid of it, so the only solution is to move, but I would have to leave the stuff that's in the room where the mouse is because there's no way I could go in there. I've thought about it, and that's the only thing I can come up with. I'm not even kidding. As you can see, I lose all sense of rationality when I even think about mice.
So today I was on the phone with a telemarketer who was trying to save me "up to $500 a year on car insurance". I wasn't interested, but I hate being rude, so I always wait until they stop for breath before telling them no thanks. I hate interrupting people.:) As I was listening I noticed that my desk could use some tidying up, and moved a big pile of books so I could go through them and put them away. All of a sudden something under a piece of paper started to move and squeak. I did my high pitched moan into the phone and hung up on the poor salesman. (I really do feel bad about that, but it was an emergency! And in reality, it might be a good way to get put on the do not call list...) After jumping on the chair and mouse moaning and doing the dance until I almost fell OFF the chair I finally got my bearings. I realized it didn't really sound like a mouse, so using some tongs I got from the kitchen I moved the papers to see what was really under there. That's when I discovered that some little stinker had hidden her ZuZu pet under a pile of papers (knowing full well that those things creep me out) and moving the books set it off.

So things are calming down now, my breathing is back to normal and this house is short one ugly brown ZuZu pet that I threw out in the dumpster. Now I'm off to change my pants...

Dating (and knowing it!:)

VS. not knowing it like the first time.

Dating is not at all what I expected it to be. It isn't at all like the last time I was single. Before, dating was fun. I would go out with anyone once, it didn't matter if I knew ahead of time that we weren't a good match, it didn't matter if I knew ahead of time it would be a disaster, it didn't matter what we did or how much it cost or any of that. It didn't matter because then dating was about having a new experience and getting to know new people. And I loved it! I had so many incredible experiences, and did so many crazy things. And boy, do I have some stories I could share! I should write a book, really, it was that good.

Dating the second time around, for me, is not the same experience at all.

First of all, I live in a tiny town where I am one of like four single people, and one of those is a woman and the rest are creepy. So there isn't a lot to choose from, which makes it hard to get a date.

The second thing I didn't realize until I started attending some single activities with my friend in a nearby town. It turns out that I'm "not actually single". Funny, I've been "not single" before, and it was nothing like this, AND I have the messy divorce and crazy ex husband to prove it, so I really thought I was. Nope. Evidentally, according to one of the singles ward guys I have kids, so I'm "more of a ...company, than a single" and I "don't really belong with the other nice unmarried adults."

... So there's that:)

And finally, when you reach a certain age (I just turned 29, which isn't old anywhere else but in Mormon culture where it's actually ancient) people are in a hurry to get married. You can't just date because you want to have fun, or because going out is nice sometimes. Nope, you get one shot, and if you can't see yourselves together forever, it's over. And even worse, if you DO get along and think you could stand to spend some time together, the second date includes a DTR (determine the relationship) and a possible proposal. Because time is ticking, and can't be waisted on silly little things like learning each other's hobbies, or more about their family, or how to correctly pronounce last names... No, if you have found someone who isn't completely repulsed by you the time to act is NOW because the number of elegable singles is quickly diminishing, and those who snooze, will, in fact, lose.
And then there are my friends. Man, I love 'em. They have the best of intentions, really they do, but they are desperate to find someone for me. DESPERATE! One saw a guy in the temple one day, so she figured he must be a good guy, right? So a few weeks later when she saw him at the mall she literally chased him down to try to get me a date... good thing he sensed danger and bolted! Really, would it be worse to have him not want to date the friend of some crazy lady who stalks him in the mall, figuring that if I am that desperate I must be a total freak. Or is it worse for him to see my crazy stalker friend and realize that I must be a freak and STILL say yes he would date me? What kind of a freak would that make him? There just isn't any winning in that situation. And another friend notices random men who aren't wearing wedding rings and asks them if they want to date me, like the yard maintainence man at the city building or the Jr. livestock judge at the fair. I'm not kidding, I couldn't even make this stuff up. And by the way, not all men who don't wear wedding rings are single. And that gets awkward! And one day I got an excited call from my best friend. It seems that as his wife was parusing the local paper she came across a personal ad from a guy who had three kids and was looking for a wife to take care of them. They saved the ad for me. Nice! It's not that I don't want the help finding a date. I like my friends and if they have a nice single guy who likes them too, we might be able to hit it off. I just think that if they DON'T know someone nice it's okay to say that and not try to seek out new friends... or bus boys... or strangers on the street for me to date.
It's not that I don't want to get married. I actually would love it. Though my first marriage was not good, doesn't mean that all marriage is not good. I am still a romanic at heart, that has not changed. I just want to know who I'm marrying. For real. I thought I knew last time, and I. did. not! and I don't want that to happen again. I don't think that is too much to ask, is it?
So for now I'm still trying to find my dating niche. I'm taking it slow. I'm avoiding going out in public with my friends, I'm steering clear of defining myself as single, and I'm hanging in there. Wish me luck, I'm going to need it!

