Redneck vs. The Red Box.

Friday night. 8:00. Kids are in bed, too late to call a sitter. Not that we wanted to anyway. I was dressed in sweats and wanting to get snuggled up on the couch with a bowl of something chocolate and a good movie. But there wasn't anything we'd not seen or cared to see from On Demand. Blockbuster seemed far away and expensive.

But there is an alternative! The Red Box! Daddy and I had been using Red Boxes all over Rhode Island. We even used one at the base in Florida! No problems. Super easy. $1 per movie. I mean, how hard can it be -- You push the GIANT button that says RENT if you want to RENT a movie. And RETURN if you are bringing one back. Then you use the menu to pick out the movie you want. There is a picture menu next to the screen to show you what is available. You type in the title, swipe your card, and the box ejects a perfect red box containing the movie of your choice.

I got to the WALMARTS to get my red box, a little crabby and tired from a long day of fighting with small children who either can't or won't listen to a word I say. I have to admit that I may have appeared christian on the outside, but the thoughts going through my mind as I walked up to that Redneck vs. Red Box battle were anything but. These were the type of rednecks that were proud of it. "Big Papa" had a beer gut about four feet wide and he was donning the dirty holey jeans and a T-shirt that had a list of reasons why he was in fact a red neck. "Big Mama" was wearing a sweat suit too. Only hers was the same size I was wearing. And three of me could have fit into her. Their kids were wreaking havoc on the entry way, opening the doors and letting them shut. Open door. Shut. Open door. Shut. Run around and scream. "Big Mama" was trying to 'figgure it out and wudja knock off all this rukkis!!!" After about ten minutes, the man in front of me, but immediately after the red-necks looked at me and we shared the same thought. "Oh My LORD!" The kids were screaming (rednecks, not mine or the other guy whose child was patiently sitting in the cart) about wanting to watch some movie that the box probably didn't have. Through the whole ordeal I managed to stand there, quiet, without even mumbling things under my breath. I think fifteen minutes had gone by. Maybe not, but it felt like it.

At about this point, I was frustrated. Furiously frustrated. I was thinking VERY mean and VERY un-Christian things. But then I looked down, and realized I was dressed very much like a redneck in my sweat outfit. And if my kids had been there, the situation could have gone either way. They could have been angels or I could have been ripping my hair out too (although it is rare for my kids to be out and about after 8:30). The poor redneck mama was furiously getting frazzled. And the guy in front of me said "It's no fun when they don't have what you want, huh?" And the crazy redneck family left. Three minutes later, both I and the man in front of me had selected our choices, paid and received our movies.

I guess it was just a case of Red box vs. The Redneck. The red box won. And I hope that the next time I won't be so nasty and judgemental. Even if it was only in my head. And even if red box is set up to be easy enough for my three year old to do it.

Sunday Sorrows.

My son ate three pieces of pizza tonight. And a brownie. The child used to skip dinner every night.

My daughter is exhibiting signs of jealousy. She whines when her brother plays near her and she can't join in.

They grow up fast.

Weather Woes.

I live in a land of eternal cool and fog. 60 to 65 degrees is great. Wonderful even. Especially between November and March. I so much prefer that to bitter cold that sucks the breath out of you. However, from June through August it's supposed to be HOT. I was fine with the temperature (for the most part) this summer, because I knew that in September and October, we'd be in for some good weather. And good weather we were promised. This week!

The forecast was for 85 degrees (even on the coast!) on Monday, and temps in the 90s for the rest of the week.

The actual temperatures have been lucky to get above 60. And the fog. There was no mention of fog in the forecast. This isn't any regular fog either. This is fog reminiscent of the "mist." I'm afraid to go out into the world for fear that some crazy military experiment bugs are going to eat me. You can barely see across the street.

The fact that the weather guessers changed their graphics to include temperatures that DARE rise above the 60s had me very optimistic. I went out and bought Tank tops. And skirts. And planned to paint my toenails by the pool all week. I got all of my chores done during the crappy weather this weekend so that I would be able to enjoy the weather with my kids. I am craving the smell of sweaty little boy mixed with Coppertone and sunned skin. I had hoped to get it this week. Instead, the air feels crisp. Cool, like autumn. Except how fair is it to have autumn when we haven't had a summer? I mean, other than that one perfect day. Autumn is supposed to come after you've been bombarded with so many hot days in a row that you can't possibly take one more. Then, you wake up and the humidity has gone away, the temperatures are cooler, and the air smells of fall -- freshly mowed grass along with fallen leaves and moist soil.

