What's on the inside...

*I wrote this inFebruary on my old blog-but this is how I was feeling today and I'm thinking of abandoning the other one (shhh)...so, I put it here.  Maybe it will motivate me to get my crap together if I know someone read it!

Well, I did it. I finished off half a bag of peanut butter m&m's after having corn bread with honey butter for breakfast and before having Ramen noodles for lunch! I think date night tonight may involve a trip to find some pants in a bigger size...'cause I'm beginning to run out of options.


Why does it have to be so hard? I don't expect to be able to eat crap all day and look like a super model, but do I have to eat carrots and celery and drink nothing but water and exercise 2 hours a day to not have a muffin front? (I guess it's a good thing, I don't really have love handles...but I'm sure they could be arranged!) I don't usually eat like I did today, sometimes it's worse, usually it's better, but I just want to be normal! I don't want to obsess about food and my body and what I'm going to wear.

I didn't go to our stake humanitarian project last night for a myriad of reasons, but at the top of the list was this: It was cold...even for California. The pants I was wearing were capris, which means you can really only wear sandals or slip ons without socks... no way! Besides, Kelly called them "Billy Ocean Pants" last night, as in 'painted on jeans,' so obviously I'm rethinking my decision to have worn them out of the house already. I had zero desire to go stand in my closet, stare blankly into space and hope (yet again) that something will magically appear for me to wear. I know what's in there...I see it every day, and it sees me every day...we kind of have a stand off going on. Am I going to lose weight or are they going to D.I.?

I am not trying to complain, there are a lot of problems people have out there and on the scale (ha ha) of things, this isn't a crisis- I am blessed beyond compare. But s.e.r.i.o.u.s.l.y, seriously! We are taught that our bodies shouldn't be our focus, and I agree, but while mine is clearly not my focus, I sure spend a lot of time thinking about it. I believe it's what's inside that counts the most...but when what's on the inside starts showing up on the outside.... whoa!

I'm kind of an all or nothing type of girl...I am either a clean freak, or my house is in shambles for a week or two. I either read my scriptures daily or I don't know where they are. I either hit the gym 5 to 6 days a week and throw away every bit of unhealthy food, or...NOT. I am trying to work on 'moderation in all things', an inspired idea...but it's hard when you're programmed to be 'all or nothing.' Thus, my on-going debate: I really love food and I love to eat. It makes me happy...not in a creepy, childhood trauma, "food is the only thing that loved me" kind of way, just in a "dang, that pasta is off the chain!" - kind of way. Take my Ramen noodles...reminds me of my Grammy. I ate them religiously at her house (and Vienna sausage). She would bring them to me when I stayed home from school, "sick." One time she brought me some and I fixed them after she left. Sadly, they were from her food storage and were full of weevil. To this day it remains one of the most disappointing moments in my life (told you I led a blessed life). I almost tried to eat it, but I couldn't do it. I know they're not good for me...but they're good! Chocolate cake is good, cheesecake, steak, sour cream, butter and ice cream, it's all good, and I'm never, never going to not eat some of it. I guess I just don't need to eat ALL of it.

Home Security

It was hot. Dang hot. So hot you could hardly breathe.  I threw the covers off and looked at the clock...4 a.m. I got up and walked over to the sliding glass door of my bedroom and reached through the blinds to unlock it.  As the 'louder than expected' click echoed through the room, the blinds simultaneously clanked into one another and I realized my mistake.  It was like slow motion as my head turned toward the bed to see Kelly, flinging bed sheets and pillows and going from a prone position to a standing posistion all in one move.  His fists were clenched and he was furious.  He looked like a giant, white hulk, ready for battle as he roared, "WHO-ARE-YOU-AND-WHAT-ARE-YOU-DOING-HERE?!"
"STOP! STOP! IT'S ME, IT'S ME!" I screamed, as I threw one arm up defensively and pressed my body to the glass.  It may seem hard to believe, but my sudden crouching position was both defensive and offensive.  I was prepared to pounce if he came any closer... and I had a target in mind. 
He stood there for a moment, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, the only sound was our mutual heavy breathing and the blinds bouncing off eachother. 
"What are you doing? Why were you outside?" He demanded.
"Holy crap! I was just opening the door, it's hot in here!" I demanded right back.
 Silence. Blinds.
"I'm sorry...I was just protecting us..." he said, and tentatively reached out to touch my arm.
"It's fine...I'm going back to bed..." and I did.
But then I had to get back up because now I had a scratchy sore spot in my throat from screaming and I needed a drink and a cough drop...and to go explain to Savannah what Daddy and I were talking about. But I feel safe knowing he's there...mostly! Love you honey <3

