I turn my back for ONE second...

Grace found the stickers.

She thought they would look cute on her lips...

...and her toes...

...and her forehead and tongue...

... and the puppy. That one got onto Elphie's whisker by mistake, she tried to kiss Grace. She got one on her butt too, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't from kissing.

Avalanche!

What happens when Mom gets sick and stays in bed all the time. This is easily 10 loads. Thankfully Austin kept the underwear clean, but there's a lot of catching up to do (some laundry not pictured).

Where does that go again?

Austin was goofing off with Grace at bedtime and was getting ready to put her in a pull-up. He put it on a hanger and asked her if that's where it goes. Grace says: "pull-ups don't hang on hangers, they hang on butts."

tattle tales and extortion

Ben: Pleeeaaaase don't tell mom!

Ember: I'm going to and there's nothing you can do about it.

Ben: But I didn't do it!

Ember: I won't tell if you give me ten bucks.



That just gives me warm tingly feelings as a mother. You know what? I don't even care what he did. Just close my door on your way out.

Have you seen my brain? I'd like it back.

Ok, so I blog for therapy but today I went to ACTUAL therapy. I was enrolled by my psychiatrist when I was having some destructive thoughts a couple weeks ago in an intensive outpatient group therapy program. I really liked it! I found it so helpful to talk to others who are struggling with the same things I am, and to learn coping skills to help me take control back in my life. Medication only helps me stabilize, they aren't happy pills that fix all my problems. Now that I'm getting stable I need to learn how to handle my stress and anxiety, because that never goes away.

My mom taught me something this week that I hadn't thought about before. One thing this disease has done for me (she's still trying to talk me into being grateful for it) is that it has stripped away all of my pride and brought me to new levels of humility, and not in a bad way. I have exposed my weaknesses and struggles for everyone to see. I used to be afraid of that, SOOO afraid of admitting I had a mental illness, because I didn't want to be judged or teased. There is a social stigma associated with mental illness that is perpetrated in the media, in hollywood, in books and magazines and movies. What I found instead was support, understanding and acceptance. Not being afraid of it is actually accelerating my healing.

So yay for group therapy! There really is something to be said for sharing our common experiences and knowing we're not alone! My other favorite kind of group therapy? A girls night out at the Golden Spoon.

Swiper, no swiping! (shout out to Dora the Explorer!)

Ok, I "swiped" this comic from someone else's blog. It was just too funny and too true to not pass along my blog waves. I even printed out a hard copy for my desk at work.




Who remembers Steve Urkel? Family Matters? Let me hear a whaaat whaaat!

should we go to the ER for this?

Things we have pulled out of Grace's nose: (yes, insomnia strikes again).

1. boogers (haha! ok, I don't pull them out, but SHE does... regularly)
2. wads of kleenex
3. cardboard
4. ground beef
5. carpet
6. yarn
7. crayon
8. cheese
9. construction paper
10. polly pocket shoes
11. crackers

That's all I can remember right now, but believe me, the list is longer than her pediatrician and I would like. I thought she had outgrown this phase but I pulled a wad of kleenex out of her nose again just over a week ago! Will the insanity never end?!?!

I love clearance!

I just found really cute boots on clearance at Walmart for $3.00!!

Yes, I tried them on and they're comfy. Yes, they're really cute even though it's Walmart. Yes, I bought brown AND black.

All things winter are all sale to make room for spring flip-flops, which I will also stock up on, but I love boots. Yay!

it's a streaky, blotchy mess

Anyone who knows me knows that I glow in the dark. Seriously. I am sunburned by a night light. I have skin so white it's almost see through. The only thing breaking up the monotony of eye-searing white is the millions of freckles. To quote the song, I'm a whiter shade of pale.

It bothered me as a kid because I was a child in the 80's and early 90's when tan was the style. I was teased, called names, and in extreme cases completely ostracized. As an adult my skin is often complimented, because pale is the new black! Sunblock is the 'in' thing to do! Still, remnants of that insecurity remain.

