The voices in our heads

Being a parent is hard work.
We all do and say things to our kids that we wish we could take back.

As a mother of 3,  I will never admit that I am perfect, or even pretend that I've got all my motherly shit together. Because I don't.

But, honestly, I do the best I can in the moment.
Let's look at some examples at where I could have done better...

Example #1:
The kid: "Eww gross! I'm not eating this!"

What I said: "Mommy spent time to make it, so YOU WILL eat it! There are starving kids in (fill in the blank) and I am not making separate meals for everyone."

What I should have said:  "Baby, I'm sorry, I am tired, so could you please, Get off YOUR UNGRATEFUL ASS, and cook ME a meal! Do you think I like coming up with ideas of what all of y'all will eat just to have someone say, "ewww gross!!! When I AM the one who ends up with the smallest, toughest piece of meat, or the last 4 peas in the bag because that's all that was left! If it was up to me we would have cereal every night! I'm good with cereal! You good with cereal? Great. Then fix it yourself!"

Example #2:

The kid: "But I don't want to pick up my toys!"

What I said: " Pick them up right now because someone is going to step on them and get hurt, plus I am tired of picking them up for you."

What I should have said: "Get off your lazy ASS and pick this worthless crap up! You never actually play with it anyway! You just throw it around the house for no reason then leave it there for me to pick up and I am TIRED of cutting my foot on these stupid damn Lego's! If I see them again, I am going to gather them together and burn them, while I dance around the fire!"


Example #3:

The kid: "I don't wanna do my homework, whine, whine, whine"

What I said:  "Sorry buddy, but if you don't do it you will get a bad grade and if that happens I will take your games away."

What I should have said: "Back in my day, if you said you weren't gonna do something you got your ass whooped with the belt! If you don't GET IN THIS CHAIR, and do your HOMEWORK you will eventually fail, drop out of school, live with me until you are 25, which means at some point I will kick you out and you will be selling drugs to survive. So get over here and write your ABC's! NOW!


Example#4

The kid: I don't want to go to bed! 

What I said: "Go get in bed now, you have school in the morning and it is already 9:30."

What I should have said: " If you come out of that room one more time, I am going to tie you down to the bed, put tape on your mouth, and go fix myself a drink.  Or, Mommy is just going to hop in the car, go for a long drive, and let Daddy deal with it."

Example #5:

The kid: "Mom! So and so hit me! Cry cry cry!"

What I said: "Who hit you? OK, let me see it... Were you picking on him? No? Let me have a talk with him and see what happened. OK, now, y'all need to hug and apologize, because brothers are supposed to stick up for each other, not hurt each other."

What I should have said: "He hit you?! Well, then go KNOCK HIS ASS OUT!"

See, we ALL make mistakes. Even little ole me.
So next time you hear any of these "What you should have said" answers in your head, just know...

You are not alone.

But...

You ARE crazy.

Welcome to the dark side. Nice to have some company.

I don't feel like thinking of a title.

I'm having a "Ralph" kinda day.
So if you came here for a laugh, sorry.

I don't feel like thinking of a title either, or using spell check.

If you don't know who Ralph is, then read this blog entry and get caught up, will ya?!
 http://crimimommlyinsane.blogspot.com/2012/07/lets-talk-about-pets-bay-bee.html
 

So here it is. Take what you want from it.






Who's that little girl?

She is INNOCENCE.
She knows nothing but unconditional love.

She likes to draw rainbows.
To climb trees.
To laugh.

No words have hurt her. No person yet to scar.

Her heart is pure. It has not been exposed to rejection or judgement. To hatred or suffering.
The walls are down completely. No barriers to protect her.
She knows of none.


Her mind is fresh to the ways of the world, yet it is a sponge, that will slowly absorb the hurt that surrounds her.
Even the hurt from those who came before her, that loved her... who slowly put up THEIR walls, to survive the cruelty of life.

She absorbs it. ALL of it.
Maybe deeper than most.

Her feelings are seen as weak, so she hides them, trying to fit into a hardened world that she doesn't understand.
She morphs into someone else, as her innocence slowly fades.

The paper is empty of rainbows now, and only filled with words.
Words of anger.

She's learns that it is rare to be loved the way she needs. Even by those she left her walls down for.
So they ALL go up. All the walls. And she is lost behind them.

She becomes an empty shell.
A shell, WITHOUT a pearl.

As she grows, her armor grows.
So much, that she doesn't even know the face she sees.
The one in the mirror.

Cruel words seldom hurt now.
Rocks are thrown her way, but they break, and fall to the ground.
Nothing can bring her back to who she was.
She became lost. Within herself.


But time brings another little girl.

A new generation of innocence.

Her face, similar. 

One who also looks to those before her.

Her laugh seems very familar.

This little girl sees the ugly shell. But not as it is.
Only perfect, and beautiful.

She picks it up slowly. Studying it.

On the outside of the shell, she draws a rainbow.
The shell opens slighty, letting in some light.

She giggles with her big blue eyes and untainted smile.

Then, reaching her tiny fingers inside, the little girl opens it ever so gently.

But her excitement turns to sadness, quickly. Because inside of the shell, she sees the emptiness.

She doesn't understand.

Without even thinking, she reaches into her pocket, and pulls out a pearl,
placing it into the empty shell.

She closes it back carefully, holds it up to her little mouth, and kisses it.

"I love you" she whispers.

"I love you so much that I gave you my only pearl, so that you wouldn't be without."

But the shell had nothing to give her.

The little girl's smile started to fade quickly.
Her own shell beginning to form.

"No, Take it back! Please! I don't want you to be like me! I love you too much!"

Then out of pure love, the pearl falls to the ground, rolling to the little girls feet.
She leans down and picks it up.

She thinks for a moment, holding the pearl tight, then looks back at the shell.

But the shell was different this time.

It had completely opened up, all on its own, exposing all that it was.

And inside, another pearl.

It was the same one that used to be there so long ago.

And it was there, especially for her,

Because of her.

Who is causing my insanity?

Since ALL of my kids are in school EVERYDAY, I think I may be losing my mind.
OK, more than normal, smart ass.
Yes, I heard your thoughts.

First, look at this picture and tell me if you see a face with a mustache. That way, if you do, I won't appear AS crazy. Hint... it's on the vase.


So I was sitting on the toilet today and saw faces in the patterns of the tile. Again.

I also see faces in the trees... my carpet... the bricks... the marble counter tops.
They haven't started talking to me yet, but if they did, I would probably tell them all my problems and see what kind of insight they had.
Keeping my fingers crossed on that one.

I figure it is either normal, my imagination is WAY out there, or I need to switch up my meds.

I find myself staring at the walls, looking for these faces, wondering if I could make a fortune drawing my own collection of never seen before images.
This only makes me realize that I need to get off my ass and get some stuff done around the house.


I started painting some crosses for a project "MY MOM" is doing, but went into attention deficit mode, as I so often do.

The crosses reminded me of my Sunday school lesson that I need to teach Sunday, so I left my task and went to figure out where I put the lesson book.

