Why Don't We Talk About Menopause

This is what menopause looks like. Why isn't it talked about more? Are women ashamed? No one ever talked to me about it. I had no idea why I was feeling so off lately and then on a tv show, a woman about my age started menopause and she was a raging awful person. I decided to look up pre-menopause symptoms and I had like almost all of the ones listed. It was time for my annual wellness visit anyway so I told my Nurse Practitioner to throw on a hormone panel. When I went in, I described everything I had been going through the previous few months. Fatigue-I've suffered from insomnia for decades now, but now even with my medication, I am not well rested and somedays I need an afternoon energy drink or nap. Irritability-like I seriously was angry all the time, super irritated and annoyed with everyone in my family, but especially my poor husband. Belly fat-after losing a good portion of it a few years ago when I started living a healthier lifestyle, the Mom belly was back and wouldn't go away. Crap eating-the sugar cravings were back that I had been able to curb when I started eating better and exercising a bunch. Libido changes-we're talking like zero. Migraines-I've had them for years and have a prescription med, but don't like taking it most of the time because I have to take 2 to lower it to a headache and they make me a little dizzy and sleepy. But after trying 4 different ones, this is the only one that seems to help. So most times I just suffer through it. Depression-I was diagnosed about 12 years ago with bipolar depression and anxiety and have occasional bouts of depression, but usually it's just a blah day and I'm down for no reason. Now, I was experiencing days where I felt like I was drowning. Like totally weepy, overwhelmed, stress, anxiety, the whole gamut. Well, sure enough, my hormones were out of whack and my NP said I was starting menopause. It sucks. I am on a new medication to help with hormonal imbalances and an additional bipolar med to help with depression. And taking my anxiety meds just on those days where I need extra help to function. I hate taking them since they make me super tired. So this is what pre-menopause looks like. I am 46 and people keep saying that I seem too young, but that's the fun thing, it hits every woman differently. I just want women out there not to be ashamed to talk about it. I have literally been telling all my women friends to excuse my moodiness and oversharing probably because I want them to know this is what it is. This is what happens and it sucks, and I pray it doesn't last for years like I've read, but someday this too shall pass. 

Adulting is Hard

Do you ever have days where you're like, "I can't even"? Because I'm having one of those. I'm so overwhelmed with life at the moment. My back is in a billion knots and I've gone to the chiropractor like 5 times now. Bubba will be leaving for college this fall, so obviously I'm worried he'll run out of money, not find a job, or really just not be able to adult. Because let's face it, adulting is hard. JP will be leaving for a church mission next month also. We have a million things to get on his list and hope his passport gets here in time (not likely because for over a month they've been in phase one of reopening and have over a million applications). I'm sad I won't see him for two years. And then he'll come home from his mission and move away to school. So I'll never see him, except hopefully he likes me enough to come home for holidays. Peanut was just diagnosed with celiac disease. After about 6 months of him living in the bathroom, he decided to eliminate gluten from his diet to see if he felt better and I finally thought to ask if he wanted to see the doctor. The pediatrician referred us to a gastro dr. No gluten was helping him feel better and she said we should do blood work. But guess what? You have to have gluten in your system. So, he had to go back on for three weeks and of course, was miserable again. Blood work came back positive for whatever indicates you carry the gene thingy to maybe have celiac. So he had to keep eating gluten until he had an endoscopy with biopsies to check for sure. A jillion dollars later, he for sure has celiac disease. He's six foot now and needs to gain weight, but finding stuff he likes is HARD! He's my pickiest eater-no fruit, no veg, no peanut butter, not even freaking potatoes! Basically, he likes meat and pizza, chips and noodles. I HATE cooking, and now I have to rework all the things I actually do cook to make sure everything in them is gluten free. Everything costs twice as much and he eats a crap ton of snacks. It's also fun to spend $7 on a loaf of bread for him to be like, "This one is nasty. Let's try a different brand." Coco is just about done with baseball. This was supposed to be our year for Little League World Series. We won State the last two years and would've totally gone to Regionals in San Bernardino and possibly on to Williamsport. Instead, they cancelled all baseball. So 12 yo broken hearts all around. Even my heart was broken. This was our family's last chance to go. Fortunately, because Butch is the most amazing Dad Coach ever, he found a bunch of tournaments for us to still participate in this summer. So at least our boys got to play some ball. But in addition to practices, Coco has had a baseball camp and hitting lessons weekly. I have to get him up for camp twice a week at 8:20 am so that's been a blast. And this week, with our final tournament of the year coming up, Butch has zero time to get everything for the amazing hiking trip he has planned for the boys next week. So, I'm in charge of getting all the hiking food, but even after going to three different grocery stores yesterday (in addition to taking JP to three stores for mission stuff and fly fishing stuff), they've all given me more things they want on the list. You're killing me, Smalls. Anyone getting why my back is jacked up? Also, only one thing is even kind of sort of helping my arthritis and I have to apply it multiple times a day and most days wear super attractive wrist braces. And how do you beard wives deal with your husband trimming his beard and getting little beard hairs EVERYWHERE? At least when my stupid long hair sheds I can gather it in a massive hairball and chuck it in the garbage. Awesome. Great. I'm fine. Everything is fine.

