so proud...

of my genes.

Millie is getting the glasses. I thought that perhaps two negatives might make a positive.

Clin - glasses in 1st grade

+

Jackie - glasses in 1st grade

=

Glasses in Kindergarten!!!!

I sat in on the eye exam and was pretty surprised at how large the letters had to be for Millie to see them. And this is our gift to you.

Millie sassed the optometrist. Yes she did.

I will NOT wear glasses.

I will NOT try on glasses.

Even though she has 2 friends who wear glasses.

She pointed to a picture of herself on the computer from last summer: I want to be her.

What do you mean?

I want to be me. Not with glasses.

How does a 5 year old make the connection that glasses will change an individual? Where does that come from? The same conclusion that I made many years ago, when my self image was based on the idea that glasses decreased individual attraction. And worked an entire summer to save for contacts. That were supposed to make me less shy and increase beauty.

It didn't work.

She picked out some specs, and now looks for them in the mail everyday. Excited to wear them to see the MDT Review. Hoping it might make a difference in what she can see.

I think they will make her completely awesome. When we chose baby names, Clin and I tried to choose names that we could envision on little girls with glasses.

See. We planned it this way.

calm and bright.

Here it is 5:00 AM, and I'm awake, thinking. Nose dripping. Tired. Sick. And awake.

Which makes me think of my Dad. Do I have insomnia? The thought that plagues me everytime I have a night like this.

(Or aphrodisiac, as I so clearly explained to family friends at a game night when I was in middle school. Or maybe it was high school. But that's normal to mix those two words. Right? Insomniac. Aphrodisiac. Same thing. Don't you see it?)

And I was perusing the beautiful blogs, and saw a Christmas Card declaring "All is Calm, All is Bright." But it's not. And I'm not. I'm lonely. And sad. And I miss my family. I miss friends.

It's my own fault. I don't have time for family. Or friends. Which is okay 90% of the time. Because I'm socially inept that way. (Or perhaps you could also say social insomniac. Or social aphrodisiac.)

And I read these posts about people who live near their siblings, and trade children/get together/like each other on a daily basis and it makes me sad. I will never live by my siblings. And half the time I think they hate me because I mess up Christmas (sorry Lindy) and cause anger (sorry Kyle and Nathan and everyone else) and am not eloquent, funny, or much fun. And I would like to pick up and go visit them all but have this adversion to spending money (another reason I'm loving Christmas this year.)

It's so much easier to connect with siblings who know me and all the negatives wrapped in that package. And perhaps still might be okay with that. But maybe they aren't.

And now I'm just babbling.

But same for Mom and Dad. Who fix things. That I can't.

So merry, merry all. I'm going back to bed.

in the snow.

One thing that I enjoy about blogs -- other peoples' blogs -- not my blog -- are the beautiful, vibrant, photoshopped pictures of the beautiful, vibrant, edited lives of lovely, articulate strangers. How easy it is to present life as a shimmering orb of perfection. And I like following shiny orbs. Or I like perfection. Particularly the glossy cover-art kinds.

And I think it might be a fun hobby to attempt the creation of a snowglobe life filled with sparkling whimsy and splashy fun.

But I can't write that way. If I did, though, you would now be reading about the crisp evening in a backyard covered in mounds of snow, pristine and untouched. Steam from the dryer vent adding a haze to the cloud covered sky, creating stage effects for our first attempt at throwing ourselves into such perfection.

Small bodies stuck in drifts after each fall, as mother makes her way to save each one from the snow angels holding them hostage. Rolling out the snowman layers, creating snowball machines, eating the productions and starting over again.

Frosty appearing underneath the large tree, without carrot, hat, scarf, or buttons but sculpting replicas out of the excess snow that just happens to be laying at our feet.

And you might imagine an evening of perfection and beauty, within a snowglobe of our own.

Until I admit that this is our first snowman. And I feel bad about that.

And that is where I fall out of the orb, in that I am compelled to admit my guilt and complete lack of abilities of submitting my will to the needs of my children.

posting for posterity.

Two moments of recent happy:

In a brash move to fight the non-cooking phase we are in, I decided to make some cinnamon rolls for Sunday morning breakfast. And since I'm not the early morning type, I made the dough the evening before.....and then forgot. Sometime around midnight I discovered the dough overtaking the kitchen and decided I should get it rolled out before bed.

That is when Ellis awoke and happened upon my rolling bliss. And we worked together rolling dough, spreading butter, and sprinkling the sugar.