I feel kind of silly because I was so very excited about the hot summer weather that we were supposed to get. I was so ready for it, that now that it isn't coming, I feel let down. Depressed. Almost to the point of tears when I think about it. If that isn't a sign of crazy, I don't know what is.

Rambling... Because I can.

Yes. I'm still pregnant. I plan on remaining that way forever. That way I can torture my husband by making him do all of the cleaning and laundry. And because it gives me something to complain about.

My stomach now sticks out as far as my entire forearm. The muscles that support it are starting to flip me off. Daily and nightly. It used to be just nightly but now they've decided to take turns during the day shift as well.

Everyone seems very concerned when they see me. But that's just because if you walk up to me from behind you don't notice, then when I turn to the side, my body suddenly quadruples in size. That, and if my stomach is this big, how big is the child? We have an ultrasound scheduled for Monday to find out. I am praying that because I scheduled that ultrasound I won't need it.

The other day we were walking somewhere, and I didn't realize that my belly was sticking out of my pants and my shirt was riding high. I realized when I got home and looked in the mirror why everyone I met gave me a silly smile. You could see the pants were falling off. That was a great day. Most of my clothing fails to meet standards these days. So, I sit in my house in my husband's undershirts and old pajama bottoms waiting.

Little Monster is growing LEAPS and BOUNDS these days. He is finally expressing some interest in potty training. He'll tell us immediately after he goes #1 that he's done it. Then, he wants to sit on the toilet for the congratulatory chocolate. The problem is, as he puts it:

"Mommy! Pee all gone! There's no pee left."

This, after squinting, grunting and trying to eek out just a dribble. He knows that if there is not tinkle, there is no treat.

He's also decided that driving me crazy isn't good enough.

Me: "You're driving me crazy today!"
LM: "No! I driving you NUTS!"

Not the Momma is amazing. He has taken charge of not only studying for finals and getting the last minute things out of the way for him at work so he can be here when the baby comes, but he's taken care of most of the last minute things around the house as well. And he's been cleaning. And cooking. Real meals. I know. Last night, the man even ate leftovers, which is something he doesn't do.

What can I say? I have a few things left to do before the baby comes. But I'm hoping that by leaving them undone that I'll have to do them while in labor before we leave for the hospital. At this rate, the guest bed will have sheets on it sometime in 2011.

UPS - Take Notice

HI! How are you? I appreciate that you drive a brown delivery truck and bring me all kinds of goodies! I LOVE it when you show up with your packages wrapped in brown boxes. It feels like Christmas every time -- even though I generally know what's in the box.

So, please forgive me for being frustrated with the fact that you come like a thief in the night. The last three times you have arrived with things we've been waiting for, there has been no knock, no doorbell ring, no nothing. At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if you threw the packages out of the truck as you drove past exceeding our 15 mph speed limit at 35mph.

Forgive me if I'm a bit irritated that a package I've been waiting for sat on my front porch overnight because you came AFTER my husband returned home from work at 5:30 PM and we didn't go anywhere for the evening. I'm glad the package was still there this morning when he left for work.

Please don't be alarmed when, if this should happen again, I contact your company to let them know (as if they'll care) how irritated I am. It has been raining for days and days and days, and you threw my box onto my sopping wet doorstep to sit and soak overnight. All because you were too lazy to put your finger out and ring a doorbell or knock. I don't care if you stick around for coffee and conversation, just ring and go. It's fine. But at least let me know you've been here. So that my books don't end up soaked with 4 day old rain, or the box bottom doesn't fall off when I go to bring it inside, OR so that I can get it off of my front porch before someone else takes off with my child's beloved Pocoyo DVD.

I like you UPS. You bring me nice things. Please tell me when you've been here so that I can like you even more.

The end.

One of those days...

Today was one of those days. You know, the days where you'd swear if your head wasn't attached you'd leave it somewhere? Yeah. Today. That was it.