It was on the carpet, next to some shredded cheese.
Yeah. No clue.
As I start picking the pieces up one by one, I see one of the faces in the carpet. It had squinty eyes, big nostrils and a down turned mouth.
Ignore the face. Ignore the face.

As I focused back on the cheese, I started craving some. That is normal enough, right?  RIGHT?!

I made my way to the fridge where I went to grab a cheese stick.
There was none.

When I looked around inside of the fridge, I saw how horrible it looked in there!
How come one day you just SEE IT.
You ignore it every other day, but one day it is just SO obvious.
Like an episode of "Hoarders."

I saw some moldy green beans, a sip of milk at the bottom of the milk container, which we all know is good for NOTHING.  Old leftovers, a drawer full of cardboard and plastic left behind from the yogurt, juice, and cheese stick packages, a crap load of pickles that no one EVER eats, yet never really go bad enough to feel like you have the right to throw them away. White, cracked carrot sticks, and a shriveled grape.
The strangest thing though, is the MAYO JARS.
They always somehow make their way onto the shelves of my refrigerator.
No really. One time, I had like 7 of them in there! It's a freakin' mystery in my house!
We just can't figure it out.
Maybe the faces put them there.  YES, the faces did it. There really is NO other explanation.

Anyway, this made me realize..
(1) I need to clean my fridge.
(3) I need to go to the grocery.
(D) I'm a shitty housekeeper.
(and blue) I forgot to feed the dogs.

I head outside to feed Cami and CoCo and decide I will sit down for a minute on the porch, to enjoy the weather. Plus the smell of fresh air usually reminds me of how trapped I feel inside the four walls.

As I put my feet up, I turn my head toward the bricks. I squint my eyes a bit, and see another stupid face.
This one looked like it was screaming.

Then in my sun room, through the window, the man with the mustache, on the tall vase.

The mysterious mustached man had me thinking about some children's character from a book. Or maybe it was Colonel Sanders. Either way, it made me go into my children's rooms to clean a little.
Talk about a freakin' DISASTER!

Carly's room looks like her closet threw up tu-tus and stuffed animals.
Devin's room looks like it threw up dirty clothes and capri sun straws.
And Brice's room, well, it just looks and smells like a large animal threw up in there. Or maybe Lightning McQueen.

I think... Shit, I REALLY don't feel like tackling this today.

So I walk back out into the living room. Looking around.

I start picking up the couch cushions that were thrown on the floor from my kids the night before and the TV starts switching channels by itself.
OMG! The faces! I knew it!

Then I look down and see that I am standing on the remote.
You're lucky, faces! Next time I will catch you!


Wait. What was I doing? Did I ever feed the dogs?... Why is there still cheese on the floor?... Am I looking for my cell phone again?...
OOOR was it that we are OUT of Mayo?

YES! THAT WAS IT!
I need to go to the store to get some mayo!


I MAY be the cause of my own slow deterioration of sanity, BUT when life gives me mayo...

Well...  I'll have plenty, that's for sure.

At least enough to make sandwiches for me, and all my invisible face friends.

Now back to the question... Did YOU see the face in the vase?

Mmm hmmm.

Go check your fridge.

Take it from me.

 

Life is freakin' FUNNY.   Even the sucky parts.

At least that's how I think everyone should see it. Just don't take life SO damn seriously.

Even when it seems absolutely crazy, just LAUGH.

Why laugh you ask? Well, OK then, I will tell you.

So like I said before, I have some major A.D.D, a few personalities, and 3 children that could have possibly inherited these wonderful traits from me. Which will undoubtedly, slowly lead to insanity if I were to let it get to me. I HAVE to laugh at myself.
I also, for a long time, felt a strong need for acceptance and had to prove that I was tough. This perfect concoction of screwed-upedness lead me to be QUITE unique.
But my Mommy thinks I'm special.

I went to a birthday party when I was like, 6. All the girls and boys were on their best behavior.  You know, typical party. Hang out with friends, open presents, sing happy birthday, eat cake,
RUB CAKE ALL IN YOUR FACE AND HAIR...
WHAT? That's not normal you say?
No shit.
They sent me home.

When I was in 2nd grade I remember the teacher asking some sort of math question to the class. I already felt like I was "a bit different" at this point in my life. So when everyone seemed to raise their hand with confidence to answer the math question, but me, it kinda confirmed my learning problem.
I ended up raising my hand after the fact, just to fit in. And to not feel so stupid. I mean, what's the odds she would call on me? Right?
Well. She DID.

All eyes turned towards little ole Leslie who had just got done drawing 3 stick figures out of those little holes in the side of the loose leaf paper.
You don't know what I'm talking about?
Oh, then YOU missed out!
Wait, what was the question?
Hell if I know.
I think the answer was 24.
What was my answer?
"blue."
A.D.D


When I was in 4th grade, some girl was picking on me. I wasn't going to take any shit from anyone, just because I was small, so my short, scrawny little self told the girl to
"STEP OUTSIDE!"
Well, she did.
CRAP.

She was bigger than me, like most kids my age, and when we snuck past the teacher and out the classroom door, that realization became obvious to me as I was standing, facing Goliath.
I must show NO FEAR!

With all of the tomboy inside of me, I blindly started swinging my fists at her. But I was no David.
It pretty much ended up like one of those nightmares, ya know, where you are trying with all your might to move as fast as you can, defending yourself with punches and blocks, but you are moving in slo-mo, while the other person just laughs in your face.
Then you get punched in the nose at ultra mega speed.
Well, that can happen in real life too.
No shit.
Personality #1. Tough girl.

Then after, you walk back in the classroom, sit back in your desk, and pretend like THAT nightmare never happened.
Oh, but it gets worse.
Because the teacher sees you walk in.
"Go to the office!"
"But.. but...teacher...the other girl..."
"GO! NOW!"

As you storm out of the room, nose bleeding, upset that the teacher will not see your side of things, you make sure to knock all of the papers and books off of the teachers desk, flipping the bird,  then "accidentally pushing" her out of the doorway she was blocking.
Know what I'm talking about?
Yeah, I don't know anything about that either. Was just hoping you did.
Personality # 2. Temperamental girl. Or mental girl. How ever you wanna see it.


In high school, I would always sit in the back of the class, keeping my unraised hand to myself.
But there were windows in the back. And windows open up.
I would slide them open and crawl out when the teacher looked away, then go for a stroll around the school.
Thirty minutes or so later, I'd eventually make my way back to the class, walking through the door.
This confused the teachers.
"You told me I could go to the bathroom!" I would say, looking at them like they had dementia.
"I did?" they would respond, confused.

The kids would laugh at this. So I found MANY more things for them to laugh about over the years.
Personality # 3
Funny girl.

I was like a mega sized surprise Christmas present, from HELL!
You never knew what was gonna come out of the box.
A ninja? A mental ward patient? A clown?
Your guess was as good as mine.
There is a good girl in there somewhere. But that story would just be boring.


Needless to say, I served many detentions throughout school, didn't excel in any particular subject except the art I drew on my paperwork, and didn't graduate with the best of grades.
I know.
You can just SEE the pride radiating from my parents.
Don't let it blind you.

So what was the answer to nurturing this uniqueness of mine?

