clapping.

I believe that everyone should have one time in their life when they receive applause for their work. Better yet, we should all have a fan club that gives us kudos for organizing, or typing, writing, computing, disciplining, examining, road work, changing diapers, and every other form of work we are doing.

Saturday was my day. But I had actual applause. Matinee performance and with each short jaunt across the stage, someone clapped, or yelped, or laughed....just a bit louder than normal. And applause for walking across the stage with a flashlight? Never happened to me before. But it did on Saturday. And everyone in the cast assumed I had some friends in the audience, but the only ones I knew of were my visiting teachers - who are older, and might clap, but definitely would not yelp or applaud a flashlight cross.

So I was puzzled. But enjoyed it. And felt crazed, elated, and a bit hyper. Okay. So maybe it was the diet coke. And maybe I was imagining the support. But even imaginary friends giving imaginary applause can make for a whole lot of imaginary fun.

And what a job. And why should entertainers be the only ones to feel like that? That is so unfair. So I would like to suggest equal opportunity applause. And if anyone needs some, let me know where and when - and I'll show.

photo via Multiple fragments of tissue

in a box.

I need boxes. Free boxes. And I'm working the Craig list circuit, but so far have fallen upon a no response and a second place miss.

And knowing that a realtor is coming.... today, and the house is a mess. Okay, it's tidy, but not truly clean...freaks me out. And I have no time to clean. The refrigerator, floors, closets, my room, MY ROOM, garage....it all.

And I need to stuff boxes with all the things we don't use and don't need and get them out so at least it feels more clean.

So the realtor will come. the house won't shine. and I'll keep working on boxes.

Photo via Steve Keys

shaking it up a few more times.

I've been shaken. And am trying to leave you in a better state.

A few days of continuous screaming, hitting, hanging on, and pushing = a delicate soul on the precipice of being the final petal dangling until torn on the loves me not.

So onto happier thoughts: I still have 6 more moments of villainous revelry and plenty of angry inspiration.

You haven't seen this yet? You should. Tickets are going fast. I'll be there M, W, F, and the next 2 Saturday matinees.

Out of state? Don't have the money? Hate theater? Here's a sample of the crazy.

Thanks to Julia and Nina for the pics!

popping.

I'm through. through with feeling like I'm doing things right. IT comes in phases. But last week, as I asked a 14 year old to not open a bag of popcorn until outside (because we just vacuumed and cleaned up a mess 'o' corn), I assumed that her response, YES, meant that she understood.

Ten minutes later, when said bag went tumbling to the carpet, popcorn was everywhere. Reflexes kicked in and I began simultaneously cleaning and lecturing.

My Mouth: What are you doing? Do you remember promising not to open this?

Thoughts: This sounds an awful lot like my lectures to Millie.

Mouth: I've had it! I'm not your school teacher.

Thoughts: She doesn't hear me. I'm talking. But no one can hear.

Mouth: This isn't school. I'm not here to discipline.

Thoughts: Blah, blah, blah.

And poor girl had to ride home in my car. And didn't say a word to me. And I'm mean. And I'm old. And everything that I say is pretty lame.

Including this.

writing about road kill...again.

Driving to gymnastics setup at 10 PM-ish, I saw something crossing the street. I slowed down...and saw a cat. Right in the middle of the road. And then something in front of it moved. And the cat darted toward it. And I stopped the car completely. It was a mouse.

The cat contemplated....follow the mouse and die? Or stop. While it thought, I slowly moved around Tom and Jerry.

This is the first time that I have ever actually seen a cat chasing a mouse.

In my headlights.

I get a bit of joy out of that.

eating brownies at 11:30 pm.

Lowsy brownies. and yet I'm eating them.

And I wonder: if I admit it now, while they are 3 and 1, that I'm an awful specimen of a mother - will it make it easier on them in the long run?

flying.

six years ago I had a miscarriage.

first pregnancy. first loss. and it threw me into depression. (Hormones Rock!)

but a happy memory lingers from this. sister Kirstin sent us 2 kites. cool kites. happy kites.

everyone should receive a kite surprise when sad.

our dragon and fish have been happy memories preserved in their packaging, never seeing the sky. until now.

Kirstin, this flight is for you.

facebook again.

Clin's on Facebook for 1 week and almost has more friends than me. He also has a prettier profile picture. But who's comparing?

me.

And then women write things on his wall, like:

Hey! Where you been all my life? Or at least the last month?

Who writes things like that to a married man? I mean, yes, I'm reacting to current hormonal changes pre-menstrual style, but it totally sounds like flirting. Right?

So I'm trying to find some women to write things like that on my wall. Any takers?

band-aid.