A simple trip to the burger joint to meet Daddy. Little Monster woke up just in time, however he wasn't quite ready to. I got him ready to go, despite crying and whining and kicking and screaming. I probably could have done without the head spinning around on his shoulders and the tornado siren wail, but I managed to get him ready to go anyway. That must be one of those super powers God blesses you with when you squat out a fat squealing ball of love.

After wrangling him into his car seat, turning on Mermaid, and getting my sore pregnant butt into the car myself, I realized Little Monster didn't have anything to drink. So, out of the car, into the house, over the gate that keeps the dogs from tearing up the place. Then reverse that, with sippy cup of milk in tow.

Before I pulled out of the garage, I decided to double check for my military ID. I've been known to get to base, not have it, and cause problems for everyone. It wasn't in my purse. So, out of the car, into the house, over the gate, up the stairs and into my room. I must have left it in the pocket of my jeans yesterday when we went to the commissary. After digging through my pants and not finding it, I decided I probably did have it in my purse, but missed it. Reverse that, checking all of my coat pockets for insurance on the way out.

Once again, dig through the purse. Find a billion receipts, 30 tubes of chap stick, 24 pens, some pennies, an old peppermint, 3 ones, and forty 'savers' cards. But no Military ID. So, out of the car, into the house, over the gate, up the stairs and into my room. Again. Dump out the laundry hamper because the ID surely must have fallen out of my pocket as I was pulling the pants out earlier. Darn these sunglasses! They're falling off of my head. GRR! Ah. There is the military ID. Reverse the trip, get into the car, pull my sunglasses off of my head and....

Wait a minute. My sunglasses are missing.

Sigh.

So, out of the car, into the house, over the gate, up the stairs and into my room. For the third time. to find my sunglasses sitting on the dresser next to the laundry hamper. Put them on my head. Reverse the trip out of the house and get into the car.

I have been almost arthritic with this pregnancy. At first it was my shoulders, elbows and wrists. That has gone away. Now it's my knees, heels and ankles. I don't want to be a complainer. I know how blessed I am that I am pregnant, and have stayed that way. But this aches and pains and throwing up and not pooping and peeing every 20 seconds. It's getting a bit old. I'm not even 20 weeks yet. It's going to be a loooong pregnancy. Perhaps it's a sign from Someone upstairs that this should be my last pregnancy? All of those trips up and down the stairs, scaling baby gates as high as my hips -- well, they were a pain in my... everywhere.

That was just one little ten minute snippet of a day that has not been the best of them. I am glad it is over. Thank God for tomorrow.

Bicyclists are friends, right?

People who ride their bikes everywhere have my utmost respect, awe, and admiration. They are getting exercise, saving gas, and making me feel a teensy bit guilty for driving around in Schmitty, my gas guzzling Minivan. (Yes, I feel guilty, even though I'm so sick with my second child I can barely hold down food most days, and I'd have to lug around my 35 pound two year old in a trailer behind me. I'm crazy.)

I do have a bone to pick, though. The other day, I was driving out of my neighborhood when I noticed a friend of mine was in a car accident. A car accident caused by a bicyclist who ran a stop sign. Luckily none of his three children were hurt, nor was the person walking with her child in a stroller or the the driver of the other vehicle. The potential was there, though. About a month ago, I nearly ran over a man who ran a stop sign on his bicycle. Again, last night, a man on a bicycle blew through a stop sign --after dark no less -- nearly causing an accident.

I get that it sometimes is inconvenient to stop at stop signs. And then you have to work up the energy to get those pedals started again. It's also inconvenient for me to stop. I have to completely stop, wait for pedestrians to cross, other cars to cross and work up the energy to get my lead foot back on the gas pedal. But you know what? I do it. I stop. Because it's safe for everyone. Do bicyclists realize that they are technically on a vehicle and are required to follow all of the same laws that automobiles are required to follow -- including speed limits? Sometimes I'm not sure. Yes. If you are on a bicycle, riding on the street, you are required to stop at all traffic stops, lights, etc. You are not allowed to go faster than the 15 mph speed limit. No exceptions.

