A Follow-Up on Priorities

A parental mastermind or a twisted she-devil? You decide...

PLAN: Align my children's priorities with my own.

LEVEL OF SUCCESS: Fairly high thus far.

If you will recall, last week I was attempting to diminish the level of fighting going on between my children.

EXECUTION: One child had to find his own ride to scouts. He was uncomfortable making the call. Another child had no way to get himself to the store to purchase supplies for his school project. He wisely used the rest of the week to put forth a little effort at kindness, and caught a lift in Mom's Taxi the day before it was due. Sadly, he also had a poetry project due the same day, and two hours of football practice. It's so tough when things get done at the last minute.

GENERAL RESULTS: In a Pavlovian way, I have turned the word "PRIORITY" into a saliva-producing bell. Except instead of saliva, I get forced kindness. In all fairness, they are making more of an effort. It's a little funny to watch them try so hard, especially when they don't really mean it. My favorite is when I see them doing something "nice" for a sibling and they ask me, "MOM! Can this be a PRIORITY?"

I think this has been an effective experiment. I would like to see increased results, and will continue to implement the Priority Tactic. It is significantly harder for one out of three of my children. Two seem to catch the drift. One seems to catch the drift only when it is convenient for him. Which is inconvenient for me. Bummer.

Tunesday: Hey Mr. DJ

Zhane. Remember them? I wanted to name my first daughter Zhane. (Pronounced Jah-nay) Noe was probably a better choice. This song came out I think around 1993. Weekend nights, college parties, nothing but good times and great dancing.

I realized I've had very few female artists featured in my Tunesdays, so I tried to think of my favorites. These ladies haven't put out too much, but what they have is fantastic. Their upbeat stuff will make you feel like no one on earth can dance better than you, and their slow jams will make you cry. Plus, anyone who can rock the nearly-shaved head like they can is absolutely cool in my book.

If you listen to this song, you will want to let go of your stress and have yourself a little fun. Isn't that what music is all about anyway? Taking you somewhere you can't quite go on your own? Thank goodness for it.

A Shifting of Priorities

My Priorities At The Moment:

1. Have my children show kindness to one another, instead of being so stinking mean and rude to each other all the time.




My Children's Priorities At The Moment:

1. Arrive at football practice on time so as not to have to run additional, punitive laps.

2. Get to the store to purchase supplies for a school project.

3. Show up at Scouts on Thursday for a super fun biking activity.

4. Eat a snack after school.

5. Finish homework (oral reading to Mom) so they can go out for recess the next day.


My priority is simply not being met. In spite of numerous discussions, family lessons, polite requests, one or two lectures, and ample opportunity, it seems that MY priority is just not a priority for MY CHILDREN.


Therefore...
their priorities have dropped way down to the bottom of my priority list. For example:

Arriving at football on time isn't important to me right now. Bummer about the punitive laps. Purchasing supplies for the school project doesn't seem like a valuable way to spend my own money. I'm not biking on Thursday, why would it be important for me to load someone else's bike into my van and then use my precious time to drive to the activity? After school snacks cost money and require my effort to prepare. That has moved WAAAAY down on my list of important things to do. Listening to children read books out loud so I can sign off their homework assignments? Nah.

Here's to hoping there's a major shift in priorities in the immediate future, so everyone can live in peace and harmony.

Tunesday: Everything

The first time I heard of Michael Buble I was working in the back room stocking shelves at Bath and Body Works. There was this uber-Baptist chick who worked there, and while the rest of the crew was bringing in slammin hip hop and velvety RnB tracks to pass the time, she was constantly throwing on "inspriational" music. I thought she was a bit of a zealot, and she was totally obsessed with Michael Buble. So due to her need to save my soul, and the weirdness of the name "BOOBLAY", I have always avoided listening to him.
I have no idea how old or new this song is, but I recently heard it and fell in love with it. I didn't even know it was Michael BOOBLAY until I was already hooked. So he has now managed to sneak his way into my music library. Darn.
Anyway, do you ever sometimes listen to a love song from the perspective of a parent? I mean, it doesn't work for all of them, for example anything that makes reference to dimming the lights and lighting the candles wouldn't work. But this one, for the most part, makes a cool love song for your kids. We've been listening to it every morning getting ready for school, and I always make a silly point to dedicate it to my kids, and tell them that they are my everything. It's fun. Try it at your house.
PS Good luck getting past his cheezy variety-show mannerisms. You may want to leave the video playing and navigate away to a new tab, so you only listen to him. He is so Osmondesque, it's creepy.

