Sunday, Sunday

I love Sunday. I always have. It’s always been the one day of the week where I don’t have to do anything.

When I was a kid Sundays were full of just being. There wasn’t anywhere we had to be (after Mass, of course), there wasn’t anything that had to be done. It was the one day of the week I could read a book, take a nap and even have a Pepsi. (I wasn’t allowed to have pop.) If I was with my grandparents, we’d do pretty much the same thing. It was such a relaxing day.

The lazy atmosphere of Sunday has stuck with me my entire life. When I was in college, Sunday was lazy day. I’ll admit that I had to do homework, but it always felt wrong to be productive on Sunday.

Sunday is still lazy day in our house. We usually go to church. After we either go to brunch or make a big breakfast when we get home. After that, it’s a whole lot of nothing. I usually read, play around on the computer, cross stitch and play with the girls. Ben’s a little more productive than I am. He usually cleans something. I cheer him on. The girls get to watch more movies than is probably good for them and just hang out. It’s nice. We’re all together, even if we’re not doing the same thing. It’s a lovely way to recharge our batteries for the upcoming week.

If you don’t make Sunday a lazy day, I highly recommend trying it. If you can’t be lazy, at least be together.

The Guilt Will Get Ya

I knew when I started working that I would eventually face the Working Mom Guilt. At first, I felt guilty that I didn't miss my kids more. I felt guilty that I actually ENJOYED dropping them off at the sitter's house and getting out of the house. I felt guilty because I didn't feel guilty, if that makes any sense.

So, I've been cruising along fairly guilt free for the last few months. Today, all that guilt caught up with me in one crushing blow. I was discussing with a co-worker (also a working mom) about Adelae feeling shy at school. Her response was not what I expected. I expected her to say that everything would be fine. After all, we're both working moms. Instead, she said that I should pull Adelae out of school, quit my job and stay at home again. That's when it hit me right between the eyes.....The Working Mom Guilt.

I've always had an over active imagination. So, the picture I mentally pained quickly went from bad to worse. I imagined poor Adelae being left at the door with out a "Have a good day!" or a "Have fun!" I imagined poor Adelae playing all by herself at recess because her teachers didn't know she was shy. Why didn't they know? Because I couldn't tell them because I was too busy at work to drop her off or pick her up from school. I imagined all the other kids thinking that the babysitter was her mom. I imagined Adelae alone outside the school waiting on a Mommy that never came. The Working Mom Guilt was in full force. I was trying to wait on customers while holding back tears. I wanted to rush out of the bank, drive as fast as I could to my daughter's school, pick her up, hug her and reassure her that I loved her.

Then I got a grip. The girls baby sitter is one of my good friends. Adelae gets dropped off at school with the baby sitter's son, who is in Adelae's class. I know she's never dropped off without a "Goodbye!" or a "Have a nice day!" I know that it doesn't matter if the other kids think that the sitter is Adelae's mom. I know that she'll never be left all alone in the front of the school waiting on me. That Working Mom Guilt was trying to take hold deep inside. It was playing on my insecurities. I knew that none of it was true.

You see, I thought long and hard before I went back to work. I didn't jump at the first job that came my way. I didn't accept the job before Ben and I really looked at the pros and cons. I know that in order to do the things we want to do, I had to find a job. I had to go back to work, at least part time. And, despite the Working Mom Guilt, I'm confident I made the right decision.

Adelae's teacher sends home a progress book every day. I'm able to communicate with them through that book. I've written notes about how shy she is feeling. They are doing their best to work with her. Adelae won't ever be left in front of the school crying because Mommy didn't pick her up. The girls know that they are far more important to me than any job could possibly be.

I still can't quite fathom why another working mom would lay that Working Mom Guilt Trip on me. I don't know that I'll ever understand. But, the next time she tries, I can keep the Working Mom Guilt Monster at bay. I had 4.5 very good years at home with my kids. Now it's time for mommy to go to work and make some money!