House Warming

My divorce happened really fast. One minute I thought things were fine, and the very next instant things were completely different. We were in shock. And what do you do when your whole world falls apart? You go home. So that's what we did. For a year my kids and I moved in with my parents. They were so kind to let us stay there, and they really made us feel like we were home, not just visiting. They were great. My little family has begun pulling it together again, and Ethan's school situation changed a little this year, so it was a great time to get out on our own again. For the time being we need to stay close to my parents. I am still trying with all my might to get through school, and I have a much better chance of accomplishing that if I have a free babysitter. Also, while we are doing much better, we don't have super power, and really, I need my daddy now and then:) So anyway, we moved about an hour away. We are only here for another year, two tops, and we already own a house, just not here, so buying wasn't really an option for us. The only houses that I could find for rent are either falling apart or are way out of this single mom's budget, So that left the only apartment building in town. It is actually just renovated, and so we are the first person to live on the carpet, which makes me more happy than you can imagine. It also has new managers, so there are new rules which are pretty strict, and that makes me happy too. And this little town isn't really the kind of town the has a "ghetto" or anything, so although it isn't the best situation, it isn't bad at all either. But then, as you may or may not know, in the divorce I got the kids. ...And that was pretty much all. So the quality of my possessions is not the highest. I have mismatched dishes, glasses, and silverware, one pan, two bowls, etc. I feel like a college student with grandma's hand-me-downs all over again, except now I'm 29 and a mom, so it's less acceptable:) We also have an old TV that I got when I was in high school. It has a built in VCR, that's how old it is. The remote is lost and the power button is broken, so to turn it on we use a pencil and stick it down inside the hole and poke it around until we either get shocked and give up or it turns on. Yeah, that's the quality of our lifestyle now:) 

It actually isn't that bad, and we have everything we need, our apartment is pretty cute (even though the entire thing can fit inside of my kitchen/dining room in my other house:) and we are doing fine. But, I wanted to have a housewarming party, and I LOVE a good theme, so I decided to embrace our circumstances; our theme was "WHITE TRASH"! 

It was SO funny. 

Right across the street from our new place is the city park. It has a nice pavillion and a pretty good skate park, and a playground, and everything else a good white trash party might need, so we decided to hold the first part of the party there and let the kids play while the adults visited. It seemed like a good idea until our friend Cade, not being told ahead of time that it was being held "in public" refused to get out of the car for 10 minutes for fear someone "normal" might see him.:) Eventually he did though, and the party was a huge success. We started the shindig out by applying some fake tattoos. I made them super white-trashy like barbed wire and hearts with the word "mom" inside. And our friends put them in super trashy places too, so the effect was a good one. We had a wonderful spread of food too. Cocktail sausages with an array of dipping sauce, twinkies- still in the wrapper, a pyramid of generic soda, squeeze-cheeze, potato salad, chips and bean dip- straight from the can, and pickled eggs. All of this was served on paper plates with sporks, and paper towel for napkins. 

A few hours later we wound the party up with white (trash) elephant gifts. I ended up with a can of WD40! Some other things included a can of SPAM, rusty nails, and a brush for the shower that boasts to save you from all that pesky bending over to wash your feet. 

Now on to the proof. Yes I did take a few pictures, but don't judge, I shot in (gasp!) Auto!

One of our guests showing off his "guns"

One of these adults are barefoot and pregnant in real life. The other just looks like it:) These guys are actually way too classy to be at a party like this. M the older boy, kept asking "why do we have to be white?" They didn't get it.