Something That Worked For Me

I'm not a fan of discussing my issues with the world. Particularly marital issues. But I have also come to the realization that we learn things from each other when we discuss with discretion. So here is something I learned today.

I went to church this morning beyond angry with my husband. And he was none too thrilled with me. I sat as far away from him on the bench as I could without being overly noticeable to the general congregation.
I am a crier. I cry easily and often. It's so annoying. So when I'm mad, I cry. In an effort not to repeat the mistakes of my first marriage, I try very hard to be cognizant of the things I need to improve about myself. I was feeling very slighted in my efforts, and found it difficult not to cry during the services. The only thing worse than crying is crying publicly. I was getting angrier by the minute due to the argument we'd had, as well as the humiliation of crying in front of people.
Then I felt a prompting to hold my husband's hand.

HA. Seriously? I immediately ran through the list of reasons he did not deserve even the slightest nod of kindness from me. I felt very justified in scooting another inch away from him. Then I remembered something I read recently, which suggested that if we always act on our first inclinations of kindness, it will make a huge difference in our ability to soften our feelings. But seriously. If I held his hand, it would be like saying, "You win, and I am saying sorry, and I am not HALF as sorry as YOU had BETTER BE." I argued with myself for about five minutes, knowing what was right but wanting not to have to make the first move.

In the end, I held his hand. And after about forty seconds, I realized I was glad I did it. And after about 45 seconds, I realized he was glad too. And just like that, an entire day's worth of anger and frustration was over. The moral of the story is this: try to listen to the inner voice. Then be willing to set your pride aside and do what it says. It will probably work. Plus, it will save you a lot of money on make-up presents.

Tunesday: Lemonade

I can't remember exactly when this song found its way into my library, but I do remember it was a summertime... probably about five years ago? I loved it the first time I heard it. The name of the song is Lemonade, and the guy who sings it (Jeremy Manongdo) goes by the name Passion.
We had an event occur in our family yesterday that rocked us. It was disappointing and frustrating and sad. But by the end of the day, I didn't think there was any way I could love my husband more than I did. He was by my side, on my team, and I knew he felt what I was feeling.
My favorite line in this song is "You're soothing like the ocean rushing on the sand." I love the beach, and that line just makes sense to me.
Anyway... I love my husband and I feel like with him, I can do hard things. Thanks for being exactly what I need, baby.

*This version gets a little silly. Download the original track, without the college kids laughing in the background. You will love it.

Movie and a Book

We like to watch movies. Sometimes it takes us a few weeks to get through a whole movie, because we are so busy, plus usually I fall asleep before it ends. But we finally got through this one:

I realize it's not new. But my husband assured me it was a goodie. Have you seen it? If not, allow me to ruin the ending for you. She dies. It's horrific and depressing, and it ruined the entire movie for me. Skip finds it annoying that I expect all movies to have a happy ending. What. I do. There's enough sadness in real life. Hollywood needs to make me happy.

Hilary Swank was pretty good in her role as trailer trash who makes it big by optimistically working her way into women's boxing. You really root for her the whole movie. And then, BAM! Championship fight, grand prize... you guessed it... one million dollars. She takes a cheap hit from an animal of an opponent, falls wrong onto a chair, and breaks her neck. The rest of the movie she is paralyzed and dying. Clint Eastwood, Mr. Flint and Steel, is softened by her innocence and determination. He spends most of the movie chasing demons from his past, avoiding repentance, and lashing out at the world. And in the end, instead of finding redemption in a truly honest way, he "honors her wishes" by unplugging her breathing tube and injecting her with adrenaline. I mean, I woulda begged the guy to do the same thing for me, make no mistake. But the whole movie was so depressing, and his noble act of assisted suicide was very confusing to my conscience.