It's time to be real people. I've openly talked about my bipolar depression before, but I feel a need to write about it today. The last couple of days have been what I call "low days". That's my way of telling my husband that things will most likely not get done around the house. Though I am getting better about forcing myself to run errands or do a few loads of laundry, even though I really just want to crawl in bed and sleep. Some days it's all I can do to function. And I take medication daily so imagine if I didn't. It's supposed to help with the chemical imbalance in my brain so that I have "normal" highs and lows. Honestly, if I could be guaranteed that I would be manic most of the time, I probably wouldn't take medication. Unfortunately, without medication, I mostly suffer from the depression part. Most of the time I'm okay. But then there are days like yesterday and today where I feel sucky for no reason. That's one thing I think is difficult for people who don't suffer from mental illness to understand. They think there needs to be a reason you are depressed or have anxiety. Like, what happened and how can you fix it? I wish that were the case. But I have no reason. I just feel sucky. Or if I don't feel like I am in control of a situation, I have a panic attack and lose my crap. The sun was out yesterday and it was warm, so I took my laptop in the backyard and edited my latest book. That does make me feel good, but I still don't want to do anything else. I have to actually force myself to do stuff. Today I'm editing and writing a bit too, but I'm stuck on the conflict in the story.

Anyway, in my eyes, mental health is just as important, if not more so, than your physical health. In fact, it can affect your physical health. I am open about my disease because some people out there are ashamed of their mental health issues. Some people might not realize they even have an issue. The more we talk about it, the more people can seek help. I was only diagnosed about nine years ago. When the doctor explained it to me and gave me my diagnosis, I was like, "Holy crap, my whole life I've been sick and thought I was just seriously messed up and unloveable." I thought it was just my personality. When I finally had a name for it, I felt so much relief. I have a child who was diagnosed a couple of years ago with bipolar depression and ADHD. He has improved much since he has been taking medication. Luckily, I was able to recognize the signs because of my own diagnosis. I know teens have many ups and downs, but if you are concerned at all, talk to your child. Sometimes they aren't huge on talking, but make them talk to you. Are they isolating themselves? Are their moods more extreme? Do they get super chatty and spastic and then seem so low they won't leave the house or their room? Only six percent of children with a parent with bipolar disorder will actually develop the disease, but it's better to be vigilant in my opinion. But lucky me, my dad and brother both suffer and now I've passed it on to my child.

But I will not be ashamed. I will not hide from it. It is who God created me to be and it's not in my control. It has made me stronger. I know I can do hard things. I know someday when I leave this life, my body will be made perfect, that includes my broken brain. And just because my brain is broken, does not mean I am broken. It does not mean I am not worthy of love. It does not mean I don't belong. And so, I am here for you people. I got you. I feel you. I understand you. And you are great just the way you are, broken brain and all.

Mission Life- Week 1

Here is Bubba's first letter to family and friends from his LDS mission. It was his first week in the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah. He will be serving a two year mission in Washington DC.


Hey everyone!! My first week at the MTC has been so amazing! My district is amazing, I love all the elders and sisters. Elder Francis and Belliston are my companions. We have some awesome times and have a room to ourselves, our zone leaders nicknamed our room the Penthouse. On a spiritual note, this has been one of the best weeks ever. The spirit is super strong here! We've been teaching quite a few investigators and I've really been learning the importance of relying on the spirit when teaching. Every investigator is different and if you listen to the spirit, you'll know what they specifically need to hear. On Sunday night we had a devotional and Elder Quinten L. Cook  spoke! The best part was that all 12 apostles were there! As soon as they stepped in the room the spirit was overwhelming, the power they carry with them can move mountains! The church is true guys! Everyone go on missions! It's amazing, I can't believe the experiences I've already had and I've only been here a week.

"I always get to where I'm going by walking where I've never been."

-Winnie the pooh 

Sainthood

I legit expect to be sainted when I die just for having to deal with boy scouting. This morning, I got a call and email reminder that Bubba has his Eagle board of review tonight and to make sure we have everything. I remembered that he still had to write his little paragraph on what he wants to be when he grows up, but he could do that right after school. What I did forget however, were the letters of recommendation needed. Why is this even a requirement? Anyway, I start panicking on who we can get to bust out some letters really quick and Butch is all annoyed because clearly our kid doesn't care enough about this to have already done it. So I text him at school and tell him to contact a couple of people. I'm impressed that he actually did it. I gave him a couple of ideas of who to ask, but he actually contacted them, and by like 2:30 pm he already had two and another one on the way. He gets home from school and starts getting his uniform together and we realize he has to wear Dad's shirt because his is-no joke- a youth large. We have to try to find the right colored epaulettes for the shoulder thingys and remove the Cubmaster patch (which is stuck on with badge magic so we're talking a serious amount of Goo Gone and scrubbing). One of the troop number patches is the wrong number, but they said that would be okay. So now it's in the wash to hopefully get the Goo Gone residue off. I also had to add like seven badges to his sash.