Trying to find a balance

The adjustment to my new work schedule has been a bit difficult, to say the least. This is the first steady job I've had since Adelae was born. That's almost 4.5 years. That's a LONG time to be with out a job. A really long time. My part-time job has turned into a 5 day a week job. Not every day is a full day, and that makes it almost harder in some ways. In case you were wondering, working 10-6 is not a good shift. You might think it would be, but it's not. At least I don't enjoy it.

I do, however, enjoy my job. I love the people I work with and I enjoy the work. I just haven't quite been able to balance work and home yet. When I get home, I'm so exhausted that I just want to sit and be still. Having 2 young children does not make sitting and being still very easy. And someone still has to cook dinner, clean up dinner, take care of the kids and maybe squeeze in some alone time with my husband. It hasn't been easy.

I feel like no matter what I do, something suffers. If I cut back on my hours at work, then Ben has to work overtime to make the money to pay the bills. If I spend more time with my husband, my kids suffer. If I spend more time with my kids, my husband suffers. I feel like I'm being pulled in about 20 different directions at once. Apparently the laundry and dishes still pile up, even if you don't have time to take care of them. It also doesn't help that it's summer. We are always so busy in the summer. We have something going on almost every day of every weekend. It's exhausting. I miss sitting around all day on Saturday and not doing anything. I miss sleeping in and morning cuddles with my girls.

I am extremely fortunate though. I have an amazing babysitter. The kids LOVE going to her house. In fact, there are days when I don't work and they STILL ask to go to the sitters. Thanks to her, I'm able to go to work and give my full attention to my job. I don't ever worry that my kids aren't being taken care of.

And then there's my husband. When I stayed at home, most of the house cleaning and cooking fell to me. That was my job. I hated it, but it was my job. Since I've started working he's pulled his weight and then some. We've started working on a schedule. On the nights when I come home early, I cook dinner and he does the dishes. On the nights when I come home late, he starts dinner and I do the dishes. I had to work this morning for a few hours. I came home to a pretty clean house, the kids were eating lunch and the dishes were done. He even did a load of his laundry. It was awesome. Especially since a nasty migraine decided to smack me upside the head in my last hour of work. After he spent the morning picking up the house, he went outside and started working on the railing for the slide platform he built a few weeks ago.

What did I do? I sat and read on my Nook. I might have even dozed for a little bit. Shh...don't tell. ;)

All in all, we're slowly getting into a rhythm. Will will make this work. I have faith that in another month, we'll be like a well oiled machine.


At least I hope so.

There are days..

..when I want to run from the house screaming. There are days when I'm pretty sure if I say "Brinna, NO!" one more time my head will explode. There are days when Adelae is so defiant I have to double check and make sure she hasn't turned into a teenager. There are days when Ben drives me absolutely up the wall. There are days I dream about being on a beach on a tropical island alone. No kids. No husband. No dog. No laundry. No dishes. No chores. Just me, the beach, a cold drink, and maybe a cabana boy thrown in for good measure.

There there are days when the girls play so nicely together. There are days when we play Dinosaur Train.


Or they work together to "cook" me a fabulous plastic breakfast.



Or they pose together for a quick picture.



There are days when Brinna will climb on my lap, throw her tiny arms around me and proclaim "BIIIG NUNNLES!" (which is Brinna speak for big snuggles) and squeeze me as tight as she can. I live for the unsolicited "I love you Mommy" from Adelae. Or the unprovoked hugs from Ben.

When the going gets rough, and believe me it does, I remember those days.

However, I'm not totally ruling out a trip to the Caribbean, but maybe I'll take Ben with me. Maybe.

I don't have time

I can't decide if I've hit a huge case of writer's block or if I just don't have the motivation, but I feel like I don't have anything thing fun to say anymore. I don't even read blogs like I used to. Apparently having two little kids keeps me busy! Between the girls, weekend trips, projects, Adelae's preschool, Brinna's clingy stage and housework I just don't have any time left!