Then Millie awoke. And after a few tears of anger upon the post sprinkled discovery, she helped roll, cut, and throw the rolls into pans.

And who knew, but midnight baking is fun. And no one fought. Nor was there a rush to return to homework, or naps, or places. A new tradition is born.

Moment #2:

As told to us by Granny Lany -

Ellis and Millie eating lunch at the counter. Ellis burps loudly.

Millie says: That's the girl I'm going to marry!


There. Posted. Never to be forgotton.

schooled. Week 1.

Orientation began at 8:00 AM last Monday and ended at 4:00 PM Friday. And every hour was scheduled. I was home around 10 every night and left at 6:30 AM each morning.

How strange to see my children a total of 10 minutes awake. Or what seemed like 10 minutes.

What I learned in my first week attempt at PhD:

- I'm vulnerable.

and have very thin skin. One reason I wanted to stop auditions was the call back. Where you return and perform in front of your competition. last week was a callback. Not that I perceive my fellow students as competition. But it still had a callback feel. Particularly by the end of the week when I was very, very tired. I tend to think of this as my hallucination period.

Kind words can bring me to tears.

So can smiles. and familiar friends from the past.

I did nothing at my house last week. And if it weren't for some amazing parents, I don't know what we would have done. Not only was the house clean, dishes put away, family fed, but my daughters were schooled, homework completed, and lawn mowed without a finger lifted by me.

It was insane how kind and giving my parents were. And now that they are gone (refusing my cries for them to move in and take care of me until my vulnerable period ends)....I am on my own.

So I will continue to claim hallucinations until my skin thickens a bit. And I stop perceiving unfounded emotions from others. Or opinions of me.

Because I will just continue to tell my psyche: this is not middle school. this is not middle school. this is not middle school.

pondering my stance on beards.

Except I really love the fact that my brother has a beard. And I hope he never goes without. It fits him. You know?

And my first thought in seeing a new picture of him on facebook with a trimmed out beard was:

I need to share this feeling of beard satisfaction with the world.

My uncle has always had a beard. And I like that too.

However, I'm really glad that Clin is without.

checking in.

Here it is the beginning of August. Let's see if I've done anything that I planned to do as of my last post. Because the plan was to be done by August 1st. And focus on my girls. Solely on my girls.

Scrapbooking the first 3 years of my girls lives - I have not started. However, my evenings will be free these first few weeks of August, and slapping some glue on some pics and throwing them in binders will be the minimal goal and I will get this done. And I continue to ask, why do I dread this so?

Update my online Research Course for Fall - Done. Almost. The finishing touches are going on tonight. No matter how late I need to stay up. But in the mad prepping of the past two weeks I learned something awesome. BYU has copy machines in their library that allow you to scan to your email. So instead of wasting all of my coins? I completely mastered the free world of scanning. Seriously, awesome.

We met Millie's teacher. And guess what? She assigned homework. Millie's first homework. And here is the result. All ready for the first day of class.

It's supposed to be Millie. And she did it all herself, cutting, pasting, coloring. The only thing that I did was tie the bow on top. But she placed it. Very Project Runway, don't you think?

As for that Wallace Stegner novel? Scratched. Because I have homework. 3 weeks until school starts, yet I have articles and a nice thick book to read.

So Stegner will have to wait 3 or 5 years. But at least this assigned book is one I've been wanting to read.

in mourning...

for the life that was full of potential but never realized.

doesn't returning to your childhood haunts do that to you?

it makes me sad. every time. and i think of things. like how in first grade i visited Portland, and then wrote that i did not see shark meat, avocados, or policemen on horse in really great handwriting.

my mom and my sister said it was really great hand writing. for first grade.

and i think. at that time. what potential was seen? and was it realized?

not fully. i'm sure. or at all in the manner imagined.

kind of sad.

and now.

the time spent with my girls is coming to an end. and i'm sad.

for i had a vision of the potential of that time. and it wasn't fully realized.

and i also really want that family that all lives near one another. so i can abuse privileges by utilizing the safety of cousins and comfort of siblings to shield me from anxiety and fear.

i've never had that. reliable, automatic, adult friends through family to hang out with on a school night.

but then again, i don't like people. and would probably en anger some.

and then i would have to apologize.

quoted and red.

so i have some very intelligent friends. and it sounds like we all need to grab us a wallace stegner novel. stat.

which i will. because i have a plan.

july: update future classes. finish updating all photo albums. 5 years worth. for there will be no time for photos for 5 more years come the end of august.

august: focus. on. two. things. plus a little bit more. for august will be the end. of life. as. we. know. it. kindergarten begins. and i will not work for the first two weeks. only walks to school. and bonding. and a lingering with the final whisperings of toddler-ness. and weekends shall be devoted to freezing meals. 8 months worth. for that will be the next time that i might breathe long enough to cook.

and perhaps. somewhere. sometime. i can throw in a bit of wallace. just for fun. for fall will shroud all reading with discipline and learning. and novels will be replaced with responsibility. and due dates.

neglect...

of anything not imminent.