Duh! Join the military!

17 years old. Boot camp. Week one:
"DID YOU RUN AWAY FROM HOME PRIVATE!? DOES YOUR MOMMY KNOW YOUR GONE?!"
"ARE YOU GETTING AN ATTITUDE WITH ME PRINCESS!"
"UP THE STAIRS! DOWN THE STAIRS!"
"50 PUSH UPS!"
"This is a MAN'S Army!"

I began to think that maybe it WASN'T a good choice.

While low crawling through a field of fire ants in the rain, with chaffed thighs, your period, and a fever starting from the cold you've had for 2 weeks, you wonder... What the HELL did I just sign up for??!!
But whatcha gonna do.
You just gotta LAUGH.
Cause the shit couldn't possibly get any worse.


The second time I jumped out of a perfectly good airplane I was in combat gear that weighed about the same as I did.
"How the frick am I going to walk in this! How am I gonna lift my body off the ground and JUMP out of the plane in this shit?!"

You don't jump. Because the plane sucks your little body out, not giving you time to even THINK about how to jump. Then you repeatedly get slammed against the side of the door, bleeding, landing on your ass, smacking the back of your head against the ground as the parachute pulls you away with the wind, scraping you against the hard dirt, while a guy in a black hat yells in your face.
Just laugh.
Shit happens.

When I gave birth to my children I remember the oh so dreaded thought of... what if I poop on myself while I'm pushing out the baby? Oh my God, how embarrassing that would be!
You worry and worry. You read the horror stories.
I mean think about it. EVERYONE is watching, staring at the one obvious area to be staring at while your knees are back behind your freakin' ears.
So what IF it happens?

Well, once you are in labor and your uterus feels like someone is constantly using it as a football to kick 80 yard field goals for 14 hours straight, nothing else seems to matter.
When "using the mirror" seemed like a good idea at the time, but then they give it to you as the football makes its way through the 1 inch wide goal posts, and you see your body do things you never imagined it doing, you could care less if you crap on yourself. You could care LESS if your husband sees. Your Mom. The 2 doctors. The group of nursing students.
Either way, when it is all said and done, you just...

LAUGH.

Because what else can you do?
Worry?
Nah.

My husband and I were living in our last duty station in Alabama before he was retiring.
We had to sell our house. Easy enough, RIGHT?
Riiiight.

We walked around the house making a note of all the little things we had to repair. We figured after we fix it up, clean it up and stage it up, we would sell that bitch in a week!

HaHaHaHa!!!!!
Looking back, That's reeeal funny.

My husband had to have surgery.
This left me at home to do all of these tasks, ALONE, with 3 kids to take care of.
At the time they were 5yrs, 2 yrs and 3 months old.
Brice was obviously in his terrible 2's which is never good when you have a 3 storied house.
My 5 yr old, Devin, was in his terrible 2's as well.
And Carly completely relied on my boob milk to keep her occupied and happy.

Here is a little snippet...

Ok, let me move all of this furniture to the POD.
Oh, wait, I have to feed the baby. I'll just pop her on my boob while I wipe down the kitchen.
Brice going down the stairs? Brice tumbling down the stairs? Ok, well, let me put up the gates while i'm not moving stuff.
Devin screaming his head off because toys didn't line up the way he needed them to, to make the form of a robot? Ok, let me help him.
Oh, let me switch boobs first. 
Ok, Brice is climbing OVER the gate.
Devin is now throwing the toys at the wall, scraping the paint.
No biggie, I will just paint over THAT spot too.
Oooouch! I think Carly just bit my nipple off!
Ding dong!! Shit, the real estate agent is here!
Where's Brice? Why is Devin eating the paint chips?
Damn!!! I still have to clear out the basement and garage!

 After I change out the electrical socket covers, texture spray over the ceiling, find a way to glue down the toilet that rocks, re caulk all three bathrooms, clean carpets, move more furniture, go through closets, pack up all of our clothes, fill out all the paperwork for the real estate agent, AAAAAAND feed the cat. Crap! Where's the cat?

Throw the kids in the car, grab a bite, go see Brian at the hospital...
Come back and finish up that work I never started on, oh yes, and stain the back deck because that would help the house to sell. Where is the cat though?? Then I can stage it up real nice for that open house on Saturday, get the house sold, and be on our way to Louisiana! I got this!!

Oh, I got it all right.
Every last bit of it.
By myself.
During the beginning of the friggin' ECONOMIC HOUSING CRISIS!

The house was on the market for a year and a half.
Renters for 3 years.

I developed a twitch that still creeps back when someone mentions the words, kilz, paint roller, vent covers, housing market, surgery, Home Depot, nipple... well, just about any world really.

And my cat?
Yes, I found him.
In the middle of the road.
After a car did.

 You can't worry about shit you think MIGHT happen, and you can't worry about things once they DO happen. Because it's never what you expect and you usually can't control it anyway, so you will have worried for NOTHING.

When life throws you a curve ball, rub cake all in your face and hair, and just LAUGH.

Because life is freakin' funny.

And so are tough, phychotic, attention deficit, baby- making clowns in combat boots.

Things may suck at times, and I may not be perfect, but hell, I least I can laugh about it.

Puffy cloud beards and other stuff

My friends and I were having some beers the other day, and started talking about God.

What would God look like if you were to put aside religions, differences, races, gender, and just described what the "feeling" looked like. What YOUR feeling looked like.

The feeling when it is just YOU and YOUR GOD. It is definitely personal for each individual I think. No One can ever tell you who He looks like because they aren't supposed to. You have to feel it and know it for yourself.

Does he look like your Grandfather? Your Grandmother? Jesus? Santa Claus? Nature? Denzel Washington? A purple elephant?
I have no clue! I only know what mine looks like.

Big and strong, wide faced, piercing eyes of a color nonexistent to this world, and a CLOUD as a beard.
He covers the whole sky. Like I always call Him, "the big man in the sky".

To me, God is pure love, but he still looks down on me when I screw up, shaking his head, saying, "YOUUUU KNOOOOW BETTER LEEEESLIEEEE".
It's like a Father's love for a child. But with the capacity to not feel anger or to reach down and pop me across the head when I say a bad word or put my elbows on the table.

He doesn't have the feelings we have, He has something greater, that we could never comprehend. Never measure.
Never describe.

As humans, we want to be able to measure it, to know for sure. We want to prove it to be true through something concrete, because sometimes feelings just aren't enough, especially if you have never felt Him/Her/It.

But that is where faith comes in. Faith grows from those one on one moments with your God, whomever it may be. I can guarantee everyone has felt it, they just didn't know what it was, or what to do with it.
Maybe religion gets in the way, and then it just becomes scary, because you feel there are some sort of rules to follow if you were to have REALLY felt God.
Nope.
You really felt Him.


I also had a conversation last week with another friend about our "God moments". Although there was no beer involved in this one.

Those simple moments in your life where a light bulb goes off and you feel something greater.
Or even the supernatural moments that you know no one would ever believe unless they felt it for themselves.

Those are "God moments".