We who drive our automobiles do need to be vigilant in keeping an eye out for our friends who are walking and riding their bikes. But you also need to ensure that you are watching out for us, by following all of the stop signs. Really, it's for your own safety. If your bike and my minivan get in a fight, I guarantee the minivan will win. I will escape uninjured, but my mental health will suffer if I hurt you -- even if it is your fault. Please be aware of the laws, and follow them -- it's better for everyone.

The end.

I was sitting here on the couch, minding my own business when I felt a breeze. A cold breeze. I thought it was odd.

And then I heard it. The sound of the back door shutting. Little Monster was the only one in his toy room. The dogs were outside. Not the Momma was sitting a few feet away from me on the couch. Surely Little Monster hasn't learned how to open doors with the safety 'toddler-proof' handle covers installed? I must have not completely closed the door when I let the dogs out.

After letting the dogs in, and locking the deadbolt it happened again. A cold rush of air wrapped around my ankles, followed by the marked slam of the back door. No one in the house had moved. Except, of course Little Monster. He has learned how to open doors -- despite safety covers, despite locked dead-bolts. At least he doesn't know how to unlock the handles yet. When that happens, the world will surely end.

Especially because lately I don't have the patience to deal with that in a humane, friendly, loving, motherly way. It is very difficult to have patience with a child whose main source of entertainment is running his dump truck into the dogs and then letting out a shrill high-pitched scream that I'm certain is setting off car alarms around the county. I can deal with that normally, but when I'm hunched over my favorite porcelain chair trying not to let my eyes fall out of my head, trying not to pee my pants as my stomach hurls its contents out with enough force to stop the rotation of the earth, I lose my patience a little quicker than normal.

We're on the way to the Wal-Marts to get some Zofran. It's a very limited supply, so I'm saving it for those days when I want to leave the house looking like a human being who is more than three seconds from death. And for next week when I am travelling to Dallas for a conference. Let's just pray that my health insurance isn't a jerk today and thinks that I should be allowed to drink and eat... and you know, not visit the hospital for IVs.

Oh yeah. If my dog exhales within three feet of my face again, I'm giving it away to a random commenter. Which dog? Yes. They come with a supply of food, toys, medicines, and a kennel.*

*I'm kidding. -Maybe.

Complainers.

****Update 10/27. The letter was published. Just delayed. For what reason, I don't know, but it was posted today.******

There are a lot of complainers in this world. They are really starting to get to me. Do you want to know why? The people who are complaining the loudest, are the people who have NOTHING TO COMPLAIN ABOUT.

Some people in my neighborhood have gotten upset, because they have been told to remove political signs from their front yards. It is in violation of the lease they signed when they moved into our neighborhood, AND it is in violation of the rules the service member is to follow. (Basically military personnel are not allowed to post political signs at their place of residence if they live in base housing -even privatized housing. Any political sign larger than a standard bumper sticker is not allowed in their personal vehicle either.)

Someone said that it wasn't THEIR choice to come to here. It wasn't her CHOICE to live in housing. I disagree. And I told the entire neighborhood exactly how I feel. I am tired of listening to the spoiled people in our neighborhood complain about every little thing that has gone wrong.

If you are married to the military, you are IN the military, whether you like it or not. You don't have a choice. This is what I put up on the boards. I don't care who reads it. I will stand by my opinion. You always have a choice. ALWAYS. This was my response to the "I didn't choose to come here" whine:


Get used to it. Your husband is in the military. You don't have a choice in most things anymore. You think you have a choice over where you are stationed, but really, it is in the hands of the detailers and where the service member is needed. There are lots of people who live for cheaper than we do out in Seaside and Marina. They get better internet, but, like Chris I'd bet they have a sex offender living within three blocks.
NO matter what, you really ALWAYS have a choice. You could have chosen NOT to move to Monterey when your husband was stationed here. You could have chosen to NOT marry someone who was in the military. You ALWAYS have a choice.

There are a lot of things that are unfair about this neighborhood. I can't put a screen door on my house, we're not allowed to put ceiling fans in upstairs, no political signs, etc. But I CHOOSE to put up with those inconveniences to know that my neighborhood is safe for my child. I CHOSE to live in housing because the community was better than anywhere else we could afford.