The result of an accident?

No. Oooooh no.

This is the result of 3 days full of bowel movements. in the toilet! Band-aids are amazing.

Now I just need an incentive to get her to take these off.

the Scrooge of St. Patrick's.

3 years old. And I had to find something green for her to wear. I'm enabling peer pressure. And I'm being pressured by the fear of someone pinching my baby.

This drives me nuts.

in love.

1997 - sophomore year at college. hours spent on my bed listening to the Willie Nelson version. crying. thinking of clin.

singing this song is synonymous to having me at hello.

a klutz.

Join me in reinacting last week. Through pictures.

This first picture is of a wound that I earned during last Wednesday nights performance. At the time I had no idea it happened. Just a bit of pain in the elbow. I looked down and saw blood. It doesn't look bad now, but at the time I was like, YES! I'm sacrificing all for my character.

I don't have a picture of Friday night's injury. A little difficult to take.

*Spoiler Alert* During the show, I carry a bullhorn. When bringing it up to my mouth to speak, I forgot to stop. And whacked myself in the lip. Complete bloody lip. But only when I smiled.

Saturday Matinee: I stabbed myself in the elbow. Again. Only this time I needed a bandage. But at least it helped me discover the cause of the elbow pain.

Let's look at the two together. Shall we?

Awesome. And I will now have scars that will forever remind me of the fun I'm having.

a fan.

I spent last Thursday setting up the gymnasium at the rec center for the Library Gala. The annual fundraiser that the library board is in charge of putting together. This was my first. And I was willing to do what I was told. Fill cups with ice, pour water, serve dessert, clean up.

My highlight? Meeting Hesther Rippy. A beautiful, beautiful woman. In her eighties. If I could describe her in colors, they would be silver, black, and red. And she stood out. Walking, living model, stand out. Showing up at 10:00 AM, in full makeup, hair and dress, Hester helped set up the tables. Stunning. Serious, I should have taken a camera. But it turns out I didn't need to. Why? Because she's famous.

Gorgeous. Right? Totally.

The evening's act was the Thrillionaires. And I am now their biggest fan. We're talking Mel from Flight of the Conchords type fan. Their pianist brought his own piano. A real piano. *Love it.* (Serious? Who carries around a real piano? Side note: He is also a piano tuner. Who knew that piano tuners could make the impossible possible.)

The musical they created focused on a small town: new mom (secretly wants to break dance) and son (who thinks he's pregnant but discovers it is only a burrito), move to town. The hyper cheerleader finds out she is in love with the son, and her dad disapproves (has a secret that we discover he thought he had been pregnant and given birth to his daughter 16 years earlier). You still with me here? Local pizza owner likes to fight crime on his own. And they find out that he took a baby from awful parents and left it with the dad (so it was actually a burrito - not pregnancy).

Entertaining. I know!

Saucy stuff. Especially for little town Lehi. I laughed. So what if a little too loud. So what if the people at the surrounding tables looked at me. I think pregnancy from burrito is funny. FUNNY.

a gee-tar hero.

After naps, Millie came down the stairs to find me working on my computer.

Millie: Get off your computer Mom. It's time to rock 'n' roll.

Who can say no to that?

photo via Яick Harris

not a scout.

I don't like boy scouts. I'm not a boy. Or a scout. And even if I wanted to be one, I couldn't. And I think that's what I don't like about it. It's so not fair. (I know. Life isn't fair. I've heard that one before. And you're right. But it doesn't mean that I can't complain about it. You still have a problem with that? Leave me a mean comment. Or go read another blog.)

I've never been on a 50 mile bike ride. Or built a snow cave. Or any of those things because I was a girl. I have issues about that. Seriously? Because I was a girl? My brothers did those things. And whether or not they liked the experience is beside the point. They had the opportunity.

I assume I wouldn't like learning to spelunk, or swimming upside down, or whatever else they do. But how do I really know? I never had the opportunity to try. Perhaps I could have been the next Lance Armstrong. Perhaps I would have chosen to move to the Arctic and live with the Inuit People and build snow caves all the time.

Alas. I shall never know.

Another thing that I don't like about scouts? Women stay at home while the men go out and partay. Perhaps some families like this. But I would be resentful if my husband left for camping every week while I had to stay home and clean up poop and deal with tantrums. Seriously. Not very fair.

And that is why I'm a tad opposed to the scouting phenomenon. That is why I'm not in support. And that is why I have girls.

photo via scarlatti2004

dogged.

I don't like dogs. I'm not an animal person. But today I was traumatized as I watched a car hit a dog on the freeway.