I also washed and vacuumed the Jeep, got gas, went to the library and store, paid bills, talked to Dish Network on a 3-way call with B, ordered tickets for the temple open house, printed off homework and started reading my cousin's novel as a beta reader. The list of things I need to do is endless-trip laundry, unpacking, vacuuming, cleaning bathrooms, returns to 3 different stores, get a new windshield for the van, get the van detailed to sale, clean the kitchen... etc.

Those things will not get done today. Things I am for sure not doing today-make dinner.

Pig Sty

Let me start off by saying that boys are total slobs. At least mine are. I really hope other boys are too or I'm going to feel like a failure. During the school year our house gets messy like anyone else's, but during the summer it seems like it gets even worse. I went in the kitchen today and started noticing things left out so I decided to make a list. On the table I found:
-Half eaten slice of pizza
-Arts and crafts bucket with various materials scattered all over the table
-Dirty chimichanga plate with sour cream container next to it
-Empty cereal bowl
-2 empty soda cans
-2 empty glasses the soda was poured into
-Tupperware full of Goldfish crackers
On the kitchen counter:
-Chimichanga wrapper
-Ramen wrapper
-Clean dishes from a halfway done dishes job
As well as an open dishwasher with a few dirty items placed in it from said half done dishes job.
On the floor:
-2 pairs of shoes at bottom of the stairs
-2 pairs of shoes by the backdoor
-3 pairs of shoes behind the couch
-1 dirty sock behind the couch
-1 dirty sock on couch from being thrown at younger brother

I might just lose my mind. And of course I'm walking around picking most of this crap up because heaven forbid anyone else should do it or should listen to me when I remind them for the 300th time to pick it up. It's like a conspiracy. "If we leave it long enough, Mom will get sick of it and clean it herself." So please, if you see me running away from home screaming, don't tell my family.

Best Mom Ever

This guy had his wisdom teeth out yesterday. I was not sedated when I had mine removed so I had no idea how wonderful it is to talk to someone when they come out of it. He told me I was a race car driver on the way home, walked into the house as a dinosaur, called his best friend and told her his favorite person is Jesus. Overall, it was amazing.

Now to get to the post title... So obviously he couldn't eat anything yesterday (though he did finally have some mashed potatoes last night over the course of an hour) so I made him shakes all day. Like literally all day. He does cross fit and is on a higher protein diet so I made a high protein yogurt smoothie, then a couple hours later made a protein powder shake, then another yogurt smoothie, then before bed an ice cream shake. Today he took 20 min. to eat eggs for breakfast and I made him another smoothie. I made him a protein shake before we took Coco to his football jamboree. He did manage to eat a few fries for lunch and I just made yet another smoothie. So I love this kid more than life, but I'm spent. I've kept track of all his meds for him and made him shake after shake and mashed potatoes and I'm tired. He has at least thanked me several times. But he's in the playroom a lot playing video games so I've been up and down the stairs every stinking time. (At least I've been getting my steps in).

I got up at 6:30 am yesterday, took him to the oral surgeon, came home, then drove back again because he started bleeding again, back home, over to cross fit so he could say hi to everyone, 20 min up the road for a burger that I was craving (because by this time I was hangry), Target to return something, home again, to the doctor to see if my toe was broken still from like 3 months ago, to the grocery store for mac and cheese for Bubba, home to pick up Coco for football practice, home until I had to go back and get Coco (sat there for 30 min. because they went over time), home until I had to get JP from his friend's house at 11 pm. I was so done. But my awesome husband was camping with scouts this weekend so I was the lone chauffeur. Today my schedule consisted of driving more than 30 min. to get downtown to the stadium for Coco's jamboree game, wait around for an hour and a half until they finally played for their 12 minute turn, Sonic (in the opposite direction of the quickest way home), home on the freeway and on the highest traffic road in the state, didn't even turn the car off because JP wanted me to pick up two friends and drive them to the fair, and finally home again.

Then I asked Bubba if he needed anything (meaning a pain pill) and he responds, "Oh yeah, a shake would be great." So I go downstairs, make the shake and as I go to take it to him, Butch (who is finally home from camping) says, "Hey if you're going upstairs and coming back down, can you get me some eye drops? My eyes are killing me." So I'm pretty much at least one of the top five moms on the planet right now.