Result? Experimentation with tanning lotions and sprays. I'm sure that for people who have a semi-decent color base to work with, these sprays work just fine. You get the look you crave without all the dangerous UV rays and skin-cancer-causing-sunshine! When you start with a blank canvas, literally white as a sheet blank, it's a different story.

I look orange. Blotchy, streaky, and orange. Why do I keep trying? Why is looking tan so important to me? Is it because of my bad experiences as a child? Am I still trying to fit in and look like everyone else? Why can't I celebrate and be proud of this part of me that is so unique and will make me look 30 when I'm 50?

Now I have to take an hour long bath every day until this mess soaks out of my skin. It's bad timing too that the temperature outside is in the high 80's, because I'll be wearing long pants and long sleeves for a day or two. *groan*

Lists

During my bouts of insomnia I like to make lists. My last published list was all the things you can do with the fruit from 13 citrus trees. Last night I was thinking about all the different things we've found under the couch. (Why do kids think that's such a great hiding place?)

1. cereal
2. baseballs
3. pajamas
4. dishes
5. inhaler
6. used kleenex
7. candy wrappers
8. dust bunnies (that's a given)
9. my little pony
10. Care bears
11. barbies
12. ok, toys in general
13. diapers
14. blankets
15. cheese crisp
16. earrings
17. homework
18. pens & pencils
19. movies (the disk or the DVD box)
20. hairbrush
21. backpacks
22. money
23. bills

That's all I thought of for now, but I know there's more. Is this a common hiding place for "stuff" in anyone else's house? Whenever something's missing, under the couch is the first place I look.

GRRR!!!

Does anybody have kids in their neighborhood that your children are friends with, but who you just don't like much? I hate to say that about any children, but there is this one family on our block that is socially retarted. They are disrespectful, destructive, and lack manners of any kind. I just hope and pray that my children are polite and respectful when they are at other people's homes!

Here's what I found them doing this afternoon when I went outside to check on them:

This was my grandpa's chair. It was on the back porch because the legs were loose and in need of repair. We hadn't decided yet whether or not to keep it, but I think now it's going in the trash barrel. They like breaking things, especially things that don't belong to them.


This is a desk lamp that Austin put outside so he could point some light in a specific direction while doing yardwork after dark. (Sometimes that's the only time it can get done, right?) Well, he forgot to bring it back in the house. These kids decided to rip the wires loose, pull the top of the lamp off (it's out in the grass, conspicuously missing from this picture) and loosen all the screws. I'm pretty sure it's ruined. Our trash pile this week is going to be larger than normal.


This is our porch railing. Notice the missing rail? Gee, that's safe. One of the boys kicked it out so he'd have room to climb through and hang onto the rail from the OUTSIDE, leaning out and over the yard doing some kind of acrobatics. Keep in mind that the rest of those rails are 20 years old and never weather sealed... they're a little weak and rotting in some places. Just what I need, a lawsuit from the neighbor mom who doesn't teach her kids manners because one of them got injured at my house.



I especially like the closeup of the rusty nail that came so close to scraping the top of this boys head. What if he decided to stand up underneath it while climbing through to the other side? *shudder*


What do you do with neighbor kids who have no manners or respect? I have set some ground rules, but they manage to find new ones to break every time they're here. I don't want to offfend any parents, or upset my kids who like to play with them, but I need some more control here. Any suggestions?

To top off my afternoon, here's where I found my dog: she climbed into the bathtub while I was outside taking pictures of the destruction and started chewing on the kids bath toys. Great. Maybe I should just go back to bed.

Bath night is for the dogs

Tonight was bath night for Lady & Elphie, because peeee-yeeeew!! Austin looks as thrilled as Elphie does, and Lady looks like a burrito. What's he complaining about, I had to wash the buggers... all he had to do was dry! The water in that tub was as brown as I've ever seen it, I was afraid I had washed some of the COLOR out of them. As soon as they got out of those wretched towels, they dried themselves by shaking water everywhere! Oh but they're so fluffy and clean and cuddly now, I just love my dogs. I have two forms of therapy that are enormously effective for me: blogging, and puppies.

Sacrament

Dad passed the sacrament tray to Ben during church this morning, and Ben said:

"No thanks, I'm not hungry."