Look at the farmer's tan! And the boots!

This is my happy family. Can we say CHRISTMAS CARD!!! :) My kids didn't get it at all either. They didn't know why I was making them dress so immodestly, and why I was wearing sweatpants in public (an absolute no-no in our family). They didn't mind too much though until later on in the night Ethan's shirt got ripped pretty badly and I said "Oh no! Now what are you going to wear to church tomorrow!" I thought they were both going to cry!

Telephone...

I never leave my kids alone, never. I really am the most overprotective mom there is, and I take them with me EVERYWHERE. When I lived with my parents right after the divorce it wasn't a problem because usually there was someone around to watch them if I needed to run somewhere really quickly. Now there is no one here for that, so everywhere we go I load them up and drag them along. But today we had been having some outside, rockin' summer fun, and they were filthy. It was almost dinner time and I had to run to the store for a couple of ingredients, the store was set to close in ten minutes, but the kids were the kind of dirty where you just COULDN'T take them in public. So I figured, they are nine and six now, AND the store is less than a block away, AND I only needed milk and cheese, which is located fairly close to the check out stand, AND we live in a super teeny town where everyone trusts everyone, and no one locks their doors, so SURELY they would be alright for five minutes while I ran there and back, right??? I left STRICT instructions not to answer the phone or door NO MATTER WHAT! But knowing my kids I also added "and DO NOT tell anyone you are home alone!" Feeling confident and that all my bases were covered, and feeling like maybe we could handle this single parent family thing alright I set out, speeding to the store, sprinting through the isles, cutting off an elderly man at the checkout, you know all the stuff a confident single mom does on a regular basis...:)

When I got home Ethan informs me that "Ad-i-a an-swered the pho-one" in that sing song voice that brothers use when they know SOMEBODY'S getting in trouble. Adia pipes right up, "yeah, but I took a good message. I made him spell everything out so I got it all just right. And he had no idea we were all alone." Because correct spelling is SO important when it could be Chester the Molester on the phone waiting for just the right moment to break in and steal my children... So as Ethan went to go get the message I what she said if she didn't tell him I wasn't home. She answered with a huge grin, "Oh, I just said 'my mom's naked, so she can't talk on the phone right now.' " I am slightly mortified, and kind of want to hide under the bed. I am praying it was a salesman that I will never hear from again, or someone like that. I pray that it was NOT the board member of the social work program at my school that I had been expecting a call from all evening. Well it wasn't any of those people. Nope, it was our new BISHOP wondering if I could meet with him on Sunday! Nope I can't make that meeting I am going to need to move and change my identity now in order to avoid further embarrassment, thanks very much for asking though...

Fresh Breath.

Adia has been having some growing pains lately, so we have been putting Bengay (generic, but like that) on her legs at night to ease the pain. We keep the tube in the top drawer of the bathroom along with a lot of other things, hair clips, fingernail polish, makeup, toothpaste...The tube looks remarkably like the "spiderman blue raspberry smoothy" toothpaste that Ethan uses... (Though the actual cream looks nothing alike, which is why the story is still a bit of a mystery to me)This morning I was cleaning up after breakfast when I hear screaming. This isn't the, my sister just flushed when I was in the shower kind of screaming. It was pain... agony... real. I rushed down the hall just in time to be plowed into by Ethan. "Mom, My mouth is on FIRE! Like... real... FIRE!!!" I can see his eyes welling up with tears. He is dancing around. His breath smells quite spicy, and very unlike a spiderman blue raspberry smoothy. I think maybe he was brushing with my toothpaste instead, but that didn't smell quite right either. He is now rolling on the floor in pain. I rush him into the bathroom and we start rinsing his mouth out, all the while he is screeching that it is getting worse. And now his eyes are burning too because he was wiping the tears away, and there must be some on his hands. Is this something that needs medical attention? Why on earth did we move to a town with no hospital or insta-care? I know I have to find out what the mystery toothpaste is, and fast, before we set anything else to burning. And then I see it, the Bengay. And I remember that lately I have been getting after Ethan for using an un-realisticly huge amount of toothpaste when he brushes. So the poor guy must have a quarter cup of the stuff in his mouth, and you know how that stuff burns and then gets worse and worse. I remember that sometimes if you use soap to wash it off, that helps, so I rinse out the Bengay toothbrush, and squirt a little antibacterial hand wash - Cherry blossom- Thanks Bath and Body Works- onto the brush. I Brush for all I'm worth... and he starts gagging. And then he pukes, and it BURNS his little throat. And we are both in tears, Ethan is still gagging, and Adia is in the background dry heaving. Finally the soap helps, and it starts to cool, and Ethan starts feeling a little better. I rush to grab the phone and call poison control. I tell them that Ethan swallowed Bengay. They ask what happened, and I tell them the whole story - they LAUGH! I find out that if he threw up he should be fine, but to give him plenty of liquids - warm is preferable to cold because the Bengay heat intensifies when it gets cold - wish I would have thought of THAT before I forced him to drink ice cold water strait out of the tap earlier. And keep and eye on him. I hang up. I give him some cocoa. I make Adia some too because she doesn't want to be left out. I clean up the puke. I put the Bengay up on the shelf. Then it hits me, this is pretty funny. I understand why the poison control guy giggled (though, still not very professional.) I start laughing too. Adia joins me. Ethan gets this look on his face that he gives me sometimes, when he thinks I'm really annoying. That makes me laugh harder. I change my puked on clothes, and sit down to blog, because these are the moments of our lives, and wouldn't it be a shame if we didn't share them?