Rough Day

So Coco has some dairy sensitivity issues. He's been drinking almond milk since he was a little guy, but used to be able to handle other dairy. Not so much now. After a long conversation with a lactose intolerant friend, I decided to try giving him a Lactaid anytime he wanted any dairy. It has helped immensely. Unfortunately, I didn't have any in my purse the other night and he had a cheese quesadilla while we were out at dinner. I completely forgot by the time we got home to give him one. He was fine that night and I didn't even think about it. The following night for dinner, he had a casserole that was full of sour cream and cheddar. Again, I didn't even think anything of it. Until he woke up in the middle of the night throwing up. Fortunately he's at the age now where he makes it to the toilet 99% of the time. He went back to bed, but threw up again in the morning. And again. And again. Poor guy threw up all day long. I thought maybe it was a flu bug, but he had no other symptoms. Then I remembered that he had all that dairy. Mom fail. By late at night, he hadn't eaten or had anything to drink. He tried some saltines and Sprite, but proceeded to throw that up fifteen minutes later. By Wed. morning, I was worried he was dehydrated so I got him some Powerade and he was able to keep that down. By the time we went to a party last night, he wanted watermelon, cookies, chicken, rice. I decided to make him take it slow, but he's completely fine now. Rough life when you're tummy is sensitive to dairy.

JP was out all day yesterday riding bikes with his friends downtown, doing cool teenager stuff and probably hunting Pokemon guys. So he met us at the party. Unfortunately, his back brakes were loose on his bike and he took a nasty spill over his handle bars right before we got there. So I dropped everyone else off and took him home to clean him up. He landed on his elbows and one side was missing skin almost to the bone. He hit his chest and was struggling with breathing and was worried he'd broken a rib. He also hit his hip hard. I was panicked when I started looking at everything and he was going into shock because he was in so much pain. Dad got home to talk me down from the ledge because I really wanted to take him to the ER. But really, what could they do? He didn't hit his head, if a rib was bruised, they can't do anything about it. He's doing better today. His elbows have stopped burning and throbbing. His chest still hurts really bad, but that's probably going to hurt for months if something got bruised. But he's really become a tough kid so I know he'll be fine.

Here's to a better day today!

Boys' Life

I watched a show about UFOs last night with Coco. I was in the kitchen working on dinner when he says matter-of-factly, "Aliens are real." That kid cracks me up. He is a boy after my own heart. He believes in Big Foot, aliens, Loch Ness monster, the lost city of Atlantis and he's on the fence about ghosts. I don't want to freak him out so whenever he asks if ghosts are real, I always tell him that some people believe they are. But he's seen enough creepy stuff on Ghost Hunters with me that I think he believes.

He also loves watching any show that delves into unknown mysteries and legends. He loves Expedition Unknown (and was rather annoyed that I deleted the vampire episode before he could watch it). He totally gets into shows where they are hunting for pirate treasures, Robin Hood, King Arthur, etc. And because he spent more time with me at home before going to school than the other boys, he knows a lot of random facts. We had lots of conversations in the car about anything and everything. He told his brothers one day how you would technically pronounce a local street name here since it actually used to be called Chinese Garden. None of them believed him until they asked me. He likes to randomly tell people things like that. I love that he enjoys learning new things.

And the kid seriously has the most accurate English accent of any non-British kid I've heard. It's hilarious. He's good at pronunciation and other accents as well. 

Peanut, on the other hand, loves any TV show where they build something or remodel something. He has such an engineering sort of mind. He loves puzzles and Legos and you can almost see the wheels turning when he is concentrating on something. He's my quietest boy for sure. If he's alone in the car with you, you'd never know he was there. He doesn't ask a thousand questions like Coco or tell random stories like his other brothers. I saw a movie with just him the other night and he didn't laugh or make a sound, but after the movie told me he thought it was a really funny movie. I never have any idea if that kid is enjoying something. It's a little weird since it's totally opposite from the rest of the family. He can be loud for sure when his brothers are teasing or attacking him, but other than that, he's a quiet one.

And then there's JP. I'm not sure what he's really into other than video games lately. But he's started eating a lot before bed just like Bubba. Last night we realized it was starting when he finished the spaghetti noodles with nothing but cheddar cheese on them and then had a bowl of ice cream right after. The scary thing is that he was always my best eater as a baby. He ate three jars of baby food at every sitting and still nursed and had baby cereal. He seems to be pretty in to Star Wars stuff lately since he saw number seven twice. He spent all of his Christmas money on one Lego set from the movie. 

Bubba eats non-stop, has grown another inch in the last month, and is driving. He and Coco are the loudest children for sure. I shushed him today after school when he was right next to me telling me something rather loudly. His reply, "I'm using my inside voice." Not really, son. Not really. He's in to snowboarding lately and almost his entire Christmas list consisted of equipment he wanted/needed. He joined ski club and will have his first competition this Saturday. He's getting gigantic-huge feet and hands, getting taller. He's definitely a man-child now. He enjoys pointing out how short I am now since he has a whole two inches on me. He's very lovey with me, which is also great. I always worried my boys would stop liking me when they became teenagers, but it seems like they like me more now. Dad used to be the cool one, now it's Mom. 

I love my boys. I love being a mom of all boys. I love watching them play baseball and football. I love that they love 80's music, techno and Flogging Molly. I love that I can impress them with my loud soda belches. I love that they think I'm cool and tough and strong. I love that they missed me profusely when I went to Ireland for a week and California for several days without them. And that they were worried the house might explode without me here or that Dad might not do things right. But I also love my Labor Day weekend every year when my boys all go camping and the house is completely silent and I can watch twelve different chick flicks and eat ice cream for breakfast and sleep until noon. 