Alot of mine have come out of trials in my life where I felt God's presence because I asked for it.
Where I felt so lost or angry that I could no longer turn to things of this world to make me happy.
I would find a quiet moment and say, "WHERE ARE YOU!" 
Sometimes it took minutes, sometimes days.

But the feeling still came, because I listened for it. I waited for it. I NEEDED it, to move forward.
He wants you to need Him.

When I was young, my sister got into a horrible wreck. She died twice.

Her small truck was totalled from going underneath the back of an 18 wheeler parked on the side of the interstate. When they found her, her head was resting on the back bumper of the truck she crashed into.
But it wasn't her time yet.
The paramedics brought her back to life.
Her face was able to be rebuilt using a senior portrait. And now she is as beautiful as ever.

But it was a very hard time for my family. My Mom was dealing with it the best she could with my Dad being gone on jobs for months at a time.  I had to go stay with my Aunt so Mom could be up at the hospital everyday.

Two weeks later, I was able to come home from my Aunts house to see my sister in the hospital.

I had not known much, being only 11 at the time, so I was scared to walk into her room. Scared of what I might see.
My body was shaking.

As I walked in alone, I saw her in the bed.
Mouth wired shut. Tubes and wires all around. It wasn't my Sissy.

What do I say?

 It only took me looking into her eyes to see HER, as one tear fell down her face.

In that moment I felt God for the first time. I had my first "God Moment".
Now it was in His younger years, so he had more of a "cloud goatee", but it was definitely God.

Like something just shined over me and made me warm, made me safe, made me calm.
I felt LOVE.  Yes, love from my sister, but also love from somewhere different to me. And I knew that everything was going to be OK.


When I was 20 years old, I was sitting in my room, in the Army barracks.
It was a Friday night and I knew in my heart that my husband at the time was not where he said he was. I had known something was going on for awhile but the proof wasn't there. And it was literally driving me insane.  This particular night I seemed to have reached the end of my rope.

I sat there... lost, hurt, confused. ALONE.

Hours and hours went by.
Horrible thoughts were running through my head.

I wanted to hop in my car and go find him, but I couldn't, because I was pulling a MEDEVAC refueling duty and they were flying a mission.

So I sat. And sat. For hours.

"Where are you God!"
"Why is this happening Damnit!"

I calmed myself, waiting for an answer. Waiting for Him to slap me upside the head.

Then once again, I felt the warmth. The security. The SAME feeling.

I felt like I was in that machine on Willy Wonka and the Chocolate factory where they are floating, but if I opened my eyes, I would fall? Ok, that was a little strange. But really, that's what came to mind.
Aaaaand, NOW I have the oompa loompa song in my head. Crap!

Anyway, those are only 2 of many, many, many times in my life that I felt that greater feeling.

Like a butterfly in the right place, at the right time. Refer to this blog entry... http://gatesfamily.blogspot.com/2012/03/life-she-lived.html

I have a lot of God Moments in Nature.

In homeless people.

Those moments of innocence in my children's faces, when they aren't getting on my nerves.

And the innocence of their words, that show God's pure love. When they aren't getting on my nerves.

A bible verse that knows EXACTLY what I need to hear, when I just open to a random page.

A book.

A TV show.

A conversation with a stranger at the grocery store.

A conversation with a friend.

You will find your God moments everywhere.

Look for them. Listen for them. Own them.

Because they are YOURS.
Cloud Beard and all.

Puppy for President!

                                                                                                                                                                

 

 

 

 

My name is Leslie. And I sleep with a stuffed animal.

THERE! I said it!

Ahh, SOOO freeing.

Nah, I really don't care. It's all good.

So I've had my "Puppy" since I was 3 years old. He was a replacement for the one that I left on the back of my Mom's car before she drove off to run her errands for the day. That was a devastating day in the life of little Leslie. I still remember it clearly. Basically, I left it on the back of my mom's car, and, uh, she drove off. Yeah. Pretty deep story.

But alas, I had my replacement puppy, and all was good.

He is my velveteen rabbit. And yes, he has come ALIVE.

For the last 31 years he has gone everywhere with me. Sleepovers, vacations, my many moves, hurricane evacuations. I even hid him during boot camp.

I CANNOT live without my Puppy. I would NOT know how.

If you look at him, you can see my dependence on him written all over his poor little body.
First off, it looks like he has the mange.

Then his pitiful eyes. A dog chewed one eye off when I was little, then another dog got his other one later in life. I cut some new eyes out of felt, then used a glue gun to glue on some of those googly ones.  It freaked me out because he kept staring at me.
So I ripped them off and now he is left with shiny glue dots.
This makes him looked possessed.

His left arm is much skinnier than his right because I like to smell it. Which means my brain is full of stuffing now.

His nose is crooked because I have sewn it back on so many times.

If you hold him up the light you can see straight through his abdomen to the other side of the room. That stuffing is probably also in my brain.


So why the dependence on him? No clue. But any theories are appreciated.
And "I have issues" is too vague. Because we already know this.

So where am I going with this?
I don't know yet.
Be patient.

The other day, I LOST PUPPY! And I thought I was going to have a mental break-down!

Brian was asleep and I frantically woke him up shaking him. "Wake up! I can't find Puppy!"
He looked over at me with his CPAP attached to his face, and said something in his Darth Vader voice. I just about ripped the mask off of his face in fear that I had lost puppy FOREVER!
"Help me look for him! Oh my God, I think I left him at the hotel!"

Brian slowly, I repeat, SLOWLY, gets up, pulling back the sheets, making an effort to care.
This is a routine when I can't find him at night, because I can't sleep well without my puppy.
But what Brian didn't understand was that I had REALLY lost him this time!

I was pulling my suitcase apart, pulling the room apart, like I was fiending.
I was shaking... heart pounding. I felt like I had left my own child at the hotel room.
I had abandoned my puppy.
I started to cry.

Brian fell back asleep at this point.

But I realized, I am ADDICTED to my stuffed animal.
It is a healthy addiction compared to other choices I have made, but no doubt, I don't feel like I could live without the dumb dog.


Ah, I knew this would go somewhere...

ADDICTION.

Yes, now I'm gonna get deeper. Because I know people who suffer from this horrible disease. Plus I watch intervention like it is attached to my face.

Whether it be drugs, alcohol, food, exercise, gambling, pornography, sex, acceptance from others...
It what some people feel they NEED to survive from day to day.
It helps them to cope with the situations in there lives without actually digging deeper to find the source of the pain, and then eliminating it.

Finding that pain is not an easy thing to do though. It requires re-living what hurt you in the first place.
Although for some people, I think it is just a chemical imbalance, and self medicating is the only thing that helps them "feel normal".

Life is full of bullshit. But the truth is, the way we react to the bullshit, lies within ourselves.

We can't spend life blaming others for why we are the way we are. Even if we do sniff stuffing.

We have a choice to whether or not we take unhealthy situations in our lives and let them make us more unhealthy, OR if we use them to grow from.

I think, no, I KNOW, we are meant to go though rough times. If we didn't, we wouldn't have a story. And our story is what makes us OWN ourselves. It is what sets up apart from others. Makes us UNIQUE.
Even the bad stuff.

Actually, I think the bad stuff is better than the good, as far as growth.