The father of our country...German style

In order to keep things real around here, I have to share the real things that happen around here...even if it is during family scriptures study.  There we were, seated on the couches in our living room, scriptures in hand and it begins.  Someone (probably a boy) bumps someone and that someone proceeds to call the bumper a "dirty German."  The whole name-calling thing has been on my priority list of things to rid our family of.  The boys recent fascination with WW2 movies has not made it any easier.
 I scold, correct, try to get back on track.  Quincy says, "don't call me a dirty German, I'm a dutch man."  Only he says 'dootch' which brings about a round of cackles from the peanut gallery (Isaiah) who says, "you're a douche?!" Now I'm fully engaged, scolding and correcting King Peanut, and explaining to Quincy that the word is deutsche (you can bet I had to look that up!) and it's pronounced 'doy-ch.' Well, now all the little ears have perked up and the giggling has intensified.  Brayden wants to know if 'douche' is a bad word and I explain that "no, it's not a bad word, it's just a word that means wash, but it's not a word he should be saying.   Quincy then proceeds to tell us that his body wash says 'gel douche' on the bottle and I say, "I know! It just means wash!" Brayden thinks for a minute and then says, "so in German it would be George Douche-ington!"
We laughed uncontrollably for ten minutes.  Finally I had to get control of the group and I knew I had to make sure this didn't leave the house.  I settled them down and said, "Listen, we do not talk about this to anyone, it would be inappropriate! This is not a word we use." Without skipping a beat, Quincy chimes in..."unless we're in the feminine hygiene aisle!"

iT'S aLL iN hOW yOU loOK aT it

What's Crappy?
Finishing your two hour massage plus facial and having to go through the seven voice mails waiting for you the minute you're done...Discovering that one of those seven messages is from Wickman Elementary calling to let you know the 5 year old is sick and needs to be picked up...Realizing you're 35 minutes away from the school and that kindergarten ended 2 hours ago anyway...Hurrying home after running your "errands" and blowing a tire in the fast lane on the freeway...Picking up 'not-really-so-sick-cartwheel doing-McDonald's eating-computer playing-5 year old from Kelly's office and realizing your spare tire is now going flat...Sitting in Firestone with said 5 year old for an hour and a half... and THEN being told they don't have your tire and will have to get it tomorrow...Having one son chip a tooth eating Skittles and another nearly rip off a fingernail while skateboarding (can you call it skateboarding if you're sitting on your bum?)...all by Wednesday afternoon!!!

What's NOT Crappy?
That you got a 2 hour massage plus facial to relax you before you headed off to war...That you had had a 90 minute hot stone massage the 2 days previous to further your relaxation...That your husband was available to pick up the sick child from school when calls to your cell phone and house phone went unanswered...That some of your "errands" included having lunch by yourself NOT in the car...That said husband was un-ticked off that you were off having a "spa day" while he was playing nurse maid-taxi service-lunch getter-entertainer-soda opener and cleaner upper-popcorn maker-pencil finder-computer game starter while at "work"...hearing the 'pop' of the tire and slowing down immediately and getting to the shoulder of the road before the tire was in shreds...The AAA guy that changed my tire, then followed me to the nearest gas station to put air in spare...The guys at Costco who put more air in my spare tire...The fact that there was a Rite Aid with ice cream next to Firestone...That Quincy convinced Isaiah that they did NOT need to call 911 about Brayden's fingernail...That the older boys took Brayden to the nurse next door and and she cleaned and dressed and bandaged the finger and told us to just let it fall of on it's own...That Kelly stopped on the way home from a long and less than fruitful day of work and picked up more bandages, pain reliever and cream...That I got to go to the Relief Society birthday party and have dinner with my girlfriends...That I went straight from there and enjoyed yet another 90 minute hot stone massage with my friend...Aaaahhh, good (totally not crappy) day!
*For those of you wondering, I have used a total of 12 (12!!!) massage hours in four days! My membership was expiring and you don't get the money back if you don't use them and you can't transfer them to anyone else. My body was not made for marathons...unless it's a massage marathon...that I can do!

Bubble Bath

Yesterday I was feeling a bit under the weather (more on that later, I don't want every blog entry to be about poop and/or vomit), so I decided to take a bath. Savannah had stayed home from school, also sick, and came in to ask if she could take a bath with me. I declined the offer and suggested she finish watching her show. She then asked, "when my show is over can I come sit on the side of your tub and put my feet in and talk to you?" I smiled and said yes, remembering doing the same thing with my mom.
She came in after a few minutes and climbed up onto the side of the tub and plopped her freezing cold feet into my bath. "So," she said, folding her hands together, "which do you like more... being a baby or a mom or a kid?" I guess we were going to really talk. I told her I didn't remember being a baby, that being a kid was super fun, but that being the mom was the best because you can still have fun and you get to have your cute kids. She thought for a while and then said, "so, what were Nana's mom and dad's names?" I told her about Grandpa Butler and Grandma Grace and how many grandpas I had and how many she had and all kinds of questions that I didn't expect a four year old to ask me. Holy cow, she's five, not four! She's just so adorable sometimes!
She's home from school again today with an intestinal bacterial infection...whew! Four of us had the flu over the weekend: me, Brayden, Savannah and Quincy. Some of us (me) just ached like crazy, and two of us (the boys) threw up and Savannah just kept running for the bathroom. However, hers didn't go away so I finally took her to the doctor yesterday and she doesn't have the flu. She's on meds and can hopefully (please, oh please) go back to school tomorrow.
I am having my carpets cleaned in the morning for several reasons: they're dirty, we have company coming this weekend and, most importantly, because I thought Brayden was faking it when he said he didn't feel well Sunday morning. I was going to let him stay home from church anyway, I wasn't really up to fighting him, but I didn't take any preventative measures either. I was still in bed when I heard him yell from the landing, "Guys, I have vomit! I vomited!" My hero Isaiah cleaned it up, although I did weakly offer to do it. Then I had a talk with Brayden about now that he's 8 (in a few days), it's time to start hitting a sink, a trash can, a toilet, something other than the carpet! Dude!
They are all growing up. Quincy just turned 12 and will receive the Priesthood on Sunday. He's a good boy, a really good boy and stands up for the little guy all the time. He's been waiting to be ordained until this weekend when Brayden gets baptized so I just found out he hasn't been going to Young Men on Sundays. He thought he had to be ordained first. See...just a good boy! It'll be a long, busy crazy weekend...but an important one for our two youngest boys and we're very proud of them.