I suppose I could blog after the kids go to bed, but that's ME time. I prefer to sit on the couch and watch mindless TV and work on my cross stitch. (It's April and I STILL haven't finished Brinna's stocking that I was suppose to have done in December.) Or, let's be really honest, I just want to stare at the TV and veg. I don't want to think. I think I've almost hit the stage where I'd rather sit in a quiet room in the dark and just enjoy the silence. I miss silence.

You know what else I miss? Eating my ice cream by myself. Or eating warm food. I also miss being able to sit through an entire meal. It seems like the second my butt hits the chair I hear "I need a drink." "I finished my noodles, can I have more?" Or Brinna decides that she's "all done" and takes off like a shot out of her high chair. Let me tell you, she's FAST! I keep threatening to tie her to her chair.

Anyway..I just feel like there's not enough hours in the day. I hear it's only going to get worse at the kids get older. I'm thinking that I might have to give up sleeping. Or Facebook. But probably sleeping.

The one where I talk about weight

Last year I started working out. (Remember this post?) I did really well for about 2 months. I didn't work out every day, but I averaged about 5 days a week. Not too shabby for someone that hates exercise!

Then I weighed myself.

There's a reason why I don't own a scale. I hadn't lost a single solitary pound. Not one. Not even half a pound. Nothing. Nada. After all my hard work I was still the exact same weight I was when I started. I was crushed. I tried to blow it off and say "Oh, but my jeans fit better and that's all that matters." I didn't believe it. I wanted to have lost weight. Not a lot, just a few pounds.

So, I stopped working out. I figured what was the point? If I wasn't going to lose any weight than why should I even bother? If I wasn't losing any weight, why couldn't I just sit on the couch and eat cake? That's what I'd rather be doing, not sweating and grunting and feeling sore.

Then I started thinking about what my weight REALLY means. Is the number on the scale that important? I'm 5' 1" tall and at my thinnest I was 130 lbs. After 2 kids, I'm stuck at 150 lbs. I can't seem to get below that weight. According to the research I've done, that means that I'm obese. My jaw hit the floor when I saw that. Obese? I know I'm a little...jiggly, but obese? I mean really? Obese? What the hell?! I started feeling really depressed. Then and there I decided that I wasn't going to let the number on the scale determine who I was or how I felt about myself.

I knew that when I was working out that I felt better. I knew that I was losing inches because I had to wear a belt to keep my jeans from falling off. For the first time in years, I actually had muscles! So, I decided to start working out again. In turn, I'm making healthier food choices.

I have no idea if I've lost weight, and this time around I truly don't care. I'm focused on the way I look and the way I feel, not a number on the scale. My genes have predetermined that I'm never going to be stick thin. I'm always going to have curves. I love my curves! They're what attracted Ben to me in the first place. Why would I want to get rid of them?

I'm slowly learning to embrace the body that God has given me. I might be 150 lbs, but I'm determined to make that 150 lbs look good!

Let Me Help You

Everyone in my house has been sick forever. Or at least it feels that way. Adelae and Brinna had the flu over Christmas, then Ben got it. I somehow missed the flu, but I wound up with the worst cold in the history of colds. It's not the nasal congestion, the constant runny nose or even the general feeling of blahness that's the worst. It's the darn coughing. I haven't slept in days (or that's how it feels). It seems like everytime I breath, I cough. And cough, and cough some more. As a result, my throat is terribly sore and I'm exhausted. As a result of that, my house is a wreck.

I decided we were picking up today no matter what. I couldn't take the toys, shoes, socks and who knows what else scattered all over the floor. In the midst of picking things up, I had a horrible coughing attack. My sweet Adelae took my hand, led me to the chair, sat me down and said "Mommy, what can I do to make you better? Let me help you." I tell you, my heart just melted. She then proceeded to pick up all of her toys with no complaint. I guess i must be doing something right!

A few Christmas videos

Isn't it amazing how social media has changed the way we live? Facebook, Twitter, blogs, texting, Foursquare, and the smart phone have definitely changed the way we communicate with each other. What if all of these things were around when Jesus was born? Wouldn't that make for some interesting stories? Well, the folks at ExcentricPT and Igniter Media thought it would!