I'm definitely one lucky girl to have five amazing guys in my life. And they treat me like the Queen. Bubba even said, "Your Highness" the other night (and not in a mocking way).

Mid-Life Crisis

I think I'm going through a mid-life crisis. Or maybe not, but something I go through every so often. I don't think it's related to my mood disorder either. I kind of wish it were though so I would have a better excuse. It's just that, sometimes I don't feel like me anymore. I was a different person back in college. I know what you're thinking, "weren't we all"? It's not like I was some crazy, out-of-control party girl or anything. I went dancing every weekend at actual dance clubs. Do they even have those anymore? Or just bars with music? I didn't go out drinking or anything like that, just dancing. But it was a huge part of my life. I've always loved music and dancing. I took dance as a little girl and all through high school. Senior year, I discovered there were places you could go listen to amazing music and do just that. I don't know why, but techno music has always spoken to me. In college, I would go dance for like three or four hours straight. Can you really see an almost 39 year old woman at a dance club? You would think, "Oh, how pathetic. She's trying to pretend she's still 21."
The problem-I still feel like I am inside. I've always been independent and had to grow up early due to my parents' divorce. So I don't feel like I had to mature or anything when I got married and started popping out kids. My body has just gotten older. Sure I probably couldn't go three hours without stopping, but I could definitely do it with a few water breaks. I'm not in shape anymore, but I still feel like I could do it.

This used to be me. The punk rock girl who had purple hair for a salon photo shoot once. The girl who practically lived in Dickies and a wife beater. The girl who had a "Mean People Rule" sticker on her car. The girl who danced all night, who didn't care what other people thought of her, who wasn't afraid to be her true self all the time, who wore funky clothes that didn't always match, who was a social butterfly. The girl with the tattoos. I miss that girl. Obviously the tattoos are still there, but the rest of her disappeared. I don't want to totally blame it on being a mom and feeling like I have to be a good example, but that is a part of it. Can you imagine if I showed up for church with an entire head of pink hair? And I definitely can't get any more tattoos. The problem is, tattoos are addictive. I told B yesterday that if I could, I would at least have one on my inner forearm and on my calf. Perhaps even another on my back. Why is it appealing to me you wonder? Everyone gets them because they think it makes them stand out or be different when really they're following the crowd? No, to me, I just plain like them. They're an outward expression of who I am. I could care less if other people thought they were "cool". In all honesty, if my kid wanted a blue mohawk or ended up with a tattoo someday, I wouldn't care. What you look like on the outside doesn't necessarily have anything to do with your spiritual well-being. My appearance wouldn't change that. But I feel like I have to live up to certain standards. I feel like I'm supposed to fit into a mold, be a good example to my kids. The person I am now is afraid of being judged. I prefer to be alone, sometimes have panic attacks. Every so often, I feel like I've disappeared and it makes me sad. And I don't know how to deal with it. So, if the characters in my books have tattoos, just know I'm living vicariously through them. 

It's Been One of Those Days

Do you ever have those days where you just want to disappear? You know, you make up an excuse to go run errands, work on the computer, take a bath with the music cranked loud? Well, it's been one of those. Things were fine this morning. I went to the chiropractor, got a yummy raspberry italian soda, went to the grocery store. JP was on the PS3, the littles were watching their library movies so I could return them today, Bubba was still asleep (at 11:30). He was awake when I got back and, surprise, on the PS3. JP was attempting to diagnose what was wrong with his new RC car he got for Christmas. The littles were in the backyard (in the snow without snow clothes on). I made them finish their other movie and clean out the new hamster cage while I sat down on the computer to do some work for the business. When the movies were done, I was headed to the library, bank and the other grocery store to get what I couldn't find at the first one.

At this point, I was really needing to get out of the house anyway because even though I was in the office, they were bugging me. It was one of those days where I just wanted to have me time. I wanted Christmas break to be over and have them back at school. Bubba insisted on going to the store with me so he could get out of the house. Why is it that they get more clingy when mom is grouchy? 

When we got back, he and the littles decided it would be a good idea to throw each other around the living room and onto the Lovesac. I'm not sure why I thought it would be a good idea to bring that back downstairs from the playroom. All they've done is launch each other off it, flip onto it and use it as an end zone to play living room football. It's supposed to be for extra seating. But do boys ever use anything for its intended purpose? Nope. So why did I expect anything else? Wishful thinking I guess. So of course people are going to get hurt today like every other time. Bubba decided to bury Coco underneath it and suffocate him. "He asked me to!" Seriously dude? You're almost 15, think about it. Not a good idea. Of course Coco comes out screaming his bloody head off because the child does not have an inside voice or normal volume for anything. And when he gets hurt? He rages on everyone and everything. He has some serious anger management issues. But I probably would too if my three older brothers constantly picked on me. He can do serious damage if you let him rage on them. Sometimes I want to just sit and watch the show and laugh. They deserve it after all. But the yelling is getting to me. It's always nice when you have a headache and three kids are all screaming at you that "he did it" or "he asked me to" or "he started it". *Heavy sigh*

I finished eating lunch, did a few more emails and then, to use our family's new term, "rage quit" and went and took a hot bath and blared my music while reading a book. Of course I'm not in there for three minutes when Coco comes screaming at the door that Peanut ate a bite of his food while he was bringing me my phone upstairs because Bubba told him he did. Do I believe Bubba? No. He's trying to get a rise out of Coco and stir s*** up with him and Peanut. Peanut is yelling up the stairs that he did not. "But, mom, a square of it was gone," Coco insists. "That's because YOU ate it!!" Peanut yells back. 