Perhaps we should all take a look at what we HAVE instead of what we don't have and can't have. We have beautiful homes with loving families inside. Our bellies are full and we get to sleep at night without worries. There is job security in the military that can't be found in the real world. Many of our husbands will retire and collect a pension that can't be guaranteed in the civilian world.

It was in the lease that you signed when you moved in that you cannot put up political signs. If you don't like it-- you have the choice to give your notice and move to a different neighborhood.

It seems to me that there is a lot of complaining about silly things going on in our neighborhood. I can't say I never complain, but then I take a look around. We have more than 80% of the people in the military, 90% of the people in this country, and 99% of the people in this world. Take a moment and thank God for all that you have been blessed with. This home, this duty station, this life, they're only temporary. YOU have the CHOICE to be happy with it, or you can be miserable.

I don't know about you, but I'm going to choose to be happy with the knowledge that my husband is most likely NOT going to have to deploy while we are here. I am going to be happy because he is home nearly every night in time for dinner, with no worries about being called back. He doesn't have to stand overnight duty, we can make birthday party plans without worries of something breaking, or some disaster happening. I can rest in the knowledge that my husband will be home for the birth of my child, to witness its first smiles, first laughs and first steps. I choose happiness.

Which choice are you going to make?

So. Tell me. Is there something that you're choosing to be miserable about? Maybe it's time to give up that negativity, and CHOOSE to be happy about something else.

P.S. Not the Momma. I'm sorry. I promise I will try not to post things like that in public again. I know how you feel about it.

P.P.S. After all the complaining in our neighborhood about our lack of "free speech" the moderator denied that post. Or at least, hasn't posted it yet. I have not gotten an email from them explaining that it will not be posted, etc. So much for free speech, eh?

One of those weeks....

It has been one of those draining weeks. The kind that make you wish for Friday and crave a pedicure and back rub. Want to hear some of the highlights?

--here's a hint -- say yes. Otherwise you'll get a long drawn-out whine-fest which doesn't come with the rosy cheeks and pleasant attitude I generally get after having a glass of wine.

• Washing vitamins in your pants pocket -- that doesn't work too well.
• Neither does not noticing the vitamin 'mush' that got stuck under the rubber cover in the washer.
• Laundry washed with vitamins reeks of pee-pee diaper.
• Washing an entire MOUNTAIN of CLEAN (but stinky) clothes is not fun.
• Neither is fining mouse turds in the sink of the fifth wheel.
• Or on the bed.
• Or in the cupboards (even though we expected them there).
• Finding the nest near the hitch -- unexpected surprise with it's ups and downs.
• Spending an entire afternoon vacuuming mouse turds out of every possible place in the fifth wheel -- NOT fun.
• It is however fun to soak every surface in a fifth wheel with Lysol.
• I may possibly be high on Lysol.
• Preparing for a trip to San Diego -- tiring.

I'm now looking forward to the trip to San Diego, even though I wasn't. And I probably should point out all of the GREAT and absolutely wonderful things that have happened recently.

• My friend got out of the house and attended Bible study this week. She enjoyed it and got a lot of information she needed and many prayers as well.
• My attitude about the trip to San Diego changed, I want to go. I'm looking FORWARD to it.
• I found out that the chapel may pay for part of my conference trip in November! yeah!
• This is the FIRST week in a month I've let the housekeeping slip.
• We've made it to church every week for a month!
• I got a giant check from my job! It's gone already, but it was great while it lasted.
• Tomorrow Little Monster is going to get to BOUNCE! IN! A! BOUNCE! HOUSE! at Faith's house!
• Not the Momma bought me dinner after seeing all the work I did today.
• Saturday morning we're getting donuts, and Not the Momma will be done with his finals...until next quarter.
• None of the clothing got stained (except the pants that held them) by the vitamins.
• The dogs have only dug 2 holes this week, instead of the 30 they normally do.
• The organic veggie guy who delivers my veggies -- HE RAWKS! I asked for No chard and an extra thing of raspberries. I got 3 pints of strawberries. AND three pints of raspberries. And the box had all kinds of squash and oranges and baby spinach and lettuce, cauliflower, broccoli, cherry tomatoes. So. MUCH. goodness.