Don't see it. Unless you like that sort of thing.

Moving on.

I read this:

We like Tupac's music around here. We obviously don't listen to it very much because it is not appropriate for children, and we always seem to have some of those floating around. I am not trying to put the guy on a pedestal here. He was clearly a self-professed thug. Just ask his abs. But this book was written from the viewpoint of a young black girl whose life was profoundly affected by Pac's music. I actually checked it out of our school library... it's a Newberry Honoree. If you'd like to take a look into a life vastly different from your own and still feel connected to the honest emotions of it all, then read this. I cried a little. But I cried a lot at Million Dollar Baby, and I rate things based on the type and quantity of tears they make me shed.

The end.

A-HA!

I figured it out! I listened to the President's Speech backwards. Yes. And do you know what he said? Here are the highlights I pulled out:

-Support North Korea. NUKES RULE!

-While in school, boys should sneak into the bathroom with other boys, and girls should sneak into the bathroom with other girls because homosexuality is acceptable, even encouraged, in order to boost Democratic votes.

-Blacks unite! We can get rid of all the white people if we continue to proliferate our race. I'll make sure you get the funding you need to keep having babies, stay on welfare, and then we'll cut a deal with the Iranians to wipe out all the Causcasians.

-While we're at it, get your mom and dad to support my health care reform, so we can get rid of some of the older people in this country. They are such a drag to our society! Let's make like the Eskimos and float the nearly-deads out to sea on a small ice chunk. But only the white ones.

Seriously. I am so confused about the controversy surrounding this speech. Did you watch it? "Stay in school, work hard, do your best, overcome your challenges." The guy is a slug.

I fear for our country and its self-centered paranoias.

Tunesday: Retro Uh-Oh.

Last night, Skip and I were playing cards before we turned in for the night. This song was on the playlist, and when it came on, I started laughing. One eyebrow raised, the man says, "Yes??"
I say, "One day, my Dad and I were strolling around a KOA campground in Nephi, Utah. This was about my late teens/early twenties. We pass a small cabin and he says to me, 'Andrea. Do you see that cabin right there?' And I reply, 'Yes.' He then says to me, 'That's the cabin where you were conceived.'"

It was perhaps the most traumatic moment of my life. No child should ever be forced to learn that they were not actually dropped off by the stork. However, in honor of my parents and as a way of saying, "Hey, thanks for good times at the KOA." i offer this little number.

I love Marvin Gaye, and am convinced he was put on earth simply to improve the love lives of the human race. God bless you, MG.

ps I kinda wish this is still the way people danced. It would make chaperoning so much easier.

The Best Laid Plans Are Not Surprises.

Can I just start off by saying that about 2 months ago, I bought a new bra on CLEARANCE at Victoria's Secret. It cost $42 with shipping. It was the first bra I'd bought in about 2 years. I'm not going to name names here, but SOMESKIPBODY thought it was OUTRAGEOUS that I would pay that much for a bra!

Anyway. Moving on. Apparently, my husband is not the only one who has recently failed in the "surprise your spouse" department. I recently made the move to wean our family off of red meat. It doesn't work well with my insides, so I figured we should probably eat less of it. I did, in all fairness, tell the family about my plan.
Then I made ravioli for supper. Ordinarily, the ravioli will contain sausage or beef. I whipped up a fabulous marinara sauce, simmered my tender pasta pockets, and served up a meal divine. I sit with the family, and I notice it's not going well. By "not going well" I mean "people are making gagging sounds, eating with clenched teeth, and saying things like 'this is pretty disgusting.' "
So I yell "SURPRISE! IT'S CHICKEN AND CHEESE RAVIOLI!"

No one throws confetti. No one plays "Hail to the Chief". No one even says "Gee Mom, thanks for thinking of our health and replacing cholesterol-laden red meat with a leaner white meat!"

Mostly all they said was, "Do we still have to eat it?"


Maybe we just need to stick with a straightforward approach around here.