My reply? "Don't believe Bubba. He's trying to get you mad. I trust Peanut. Now let me have a bath!" Why is it that when I try to take a shower or even pee for Pete's sake, all hell breaks loose around here? Fortunately, by the time I got out, Dad was home from work. I came down to work a little more and they started in with the whining again. "I'm off duty and so done with you guys! Complain to Dad," I say as I shut the office door. I ate my feelings with the rest of the coconut creme pie from Christmas and now Dad is hiding out in the office with me while they play football in the living room. He gave up trying to watch his football. "I like to watch football. You know what I don't like to watch? Football in front of my football," he complains. Peanut has now barricaded himself in his room and is reading books because everyone is "being jerks" to him. *Heavy sigh again*Please let this day end soon.

Why Boys?

Why did God make me a mom of all boys? Well I'll tell you.

1. I love MMA. The bloodier the fight, the better. There's something about watching people punch each other that makes me feel better. Watching the chicks fight makes me think I missed my true calling in life.
2. I love shooting stuff. Another thing that makes me feel better.
3. I can belch with the best of them-actually much louder than my children sometimes.
4. I love baseball. And not just because my kids play. I grew up going to Angels games and always loved it. I don't find it boring at all. Watching it on TV-yes, but not being at a game. And I love to keep score. I know what's going on that way and I've got it down pretty good after doing it for like 5 or so years now.
5. I don't like camping. How does this make sense? Well, if He had given me girls, I would never have that one weekend a year when they all go camping for three days. It's a time when I can rejuvenate myself. I eat ice cream two or three times a day and have chick flick marathons and read a lot.
6. I was a tomboy growing up. Almost all of my friends were boys. I only ever had one really close girlfriend at a time, but I was always hanging out with the boys.
7. I love action movies.
8. I love beautiful cars. Someday, when I'm a rich and famous author, I will collect them.
9. Driving a race car is on my bucket list.
10. I'm not a sissy. I'm not trying to brag or anything, but I once helped my husband carry an incredibly heavy washing machine up a flight of stairs-just the two of us. I'm pretty strong for a girl and so far can still pin my 14 year old and beat him in arm wrestling. I'm sure that won't last another year, but still, for the moment, it makes me feel like a boss.
11. I like the feel of mud and I don't mind getting dirty. Mud boggin' is a serious blast.
12. Sometimes I'm a bad mom and encourage my children to hit each other. Well, not exactly, but there are times when one whines about someone hitting them and I say, "Well what do you want me to do about it? Hit him back."


I do still think boys can be disgusting at times. Case in point: tonight, Coco announced during a boxing match with Peanut that he had to go to the bathroom. Peanut asks, "One or two?" Coco announced that it was just one. But Peanut proceeded to talk about poo versus pee and how long it takes. I also do not enjoy when they tell me what it looks like. No thank you. I don't like the eating of boogers either. That's just wrong.

I do love girly things like princesses and the colors pink and purple. I collect purses (that I never end up using), scarves (that's a new one this year), and shoes. But I love having all boys. They are dramatic enough, so if I had girls, I might have to be committed. Boys tend to lose their minds from about 10-12 years old, but Bubba has come out of that and is a fairly easy teenager. And the best part of it all, I get to be the queen of the house and every single one of them treats me like I am. One of them asked once, "Why do you get to eat ice cream?" And one of the other ones said, "Because she's the queen and she can do what she wants." Enough said.

