My 3 Monsters: December 2008

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I've Fallen in Love!!!

With this fabric. Oh, how I dream of redoing my bedroom. How beautiful would it be, with the green walls and black furniture I already have, to make this into a duvet cover?

And this one for curtains . . .

. . . and this one for accent.

I've spent hours ogling this "fabric porn" and it's making me think all the wrong thoughts. I'm wishing I could have just one yard of it. But if I order one yard and pay the shipping I may as well order the eight I would need for the duvet and shams (with solid white -- something cheep for the back sides) and the six I would need for curtains and the three I would need for accents. Right? What could I do with just ONE yard?Maybe in another time and another place in my life . . .
But then . . . I can't have the Tempurpedic mattresses I covet and in six short weeks the ancient TV we have in here will no longer work . . . Would it be so wrong to comfort myself by wrapping up in this absolutely lovely duvet for a while? Could this possibly be a need rather than a want?
Could it count as therapy and be covered by my insurance?
Jeff, hook me up with a prescription for 17 yards, pretty please.
Or maybe just remind Brent of the generous gift we got from your parents . . .


Is It Weird . . .

. . . that my six year old son (OK, he's seven for all intents and purposes), given the choice between seeing Bedtime Stories with his dad and brother or Twilight with his sister and myself, opted for Twilight? And is it weirder that he really, really enjoyed it? Should I worry? And, can I just say how much I adore free movie tickets?!


My Vacation in as Few Words as Possible (Thank You, Google Images.)

You with me so far? We, of course, had to buy:
So that the kids could:
I found these gems at DI for $6.00 (when I was supposed to be looking for snow boots):
Then I ate these:
(Yes, they're home made chocolates.)
Took the kids to see:
Sang this at Pinata Party/Talent show:
Ryan made this . . .
. . . + this:
(an Abominable Snowman pinata)

Ate too much of this:
(Christmas Eve dinner)
And more of these:
A visit from:
Piled back in here:
And went here:
And watched this:
(I told you I'd write about it, Paige!)
And felt like this all week:


Gregson Out.

4 Fully Charged iPods
2 fully charged Nintendo DS's
1 portable DVD player with
2 screens
8 loads of laundry
40 + warm outfits
50+ pounds of presents
5 happy people
7 days in Utah
1 week of sketchy blogging
Merry Christmas One and All!


Yep. Girly Hormones.

Today was Sydney's turn. She couldn't get out of bed. She was "too tired" to go to student council at 7:15. (But she was OK to ride the bus and hang out with her friends at that same hour. Hmmm . . . ) I'm trying to control her life and she's not going to wear a jacket given to her by such a mean mom. On and on. Tears and theatrics. I sent her right back to bed for a mental health morning. She slept a little, woke up and ate some of my ice cream from last night. We styled her hair as cute as can be and then she was ready to go to school at 9:00. So she missed student council. So maybe I'm not the most responsible mom in town. I knew what she was feeling and I knew what she needed. Sometimes we all just need someone to let us off the hook for a few hours. Merry Christmas, baby girl.


Ever Had One of Those Days?

Where you just feel . . . blah. Things are going good. I went on a perfectly delightful field trip with Dylan and the first grade. I got my hair cut. I took a nap. But I feel all wrong inside. Like emotionally. If I had periods, I swear I'd be having one now. I ran to the store this afternoon for water (Drink from the tap? Puh-leese.) and came home with water . . . and a half gallon of Pistachio Almond Ice Cream. (And chocolate ice cream and a couple of frozen pies, but those were for something else.) And, don't laugh, but I'm feeling decidedly better tonight after tucking into a bowl of nutty sweetness and an hour of Stylista drama on the CW. Being a girl is rough business sometimes.


I'm a Darn Good Baby Maker! Need proof?

Tonight was Family Portrait Fun Night! Promise you'll be surprised when our Christmas cards come next week.


There is a new present under the tree with my name on it. The size of the box rules out every item on my Christmas list. Everyone in the house knows what it is except me. I've been working on the kids to find out what is in there. It's driving me nuts. I figured my best bet was to get Dylan to crack. I've pleaded. I've made empty promises. I've tried to catch him off guard. But he's bringing his A-game this time. Every single time I ask him what it is he says, without missing a beat, "Mom! I told you! It's candy canes and panties." Candy canes and panties? Where'd he come up with that one. This is going to be a long 9 days.


The Seven Most Exciting Words in the English Language:

Alina's cutting my hair in two days!
(I shouldn't have waited so long to have it done. It's driving me crazy.)

The Seven Most Stressful Words in the English Language:

Presents ordered online still have not arrived.
We leave for Utah in six days.
(They have the most stress-inducing effect if all fourteen words are spoken together. Among the missing gifts are some that need to be wrapped and forwarded on. Yikes!)

The Seven Most Dreaded Words in the English Language:

K. D. L. B. Student Behavior Report
(Found in Dylan's backpack this morning. Smart kid didn't give it to me Friday afternoon because he knew he'd be grounded all weekend if he did. Punk!)