And thus, my little blog, you have suffered neglect. But not to the extent of my hair, my eyebrows, my diet, my house, or my soul... Muah-ha-ha-ha-ha.

That was an evil laugh.
You know.
In case you couldn't hear.

So this is what you've missed. I think.

• Clin grew some hair.
  



• primary 1st counselor calling = utter chaos. as in all of the children look the same. and not one name sticks.
  


• Ellis threw up. on me. in cafe rio. a deep red gatorade. during rush hour. in front of the soda machine. and no one helped. and I aimed her on me, so as not to get others sick. and I watched as those around us slowly moved away. awesome.
  


• Aging and Arts Presentation at Theater Ed Forum @ BYU.
  


• Clin grew more hair.
  



• I gave up the ghost. Of diet coke that is.
  


• Ellis screaming.
  


• nursery toy drive.
  


• Millie screaming.
  


• cleaning nursery toys.
  


• Me - screaming.
  


• cleaning more nursery toys.
  


• more facial hair. for Clin. not me. Although Ellis likes to say, "ew. I kissed your beard," to both of her parents.
  


• Spring Break O Ten. Disneyland.
  


• Ellis throws up again. This time temperature won't come down. Until Clin realizes that I have been giving her expired medicine. Yeah for me! And Back to the Disneyland.
  


• Kindergarten orientation.
  


• The smell of bleach will not go away. Neither will the nursery toys.
  


• Snow for Spring.
  


• Millie's 5th Birthday: Scooter, Tag books, princess Tiana figurines, My Little Pony, memory game. And the declaration: "Now that I'm five I get to go to kindergarten. I do not go to preschool when I'm five."
  


• I'm still working on prepping my class for Summer. And realize, tonight, that only 1 person is registered. Hmmmm, so much for inspiring all of campus. Deadline approaches. Number of late nights increase.
  


• Millie tells me about her dream. I can't remember it now. But somehow, in someway she used the word drunk.
  


• Fiddler done. Beard gone. Hair cut. We now have Clin back. He is unrecognizable.
  


• Planning princess party as I feel that Millie should be allowed to make friends sometime in her life.

And.

PhD. I've been accepted. For Fall 2010.

I've said yes.

So be prepared for more neglect.

random release...

Shoveling the drive twice within 17 hours is nice inspiration. For a variety of blog posts. Only the second that one pops in my head, it leaves. For warmer weather I suppose.

Like I wanted to post about how I can't stand doing my hair right now. And I was about to write it out in my mind. But it went away. And that ended that.

Or about how Millie called our car a genious. Which it totally is. But I can't recall the circumstance, or story surrounding it.

And then this morning, before shoveling episode #2, my period started. And clarity came.

I thought - oh, I should write about this. But then realized that I always write about the beginning of my period. Why must I force my blog to be my calendar?

And that might be gross. For you. If you're reading. But it's not gross for me. (Remember: blood not gross. Stickers and long nails? Vomit inducing.) I like to talk about it. It's a huge part of who I am. Or I guess in how I act. And perhaps it is my one token form of rebellion. (Or is that the dc?)

Rebellious? How can it be rebellious? Well, when you grow up not swearing, or drinking, or sneaking out, or toilet papering, or skipping class, or whatever your token form of rebellion may be...

But sometimes you just need to shock. For shocks sake. Right? My rebellion of choice has always been complete honesty regarding my cycle. (Okay, and screaming at the parentals -- but that's another story. For a therapist.)

My brothers could share some choice experiences. Kyle in particular. But I see it more as one of my life purposes. I completely prepared them for the realities of womanhood. In fact, they probably have it much nicer now that they are warm and cozy in marriage. Because I know that the sis-in-laws are not leaving surprises in the sink.

And I'm sure the brothers are so thankful for their awesome wives. And I feel like I had a hand in that.

les miserables.

Millie and Ellis sat through Clin's High School production this morning.