This is a quote from a book I'm reading...

"It is said that a person that has nothing left to lose becomes the most powerful person on earth. It is only through dying that we can truly live."

Sometimes you have to reach the bottom to end up being the best you can be in the long run.
It shows that people do love you enough to throw you a rope, and it shows that you are worth it to yourself to get better.

And in my uniqueness, I was able to go from having no idea where talking about my Puppy would take me, to talking about addiction.
Why? I don't know. I think the big man in the sky takes me to those places.
Obviously someone needed to hear it.

I am effin crazy, right?!... Don't answer that.
But hell, I love me.
And couldn't have said that a year ago.

Oh, and I found my Puppy. He was tucked away in the little pocket of my suitcase. Looking up at me with those possessive eyes of his. One little tear coming down. Because he knows I care.

My brain my be full of stuffing, but I do care. I love people (unless they really annoy me).
But I needed someone to hear this.
Whoever you are.

Because I have been there.
And you can't love others until you love yourself.

Would Jesus go to Chick-fil-a?

Guess what...

I'm a sinner!

Always have been, always will be.

Oh, and I eat at Chick-fil-a sometimes.
Don't freak out! It's not what you think! Whatever it is YOU think.
The truth is, I like how I can stick my kids in that little glass room as they scream at the top of their lungs, while I enjoy a semi healthy sandwich and pretend to be on an airplane, flying in silence, to a remote island. Alone. Peeeeaceful. If only for a moment.
So yeah, the glass room works wonders.
And I have stomach issues with other fast food.  Don't judge.

So I have been thinking about this subject alot lately...
Christianity.

And I have been thinking about the word, "Christian".

I hear opinions and see hatred between those who say they are a Christian, and those that do not.

Those that say they are Followers of Jesus, and those that follow a different God. Or none at all.

Even hatred BETWEEN Christians.



I actually friended God on Facebook awhile back, and was appalled by the things I read. It definitely wasn't a place to go if you needed to be uplifted.
I'm beginning to think that God really didn't make that page.

Hatred towards Christians, what's it all about?? Who knows.
I think one reason is this...
People hear the word "Christian" and echoed in the back of their minds are words like
"Hypocrite". "Narrow minded".  "Unforgiving".  "Judgmental".

Can't blame them really.  It's true for some.
Really, it's true for people, in general.

But Christians have been put to a high standard of meeting this great expectation of being Christ-like.
Well guess what, they aren't.

They can definitely try. It's what they are supposed to do.
But in the end, they are still HUMAN.
They have deep dark hurts and painful secrets.
They struggle everyday.
Just like the three billion something other people on this earth.
We really are all the same. Aren't we?
Damn labels.

But yeah, "Christian".
The word that pushes so many people away.
It really is kinda sad.


So this is what I know...

1. I drink, I cuss, I get angry as hell.

2. I divorced my first husband.

3. I've hurt people. Bad.

4. I've lied.

5. I have been down in some deep dark places in my life.

6. I have told God that I HATE him.

Kinda sounds like I don't make the cut. Rut Ro.


We are ALL the "least of these", are we not?
We ALL need to help build each other up. There is so much hate in this world and so many people choosing sides, tearing people down because of their story.

My story is MINE. If you believe different from me, that's fine. Don't hate me. Just love me. And I will try my best not to talk about you behind your back. Deal?
I try not to lead people astray for my own agendas. But it can be hard.
I may not even realize that hatred is what is leading me. It can be disguised well.

So yes, I have been that person. I think we all have. No? You can admit it... No one can hear you. Well, God can, but He already knew anyway. If you believe in Him, that is.


I believe in Him.
Because of this, people may call me a hypocrite. But i'm really just bipolar/ADHD.
God made me special like that.
So that I am able to be the ultimate example of Christian confusion.
I can tell you I am a crappy person, and that I love Jesus, all in the same story... then notice the pretty bird in the sky and forget what the hell I'm talking about.


Something else about me...

1. I've gone to a Christian church since the day I was born.

2. I teach a children's Sunday school class.

3. I am a deacon.

4. I read the bible to my children, and we talk about it.

5. I tell people how much I love God. Because there is nothing I can do that will make Him love me any less. And I think that is pretty freakin great. He may want to put me in the glass room for a bit, but He still loves me the same.


As a Christian, this is what I am sure of...

1. For every one of those things I have done wrong, God has forgiven me.

2. He knows, I know, He knows. Got it? Therefore, I continue to try harder.

3. I will fall again. And again. AND AGAIN.

4. Jesus and the Bible are my foundation. If I didn't have these two things I would be lost. But if I do fall, or my bible gets lost, I will just refer to the tattoo on my ankle. A cross, and my favorite bible verse.

5. My favorite bible verse:  Philippians 4:13

6. We were all born with something in our lives that is difficult to overcome.

7. God loves us anyway.


So what is my point?

I am PROUD to say that I am a Christian.
Because what that is to me, is a struggling human being, just trying to do better. And knowing that the Big Man in the sky sent his little human self to earth to die for my stupidity. That is a love beyond words.

I have left God many times in my life.  But when I ran back to Him, He was still there waiting. Always there.

So if I am sitting in Chick-fil-a with my arms out to the side, swaying back and forth with a big smile on my face, just smile and wave, and tell me to enjoy my trip to the island. Or just honk if your not coming in. Doesn't matter to me. Because Jesus will be there. He is always with me wherever I go. Just as he is always with you.















.

Shhhhhhhh....

I find myself in the bathroom a lot lately.
Not because of my anxiety ridden irritable bowels, but because I need to hear... NOTHING.
It doesn't usually work though.

The summer is LOUD.

My brain spins with the words, "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!"

At the beginning of summer it is sorta welcoming. I missed being able to hang around the house with the kids, in our jammies together. I missed taking them to the snowball stand. I missed just being able to do something with them without worrying about homework, or school nights.

Unfortunately, that happiness usually turns into a different feeling by mid-summer.

The structure of the school year is lost. And they become WILD ANIMALS.

I look at them and think, "WHO ARE THESE STRANGE LITTLE PEOPLE!" They certainly aren't MY children!

Trying to find something for them to do can be tortuous. Especially if the pool is green or I am out of crafts.
Or meds.

If it is a day that nothing is planned and "Ralph" from the other side of my brain, has emerged, then I scrape up my last bit of elbow noodles, some glue, and construction paper to pass the time for them,  and to find some QUIET TIME of my own.

I drag my lifeless body to the bathroom, as if it is an OASIS of sanity. But it only lasts for a sweet little moment.
Because the banging of the door begins. "Mommy! Are you in there? I need to come in!"

No. You. DOOOONNNNTTTTT!!"

No quiet.

I pull out all the spices in my pantry and let them start mixing their own concoction of nastiness. Then I attempt to sneak outside for some silence. But it is short lived.
"Where ya going Mommy??"

Leave. Me. Alooooooonnnnneeee!

No quiet.

Ok. I get it.
THEY NEED ME.

One thing Motherhood ALWAYS abundantly provides...
GUILT.

But they need me healthy and sain, RIGHT?
Well, that requires silence for me.