The first video called "The Digital Story of the Nativity"




The second video is called "A Social Network Christmas" and is a little more serious than the first, but still very entertaining.

We've been robbed.....almost

Ya know what you DON'T want to hear at 5:00 in the morning? Your husband saying "Honey, someone tried to steal both of our cars last night."
That's exactly how I was woken up this morning. I should have immediately gotten out of bed and taken action. Instead, I said "Was anything stolen?" When I heard him say "no," I said "Great. I'll call the cops when I wake up." And then I went back to sleep. About 10 minutes later I sat up and said "Did he just say someone tried to steal BOTH our cars?!" I was shocked. We live in the country. Things like that aren't suppose to happen out here. That's why we moved OUT of the city. But, things like that can happen anywhere!
It turns out our cars were almost stolen by a few juveniles that were on a car stealing spree. They had also escaped from police custody. The fugitives actually had the nerve to knock on our neighbors door and ask if the neighbors could take them to a nearby town. Luckily, the neighbors are smarter than me and told them no and called the police.
A few deputies came out and combed our yard looking for the kids. This was at about 2:00 AM. Guess what I was doing while punks were trying to steal my car and cops were combing my yard with flashlights.
Sleeping. Yeah, I was sleeping. I slept through the whole darn thing. I've always considered myself a light sleeper. Guess I'm going to have to rethink that. I can't help but wonder why the dog never barked. It's quite obvious by his actions today that he's very spooked. I know for a fact if he was barking, I would have heard him. At least I'm pretty sure. I mean, he barks LOUD. I can only assume that he didn't see any immediate danger since the would be thieves were outside and not trying to break into our house.
It's still scary though. I can't help but feel like a little bit of my illusion of safety has been shattered. I can't help but think "What if." What if they had tried to break in to the house? What if they neighbors had let them in? What if they had knocked on my door? What if I had let them in (and I probably would have...I'm not so smart like that)? What if they had succeeded in stealing one of our cars? What if someone had gotten hurt?
It's all scary. This is the first time this has ever happened to me. When we lived in the apartment I never had the illusion of safety. I knew that place was dangerous. Here, I thought we were safe. Part of me knows that we're still safe, but I'm definitely re-thinking where we keep the gun.

The screwdriver they used to try to start the car. It was one of ours that was left in the car for one reason or another.


Contents of the glove box. I'm assuming they were looking for an extra key.


Tip of the screwdriver. You can't tell, but the tip is broken off.


Tip of the screwdriver in the ignition. I'm guessing the broken screwdriver is what kept them from stealing the car.


All in all, I'd say we got off pretty easy. Things could have been a lot worse. The kids have been arrested and will be charged for attempting to steal our cars. I'm so thankful that nobody was hurt.

I'm tired

I've always been a night owl. It's very rare that I go to bed before midnight. I use the time to work on my cross stitch projects, read, watch TV or just hang out with Ben. I love my quiet time. Lately, the late nights have not been loving me though. I'm so tired all the time. As I sit here typing this (at 3:00 in the afternoon), I'm fighting to stay awake. Ben keeps hinting that it's because I'm getting older and can't function on 6 hours of sleep. I'm not ready to believe that! My body can't be betraying me right? Maybe I just need more coffee.

Sick of it

I'm sick of cleaning.

I'm sick of the dishes.

I'm sick of the laundry.

I'm sick of being expected to know where everybody's stuff is all the time.

I'm sick of being everything to everyone and nothing to myself.

I'm sick of being fat.

I'm sick of changing dirty diapers.

I'm sick of people not accepting the consequences of their actions.

I'm sick of censoring myself.

I'm sick of always being second best.

I'm sick of cooking dinner.

I'm sick of running errands.

I'm sick of people that can't drive.

I'm sick of hearing about children dying.

I'm sick of hearing about rapes and murders.