Spring Cleaning

I've been struggling to get out of bed lately, to find the motivation to get dressed and brush my teeth. I've let a lot of things go besides myself, including my house. It's been neglected for so long that my dust bunnies have procreated. My piles have piles. It got so bad that I finally found the motivation to get up and do something about it.

I cleaned... one room. The kitchen.

It sounds small, but to me it was monumental. I also figured that if I was going to do this, I was going to do it well. I scrubbed the countertop under the appliances. I cleaned the grime on the floor around and behind the fridge, oven, and dishwasher. I polished my sink with windex. I used a razorblade to scrub cooked-on goo off my glass top stove. I tossed or organized every piece of paper my kids have brought home from school and dumped on the counter. Under that, I found junk mail, magazines, and paper airplanes. Broken crayons, dirty dishes, plastic care bears and hot wheels. Dried on spaghetti sauce! (oh, I am so embarassed.) For the finishing touch, I mopped the floor. Top to bottom, my kitchen sparkles like Edward in a meadow.

I. Feel. Tired.

Ok, I feel proud too. I feel hope. I feel motivated to maybe move on to another room. (The hall closet, it's the smallest). I locked myself in my room with my laptop again while my kids watched TV, but I am still encouraged by my litle breakthrough. Maybe I'll clean under the back porch, the graveyard of garden tools and yard toys of years past! (baby steps Jill, baby steps.)

Jill needs...

Go to google and type your name then 'needs.' Type up the first 10 responses. This is hillarious!

1. Jill needs to earn enough money to buy a new skateboard. (can't afford the van payments anymore, gotta find a new way to get to work)

2. Jill needs Jack. (Jack & Jill went up the hill... la la la)

3. Jill needs to wake up and smell the emotional abuse. (woah)

4. Jill needs to go out. (amen!)

5. Jill needs you. (awwww)

6. Jill needs horror. (gack! I beg to differ!)

7. Jill needs to stop looking! (can't.... help.... it.... )

8. Jill needs a home. (mental group home maybe)

9. Jill needs to stop attacking Jack. (the honeymoon from number two is over)

10. Jill needs some pills. (wait, is that one really about me?!)

Bring on the rain...

The response to my last two posts was overwhelming. This is a subject that everybody struggles with, but most of us do it privately. Knowing that I'm not alone in this makes me feel comforted, and more "normal." (that word is used carefully).

Thanks, friends.

Now... I'm still sad. I'm still weary. I noticed today though that my kids do not seem to be affected by my mood, which is a small miracle and I'm sure one of the tender mercies of the Lord. Enjoy the following tidbits of conversation in the car:

Ember: I am so thirsty, I haven't had a drink since breakfast.

Mom: Honey you need to make sure you drink plenty of water at school, especially when you play at recess and get hot & sweaty.

Ember: Mom, I don't sweat. Only boys sweat.

a few minutes later....

Ben: Woah, that is one HOT mustang!

Grace: What's a mush-tang?

Ben: It's a MUstang, and it's a really cool car.

This is who I am

This blog is the sunny side of things, and most of it isn't me. It's stories that my husband told me, pictures he took, and perspective that he has. I regurgitate it. I copy what other moms on other blogs are doing because I think that's what I'm supposed to do. I am not perfect, and I realized that reading other blogs and hearing others testimonies is only letting me see the perfect and spiritual side of people. It isn't helping me, because I needed to know that people are just as screwed up as I am.

Here's what I told my husband this morning, in a nutshell:

I am going to find out what my limits are, but here is what I know for now. I am not willing to try anything new because I might fail at it. I won't accept a calling because I can't and won't do it. I can't take my kids to their dentist appointments. I can't pick them up from school. I can't make dinner every night. I can't even sit with my family through a meal, because I can't stand their company.

I can't bathe my kids and sing them songs, read them stories, and put them to bed. I can't brush my daughters hair. I can't give my son his medication. I don't do laundry or make my bed. I don't take showers or brush my teeth for days at a time. I don't want to plan a budget with my husband or try to live on one.