I NEED IT.
Or they will be counting mufflers.

I joke. But yes, the bathroom. It is my happy place.

The car... It is also my happy place. When I am alone with my thoughts, and some good music it rejuvenates my SOUL. And I am better for it.


I was in my car, on my way to teach Vacation Bible School today. It was early, I was half dead, and I was ANYTHING but alone.
After the last neighborhood kid crawled in my car to sit down, I realized that she made #8 in my 7 seater Saturn Outlook.

Damn.  I didn't do the math before I left.

The kids had been telling me there was no more room in the car.
But I didn't REALLY  know what they were saying.  They were all telling me at once, in a loud screechy way.
So I just blocked it out. And said, "uh huh", the way us Mommas so often do.

When it is that early in the morning, with no coffee, and a pitiful sandwich baggy of Cheerios for breakfast, I am usually occupied with feeling sorry for myself.
BUT... they did warn me of my mathematical screw up.

 I turn the music up so I can feel better,  but this only makes them talk LOUDER.

So I turn it down.
"Turn it up!" Carly yells.

So I do.

Same story.

No quiet.
Although, that is an obvious scenario where NO quiet would exist.

I get to the church and start my first class. Its hotter than hell outside and it has gone from "Mommy Mommy Mommy" to "Miss Leslie, Miss Leslie, Miss Leslie".
This sound is nothing new, my children's friends are at my house alot.
But once again, I haven't had my quiet yet.
Different kids, same twitch.

I glanced over their heads at a little peaceful area set back between the trees.
There is a labyrinth. With a little bench in the middle of it.
It is much smaller than the one in the picture above, probably 10ftx 10ft, but same idea.

It is a circular maze where you walk to find peace. Silence. Alone time with God. WHATEVER you are searching for.

The maze will EASILY take you to the center where you end up at the bench.
Ahhhh, THE BENCH.

A place to sit and rest. A place to meditate. A place to get away from little children screaming in your ear.

Oh how I wanted to sit on that bench.

And I would!

As soon as the first group left.

Before I headed over to the Labyrinth I decided to open up the umbrella on the patio set that was out there. Why?  I don't freakin' know. I guess I figured it would make it seem more like a vacation than a sweat fest.
So I open it.
But there was a wasp.

I have been stung by a wasp before. In my eyeball.
It ain't nice.

Before you know it I have engaged myself in wasp murder, forgetting all about the maze of sanity.

The next group comes, with suckers sticking out of their little mouths. In no way ready for my blindfolded obstacle course.  That is all I need.
So I'm pulling suckers out of mouths left and right.
Yours wasn't the red one? Well, it IS now.

Oh but beyond the madness... the labyrinth.

Quiet time.

What does it feel like?
Will it give me the peace I SO long for.
Is it an out of body experience that will rejuvenate and refresh me for the rest of the summer?

I've got to get to it!
And mainly, to the bench of tranquility. Ahhhhh.

Second group gone.
No blow pop tragedies.

I'm making my way to it.

It's there.

Right in front of me.

No one else in sight.

I scope it out from above. It looks simple enough.
Just follow the little maze that will lead me RIGHT TO the, oh so awaited bench.

I step in.
And I start the slow walk towards the middle.
Finding my peace.

I am surrounded by beautiful oak trees, God...SILENCE.

It weaves its way around in a simple manner so obviously leading to the center.
As I walk it, slowly, I imagine the center being MY center.

That once I reach it, I will in fact feel centered, calm, ready to face the rest of the day.

I smiled.

Briefly though.

Because quickly, the smile turned into utter confusion...

...and it happened.


I passed up the bench.


I passed it up and started weaving my way back out of the labyrinth.

"WHAT THE EFFIN' CRAP!" I said outloud.

The more I weaved AWAY from the bench, the more pissed off I got.

It was simple, self explanatory...
BUT STILL... I could NOT get to the center. The maze led me AWAY.

It was quiet all around me, but my mind was screaming.

The labyrinth couldn't even help me.

It PUSHED me out of it!

I am not entitled to sanity. I knew it!

As I looked down at the center edge of the circle, the end of the path, I felt as if it was the end of the earth. And I was ready to just jump off.

But I said, NO. It will NOT defeat me!

I turned around slowly, peered at the stupid bench, then broke what I am guessing is the almighty labyrinth rule. I said forget the maze, and I just walked right to the bench.

I sat down.
Looked around.
Felt, NOTHING.

It wasn't the same.
I did it wrong.
The magic wouldn't work now.

WHY!?

How long have I been here?
Is it going to rain?
When is the next group coming?


OK, focus, focus...
Quiet.
FIND the quiet.

Ahhhh, there it is.

There it is.

I've waited too lo...


"MISS LESLIEEEEEEE!!!"


Shhhhhhhhh.... IIIITTTTT!


There's always tomorrow.

I'll be back labyrinth.

I'll be back.

"Lets talk about PETS, bay-bee!"

I  saw a commercial today with that older lady from Glee. There were a bunch of people standing around wearing white tees. On each tee was one word that described that person. I don't even know what the commercial was about. I just saw the ending where a ladies shirt said, "bipolar". And I laughed.

What would I want my ONE word to be? Although it is fitting, I thought, not THAT word. 

"Bipolar".
Yeah.
My doctor told... uhh, I mean, I read about in a book once.
Page 16 I think.


But anyway, NOW would probably be a good time to introduce my different personalities.

Personality # 1:

This would be the semi-normal, God-loving, emotional, empathetic, got her stuff together, gonna save the world,
"shes a goooood giiiirl, loves her Mommaaaa... loves Jeeeesuuuus, and America toooo"


We will call this girl, "Grace".



In the NEXT corner of my brain we have PERSONALITY #2!  She loves long walks on the beach...

Really though, this girl is ka-RAY-zee!

She is manic, silly, impulsive.  She breaks out in dance and song, ( as you just saw with the Tom Petty Song) and she does it in the most unexpected moments. This is usually when she hears, "your are so weird" from the people around her.  She has a potty mouth, some mad karate moves, and some CRAZY ideas.
She is... THIS BLOG.


We will call her "Ray". (look 7 lines above)


Then last and OBVIOUSLY least, we have PERSONALITY #3!
This one has some issues.

The world can bite the big one.
She is going to stay in the four walls of her house, not open a window, then just drink coffee. Maybe with a shot.
ALL. DAY. LONG.
A shower? Forget it!
Sleep? Oh yeah!
Some may call her Depression, BUT we will just call her "Ralph".
Why Ralph?
Because I CAN.


So, what is the point of all this name calling?
Nothing, really.
I just always wanted to name them. 
Plus, I wanted to talk about why I end up with so many pets.


So, the moments right before I get a pet, usually start with ole' Ralph.


And just so there is no confusion, Ralph IS a guy.
I was a major tom-boy growing up, so it will just cover that area of my life too. Why not.


He is that place that I go to when I have lost all hope. Or feel so weighed down by the world, by my emotions, other peoples emotions, children issues, school issues, feeling like a failure. Blah blah blah. We've all been there, right?
Ole' Ralph.