I'm sick of Obama bashing.

I'm sick of political commercials.

I'm sick of people being mean.

I'm sick of Brinna being sick.

I'm sick of my husband working all the time.

I'm sick of not having a job.

I'm sick of grumpy kids.

I'm sick of running errands.

I'm sick of rude people.

I'm sick of it.

Bullying

I don't often post about current events, but something has been weighing heavily on my mind the last few days. Bullying has been all over the news lately. There's the college student that jumped off the George Washington Bridge, the high school in Mentor where 4 students have killed themselves over the course of a little over 2 years, and a little closer to home a mother was bullied through her blog moments after she has posted that her son had died due to a congenital heart defect.
Bullying is everywhere. It happens online, in the hallways of our high schools, locker rooms, college campuses, elementary school playgrounds and everywhere in between. There are no words to explain how disgusted it makes me to see this happening everywhere. Kids are bullied because they're smaller, not as smart, gay, black, latino or "different" in any way. It's gross. All of this media coverage has me thinking about the bullies as well as their victims.
How is a bully made? Are they just mean? Is it some sort of cry for attention? Does the relative anonymity of a YouTube post or a comment on a blog make people feel safe?
Chances are, adult bullies were child bullies. (I have no proof of that, it's just a thought.) So, why weren't they stopped? Why AREN'T they stopped now? Where are the parents? Why are they not disciplining their children? I hear over and over again "The school didn't do anything." Why is it the school's responsibility? Why isn't it the parents job? If I found out that either of my girls were bullying other children, you can bet there would be consequences at home. I would work with the school to make sure the behavior was stopped immediately. Shouldn't others do the same?
With all of the technology out there, internet bullying is almost seen as a victimless crime. You can post nasty comments to a grieving mother under "anonymous" and you never have to see the reaction. It's just as easy to harass classmates on Facebook, MySpace or Twitter. You never see the reaction. You aren't there when that person, who is already hurting, reads that comment.
I've walked high school hallways and I've seen bullying. I've seen a group of students tease another student and laugh. When did it become funny to hurt others? When did we lose our empathy, our ability to care about others?
I wish I had the answer. I wish I could grab all of those people that are hurting others and scream at them. Or smack them. Or anything to get their attention. But I can't. I can write this blog and hope that maybe it touches someone. I can pray for the bullies as well as their victims. I can make sure that my children aren't bullies. I can make sure that they feel comfortable talking to me so if they're ever bullies they will tell me. If they are ever bullied, I can make sure that I stand up for them. I can offer words of encouragement to those that are being bullied in the hopes that my kind words will be the ones that reach them.
I hope that others will do the same.

You can tell it's Monday

Don't tell anyone, but I actually like Mondays. Well, usually. It's the day when our schedule goes back to "normal." It's usually a down day for the girls and I. I catch up on laundry, which means I get to watch some of the shows that I miss while I fold laundry. (Thank you networks for putting episodes online!) I get the dishes done, the kids nap. Over all, it's a good day.
Not today. Today we all have a horrible case of the Mondays. It started last night about 11:15 when Brinna woke up screaming her tiny little head off and continued all day long. Apparently, Brinna decided that she didn't need any sleep last night. She woke up at 11:15 and finally fell back asleep at 4:30 am. That means that I didn't fall asleep until 4:30 am. Adelae wakes up at 7:30 am every day. That means that I had 3 hours of sleep. 3 stinking hours! Have you ever tried to take care of two very active little girls and do housework on 3 hours of sleep? I don't recommend it. I thought that maybe I'd get in a short nap. Nope! Not today! Today Adelae decided we needed to play! So, we did. Then I figured I might as well do my workout, so I did.
So, here I sit at 5:00 pm so exhausted I can barely move. The dishes are still in the kitchen and dinner still has to be fixed.
Today I say "Is it Tuesday yet?"

Katy Perry & Her Girls

Have you heard about the latest controversy on Sesame Street? Yes, I said "controversy" and "Sesame Street" in the same sentence. Apparently parents all over are offended by this video. Go ahead and watch it, I'll wait. And if you catch yourself singing, I promise not to tell anyone.