Birthday Fail-Sort Of

So today is my birthday. I really don't feel like I'm as old as the number I turned, but whatever. It is what it is. Anyway, the day started off fine. JP made me frozen waffles for breakfast, but I had gone back to bed after waking them for school because I didn't get to bed until 2 am and slept like crap. So, worst mom in the world award goes to me for saying thank you, but why don't you eat them because I'm not hungry and really just want to sleep right now. I felt like crap afterward because it was such a sweet gesture. Once I got Coco off to afternoon kindergarten, I cleaned up the living room floor and organized the kitchen counter (which ended up taking much longer than I thought it would). I finally sat down to read for awhile and then my sissy called and took me to get ice cream. After all the boys got home from school, it was time for Peanut to start his diorama on Pippi Longstocking that is due TOMORROW. We got a Lego drawer made and a Lego Pippi, but then he said he had a headache. Apparently, his teacher forced them to have a gum chewing contest for like twenty minutes. So he laid on the couch to rest for awhile. In the meantime, the nicest six year old brother in the world went upstairs to make a Lego couch for the project while Mom added some orange ribbon to create Pippi's hair. (It looks awful by the way, but when all you have is boy Legos, it's all you can do to even find a face that is somewhat smiling). By then, it was time to go drop off Bubba for summer Legion ball tryouts and then time for JP's game. I told Peanut that he could just rest in the car during the game. I get there and set up all my crap-fill my wagon with my chair, Coco's chair (that he won't end up sitting in), camera bag, snack bag, blanket bag, drinks, etc. B hands me the scorebook to set up and I help little guy find his one dollar coin in the bag so he can go buy candy at the snack shack. He finally settled on a ring pop and caramel apple sucker. I go to sit down and thirty seconds later hear him screaming like he's just been shot. He tripped on the rocks and scraped the crap out of his elbow, which is now bleeding all over, and dang it his stupid ring pop is covered in dirt. I grab some napkins and the water bottle that has a squirt top and clean as much of his arm as I can and wash off the ring pop (which he might've been more upset about). I finally sit down, ready to enter the line-ups in the book when wouldn't you know it, Captain Headache walks up to me, "Mom, I need help." The child is COVERED in vomit. Yep, he puked all over himself. All the car windows were down so I said, "Did you throw up outside?" Of course he didn't. Did he at least lean out the window and barf on the exterior part of the car? Of course he didn't. Instead, he leaned in between the two middle seats of the van and barfed the entire contents of his stomach all over the carpet, his socks, his shorts, his shirt, and his face. So, I go pack all my crap back into my wagon and into my car and drive home with all the windows down and Captain Barfs-a-lot in the front seat in nothing but his underwear. I get him in the house, tell him to shower, and proceed to bring out as much cleaning stuff as I can think of. Bubba gets a ride home from tryouts and says, "Oh Mom, worst birthday present ever. What can I do to help?" He helped get fresh water, hose off the floormats, and get cleaners from the house. Coco went and found me a scrub brush. It was so nice to have their help. I came in the house to change and check on Peanut, but he still hadn't gotten in the shower. He was just lying on the floor in the bathroom. I cleaned Coco's elbow and Bubba gave me a giant hug and I left to watch the last hour of JP's game. Bubba called to let me know that Peanut had finally taken a shower, but was so tired after that he fell asleep on the floor wrapped in nothing but a towel. I told him to at least cover him with a blanket. After the game (which by the way it started pouring rain when I got there), I came home to Bubba and Coco shouting, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!" They had cleaned the downstairs, including the toys off the stairs, and done the dishes. Plus, Bubba had made Coco mac 'n cheese, and woken up Peanut, helped him get dressed and then physically carried him up to his top bunk to bed! Best present ever! So I got the worst present ever, but also the best, so it wasn't a total fail.

Fists of Fury

I will never be the woman whose house is always immaculate-even if you drop by unannounced. Who in umpteen years of knowing me, you've never once seen me without make-up. Who loves to workout and has zero percent body fat to prove it. Who you've never once heard raise her voice to her children the entire time you've known me. Who always takes the high road. The one who sews clothes for her kids. The one who is super crafty and makes all kinds of cute stuff to decorate her house. (And yes, these are real women I know)

Instead, this is what you see when you walk in my front door:

Yep. It's our front room. Every person who walks in the front door, sees this. Because heaven forbid you should play with your 18 different car and monster truck sets and then actually clean it up after you're done.

So, here's a look at a day in my life. All of this actually happened to me yesterday. Don't be jealous.

#3 child is practically impossible to get out of bed in the morning. If it's extra hard, I bribe with candy in his lunch. Every morning I have to give him a piggy back ride down from his top bunk, carry him to the hall bathroom and pick out his clothes for him to get dressed. He's seriously like a zombie. I do all this so that #4 can stay asleep in bed because he has afternoon Kindergarten. 

Then, when #4 does finally wake up, he wants to watch movies, eat candy and play PS3-not do homework and get dressed. Some days, it's a fight to get him off to school. Yesterday it was raining, so I told him to put on his hoodie, but he really wanted to wear a leather jacket, and he insisted that the hoodie would fit under the jacket. So, he puts the jacket on over the hoodie (he is wearing the hood) and zips it up the front. A ridiculous look, but whatever, he's six and apparently has no fashion sense.