I can't pray and ask for help because I don't think that solves anything. I can't go to church because it makes me feel worse because everyone is a hypocrite. I won't go to enrichment night, do my visiting teaching, or feed the missionaries. I can't do those things right now because I don't have it in me to give.

I don't want to explain how I feel anymore, to doctors or family or visiting teachers or co-workers or supervisors or children who don't understand. I want a time out... from everything. My job, my family, my home, my church, my responsibilities, everything. This is who I really am right now.

This won't be me forever, Denise (my sister, not my boss) promised me that. She promised me that it gets better, and I believe her because she is better. Not every day, but more often than she used to be. She cried with me this morning and promised me that this wouldn't last forever. This is my trial, but this is also my husband's trial because he has to live with it too. He has a job, a calling, responsibilities, and now he's doing all the stuff I should be doing too. And I'm asking him to do more because I can't do it anymore.

This is me at my worst, this is my suffering. Life isn't good all the time and blogs make it seem like it is. I can't and won't end with my testimony because my sister told me this morning that sometimes that feels like a get out of jail free card, that you can screw up and use it as an excuse. I don't want people to call me and offer help and support, because it won't help me or support me and I probably won't even answer the phone. I just want my sisters to love me, I just want my kids to not need me for awhile, and I just want to be by myself with some peace and quiet. This post is for all the women out there that think that I handle my struggles with courage and faith, because I don't. I am nobody to be looked up to. Maybe someday I will be, just not today.

Misunderstandings

I need comments. I need my friends and family to give me some feedback, because I want to ask a serious question.

What do you do when someone misunderstands your motives, comments, suggestions or actions? Do you get angry? Do you let your feelings get hurt? Do you lash out, or hold your feelings inside so they can fester? And then, what do you do when you misunderstand someone else. When you misjudge them, are overly critical, when you've jumped to the wrong conclusion. You know you've hurt someone, so then what?

I've spent way too much time these past months feeling sorry for myself because people have misjudged me, criticized me, and hurt me. People at work, at church, at home, friends & family alike. I know I get offended too easily. I've tried not reacting at all, letting things go, lashing out, defending my motives, ignoring them, accusing them, blaming & forgiving. It's just making me tired, and no matter which option I choose I still end up feeling bad about it.

A lot of the problem is my disease. I'm getting treatment, I'm working out my medications, I'm talking to a psychiatrist, but I feel like I need to take some control. I just don't want to be sad anymore. So what would you do?

Happy Birthday Mom!

Today is my mother-in-law's birthday! Vicki has been my second mom for almost 12 years, but she has been my friend for 20. Since I've been making lists lately, I decided to make a list of the things I love about Mom.

Mom loves her family, it is her number one priority. This photo is her father, her son, and her granddaughter. Four generations in the same room! Every holiday is planned around her family. Every 3-day weekend is a chance to travel together. Every Sunday is a time to gather, share a meal, catch up on our lives. She raised 7 incredible children, one of whom I liked so much I married him! :) I admire her love, sacrifice, and dedication to her eternal family.

Christmas 2000, Ember's 1st Christmas.

Mom had 6 boys, while her sister was busy having 6 girls! She wanted a daughter so much, and when her youngest was 5 years old, she finally got her wish. Noelle, her only daughter, was born only 4 months after I met her family. Now 20 years later she not only has Noelle, but she has four daughters-in-law! I consider myself one of her daughters, and I love her like I love my own mother. She is a great example to me and she helps me want to be a better woman.


Mom is a great listener. She's had her own health problems over the years, but when I'm struggling with mine she is quick to provide comfort and support. Whenever she reads a newspaper article about my disease, she saves it for me. When I'm depressed, she does her best to cheer me up. She has a daughter-in-law with Celiac disease and she tries to plan the family dinner menu's around things that she can eat. She wants us to be healthy and happy. She gives me nourishment and strength for my body and my soul.