Done? Good! Did you like it? Find yourself singing along? Did you figure out what people are making such a big deal about? No? Go watch it again. I'll wait.

Get it yet? Well, I can tell you that I had to watch the video about 3 times before I could find anything objectionable, and even then I got it wrong. I thought, "hmm...is it because of Katy Perry's past songs?" After all, the lyrics to one is "I kissed a girl and I liked it, the taste of her cherry Chapstick." Or could it be the lyrics of the song that this parody is based on "You PMS like a bitch, I should know." As much as I love Katy Perry (and I do), I don't listen to her songs with the kids. I think the lyrics are inappropriate. I wanted to know if I was right so I decided to dig a little deeper. I looked at various new articles, blogs and comments on the video. (It's not hard, just Google Katy Perry & Elmo if you want to see what people are saying.)
The problem? Katy's cleavage. So, I watched it again. I suppose there is one point where her girls are a little jiggly. I decided to perform an unofficial study. I had Adelae watch it to see if she would notice. She watched it, then watched it again. Her and Brinna danced and Adelae even sang "Elmo's up, Elmo's down, Elmo's running around." Not once did she say "Mommy, her boobs are jiggly. I need to wear a low cut shirt so I can be like the girl in the song." In fact, I think the shirt I had on at the time showed more cleavage that the outfit that Katy had on.
So, this leads me to the question, would most preschoolers notice? The answer, I highly doubt it. We need to keep in mind the audience for shows like Sesame Street. It's not me or my husband. It's preschoolers, children aged from birth to 5 or 6. Has our society become so overly sexualized that even preshcoolers know that breasts can be sexual? Seriously? If that's the case, then I think the parents that are complaining really need to take a good hard look at the lessons they are teaching their children.
We are very open about our bodies in our house. I breastfed Brinna for a year. Adelae sees my breasts a lot. In fact, she takes a shower with me. It's just easier. I see nothing wrong with it. God gave us these bodies. They are beautiful. Plus, she's THREE! THREE! Right in the middle of the target audience for Sesame Street. Even at 6 I don't think that she's going to look at that video and say "Wow Mommy! Look at her boobies! They make me want to wear low cut shirts!" If she does? Well, that's the day that I think it's time to turn off the TV and spend some quality time with my child.

It's in the mail

For the first time in years I'm applying for a job. And not just any job, a job I really really want. I've been watching the Classifieds every week for the ad for this particular job. I was starting to think it was never gping to show up. Then yesterday it appeared. "Wanted: a breastfeeding peer helper" Yes! Finally! I sat down and wrote a resume and what I hope is an awesome cover letter. I. Want. This. Job. I want it very very badly. More than I've wanted anything in a long time.

I know the time has come when we can no longer afford for me to be a stay at home mom. Preschool tuition, the need for another car and the want to own our own home someday make it impossible. We need to be a two income family. Or Ben needs a raise, a really big raise. Since that's most likely not going to happen, it's time for me to venture out into the work force.

So, my resume is in the mail! If all my lovely readers could send me some "get the job" vibes, or even say a quick prayer, I would appreciate it.

2 times a day

My post op instructions were rather funny. I was told to use Afrin 2 times a day for 2 days. Absolutely no more than that. The post op nurse made a very big deal about that. It was written on the Afrin bottle, on my post op instructions and, just in case we forgot, on a bright yellow post-it note. Apparently Afrin is very addictive. I'm ok with all that. I hate Afrin anyway, so no big deal.

I find it absolutely hilarious that they are so over the top about their Afrin use instructions, yet they prescribed me 120 Lortab (which is basically Vicodin). 120 Vicodin! Yowza! I'm allowed to take 2 every six hours, so roughly 8 a day. Now, I'm bad at math but i think that works out to roughly a 2 week supply. The post op instructions say to take the Lortab for 2 or 3 days. Why did they feel the need to prescribe me enough for 2 weeks? Doesn't it seem like they should be a little more concerned about Lortab addiction?