To Err Is Human, To Plan a Bad Surprise for Your Wife Is Not a Good Idea and Very Undivine

You will all remember the story of my husband's recent suit purchase. Mm-hmm. Well shortly after that purchase, my husband discovered that the Men's Wearhouse was having a sale: buy one, get one for $100. Needless to say, he phoned the store and squared away the issue toute de suite. We drove up the next day to select his second suit. I was totally on board with this, because now he was getting $1500 worth of suits for only $600. He will wear at least one of these suits when he is buried, and since we are planning a long and healthy life together, I feel this was money well-spent. Also, as soon as he found out, he called Paige to tell her the good news. I kid you not. And she suggested he get a summer suit. He was thrilled with the idea.

The suits are tailored, and we are expecting them via UPS by Thursday of this past week. They never show up. I start panicking, recalling our recent home invasion. I begin to think that someone is watching our home and stealing from us at every opportunity. I call the Men's Wearhouse on Saturday, and after checking the tracking numbers, they assure me it was delivered on Thursday. I am angry at the oddly effeminate clerk, even though it's not his fault. I am less than polite. I spend my entire morning sick over the theft. I finally meet up with my husband in a neighboring town where he is preparing to march in a local parade. I can hardly stand the angst. I tell him my suspicions and how sick I am.

*blink*blink*blink*

"Baby. They came. I hid them and was going to put one on Sunday morning to surprise you."

Sure enough, there in the garage amidst my potato pearls and red wheat is a box from the Men's Wearhouse. Mm-hmm.

I call the extremely effeminate salesclerk back and apologize profusely for my rudeness. I tell him he can stop trying to track my package, as my husband received it and was planning to surprise me. Mr. Effeminate immediately takes my side and says, "That was a VERY BAD surprise! VERY BAD!!" I tell him I completely agree, and that I love his shoes.

But seriously, how can you stay mad at this:


Sweet mother of Abraham Lincoln. He tried them on today and then made it up to me by allowing me to photograph him in the lost-no-more suits. Back up off the screen, ladies. He's a kept man.

Also, he is awesome because of this:

Referencing the earlier break-in, you will recall my phone was stolen. I resist change. I loathe it, actually. I am a creature of habit if ever there was one. So having to get a new phone was torture for me. I loved my ancient Motorola. Yes, it is thicker than a quarter pounder with cheese, but I love it. So my finely-clad man went on Ebay and found the same ancient model. (Yes, I did inspect it thoroughly to make sure we didn't just buy my actual phone from the thieves themselves. It was missing a key scratch on the antenna. I know these things.)

Anyway. I am happy to have "my" phone back. I know which buttons to push and how it works. I am happy my husband, in spite of his "surprise" of $600 being flushed down the toilet, looks so damn good and is equally as happy.

Life is good again.

Shallow and Insignificant, with Bad Pictures.

So. I've recently tried a new curlier approach with my hair. Frankly, you people have made me blush with your inordinate amount of compliments. Thank you very much. Just be glad you are not my husband, though, because here's how the compliments played out there:

Yesterday, I straightened my hair again for the first time in months.
B: Babe, I really like your hair straight.
Me: Thanks.
Me: Wait. Are you saying you DON'T like it curly?
B: *Blink*Blink*Blink*
Me: Your tone implied that maybe you PREFER the straight to the curly. Is that the case?
B: No? *Blink*Blink*
Me: So you like it both straight AND curly?
B: Yes? *Blink* Blink*
Me: You like it better straight though?
B: Yes?
Me: Oh. Okay.

See how difficult it can be being married to me??

Anyway. I have put together for your reading pleasure a tutorial on how I do my hair. In case you care. First of all, you have to go to a great stylist who does NOT work at Fantastic Sam's. I finally learned that ten bucks will get you just that... a ten dollar haircut. Pay for quality. Get some long layers cut in, and some side-swept bangs.

Then:



Brush only the bangs over to the side, and define your part. Make sure you have a pained look on your face while doing so.


Get some good frizz-controlling mousse (thanks for the tip, Diane). Scrunch the mousse all throughout your wet hair. I do it upside down to loosen the hair a bit.



Then I pin back my bangs with a bobby pin, so they will dry sleeker. Following that, I release many pent-up frustrations by scrunching my hair in what appears to be a fit of rage.