Mom is so creative, and so talented. She hasn't had the strength in her hands to do those things she used to love so much, but the evidence of it is all around her. I remember playing in the backyard of their home when I was 14 or so and she was growing vegetables and flowers all around the yard. She is a talented gardener, and cook. She has handmade crafts around her home that she has painted, and her quilting ability is enviable. She made two of the most beautiful blessing gowns I've ever seen for both of my daughters. She is talented, and she encourages her friends & family to develop their own talents as well.


Mom has a strong testimony of the gospel and in her Savior, Jesus Christ. She attends the temple often, she reads her scriptures, she shares lessons she's learned in church or in life, she shares promptings she's received on behalf of her family, & she offers prayers and encouragement when life's struggles become too heavy to bear. I am so glad that I have such a wonderful example of righteous living in her. She is my Mom & my friend.

I love you Vicki, happy birthday.

Everything is so amazing and nobody is happy

We are so spoiled. And this perspective is true, and funny!

What I do when insomnia strikes

I've dealt with insomnia for the majority of my life. When I was younger, it wasn't so bad! I had more time to study, more time to socialize, more time to organize (my closet as a teenager was filled with clear boxes with lids and labels, everything in it's place).

As I got older the late nights and early mornings got harder. When I lay down to sleep, at a reasonable hour or not, the pillow is like the trigger that turns on my brain. I start making lists. Lists of people who picked on me in 5th grade, lists of people I need to call, lists of projects that need to be done around the house, lists of the things I like about my kids, the things I DON'T like about my kids, lists of places I'd like to visit, lists of things I wish I'd said from conversations that are minutes or years old, lists of ways I can save money, list of ways I'd like to spend more money, just
lists lists lists LISTS!!!

Here's the one I was thinking of tonight (since it's 12:15 AM and I'm still wide awake):
What do I do with 13 citrus trees, all heavy laden with fruit? I made a list!
1. launch it at passing cars (kids, not reccomended by the Mesa Police Department).
2. Play catch (mom approved, unless you like fast pitch... back to the Mesa Police, I read a report this week about a kid who launched a fast one (orange) and it hit another kid in the eye, imploding it (the eye) into his head and breaking the orbital bone).
3. Load 20 or 30 of them onto the trampoline and then gather as many kids as will fit on the mat. Start jumping all at once and try not to get touched by an orange. (I don't know if the kids gave this game a name or not, but Mom calls it "cut that out!" Have you tried to clean orange pulp off a trampoline mat?)
4. Bowling
5. This time of year with 13 citrus trees? I stock up on Zyrtec, Claratin, Alavert, Benadryl, Veramyst, Nasonex, and all the generics of the aforementioned antihistamines.
6. Pick it, juice it, freeze it, use it all year long (not a favorite among the kids, it takes too long, it isn't fun, and it's labeled in the 'chore' category).
7. Give it away! By the ton!! (seriously, last year we donated 1.5 tons to the United Food Bank).
8. snowball-ish fight that ends with "Ow, that's not soft!" (see also number 2)

We love this time of year. We get to reap the harvest, share our plenty, enjoy the smells of the blossoms promising next years crop, and swell up until our face is twice it's normal size and our throat is swollen shut from the coughs & sneezes. I should buy stock in kleenex.

Mormon Mommy Blogs

I've been following the blog spoof "seriouslysoblessed.blogspot.com" which makes fun of the Mormon Mommy Blog phenomenon. It takes the characteristics, styles, trends and content of the thousands that popped up in the blogosphere (or 'blogernacle' as it's been called) and blown them WAY out of proportion. I LOVE IT!

I love it when we can make fun of ourselves. I love that I can recognize some of those traits in myself (to a less exagerated degree). I love joking with my husband about it, how we are "seriously you guys, SOOOOO blessed!" So I encourage you, my blogging friends, to visit this website. Mormon or not, it's just downright funny (so long as you remember that it's a SPOOF, and getting offended is simply not allowed). Happy reading!

Grace strikes again

I thought I threw those markers away. I thought I hid anything permanent in really sneaky hiding places. I thought I had gotten through to her when we last reviewed the "house rules." I thought I had my bases covered!