A middle school matinee. The entire auditorium full. And we were surrounded by adolescents. I expected faculty tossing students out, taking away cell phones, sshhhhh-ing, and all of the above.

But alas. It was not to be. My girls were louder than any students. It was as if the middle schoolers were hypnotized (which says a lot to the production quality - nice work there Clin-0). And I was the only one taking people out.

It wasn't that they were crying, or screaming. But loudly asking questions:

Mom, what is happening?

They're prisoners.

Why is there smoke?

It's fog.

Where's the bad man?

Not on right now. He will be back soon.

Why is she dying?

She is sick.

Mom, it's just pretend dying.

Yes. Just pretend.

Why did that cart fall on that man?

It was an accident.

But why did it fall on him?

I don't know. So the large man could pick it up off of him.

What is happening?

Um....those women are trying to get money from the men.....

Millie: I want to sit on your lap.

Ellis: (pushing) No, get off.

Millie: Everytime I sit my underwear goes up my bum.

That last part was screamed.

And by the end of act 1 all candy/snacks had been devoured and the girls were crying hunger. But again - it was boredom.

Although Millie did sit entranced for most of the 2.5 hours. Particularly fond of Fantine, Javert, Master of the House, and One Day More.

Ellis just liked it when everyone was asleep. On stage.

You're invited to come and like that too.

Photo from Here

waking up.

I woke up this morning to a tantrum. Mine.

Entering the kitchen to make the oatmeal, I spotted the pots from dinner last night.

And the food was still in them. Which led to the spontaneous combustion of tears and a few choice words. I'm sure that my daughters will happily recite them for you.

You see, last night I made curry chicken. Really good, new recipe, curry chicken. And it made a lot.

And someone forgot to put it in the refrigerator. I won't name names. No, I won't go that low. But in your family, is it always the responsibility of the cook to do such things?

Well the cook left the food out for the overworked soul who returned home late. And that soul ate. AND had the time and effort to bake cookies. And eat those cookies. Around the pots full of food.

While I worked downstairs.

Normally this would not have caused such a reaction. But I'm on a tight budget. And expecting company. And the leftovers were penciled in for Thursday night dinner.

I boxed up the leftovers and put them in the fridge. Because I cannot bring myself to give them up.

So sorry Mom and Dad. Food poisoning awaits.


photo via BabyDinosaur

thinking...

...that i shouldn't have given clin's student the receipt from IKEA for the purchase of 18 chairs to be used at the high school. because here it is 11:48 pm and i'm just learning that said student did not give said receipt to said husband.

...that IKEA is very family friendly, thank you for watching my girls so that i could purchase 18 chairs. but not very teacher friendly. because they will not take school checks. or tax exempt forms without the actual teacher and the actual teacher i.d. all on the premises. at the same time.

...that i didn't get enough time to think of vaccinating my girls for H1N1 and did it in a rash decision. i hope said decision was right.

...that i'm tired of leaving my daughters home. without me. two weekends in a row. did i just say that? let it be known that i did. and i meant it.

...that shakespeare can be very boring. very, very, boring.

...and that i think morrie was much more interesting than the book. or the author. (oh, come on, he totally made that book about himself. admit it.) and i hope the play makes up for it. but i doubt that it will.

inactive, observant, and foreshadowing.

today. we went to the park. for pooping. not at the park. but in honor of the act at home. But that's another story.

a group of kids were playing together, parents meeting to socialize. kids meeting to play.

my girls were the only others on the play equipment.

as i helped ellis climb a mountain, i heard the group of kids asking millie her name. and she wouldn't tell them. i couldn't hear exactly what they were saying in return, but sat down to listen, because it sounded negative. and i wanted to see what millie would do.

then i heard millie say: my grandmother paints my toenails.

a response, and then millie: what. ever.

then the boys went for it: WHAT EVER. What is your name? If you don't tell me your name, then I'm going to poison you.

millie just stood and looked at them. but didn't show anything on her face.

boys: what is your name? you're dumb.

i was ready to jump in. but millie didn't seem scared, or worried, or sad. just stood there.

and that made me sad.

then the boys and 1 girl approached her. and got in her face. What is your name?

and she didn't even move. she was frozen. frozen. and i couldn't understand, but tried to figure out what was going on in her mind.

just as i was about to approach, the smallest girl in the group walked up and stood next to millie. then she put her arm around millie. and millie didn't budge. but neither did the small girl. and they both stood frozen together.

facing the onslaught.

it wasn't until i suggested the swings that millie responded to anyone. and so did the small girl. and we walked away.

and i was happy that millie didn't get mad. or outwardly sad.

i hope that she saw what i saw.

i tried to explain

but only time will tell

which group she chooses to befriend.

desperate.