You think you can't possibly go on.
Someone else has got to take over your role in the world so everything around you can still function.
'Cause the world ain't stoppin' over yur emotional problem! (Ralph has a country accent, btw)
Or your P.M.S. ( Sorry Ralph, I didn't think this out, did I?)
Whichever the case may be,
It sucks.
It's a deep dark abyss of King poop. 

With Ralph, it is a day that you craaaawl through the motions.  
The wooden sign on my kitchen wall says it well...
"Some days it's not even worth chewing through the restraints."


Usually Ralph hangs around a day or two... Or three... Or 10.
But he is spread out through the entire month, in random surprise ATTACK MODE!
Hate 'em.


The good thing about Ralph though is he gets his ass kicked by my home girl, Ray.


She's a ninja.


A slightly psychotic one.


But no doubt, a ninja.


She comes in and takes over after being down in the dumps so long with Ralph.


Ray is the one that carries through with the actual purchasing of the animals.
She figures doing this, will be a nice change to the mood.

What will it be today?
Two puppies?
Aww, two puppies.
That. Would. Be. AWESOOOME!


Why not one puppy, you ask?
Because Ray SAID SO..


Now what about a cat? EVERYONE needs a CAT!

Right?
YES, RIGHT!
Duh!

And a litter box.
And your couch scratched apart.
Ray says, double that shit!
Two cats!


A snake? Sure!! It's free!
It's crawling in the front yard, so we must save him! (as Grace pokes her head in a little).


What about a rabbit?
Brian can build him a cage.
And the baby bunny and kitten can play together and live happily ever after...and... and...


RAY BRINGS CHAOS.


RAY BRINGS NO COMMON SENSE


RAY DOES NOT SEE CONSEQUENCES.


OH, but Grace does.
And she usually appears a few days after Tornado Ray blows though.


But Ralph peers his ugly head in first.


He laughs a crazy kinda laugh, then goes away.


True Story.


And we ALL lived together under one big happy roof.
And part sky.
5 real people, 3 invisible ones,  and 6 pets.


Poor Grace though.
She tries.


She has such perseverance, and hope.


But she is left with a zoo.


And ALL of these things to take care of...


Ear mites and fleas.
Thousands of dollars worth of mange treatment.


Potty training puppies and babies at the same time.
Sometimes the dog would be sitting on the toilet with a paci in its mouth, and a pull-up around it's ankles.


Although now you know why my kids randomly pee in the grass.


Two cats that ended up outside because,
#1... I have an allergy to cats.
Thirdly...  one of those cats pee on my laundry piles.
And (D)... The other cat doesn't change the litter when he's done using it.


So they are outside.
There is a coyote in the neighborhood though. And one of the cats is pretty laid back.
You do the math.


The snake... STILL here.
Which now makes me a murderer of innocent little mice.


The cute little bunny, Thumper. He grew up to be a big bunny and outgrew the cage.
He was free to run and play around our big yard for a year.
Happiest bunny you'd ever know.

But, he was counting mufflers the day before Easter.
He didn't get past 1.


Grace gets tired.
Tired of cleaning up after Ray.


She can't take care of anything or anyone else.
She can't believe the mess that Ray leaves behind.


So what happens?
Ralph takes her down once again.


Ole' smelly Ralph.
With his sweat pants and bad hair day hats.
His bowl of ice cream for dinner.
His 10th episode of "intervention" in one day.


Will Ray ever appear again? We need her spunk!


Oh, Ray appears.


She comes back.


In her ninja-like way, of course.


She will snap Ralph out of it!


And she will do it the only way she knows how...
<
<
With 20 fish...
<
<
<
and a crab.


ALL of which, also have names.
.

Anyway,  I don't think I would even use one word to describe me.

I think i would use pictures instead.


"GRACE":

"RAY":

"RALPH":

"LESLIE":

.

Just some little girl crap.

Carly is 4 years old, and such a character.

She has this little thing she does whenever she is being a smart ass.
She puts one hand on her hip, points her finger at you, clicks her tongue twice and then winks.
Like she's got it ALL figured out.
Something Lumbergh from "Office Space" would do, without the TPS report.

She says it annoys her brother, Brice, and that's why she does it.
Big shocker there.

Anyway, just keep that in mind.


So Carly is scared of EVERYTHING lately.
Germs,
Bugs,
Diabetes,
Beer,
You name it.

I forget how scary life can be when you are that little.

We were eating at a restaurant after church today and she wanted a root beer.
They bring out a glass bottle of Barques and Carly looks at me, eyes big and scared. She was trying to get an approving look from my face.

I asked her what was wrong and she replies in a whisper, "Moooommy, it's beer. Beer SCARES me."

I should have known, right.

Well,  of course Brice hears her and starts chugging his down saying, "Beer makes you EXPLODE!"
And Devin has a sprite, so he's good.

I reassured Carly that it was only root beer. But she was still scared, shaking her head, no.

I then told her to taste it so she could see, and she says,

"BUT IF I DO, ALL OF MY STUFFED ANIMALS WILL COME ALIVE!"

Uhhhhhh....
Yeah. No clue.

But in her mind, COMPLETELY true.
Although, enough beer, maybe they WOULD appear alive?
Or maybe I had too much beer at some point and started talking to her animals?

Probably a good idea to just leave THAT one alone.

So anyway,  while boating yesterday, we saw a gator in the water.

Everyone was excited, running up to the side of the boat to get a better look.
Except for Carly of course, who was looking up at me like I was a complete stranger.
She looked confused.
Then completely fearful.

I gave her a kiss on her head, and told her everything was OK. That she was safe.

She quickly backed away from me. Not wanting me to touch her.
As if she had just figured out something horrible.
The look was priceless.

I asked her what is wrong.

I knew it had to be about her fear of the alligator.
But if it wasn't, then maybe it was that she was afraid to suck her thumb because the worm gave her germs.
Or maybe she thought drinking that third capri-sun was going to give her "diabeebees".

She started pinching at the skin on my arm.
I ignored it at first, but she kept doing it.
And doing it again...
and again..

I pushed her hand away, "Ouch Carly that hurts!"

With tears forming in her eyes, this is what she said...

"Mommy, I'm scared."

"Why?  I said, rubbing at my red arm.

She begins to cry.

Then  in all seriousness she says,

"Because I think  YOU ARE an alligator, IN HUMAN CLOTHES! NOW TAKE YOUR SKIN OFF!"

Nope. Didn't see THAT ONE coming.


I asked her some other things she was scared of just so I could know ahead of time.
This is what she told me...


"King cobras, mummys, dragons, skeletons, horseflies, acid for the pool, "bloody mary in the mirror" because it makes your head fall off (thanks camp kids). And why did Jesus make weed killer? That scares me the most!"

OK, so we are good now.
Got the heads up! no pun intended.

Now typical A.D.D style, completely off subject, I will tell you something else she said today.

It is about poop.
So if you don't like hearing about poop...
Then stop here.
And if you keep reading,
then don't give me any shit.

So we were at the restaurant and she had to go potty.

We headed back there and entered the stall together. She sitting, me standing... waiting patiently.

She goes # 1.

The "tinkle" is finished so I ask her if she is done.

I see her strained face, then I hear two little "plop plops".