Oh, and some of you may find this amusing -- Not the Momma said he was going to throw me in the dryer the other day. He didn't even know how much that rocked! YEAH! I'll tell that story another day. Ah, Carrie. I miss you gal!

Good-bye Summer??

Everyone seems to be writing posts lamenting the end of summer. I want to know where in the world summer went? We got two weeks of summer while we were in Nebraska, yes. Two whole weeks at the end of June. Other than that, summer seems to have been missing.

Summer seems to skip over this area of the country entirely. I have noticed while looking at the national weather map, that Eureka, California also has this problem. And maybe parts of Washington. But the rest of the country's high temperatures are a red blanket, and we're the yellow sheets poking out of the ends. Warm temperatures are not to be found here.

I have spent my entire summer wearing long jeans, and sweatshirts. There have been a few days when I'm fed up and decide to wear Capri's instead. It has occasionally been warm enough to sport a short sleeved polo, but only twice have I left the house in flip flops. Once, when we were leaving for Nebraska, and had only about an hour to go until we hit summer, and the other day. The other day, I nearly lost my toes to frostbite.

I went to San Fransisco the other day to visit a friend. It was much warmer there that it was at home. As in about 15 degrees warmer. San Fransisco was about 75 degrees. At 2:00 PM.

I long for the day when I'll see a temperature above 72 degrees, when I won't crave a campfire for warmth in the evening. When my toes will thaw completely. That hasn't happened here. Everyone said the fog would go away sometime in July. Folks, I'm looking outside right now. The fog is still there. Everyone says it will get warm in the fall. I am not lamenting the end of summer. I crave the end of summer. Fall, come quickly, and bring with you some warm temperatures!

Another Edition of Good Idea Bad Idea:

...when I'm past this terrible, terrible mood, maybe I'll be able to write something coherent for PrompTuesday. For now, here's some more Good Idea Bad Idea.

Good Idea:Vacation Bible School: So. Much. Fun. I love spending time with the kids. They are a great group.

Bad Idea: (for the Commissary) Remodeling the freezer section the ONE week I really don't have the energy to make dinner... (and I'm sure many other volunteers for VBS feel the same way.)

Bad Idea: (for the Commissary) Keeping the ENTIRE ice cream section, the ENTIRE frozen pizza section, yet, not having ANY room for frozen vegetables or anything with any modicum of nutrition.

Good Idea: (for the Commissary) Posting a note that says: "Sorry. If you don't see it your out of luck." Even if it was worded a bit more tactfully and professionally. And While it does qualify in the "good idea" category. It doesn't make it better for anyone who's looking for frozen veggies.

Good Idea: (for the Commissary) Encouraging employees to please look in the back for some chicken voila OR some chicken crock pot meals, It is highly appreciated.

Bad Idea: (for the Commissary) Coming back with an attitude that says a lot more than your signs.

Good Idea: Shopping somewhere else!!!

Bad Idea: Running out of money. So, I guess I'll still shop there.

Good Idea: Opening the back of the Schmitty to put groceries in, and doing so.

Bad Idea: Breaking down in the parking lot of the Commissary while the whole world watches. Because you're tired, they didn't have anything you came to get(except coffee creamer, milk and zipper bags) and Schmitty, your beloved minivan, just tried to make a new orifice in your skull above your ear.

Good Idea: keeping control and not throwing the (impulse buy) watermelon across the parking lot at all the people staring at you because before you could regain control a few words slipped out of your mouth at a higher than normal volume in front of your young impressionable toddler after your minivan tried to kill you by automatically closing the door for an unknown reason.

Bad Idea: writing the longest run on sentence ever. (readers, BREATH IN!)

Worse Idea: freaking out your kid because you are crying.

So. I wonder how much trouble I'd be in if I purchased that Friday Fun thing and instead of pouring drinks into a cup, I just had the tap mix them directly into my mouth? Yeah, that would probably turn into another "Good Idea, Bad Idea."

Ah, life...

...Sometimes it gets in the way of blogging...