I must have looked frazzled. And I will admit that Millie looked like she had been rolling around in a dust bin.

Thinking it would be a nice family outing to the store. You know, the one where the girls each get their own mini grocery cart, and each parent guides one to different items. Divide, conquer, in, and out.

Once in the 15 items or less lane, I remember the deli meat that I had a coupon for. Which was supposed to be free. And thinking this was worth it, I left Clin, the carts, the girls, and the food for meat.

I return as Millie attempts to shower the conveyor belt with candy, Ellis clambers for daddy, and then Millie's showering erupts into screams. I take the girls and wait for Clin to pay.

That is when all conquering came to an abrupt stop. The cashier laughs at my coupons, saying I can't use a buy one get one free, when they are already buy one get one free. So then I say I don't want the meat.

And the girls are pushing their carts full of bags in circles, bumping customers. And Ellis laughs. And Millie cries.

Upon closer look at the bags, someone purchased lime flavored mayonnaise and jalapenos. Neither on the shopping list. Clin is the first to claim innocence. But he was the one with the wallet. And as he returns the items...

The woman who was behind us in line approaches:

Woman: Are you okay?

Me: (now thinking that I must look really angry, or frazzled, or desperate, or like a dust bin) oh, yes. fine. we just brought the girls shopping too late in the day.

Woman: Oh, we are doing the same.

Although I don't see any children with her.

Woman: I wanted to tell you that there is a co-op, where you can go to get food once a month. And it is half off.

And she gave me the website.

I didn't say a word. Only to think that if I nod long enough she will go away. Because I'm sure we wouldn't qualify for a co-op. Nor do we need one.

But our daughters did look harried. It was 7:00 PM, and dinner had not yet been served.

As I usher the girls out to put away the carts, the woman returns.

Woman: I was also thinking...we have a peach orchard. Not large, but I don't sell them and we never eat them all. You could come and take them for free. Do you can?

Me: Uh, sometimes.

Although not really. I didn't truly lie because once I canned peaches with Clin's Mom. But it was only once. And not by myself.

Now I was just trying to nod and answer questions as quickly as would allow this situation to pass.

Woman: Well, where do you live? Can I contact you? I just live behind this store.

So I wrote down her name and number. Clin returned, the crying returned, and we were on our way.

I wish that I could have said, we are fine. really. our cupboards are full. and you are generous. i am just a cheap woman who really likes a deal. and attempts to use coupons when I'm told they work.

But what do you say to someone who is trying to help?

I am beyond.

Embarrassed.

Still.

celebrating his 34th.

Happy birthday Clin-

For you I pledge to not be annoyed, or rather, not share such annoyances with you all day long. Because I'm selfless like that. Right? But feel free to be annoyed with me. Because I kind of deserve it right now. And you should tell me all about it too. That would make me feel better.

And yesterday, my gift was breaking my personal goal and eating:

popcorn,

bread, and

pound cake, strawberries, brownies, rice krispy treats, marshmallows, cheesecake and bananas all dipped in cookies and cream chocolate fondue.

It was good. But it hurt.

All for you.

Happy Birthday.

Thanks for being a year older with me. Really. I love it.

married to a teacher.

and i like that. because i like his students. and the theatre program that he works with. and i like to hear about it, and help....sometimes.

but i don't help often. and i feel a nuissance at times. because we don't agree on things. so i listen. but that's it. mostly.

he's layed back. and i'm not.

and then i think about our kids. and what i want for them. and it takes money. and that makes me want to work.

and that brings me back to school.

photo via jaako

up to the task.

You know those movies where kids are raised in an environment of whimsy and joy? One where their days center around pure imagination? And the mother goes with it. Just knows what to say to take her kids away from reality and into perfection.

I know someone like that. Who can turn life into marshmallow fluffy goodness.

Sometimes I think that if I really put forth the effort. Really focused on the task, that I, too, could create a world of rainbows, lions, candy coated leaves, giant ants, and happy.

But I don't. I'm just selfish like that.

ready for a scream.

I'm about to attempt this:

on the child who refuses comb and hair to touch.

I wouldn't walk into these depths....but a trial ballet course beckons.

We shall see if it is worth the fuss.