Then you have to wait and let your hair air dry. This is better than blowdrying, but you have to plan it into your routine. I like to give about an hour, but sometimes I can only spare 15 minutes. In the meantime, I get dressed, apply makeup, eat breakfast, and listen to music.



Once my hair is only slightly damp, I finish off with a light blowdry. Reminiscent of the 80's I also do this upside down. Unlike the 80's, however, I don't shellac it while doing so. Blowdrying upside down gives it more body. Scrunching while blowdrying gives it more curl.



When you finish that step, you will look like this:
This is acceptable only if your last name is Frankenstein. Otherwise, it's time to tame.


I use a one-and-a-half inch barrel curling iron. I only curl the top layers, to keep it looking more natural and less Pollyanna. I spray my hair with hairspray before I curl, which prevents the nasty sticky curls you get when you spray after curling. I curl some towards my face and some away from my face, again to keep it looking natural. I NEVER smile while doing this part.


Then I take the bobby pin out of my bangs, and smooth them with the iron.


Lastly, I separate the curls, which step apparently makes me look constipated.







My hairdresser once used the phrase "back comb" in my presence. ONCE. Back comb and "bump-it" just don't work for me. But a little height does add body and volume, so I take a teeny bit in the front, lift it, and spray.




So here you have it. I can see a few other spots that need attention here, but you get the general idea. It actually takes me less time to do this than it does to straighten.





So if you all want to look exactly like me, now you know how. I am considering starting a small army of hair clones. Let me know if you are interested in enlisting.

WHAT A BARGAIN!

Today my husband and I stopped in at a little establishment known as The Men's Wearhouse. He is in need of a new suit, hence our visit to said establishment.

The guy who waited on us was a teense on the pretentious side for my taste. Here's how the whole thing played out:

Mr. Big Stuff: Let me just measure you here. Mm-hmm. I see. Mm-hmm. Athletic build. Follow me please. Here we have a classic black. Let's give it a try, shall we?
B: I like that. It looks nice.
He proceeds to try on a few other jackets until he finds one that he wants to try on in full.

Mr. Big Stuff: Follow me into my office please. Mm-hmm.
His office is a fitting room with lots of mirrors.
Mr. Big Stuff: Let me get a darker pair of shoes and a different shirt for you to try on. What size shoe is the gentleman?
B: Twelve.
Mr. Big Stuff: Twelve. Mm-hmm.

My husband tries on the suit in full, with the shirt and shoes. He looks good. Mr. Big Stuff begins to mark the suit for alterations.

Me: So apparently this is the suit we're getting?
Mr. Big Stuff: Yes. This is a custom-tailored blah blah blah with horse hair lining, made by blah blah blah in some uppity country yadda yadda for five hundred dollars.

My husband is now changing, and I am left with Mr. Big Stuff.

Me: Five hundred dollars? How much are the alterations?
Mr. Big Stuff: Five hundred dollars is an outstanding price for this suit.

My husband comes out of the changing room. He loves the suit. I tell him it's entirely up to him. He is thrilled. We go to the counter to pay.

Us: Do you give a military discount?
Mr. Big Stuff: Our prices are already deeply discounted.
Me: So in your own veiled way, you're trying to tell me that you don't offer a military discount?
Mr. Big Stuff: Our prices are already deeply discounted. Do you know how much this suit would cost at Nordstroms? I suggest you make a trip and find this same blah-blah-blah brand name suit on a rack there. The $900 price tag will be hanging from the sleeve.
Me: So you're insinuating that I will feel better about dropping five hundred dollars if I see that someone else may have paid nine hundred for the same item?
Mr. Big Stuff: Sir, how will you be paying for this?

Obviously, I was glossed over. We pay, step out to the car, and I tell my husband that five hundred dollars is a lot for a suit. He says (and I am not making this up) "Maybe you should talk to Paige about this."

Pulling out of the parking lot, we pass a building that says "Community Cremation Services". I point it out to my husband, who says "What the heck? What is it, like discount cremation or something?" To which I reply, "Yeah. Do you know how much that same cremation would go for at Nordstroms?"


