An Odd Sense of Humor

A few days ago, during a conversation, a women mentioned that it seemed so backwards that the older you get, the less energy you have. Children have boundless energy. Shouldn't we have more energy to keep up with them? I think she has a very valid point.

In fact, the more I think of it, the more I think that the whole thing really is backwards. For example, when you drive for a long distance in a car...with children. The kids sleep, rest, and basically bottle up all of their energy, only to be released when the car is thrown in park at the journey's end. You are exhausted. Your eyes burn and your legs feel like pudding. You are ready to hit the hay. Only, you can't. Your offspring are zipping like hummingbirds on Twinkies.

Backwards, I tell ya.

Chase and I are in the fourth day of the flu bug; the third day of being locked in the house together. We are on the down slide and this backwards distribution of energy thing is rearing it's ugly head. His energy and color are returning, and cabin fever is setting in. He is a constant mass of noises, movement and questions. Me, I'm dead. Two nights of no sleep, a mile run from Tuesday night, and the possibility of inheriting this flu bug have replaced my energy with drunk-like stupor. When I woke up this morning, rigor mortis had set in. The mile run from two days ago finally hit at full speed. Yup, dead. Jeff got up with Chase this morning and fed him breakfast. By 9 AM, guilt set in and I dragged my corpse out of my comfy bed. Yup. I am sore from my chapped lips down. As I lumbered into the kitchen, this is what I saw:

He was making me toast, to bring me breakfast in bed. His explanation of the chef sans shirt: when going out to let Pepper out of the dog run, she excitedly ran up one side and down the other, leaving a muddy trail on his p-jays. It's a good thing he knows how to make toast. His appetite is coming back with a vengance, and I have no energy to feed him.

This picture speaks volumes. He had to dial back his craziness for the photo shoot. I had to summon some.

But, energy or no, life goes on. And in the midst of our infirm hold up, Chase lost another tooth. The tooth fairy was a little loopy, though. She had taken Tylenol PM and gone to bed, hoping for the first good night's sleep in a few days. At midnight, she sat up with a start (a slooooow start) realizing that she had forgotten her visit to Chase's pillow. She staggered to his room, with offerings clutched in hand, and literally almost fell on top of her gummy victim. She had a plan, though. If her lack of coordination caused her to wake him up before her mission was accomplished, she would grab a thermometer and take his temperature.

Well, my now-richer buddy and I are going to scrapbook. We have a fun spread all over the kitchen island. We scrap booked for 4 hours yesterday. Can we try for 8 today?!

And, I am realizing that this is my third post in three days about the flu. If I go for a fourth, will someone come in, drag me out by my greasy, fuzz-ball hair and slap some sense into me? Or, you can just take me out to lunch, if you're not embarrassed by how I look, and smell.

All I Want For Christmas...

"It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is snoring..."

Okay, that's not nice of me to call him old. But Jeff is snoring. And, it is quite literally pouring outside.

The other day, we received a random toy catalogue in the mail from an unscrupulous company trying to solicit early Christmas sales. The first one was sent back in July. Come on! Is that really necessary? According to my 5 year old, it is. These catalogues have got him all in a festive lather. His wheels are a-spinnin'.

While not happy about the commercialistic aspect of this paper dream-starter, I was happy for the down time it has afforded my sick squirt. He sat down and perused the pages carefully, being even more careful to not drool on it's precious pages. After some time, I walked in to see the once pristine catalogue, torn, into many pieces. Chase had carefully ripped out the items of interest and put them in a rather large and crumply pile. The rest of the catalogue sat off to the side, looking like a mangled carcass after feeding time, left with only the entrails of toys catering to girls, babies, and children with longer attention spans.

"Look at all of the toys I am getting for Christmas, Mom!", Chase shouted with glee. "I had better get praying so I can get all of these toys!"

Wow. Time does a number on our memories, Mr. Beans. So much time has gone by since last Christmas that we have completely forgotten how this whole Santa thing works.

"Uh, you don't pray to Santa, Chase", I carefully reminded my sweet pea; both happy that he remembers that we can pray for things that we need, and disturbed that this accidentally has grown to include the big man in red.

"Oh, yeah, I, um...I remember now! I better get started writing then!"

One issue down, one to go. I next had to remind him that in no way, does making a pile of wishes mean that you are getting all of them, if ANY of them. We still have a few months for this to sink in.

I heart Christmas. I do not heart commercialism. Thank goodness the next magazine to come in the mail was the October issue of the "Friend". That oughta help us put things back into perspective.

Hmmm. I smell a scaled back Christmas this year. Sorry, Wal-mart.

Truth Serum

Note the time of this post. Yikes. I want you all to be impressed...nay...very impressed that I am coherent at this hour.

A few days ago, my mom made a post about my dad being so amorous and sweet as he was coming out of anesthesia, spilling niceties for her, and all of the employees within a mile radius of the hospital. While it tugged at our heart strings, it also warmed our heart's cockles.

I have been up with Chase most of the night helping him fight a vigorous fever. When not having vile tasting liquids forced down his throat, this kid is such a sweet sickie. I have been recalling some of his niceties he has tossed out for me when in the depths of his despair...

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you, Mom! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

...rattled on and on and on as I both held the bowl, and cheered him on during a barf fest in the middle of the night some time ago.

"Going up?" "Nope, going down." "Yessssss!!"

...in reference to his temperature as the thermometer beeps from his armpit.

"Are the good guys winning?"

...again in reference to the turkey timer signaling the end of another round in his scorching hot underarm.

"Eeehhh...Ahhhhh...Eeehhh...Ahhhhh...", etc.

...the sounds of both protest (emitted every time I removed the warmed-over cold compress from his forehead) and welcomed relief (when put back, after a dip in ice water).