So question to you:

What is the protocol in this situation?

Do you call animal control?

Or the Humane Society?

If you hit the dog (which I did not), are you required to pull of to the side of the road?

If you see someone else hit the dog, are you supposed to do it as well? You know, like a witness to an accident?

warning you.

If you happen to squeeze your fake eyelash glue too hard, and a whole bunch comes out of the tube, putting it all on the eyelash in order to not waste the glue may seem like a good idea at the time.

But six hours later when you are getting ready for bed, it will take 30 minutes to pry the thing off. And fake eyelashes won't be the only thing removed.

photo via BrittneyBush

talking to a 3 yr old.

Millie, seeing me do my hair and makeup for the night's performance, says:

Millie: (Excited) Is Morgan going to come over and watch me?

Me: No. Daddy gets to watch you tonight!

Millie: (Sad) Ahhh. Again?

clean.

I took a shower yesterday. Yeah for being clean! And as I was brushing through my hair, I couldn't remember if I had washed it or not. I suspected not. But it was too late to do anything and I really didn't have proof.

This morning as I put the shampoo in my hair, I realized that I had meant to use conditioner and was now washing my hair for a second time.

Isn't it amazing how the universe corrects itself?

photo via cybertoad

seeing and clutching air.

I get to wear awesome possum clip-ons for All Shook Up.

And why can't I wear pierced earrings?

Answer: Oh, I let the holes close on up about ten years ago when I jaunted over to Madagascar... and just haven't felt the need to open them back up.

Back to the Story:

I tend to have nights on stage when they refuse to stay on. The earrings, that is. This week, as I gazed lovingly at Matilda's love interest, I felt a tug on my skirt.

What? Am I caught on something? Is my slip sticking out? Is my skirt tucked into my bloomers? Do I look down? Do I ignore?

I chose to ignore. More tugging. So I looked down. And an elderly woman in the front row was stretching her arm up to me. Holding my earring.

Do I take it? Pretend not to see it? How do I do this without breaking the 4th wall? How long will the woman hold it up if I continue to ignore?

So I took the earring. Pretending that it magically appeared in the air. How else could I explain the strange phenomenon?

And then last night, I slipped and fell in the middle of my song. (I have a song!) That's what I get for running in heels. That's what I get for wearing heels.

Gasp. Did everyone just gasp? The entire room just gasped in unison. I think. Stand up. Stand up already.

So I did. And finished the song. And I now have the knee of a 5 year old! How great is that.

tuesday thinking.

I made whole wheat blueberry pancakes for the girls this morning. WHAT? yes. But before you start throwing mother of the year awards my way, just know that they didn't fully realize until the late hour of 9:10, after I finally pulled myself out of bed.

I really hate admitting that. But come on! The morning after a high energy performance? Right? And I promise they weren't starving. Millie has perfected her access to Cheerios, and Oatmeal Squares, which she lovingly shares with Ellis. Throughout the house.

During my morning's inner struggle, Ellis put her finger in Millie's mouth. So Millie bit down. Hard.

Millie puts her finger in Ellis's mouth and then pulls it out before Ellis can bite. Ellis laughs.

Not a fair game.

I give up on this outfit. I love it. But it only leads to work. work. work. work. The real problem? Snaps. Causing joy in removal. And I have given up putting it back on Ellis, because it is off the moment I turn my back.

And then I discover the living room carpet rolled up and Ellis is playing ring aroung the rosy by herself. In full onesie diaper glory. Throwing her body to the ground after each rosy. Pulling herself back up and RING AROUND THE ROSY again.

Hallelujah for self entertainment.

The couch cushions must be supporting the falls. Because there are quite a few snot trails that weren't there yesterday. Or perhaps a snail is running amuck.

Question: Any idea on a quick fix? For snail trails, that is.

tasting spring.

We had a hint of spring this week. I think it's my favorite season. I like it when there are one or 2 clouds in the sky and it covers the sun enough to leave a large shadow on the ground, and bright sun everywhere else. I like to be in that shadow. It makes me think of that song from Into the Woods - Giants in the Sky. I don't know why. Other than I always think of giants when it happens. And I always feel like I am looking down on myself in that moment. I guess you can say it's the closest I come to an out of body experience.

It also always reminds me of sitting in the park, behind the house of my childhood. Having just gotten off the bus, choosing to sit in the giant's shadow and talking to Kelly instead of going home. That is spring. Alternating between giant shadows and rainy days. Perfection.

Except that then I have to leave the house. Good weather drives the kids outdoors. Which is good. and bad. because homebody me enjoys a shadow or two, but ultimately prefers carpet and couches.

photo via Nicholas_T