At least they're shipping the suit to us after the alterations so I don't have to go back up there and listen to Mr. Big Stuff imply that I am cheap and difficult.

And I Get To Kiss You, Baby, Just Because I Can

Do you see this guy? Do you LOVE HIM? I do. See how he is kinda closing one eye when he smiles? He does that when he's laughing at me a little bit. Like when he thinks I'm being a little weird. It's sort of like a courtesy laugh, only he really thinks I'm funny, so even though he's pretending to laugh at me, really, he is laughing with me. I love that about him.



Most of the pictures from our trip are horrible. For some reason, handing my camera to a stranger and saying "would you mind taking a picture of us?" never turns out any way other than blurry. I don't get it.

I love him because he will kiss me any time, any place. He really loves me. That is so awesome.


We actually ended up having almost six whole days together before any kids showed back up. It was total bliss. We didn't argue even one time, and we laughed and talked and stayed up late eating cheesecake even after we were already ridiculously stuffed from Benihanas and every other thing we shoved in our mouths all week long.

We went to Jazz Alley and caught a pretty cool show. We love music.


Our waiter obviously didn't get the whole "wait til it's focused" concept. Oh well. This is us, in case you can't tell.


And the self-timer didn't work out so hot either.

Anyway. He's home. We're home. There's lots more to show and tell about, but for now, I just want to climb into my own bed with my husband and be happy that we're here. Together. Finally. I really love him.

I'm Kind of Like Grizzly Adams

This is my friend Mindy. When we moved here, I walked into church one Sunday and said, "Hmm... I'd better find a friend. I think I'll pick her." As it turns out, super choice. She was good enough that I haven't needed to find any others.

This weekend we decided to do some mountain biking. Here's how that went down.

1. Supposed to hook up with other friends in the mountains. "Hooking up" with people "in the mountains" can be a bit vague, and they might actually be hard to find... it being "in the mountains" and all.

2. Couldn't find friends right away. Bummer: friends had Mindy's kids' bikes. So we pulled off nearby where we thought we should meet them, and found this killer little stream.

3. Played in stream for an hour. Got very wet. Had lots of fun. Lost my sunglasses when they fell in the current. Bummer.


4. Discovered that rock bugs are real. Taught about them in 2nd grade science unit on camouflage. Thought they looked cool; sort of doubted their existence. Doubt no more.

4. Walked back up to car to get out lunch. Found this special delight:


5. Mindy and I worked on changing tire. Got very dirty. Here you will see her, dirty. It pays to be the one holding the camera. Our other friend showed up while changing tire, and got to take over and do rest of labor. Thanks Jeremy.

*Must be rough to be filthy and STILL so hot, right??

6. Finally got on some bikes. Yeaaaaaahhhh baby!!!

7. Had panic attacks. See this tunnel? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? We had to go through at least ten of them. PITCH BLACK. We had some headlights, but they were feeble. It was super cold, and completely dark. Stalacites hanging from the roof, dripping water onto us. I almost couldn't do it. Oh, and guess where the deer like to hang out? Yeah. In the caves. I watch the news. I know how these deer are nowadays. Totally unafraid of humans. Not only unafraid, but they hate us to the point where they attack. I could have been killed... or worse... maimed.

*Picture on right shows degree of darkness at end of cave, as well as deer contemplating vicious attack on bikers.


8. Did deep breathing exercises and survived. Hit the pinnacle, and looked over to see this:

Picture "A"

See that trail? That's where we were headed. It was breathtaking. We were up above everything, the weather was unreal, and the scenery was not to be believed.

9. Biked about 14 miles on dirt/gravel trails. Got around to the other side in one piece. Not too shabby.

All told, it was an amazing trip. The biking was pretty easy for us, but the kids worked their tails off. I missed mine terribly, but was super proud of Mindy's for being hard workers with good attitudes.

I was a little nervous driving home on the donut. It was a three hour ride with 2 women and 3 children on back roads at night. Not my number one choice for safety. We made it, however, and both showed up to church on time today... looking and smelling WAAAAYYY better than we did last night.