When finishing this morning's early AM shift as Florence Nightingale, Chase was getting a little over amorous with me. As I bent down to kiss his piping hot cheek, he, in his delirium, kept trying for more kisses. My little sweet pea was getting a little sweet on me.

I am not a big fan of my child suffering from any illness. In the same token, it is always nice to get extended snuggle time with a child who is usually too on the go to slow down to cuddle with his mama. And, I have become a big fan of him oozing his "sickeningly sweet" sweetness. Pun totally intended.

It is a good thing I took a second to hurry and toss out this post. In a while, I am not going to find any of this, or anything else, very funny. I have a feeling that when sleep deprivation hits later on today, I will both loose inability to complete a sentence, and give a crap.

We Are Resilliant?!?

It's amazing what we can handle. Things that once felt scary, enormous and impossible, all of a sudden become normal, every day, and old hat. For example...

I was sooooo freaked out about sending Chase to kindergarten. That seems like a long time ago. It's all routine now. We have even begun pushing the limits with our promptness. At this rate, we will be coming in an hour late by Christmas time.

I was extremely anxious about getting our puppy. Pfftt. Old hat. I am an old pro at this puppy-ownership thing. Well, except for the fact that she peed on my living room carpet. My L-I-V-I-N-G R-O-O-M. We are not even allowed in that room. Pepper comfortably wandered in there and let loose the other day. I let out a choice expression, screamed at the top of my lungs (yep, so loud it hurt my throat), grabbed her...still screaming...and literally "threw" her out the back door. Nope. I will NEVER get used to that.

Ward splits. Nah. I will never get used to those either. We have just experienced our 6th split in 5 and a half years. Not any easier now. We had some incredible people taken out of our ward tonight. Yeah, I will NEVER like those.

All through my life, I have come upon experiences and trials that seemed so ominous and impassable at the beginning. With time, faith, and a lot of prayer, I am able to soon look back and say, "Hey, look at that. I did it! I am an old pro!"

My dad has cancer. How do you get used to that? How do you get to the point where you can say, "Yup, we can handle that. We'll soon be old pros."? Well, hopefully with the same time, faith and amount of prayer. A few weeks ago, I could never imagine being able to be at this spot. Calm. Full of hope. Full of peace. I guess it has helped to have the incredible parents that I have. My first priority was to just get where they are. STRONG, calm, with faith in the forefront.

My dad will soon start the fight of a lifetime. My parents have a long and painful road ahead of them. I still ache that they have to go through this. But I am calm. All is going to be well! I don't think you can expect that they will be "used" to this any time soon. I don't know that I will get to the point when this will feel like old hat. BUT. I know that when my dad has beaten this, we will look back and think, "Wow. We did it!"

A little time, and a LOT of FAITH, can go a long way.

I am sorry about another serious post! I really do have a serious side, even though it is hard to take me seriously. I have just been in awe of such strong people around me. If I could handle things with half of the amount of grace that these strong people do, I would be well off!

Ode to Bob and Larry

How sad is it that when you are sharing a story from the Bible with your child, and he busts out with, "Oh, yeah! That's like the one Veggie Tales where...blah blah blah."?

How much more sad is it, when trying to make a point...using a Bible story...when met with confusion, that YOU interject a, "You remember that story from Veggie Tales don't you? It's the one where...blah blah blah."?

How sad is it that you can attribute any biblical facts and information retention to Bob, Larry, the French Peas, Junior, Madame Blueberry, Mr. Lunt, and all of the rest of the Veggie Tales crew?

Well, I guess it could be worse. Sponge Bob, Spiderman, and many other fictional characters make far less impressive role models than those adorable fruits and veggies, sans hands and feet. But, I do feel a twinge of guilt when I find myself explaining that in the REAL version, Mr. Nezzbet, the owner of the chocolate factory, is really Nebuchadnezzer, and he wants all of his people to worship a golden image...not eat chocolate. AND, Abed-nego completes the trio with Shadrach and Meshach...not Bennie...with Rack and Shack.

At any rate, I guess I am grateful that there are still SOME good shows for our children to watch. Bob the Tomato ends every show with a moral and encouragement to do good. And, they are quite funny...even if you do get your facts a little mixed up in the end...and get the theme song stuck in your head.


"Veggie Tay-hay-hales, Veggie Tay-hay-hales, Veggie Tay-hay-hales, Veggie Tay-hay-hales..." Argh!!


Come on, people. Please tell me you can relate to this post. I will be a little more than mortified if I come to the realization that no one else has let their homes be infiltrated by singing produce with good values!

Anyway, Back to Me

At Enrichment the other night, a friend asked me how kindergarten was going. I answered,

"Well, pretty good. I think I am finally getting used to the routine and all."

I paused sheepishly, taking note of my friend's quizzical smile...to which I then replied,

"Oh, heh heh, I uh... Chase is doing well, too."

Seriously. It doesn't all get to be about me...does it?!

Age is Relative

Ah, to be a kid again. At this age, you can get away with stuff like this. With every digit that is added to your age, this becomes more inappropriate. You just look weird...and get weird looks. But at this age, it's cute. It's imaginative. They get photo shoots.

Well, I'm gonna do it. The next time Chase plays dress up, I am inviting myself. I am going to town. We are both gonna get dolled up. We are getting in front of the camera, and making it good. I may even venture out outside. I am not going to care one whit what people think of me. Okay, I might care a little...but I'm not going to do anything about it! I am letting loose!

I think I am hitting a midlife crisis. I don't want to be the age that I am supposed to be. I will not go down without a fight! I will live vicariously through my imaginative young son. I will run as fast and as long as he does, even if it kills me. Which it will. So could you just please make sure that I am dressed somewhat respectably when they load my carcass in the ambulance? I do have a reputation to uphold.