The Seven Most Inspired Words in the English Language:

This year no family picture. Just kids.
(I've put on about 20 pounds due, near as I can guess, to the medication I've been taking. Not feeling especially photogenic this year and Brent is totally letting me (and himself) off the hook.)

The Seven Funniest Words in the English Language:

Are meat "balls" made from cows' privates?
(Spoken by Riley as I was throwing Sweet & Sour Meat Balls in the crock pot after church.)


The Seven Sexiest Words in the English Language:

Don't worry. I'll fold the laundry tonight.
(Spoken by my husband half an hour ago. Followed through with right now.)


The Seven Most Blessed Words in the English Language:

Mom, can I go to bed early?
(Spoken by Dylan at 7:00 tonight.)


You're a STAR, Baby!

I was out running errands today and returned home to a blinking red light on the answering machine. You'll never guess who it was so I'll just tell you. Madam Vice President was picked to be Alice in the school's upcoming production of Alice in Wonderland!!! Why am I never home for the fun phone calls?! She's at Drama until 5:00 this evening, but when I see her she's gonna get a rib-cracking bear hug from the proudest mom in the world. This is really her year to shine. I. Am. So. Proud! In a righteous kind of way. :0)



So . . . my husband was worried about losing his "street cred" after my sappy post yesterday. First, did he have street cred to begin with?! Second, let me take you all back to the night he punched me in the face. In his sleep. (Uh-huh. I really believe that) There I was innocently resting my weary bones and then, BAM! Fist in the face. What he was dreaming about we'll never know, but bedtime around here is not all cuddles and whispered sweetnesses. My man can be gangsta' when he wants to.
(Did I do alright today repairing the damage to your image, shmoopsy poo?)


How Sweet He Is . . .

I don't know why, but this morning I was remembering a morning a year or so ago. I had to wake up at some unearthly hour for some ridiculous thing. Those are not the details I remember . Suffice it to say I had to get up, Brent did not. He kindly set the alarm for me the night before (it's on his side of the bed). When the alarm went off in the morning he was awakened to the heinous 90's flashback song playing on the radio. I was snoring peacefully. What woke me up was a gentle tap on the shoulder and my husband whispering, "I think that's for you."
I think that's for you?!
That's the way you speak to the little old lady at the grocery store or the person at work you barely know. Best manners are usually reserved for complete strangers. To your wife of eleven years you say, "Get up!!!!!" with a hearty shove. Not my man. He treats me just as kindly as he treats anyone. Even early in the morning when he is only awake because of some error on my part. In fact, he's probably more forgiving of my faults and weaknesses than he is of anyone else's. And there's a lot there to forgive here, believe me. How did I get so lucky?


Another Satisfied Customer

This is how I spent the last day and a half. OK, just 8 hours spread out over the past two days. This was for mural client # 2. I'm really pleased with the way it turned out, especially since it was too light for my projector to work so I had to freehand everything. The monogram is not quite round and the words above the flag are not perfectly spaced, but what can you do? I'm loving the way the flag turned out. This girl's husband just got home from Iraq and they bought their first house. The first picture is from her craft room. The monogram is in the master bedroom. (I was planning on doing the same thing in ours so I'm glad I got to practice. Mine will be round. Perfectly. Bet on it.) The flag is in her husband's "office". Really nice people. Really fun project. Much more my speed.


Mood Swings Do Not a Story Make

Yeah, I was over-reacting yesterday. The mail man was-kind-of-less-than-pleasant, but not, in fact, verbally abusive as I last reported. I was inexplicably emotional yesterday. That became evident when I cried because Brent was listening to me with his eyes closed. Sure, it sounds silly. NOW. At the time it was devastating. I didn't mean to cry, I just kind-of couldn't help it. If I didn't know better I'd think there was another little monster on the way. (And, thanks for asking, I DO know better. Seriously.) This is just an emotionally overwhelming time of year for me. I want things to be perfect for my kids . . . I know that's not possible . . . I still want to try . . . I do too much. Would you believe that this year I'm actually doing better than most?! Long story short, the mailman said he wouldn't deliver any more mail to my box until I filled out this dumb little green paper with the names of everyone who would be receiving mail here. Huh? Can he really do that? What happened to the good old days of putting every piece of mail with MY HOUSE NUMBER ON IT in MY BOX?! Merry Christmas to you, too, Mr. Mail Man. (Farting noise, thumbs down.) I'm over it now.



A beautiful, leather bound copy of The Complete Works of Jane Austen on Barnes & for half price ($9.99) today!!!!! Merry Christmas to me . . . and Sadie, the babysitter, who can just keep my old one now. Wanna see it? Such a nice treat after driving out to Mesa and back (twice) and being verbally abused by the mail man today. Long story.


I've Been Caught Fakin' It. . .

Sooooooo, Riley found my fake hair. Not that it was hidden, but anyway. This is his impression of me wearing my fake hair. Whatever. That goofy kid is gonna start losing presents from under the tree if he's not careful. (Tammy, Jamie, you guys see me with my fake hair. Is that a good impression of me he's doing?! If so, I am horrified!)

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