Saturday was Not the Momma's birthday. It went slightly better than Father's Day. And by slightly, I mean -->this<-- much. Friday night blew. I mean, we had fun at the bar and all. Little Monster had his popcorn, I had my yummy cheeseburger and beer. And then, it was over. For some reason, I came home, and my body was all: "Hey, guess what. You're going to be the age of 95 for the rest of the night! Have fun with this Par-TAY!" I tossed and turned all night long. All. Night. Long. I didn't even get close to sleep until 3:00 AM. And as if Little Monster knew I had just fallen asleep, he let out the loudest blood curdling scream I've ever heard escape his jowls -- that was a feat, let me tell you. I sat up in bed, aggravating the hip and shoulder pain I'd just managed to ignore. He got quiet again, but I went in to check on him. What was wrong? Nothing. Sleeping peacefully. Crazy kid.

It took me another 20 minutes or so to get to sleep. Fast Forward to 4:13AM. Remember that last paragraph? Go back and re-read it. Do that every hour until about 6:30 AM. When I quit going in to check on him. At 7:30, Daddy got up and took Little Monster out to get donuts (and even got me my favorite kind so when I woke up I could have a Saturday donut). Then went to do some work on our fifth wheel. Where he caught the plague because he was bitten by a flea from the mouse that we finally caught. I stayed in bed. And slept. On HIS birthday, he got baby duty first thing in the morning. How nice was that? That guy, he sure is a keeper.

I toiled all evening to make him a kick-butt dinner of LaChoy canned Chinese food. Served on a bed of fresh(ly opened) chow mien noodles. With sides of frozen and heated egg rolls and crab rangoon. He picked dinner. Whatev' The cake I made rocked.

Pictures to come later. When I don't have a Vacation Bible School Headache. More on that later too.

Fun Thursday!

Today I went to the aquarium with some gals I go to bible study with. We had fun, like we always do. We visited the child's area or "Splash Zone."

While it was a fairly enjoyable experience I have to say that people are pretty rude. Either that or I have a sign on my back that says "Please push me out of the way so that you can see the pretty fishies. Don't mind that I'm lugging a toddler around, or that he'd really like to see the fish. We don't exist. Also, please feel free to take a picture of the fish by shoving your hand right in front of my face. Walk in front of me and stop. I know I'm standing 1 1/2 feet away from the exhibit. That's so you can squeeze your 4 meter diameter body between me and the exhibit, thereby blocking the exhibit and shoving us to the other side of the room."

I kid. Sort of. There weren't very many people there. There was plenty of room. But the people that were there were generally pushy and rude. A lady actually stood next to me and shoved her arm in my face to take a picture of a fish. In the child's area. This lady did not have children in the child's area.

As I told my friend I would upon arrival, I did a LOT of praying today. I did a lot of praying for forgiveness for the nasty and evil thoughts that were running through my head. And a lot of praying for restraint. So that I didn't shove some cameras into places that are generally exit-only orifices. Now how Christian is that? Yeah. I'm not very patient sometimes.

Little Monster was a little overwhelmed. But that might be because some lady had just elbowed us about 3 or four times trying to look at "Dori and Nemo! DORI AND NEEEEEMOOOOOOO!!!" and get pictures. Because these were really the fish from the movie. What did you say? The movie was computer animated?! You're kidding me!!



PeekaBoo!! Yup. We're at a top rated aquarium, and we're playing peek-a-boo. Forget the fish. Where's mommy?

Pardon me...

...while I whine and complain. Pardon me while I behave in a completely insensitive manner to those people who have been evacuated from their homes.

Here on the central coast of CA, we get probably 3 good weather days per month, where it is warm enough to get out the swimming pool. Usually the highs are in the 5os or 60s, the fog is thick, and damp, and the ocean breeze makes it feel cooler than the actual temperature.

This week, the weather is supposed to ROCK. We're talking upper 70's, low 80's. But all of the smoke and ash from the fire south of Big Sur. It's raining on my parade. We can't play outside in the morning when it's warm, because the smoke is awful. I can't open the windows to my home, because the smoke is awful. Which makes it worse, because we don't have air conditioning. It gets hot and stuffy in here.

I know. It could be worse, I could be one of the people who had to flee their homes because of the fire. I could be without a home, because it has burned down. I am very grateful that we've been lucky so far.

However, I would like the ash and smoke from that fire to go away so that I can take my kid to the beach, and play in his pool, and go for walks and bike rides in the wonderful actually summer-like weather. Is that too much to ask?