If they are going to go out of their way to make sure i know Afrin is addictive, shouldn't they do the same for the narcotic? I'm just sayin'......

So over it...

Remember when it was winter and I was complaining about the cold? And longing for summer? Well..I'm so over this summer. I'm sick and tired of the heat and humidity. I'm over it. Take it back. As of this very minute it's 93*F with a heat index of 103*F. There's absolutely no breeze and it's so humid I feel like I could wring water out of the air. We don't have air conditioning so it's about 95*F inside the house. I'm hot. I'm sweaty. I feel like I can't breath. The kids are hot and sweaty and crabby. Brinna won't nap. Adelae doesn't want to play. Even the dog and cats are lethargic. I'm over it. I want fall. I want 70*F days and 50*F nights. I want the humidity to go away. I want dry crisp fall air.

Dear Computer

Please don't get another virus. Please!

I was in sheer panic mode when we came home from a night away to find that our computer had been infected with a virus. I don't care so much about the recipe book I've spent years creating, or the spreadsheet that makes sure my bank account is balanced, or the patterns for projects that I have. I don't care about Ben's fantasy baseball team (although he really does), I don't care about Facebook or Twitter (mostly because I access them from my phone), I don't even care about this blog. I was, however, in full on panic mode over my pictures. I have been using my Shutterfly site as a back up for my pictures. However, I've been neglecting uploading them. I share a lot of pictures on Facebook, but not all of them (I know..hard to believe when you look at all the ones I upload to Facebook). I foolishly also haven't backed anything up to discs lately. Not smart, I know. All I could think of was that I was going to lose all my pictures from the last year. All of Brinna's birth pictures, all of the pictures from her first Christmas..all of it. I sat at my computer and cried. And cried some more.
I called Best Buy and they wanted a small fortune to retrieve my files and get rid of the virus on my computer. I honestly could have almost bought a new computer for what they wanted to charge me. I cried some more.
Then, like any true modern day woman, I hit up Facebook. I KNEW someone on my friends list could help me. I was right. An old friend from Bowling Green came to my rescue. He gave me detailed instructions on how to activate the Safe Mode on my computer (Alt F8 upon starting the computer and hold till it beeps). It worked! I was able to run a virus scan and TADA! No more virus! Peter Lunn (hope you don't mind me sharing your name here Pete!) you saved the day! Many thanks to you, my friend! :)
And what have I learned from this experience (other than Facebook is really valuable, despite what my husband thinks), you may ask? Don't open emails from people you don't know. (Yes Ben I'm looking at you)

Why am I always LATE?

So, before I had kids I was always a pretty punctual person (unless it was work, then I seemed to be a little more of the "Thank goodness I made it on time" person). If I was going to a movie, I made sure I was at least 20 minutes early. If I was meeting people for dinner, I was almost always the first one there. Doctors appointments? Always early.
Then we had Adelae. I went from being 15-20 minutes early to being about 5 minutes early. As she got older and I had less stuff to pack, I started showing up early to places again.
Then we had Brinna. I don't know why, but I can NOT seem to get out of the house on time. We are always showing up to places right on time or late. I hate being late. It makes me anxious. I feel like I've inconvenienced the people I'm suppose to meet or the staff. When we're barely on time to church, I feel like we're making a big commotion when we come in with our two kids.
Now, we're not usually more than a few minutes late, but I still feel like it's rude. I hate it when someone tells me they're going to show up at 12:00 and they show up late with no phone call to explain the reason. Yeah..I'm kind of weird like that!
In order to map out the reason we're always late, I decided to log our timeline when we were getting ready for church last week. Church starts at 10:00 and we need to leave by 9:45 to be there on time.