Good Times and Cows...

Something in the air at Disneyland must inspire my children to say strange and hillarious things! We drove thru Burger King on the way home (which, to my credit, we haven't eaten at one in probably 4 years!) and Brayden and I got Whoppers and Savannah had a cheeseburger. Brayden called out to me from the backseat, "Mom, did you know right now you're eating a cow?" My mouth was completely full of cow, and yet I answered him, "I sure do, and I love it!" He was silent for a bit, eating the burger that he had already deemed delicious, and then said, "Mom, I don't want to be a cow." "That's good buddy, 'cause you're not going to be one." Maybe thirty seconds went by and he said, "but mom, if I was a cow, I'd still want to celebrate holidays and stuff, and play with toys, and eat cheeseburgers and not get hunted." I couldn't really think of a great response to that, so I just said, "hmmm," I mean, really, what is there to say. He has a great imagination...or a serious problem.
So, now for the reason we were at Disneyland on a school night... When Kelly and I were first married we met another young couple in our ward that we clicked with immediately. Bryce and Jessica Mecham. We spent many Sunday evenings eating dinner and playing cards, laughing and talking. They were (and are) some of our very favorite people on the planet. The last time we saw them was right before we moved to Califonia, almost 16 years ago. Over time we've both moved and lost touch, and then comes the beauty of Facebook. We finally found eachother and have been talking. They brought their family to California to go to Disneyland and we were privileged to have them come to church with us on Sunday and then come back to our house for dinner and good old fashioned hang out time. Their entire family was such a breath of fresh air and we were reminded how truly blessed we have been to have some remarkable friends in our lives. We were able to pick up right where we left off and it was amazing to spend time with them. If it's not too cliche, I would call them 'kindred spirits.'
We joined them at Disneyland after school for "Family Home Evening" and had a great time. Our Brayden and their Ellie get along fabulously, they may be twins separated at birth! So we're grateful for good friends and looking forward to the time when the four of us can travel together ... 'cause you can't do that with just anyone, y'know!

A note to creepy, stalker salesmen in parking lots...

Whenever a (now usually younger), man approaches me in a pair of khakis and a collared button-up shirt with his hands out and says, much too loudly, "hey, excuse me, don't worry, I'm not crazy!" I automatically think to myself, "what's he selling now?" This happened to me today at Sam's Club, as my rear end is literally hanging out of the back passenger door of the Denali (more on that to follow). I squinted into the sun to see not one, but two, twenty-ish dudes, dressed alike, trying to hand me a brochure to look at. Mind you, I did say I was at Sam's club, but I should clarify that I was LEAVING Sam's, which means I had about $350 worth of meat, milk, refrigerated foods and two boxes of the awesome-est Swiss Miss fudgesicle bars all playing beat the clock before I melt or rot in the ridioculously-still-hot weather that is California. I was in my workout clothes from the gym (the fudgesicles only have 100 calories each!) and my hair was a little frizzy from the sweat. Rico Suavee and his Jr. Companion are trying to sell me 5 visits to the local spa and wanting to know if I've ever had a facial...seriously?! His big cheesy grin fell of his face and dripped down his freshly ironed shirt when I refused to take the card and said, "sorry, I'm not interested right now." He looked at me like he couldn't believe it and skulked off like a child. I finished loading ALL of the groceries into the backseat since the back of the Denali is FULL of cans waiting to go to the recycling center. I'm assuming that they were once bagged up securely, but when I unsuspectingly opened the back door to load my groceries today, a mountain of them fell noisily out of the back of my car! I was totally embarassed as I picked them back up and threw them into the car. Cans were EVERYWHERE! I looked like I had just come from the park where I'd been going through trash cans to collect bottles. Thanks Quincy, my super industrious 11 year old, always trying to make a buck. I finally got into the car and turned the air on high...As I sat lamenting the situation, I saw my fine khaki'd friends approaching another woman trying to unload her Sam's cart...only she had a child with her. They were sent packing yet again. Yikes! Think about it boys, you'd probably do better not holding up the mom with a cart of groceries...I'm just sayin'!