The way I see it, she has two career choices when she grows up: Tattoo artist, or doctor. She wants to be a doctor, she tells me so all the time, and I've seen doctors on TV draw on the body with black markers before they do any procedures. Usually they're plastic surgeons and they're "X"-ing out your flabby spots that they're going to remove. I would prefer she make the doctor choice, tattoo artists can't support their parents in retirement.

I'm going to have genius children who grow up successful and buy their parents lavish vacations and thoughtful gifts. Not that I want those things, all I really want are successful children who are happy.

Ember is a worry wart and she really wants to get good grades. Austin took this picture of her "studying" herself to sleep. The more likely scenario is she played too much after school and put her math off to the last minute. At least she didn't fall asleep on the pointy side of a pencil.

Kids Prayers

My kids pray for the cutest things. Here's Ember's blessing on the food tonight:

"Thank you for this lovely and gracious day. Thank you that I could save up my ballet bucks and get the watch instead of the lolly pop and I'm grateful I could make such a hard choice even though I'm so young."

I love it! At least she remembered to bless the food...

love continued...

I was thinking last night about the next stage of learning how to love. We love our parents, easy. We love our spouse, easy. We love our kids... not always easy. Then: our kids grow up and get married. THEY choose someone that they love, but who we as parents have no influence over. We didn't raise them, we didn't shape them, and yet they are now a part of our family. That kind of love doesn't seem to be as easy to me, though my kids have yet to reach that stage (thank goodness).

But back to my thoughts on marriage & divorce: I overheard a groom say once ON HIS WEDDING DAY... (after I asked him if he was nervous)... "well, if it doesn't work out I can always get divorced and try again." Why didn't you try again the first time?!?! Problems aren't solved because the person you're married to is perfect and exactly what you wanted since you were a little girl dreaming of the perfect wedding. The perfect marriage is created over time, through the refiners fire, through forgiveness, through the Atonement.

So yes, the painted van was funny. I admit, I laughed out loud and that's why I took the picture. It wasn't until later that I started thinking about marriage, divorce, love & families. I'm just thankful Austin and I got it right the first time (and second, and third, and fourth, and fifth....)

For what it's worth

I captured this picture with my cell phone the other day, because I was so shocked at what it said. I was all prepared to drive by and honk and wave, offering my congratulations, but then I read the second word. Divorce was being celebrated!


When I think of relationships worth celebrating, it's in their creation, not destruction. Love grows, matures, suffers setbacks and then emerges stronger than before. We learn to love in stages.

First, we love our parents. They take care of our every need and teach us what it means to love one another. My parents always showed love for each other, and for me as their child. This seemed to me to be an easy kind of love that came naturally.

Second, we fall in love with a member of the opposite sex. We see qualities and characteristics in each other that are attractive and desirable to spend an eternity with. We bring out the best in each other, and are anxiously engaged to be married. This kind of love also comes easily, because it was meant to be. It was part of our Father in Heaven's plan to send us to earth to create our own families, to join as husbands and wives and bring children into this world.






That brings me to number three: children. You don't get to choose their personalities when they come to you, but at least you get to start from scratch and mold them in a general direction. We love our children unconditionally, but sometimes we don't like them very much. We do our best to teach them to be responsible adults, contributing members of the church with their own testimonies, and we ALWAYS love them. This kind of love is difficult and requires continued maintenance. To bring children to a family and raise them up in righteousness is also a part of Heavenly Father's plan. "Husband and Wife have a solemn responsibility to love and care for each other and their children." I am grateful for the opportunity that Austin and I have had to love and rear three children, currently in progress. :)


The obviously triumphant statement on that van made me sad, to see celebration in the destruction of a family here on earth. Relationships are to be cherished, marriages are sacred, children are precious gifts entrusted to us to raise them as our Father in Heaven would. I am so grateful for my own family, my husband who lives to serve and my children who try their best and repent when things go awry. I am grateful for the family I was raised in, learning at my mothers knee that parents really do love and care for each other, not just in fairy tales. I am grateful for my in-laws and the incredible man they raised whom I was privileged to grow up and marry. I am grateful that the statement on that van will NEVER be printed on MY van.

I think I'll get some paint and go write on our windows right now... "Still Married and loving it."