Doves.

Image courtisey of client safari

None of the doves I have been in contact with recently would make a very good picture

So something totally bad is happening. I think it's a sign, and not a good one! Let me explain, and tell me what you think.

I have a big bay window in my room, and when I first moved here I was standing in the window, looking out, and a dove flew right into it. Right next to where my head was. It hit hard too. It splattered... stuff... all over the window, and left a bird shaped smudge of the glass. (really, you could see the head, the wings, everything, and it was totally hard to get off!) It died. I was traumatized.

A few weeks later Ethan ran a bird over with his bike. He didn't mean to, it was just sitting there, and didn't move, and his "brain forgot to tell his legs to stop pedaling" Guess what kind of bird it was... yeah, it was totally a dove.

A few weeks after that the kids and I were going outside. I opened the door, and a dove flew straight at me, hitting the brick next to the door frame, and knocking it out for a second. I stood there looking at it, wondering what to do, when it all of a sudden came alive and flew under the couch. We weren't really sure what to do. It took some coaxing, but finally I moved the couch, and the kids made a mad dash for it. Ethan caught it, and threw it out the door, and nothing got "doved" on, but it was really strange. And pretty freaky.

Then today I was driving down the road on my way to take Ethan to an appointment in Monticello. A group of birds flew right in front of my car, and I hit one. Oops! So I drive all the way to Monticello. As I drive through town I see several people I know, and wave to them. Everyone gives me kind of funny looks though. I know that I have been gossiped about by a few people, lately, and I think it might have something to do with that, so I try not to get my feelings hurt, and keep driving. We stop at the hospital and get out, and then I see it. That "bird" I hit earlier happened to be a dove, and it got it's little head stuck in my grill, and it's lifeless body had been bouncing around on the front of my car all the way from La Sal. Nice right? I had to pry it out with a stick, and then some mean guy yelled at me about not leaving it there in the hospital parking lot. (I pretended I didn't hear him, and left it there anyway. What was I supposed to do with it, stick it in my purse until I found a garbage can?)

So here is the thing. I am getting a little self-conscious. It would be one thing if it was several kinds of birds, but it isn't. It's always a dove. I am trying to figure it out, but the only thing that keeps coming to me is the fact that a dove is the sign of

Peace

and love,

and I keep KILLING IT!!!

This is not a great thing for my life right now. I want love. I want peace.

I don't want to be a "murderer of love!"

(From one of my all time favorite movies - name it!)

So give me a few ideas here. I totally believe in signs, and this totally is one. So what does it mean? I would prefer ideas that are nicer than "murderer of love" but truth would work too:). Let me know what you think. I know several of you love analyzing things like this, so I am expecting some responses here people.

Oh, and here is a little update. I just found out that this kind of dove is called a Mourning Dove. NOT"Morning" like I had always thought. NOT like the happy, sunshiny, fresh start- kind of dove! More like the pain, misery, deep sense of loss- kind of dove!Nice! This can't be good, can it?)