She ain't done.

I start to read the writing on the stall door to pass the time.

A few more tiny "plops", and she is STILL sitting there.
At least 5 minutes have passed.

I impatiently look at her,  figuring she is doing it to purposely annoy me, so I say,

"OK, Carly, you ARE done. You need to wipe".

She peers up at me still having a strained look and says,

I know, I know,  you are at the edge of your seat....

She says,

"GEEZ Mommy! I'm waiting on the KING POOP!"

I look at her, eyebrows raised, trying to contain myself from cracking up laughing.

Then she points her finger, smiles, clicks her tongue twice and winks.

And I lost it.

Chore Chart

I have some major ADD, always have.

If you were to look back at my report cards or behavior reports you would see I couldn't focus for the life of me.
Still can't.

They would try and teach me Math, I would stare at the pretty bird in the sky.

They would tell me to write a report on the Civil War, I wrote about my fantasy character, Gracie, who was a spy for the government, and always broke her leg for some reason. Then the night before, I would whip something up, adding a lot of "very, very, very, very" to it.

They would tell me to read a book, I would read the same sentence 20 times, then tell them where to put it.


I wasn't a bad kid. I just acted out. I was frustrated. And I felt stupid because of something I couldn't control.
It sucks being born without that part of your brain that can pull away from the pretty bird, or the bug crawling on the floor.
Those things are more interesting to me, I guess.

Now add three kids into the mix.
Being an organized, consistent Mom is hard for me.

Then there's chores.
You know, the mundane tasks that have to be done, or the house will fall apart.

I. HATE. MUNDANE. TASKS.
More than I hate pokemon.
And that is A LOT.

They seem so pointless to me, but they have to be done.
Well, it's not that easy.

I cannot complete a task, and it is obviously in no way that I am lazy. I just CANNOT do mundane tasks without total chaos taking place. I live with this everyday. Constant work, and no progress.

Here is an example of me attempting chores:

Walk into the kitchen to get something to drink.

Start putting dishes in the dishwasher, hear a noise outside.

Go in the backyard to see what the noise is and remember I need to put chlorine in the pool.

Pretty bird.

Before  I actually put chlorine in the pool, I clean out the skimmer.

In the skimmer, is a dead, bloated frog.

Which makes me think of our pet albino corn snake, Albie, whom I forgot needs water to survive.

I frantically run back in the house, fearing he's joined the puffy frog at reptile/amphibian rainbow bridge. (yes, these two species share a heaven, I've decided.)

As I open the top to his cage I see him move. THANK GOD!
As I quickly run in the kitchen to get him water from the sink before he escapes, I see the dishes I never finished. Or never started, in this case.

Better finish those up!

Crap! I need a dishtowel!
As I dig into the huge pile of unfolded clothes that I haven't paid my niece to fold yet, I sit down and start to fold them myself.

Then a neighborhood kid knocks on the door.
Craft time!

As the kids do a craft that I ordered online for the kids Sunday School class I teach, I am reminded that I never started my lesson.

So I get online to look up what I am going to teach.
But the facebook tab is up.
END OF STORY.

My husband walks in the door at 5:30 and looks around the house in confusion. Because he cannot wrap his intelligent, focused, calm mind around what he sees.

"What?!" I say, looking around, frazzled.  "I've had a busy freakin' day! Been getting things done around this house."

He looks at me as if I have something growing out of my forehead.  "I see",  he replies with a grin.

There is huge laundry pile in the middle of the floor with one folded dishtowel next to it...

Craft supplies all over the place, and the children that go along with them...

Dishes still in the sink from the night before, but the dishwasher wide open, showing that I apparently attempted it...

A green, non chlorinated pool with the pungent smell of death coming from the skimmer that was never put back in the water...

A missing snake...

And the computer open to facebook...

Guess I can't blame him for "the look".

Yes, this is sad. It is sad because it makes me completely crappy at my non paying job.
I wouldn't hire me.

Anyway,  I just realized the title for this post is "chore chart."

See where that got me.

Pretty bird.

Camp is GOOD

It is summer and my kids are in a camp this week.

I think I am supposed to feel guilty about that, but i'm not sure why.

Some people may never understand why I don't feel guilty, so I will explain.

~ No, I am not going to a "paid job" everyday, yes, I chose that life, but isn't that WHY they need camp? Or maybe more like why I NEED them to go to camp? Because I spend so much time hiding in the bathroom from them, that I need someone else to watch them for a change? For some SANITY.

~ We have PLENTY to do around here, don't get me wrong... crafts, pool, movies, but when a daily activity consists of telling the children to go count mufflers in the street, then it's time for them to have some fun elsewhere. This means I am either out of meds, or... Well, it usually just means I am out of meds.

~ Each person only has so much they can put up with on a daily basis and mine runs out at about the 20th sibling fight. I mean SHIT! How can you find THAT MANY things to fight about!
So what if you brother is chasing you around the house with YOUR Mardi Gras spear! It will just bend when it hits you in the eyeball anyway... it's not like its REAL, sheesh!
And besides, you need to be lucky you even HAVE one! You know how hard it is to catch one of those things?!
Who cares if your sister is drawing a tiara on your bug/electric/water/what the hell are these things, type, pokemon card.
No really, WHAT ARE THEY!!!

I. HATE. POKEMON.
There I said it.
Don't judge me.

~ "You are so lucky, you have a pool! That should keep them busy during the summer."
Yes, I am lucky.
Thanks.

But unfortunately,

A POOL IS THE PASSAGEWAY FOR THE DEVIL TO ENTER YOUR SOUL!

Oops, ha, Sorry bout' that.

Anyway, yes, the pool. The lovely pool. (twitch)

It is great to have IF they had never invented GOGGLES!!!

GOGGLES ARE SATAN'S SUNGLASSES!

They account for AT LEAST 80% of the summertime fights!
"Mommy, I can't find my goggles!"
"Mommy! Carly has my goggles!"
"Mommy, Mommy! my goggleeeees don't fiiiiiiiit!!"

Getting annoyed yet??

Good, then let me keep going so you can get the FULL effect.

"Mommy! My goggles are at the bottom of the deep end and I can't get theeeeeeem!"
"Mommy! The goggles are hurting me!"
"Mommy! My goggles are the blue ones!"

"MOMMY, MOMMY, MOMMY!"

Ah, yes.
Why don't I just look for the good in the situation you say?
At least I have a pool.
At least I have children.
At least I get to stay home with them.

Oh, I do. I do ALL THE TIME.
I have to.
That is why I write.

To laugh it all out, let it go, and be a better Mom because of it.
It helps me to see the good.

So here is the good in this one...

Camp is good.

Camp helps THEM. Camp helps ME.

I stratigically spread it out during the summer for this reason.

Because when I pick them up today, my love for them will be renewed. My sanity will be restored. The house will be cleaned (but probably not).
And it will give me time to gather up all of the goggles so I can put them in the trash can.

And when August comes and my last child goes off to Kindergarten,
I will be on here again, balling my eyes out, wishing that the summer never ended.
Wondering where the time went.

Oh the irony.

Motherhood....

WHOA.