7:30 Everyone wakes up. We play in bed until about 8:00
8:00-8:15 Change Brinna's diaper, Adelae's pull up, make coffee
8:15-8:45 Breakfast for everyone (except me. I just enjoy my coffee)
8:45 I turn on the computer while Ben entertains the girls. And this is where it all goes downhill. I wind up spending way more time on the computer than I planned. I get lost in cyberspace for at least 30 minutes.
9:15 "OH CRAP! Why didn't you tell me what time it is? The kids are still in their pajamas. I have to get ready. Ben, you have to get ready. Crap!"
Theoretically we should have plenty of time to get ready. I mean, there's two of us to dress the kids and get them ready. I usually have the girls clothes picked out the night before, so all they have to do is put them on.
The next 30 minutes goes a little like this
Me; "Ben, can you please dress the girls while I get ready?"
Ben; "Sure. Where are the clothes?"
Me; "on the couch."
Ben; "Ok."
I proceed to the bathroom to put my makeup on and try to do something with my hair.
I come out and the kids are still in their pjs.
Me; "BEN! I thought you were going to get the girls dressed!"
Ben; "I couldn't find the clothes."
Me; "Um..They're RIGHT here!"
Ben; "Oh, can you get them dressed if you're done?"
Me; "UGH! Yes, it's fine." (said in a very sarcastic tone)
Ben; "Ok. I'll go get dressed now."
From this point on it's a flurry of activity and a lot of me saying "COME ON! We're LATE! Let's GO!"
I can usually push us out the door by 9:45. That's on time right? Nope! Because once we get in the car it's Ben saying "Oh, I forgot my wallet." And me saying "Oh, I forgot Brinna's bottle." Or "Whoops we didn't bring any snacks." Or other things that are similar. So, in reality we don't usually head out of the driveway till 9:50 or 9:55.
I can hear what you're thinking. "Hey, just don't turn on the computer!" I mean, that's 30 whole minutes! Yeah, tried that. I wind up watching morning news shows and not doing anything any way. It's like when I had kids, I lost all my motivation to be on time. I WANT to be on time, I just have a MUCH harder time actually DOING it. I keep trying to convince myself that I'm not the only one that has this problem. Other people are late right?
Ben thinks that I make too much of an ordeal about us being late. I was raised that it's rude and disrespectful. Is it really? Are we really late if we're just 5 minutes late? And if not, what's late? Is it 10 minutes? 15 minutes? At what point do you say "Oh, just forget it. We're late. I'm not going?"

I guess I'm "acceptable"

I belong to several mommy internet websites. In one particular forum and opinion was posted that really threw me for a loop. A woman stated that she only has one child and only ever wanted one child. I don't have a problem with that. I think if you want one child great, if you want fifteen children, also great. It doesn't really affect me either way. As I read more of her post I was absolutely appalled. She stated that she believes that one child is perfect, two children are "acceptable" and three or more "i just don't see the reason for it." Wow! was all I could say. She also went on to state that "i always try to assume accidents, when i see large families." I can't even begin to process that. How can some one, especially a mother, think that way? How can this woman feel sorry for people with more than one child? If that wasn't bad enough she had this to say "it seems self indulgent and selfish to me. who are you helping? your kids, by dividing your time amongst them? your husband who sees you less and less with each child? the community in general? your friends, because now you can "keep up"? i don't get it. and i'm not asking to." Umm...what? Seriously? You should all know by now that I'm very rarely speechless. This truly has me speechless. I can't even begin to wrap my mind around how someone could think this way! Each and every child is a blessing, accident or planned, 1st or 10th.
Isn't this some sort of bigotry? I mean she is clearly against people with more than what she considers the "acceptable" amount of children. She clearly stated that she has no desire to learn more about larger families. How is that any different from people that are so entrenched in race hate that they refuse to speak with a person of a different nationality. How is it different from people that refuse to speak to homosexuals? How? In my opinion, it's not. I feel sad that she's going to pass this sort of judgmental attitude onto her son. I keep going back to her post and re-reading trying to find something that makes it less appalling, so far it just gets worse and worse. I just sit here shaking my head.
So, what do you think? Is it ok to have more than one child? Ten children?