I make it to the library after dropping him off and then come home to wash baseball pants for practice. First, I bleach them in the sink because I've already washed them in the washing machine and they still didn't come clean. I soak them for over a half hour while I put a load in the washer. At this point, they still look the same so I use the brown Feldsnaptha soap bar to scrub them and then add some Spray 'N Wash for good measure. Then I stick them in the machine again. (And a day later, my hands still smell like bleach despite washing multiple times and several different lotions). It's still raining, so I drive to pick up #1 from school so he doesn't have to walk and because he has to get ready for his game right away. I hurry and make him a sandwich while he gets dressed and then we rush over to the high school, where I get to dodge idiotic teenage drivers while they cut each other off and honk at one another. I get home and come in the office to pay bills, only to realize it's time for the others to get out of school, and since it's still raining, I pick them up too. We get home and the little one is instantly begging for me to cut him a croissant and slather Nutella all over it. I tell him, "Not yet," so he proceeds to scream his head off. I put him in time-out, but give in and make the damn snack for him anyway since he's stopped crying-and let's face it, he's the baby so 95% of the time he gets his way. Meanwhile, #3 remembers that he has to paint his Pinewood Derby car because he has to drop it off the next day at the Cubmaster's house to be weighed. I get a text from #1 telling me that his game is cancelled because of the rain, but they're going to practice for awhile. I check the laundry and the pants still haven't come clean, so I completely give up. I straighten up the kitchen a little before a text comes in that they're already done practicing because JV and Varsity were both in the hitting facility with them since they couldn't go on the fields. While I'm picking him up, #3 is painting wobbly, mixed color lines on his car, but oh well, at least he did it himself unlike the other kids that will show up with their pimped out cars their dads did for them. When I get home, I decide to hide out in the playroom for like twenty minutes to read. I hear, "Mom! Where's mom?" while I'm lounging in the giant Love Sac. Is it completely awful of me that I didn't answer? I didn't make a peep. That's the whole point in trying to hide out. But, #1 quickly finds me because he wants to play on the PS3 anyway. But he closes the door so the others won't come in. Yeah right. #3 and #4 come in chucking stuffed animals at each other and screaming in delight. #1 wants to buy some special camo suit for his character on his game, but doesn't know the password to buy something. I don't know either since dad set it up and he's driving while I text him that #1 has sent an email request for the password, so he can't text me back before the child gets impatient. I give up on reading and head down to make French toast for dinner because, honestly, I didn't have a plan since I thought I'd be eating a ballpark hamburger right about now at the baseball game that didn't happen. I'm able to get a few pieces made and some bacon done before dad and #2 have to leave for practice-that they're still having even though they can't go on the field because dad is passing out uniforms and they will play whiffle ball on the grass. I'm able to get everyone else fed after that, but #1 only eats bacon because, apparently he no longer likes French toast. After dinner, the neighbor comes over to play PS3 for 15 minutes with #3 and #4 before he has to go home for the night. After he leaves, I tell them I'm going to have a shower and then we'll read scriptures. But #4 can't get his remote to work because the neighbor turned off his own remote, which apparently is now the one that he needs to use, but he doesn't know this yet so he literally lays on his back and kicks his legs and screams. #3 and I are yelling at him to stop or he doesn't get to play while we figure out the problem. Finally, I get in the shower, but as soon as I step in the water, all hell breaks loose. The door flies open and #4 is bawling because #1 is kicking them off the game even though they've only played for a few minutes. #1 flies in to gripe, I 'm trying to convince him to let them play, but then I hear thuds and fists of fury flying in the bedroom-all while I'm still in the shower mind you. I yell at them to stop and close the door so I don't freeze-which they promptly don't do. By the time I get out, dad gets home and tells me that aliens have taken over #1's body because he's as sweet as sugar as he tells dad that he let his brothers play and it's no big deal. What the hell?! We finally read scriptures, get the littles off to bed and watch TV. But around 10:30 or so, #4 comes into the hallway upstairs yelling down to me because he ripped a book while he was reading it! We finally get to watch TV again, but at midnight when dad goes up to bed, he realizes he has to glue the weights and wheels onto the Pinewood Derby car and it's apparently my fault for not reminding him. I finally go to bed around 1:20ish after I watch Agents of Shield, only to find myself lying there wide awake until almost 3 am. Some days I just want to punch something and bang my head against the wall...

My Bubba Boy

This cute, teenage boy is my buddy. We discovered a new TV show, Intelligence that we both like. So, I record it on Monday nights and he and I watch it together after school on Tuesday before his brothers get home from school. It's fun to have one-on-one time with him. Yesterday, we were watching it after school and I told him I would give him some of my Milk Duds if he got them out of the pantry for me, so he did. Awhile later, I mentioned that I should get up and make myself a quesadilla at next commercial break since I hadn't eaten lunch. He said, "I'll make you one." What? My child who is too lazy to even make himself a sandwich for his school lunches most days just offered to make me lunch? I said, "Are you sure? You don't have to make me one. I can do it." Bubba, "No, it's okay. I was gonna ask you to give me another Milk Dud, but I decided just to do it because I love you." I love these moments!! I lock them away in my memory and my heart for those other days when he has teenage angst. I love that my boys still snuggle on the couch with me to watch TV. Or when they randomly say, "I love you, Mom." I love you too guys!

Best Day EVAH!

Sixteen years ago today, I met this cute guy.

I was bored that night and had two guy friends (one from my apartment complex) that stopped by and asked if I wanted to go to the church institute dance with them at ASU. I'd been a few times. They weren't anything super exciting, but it was something to do. As soon as we walked in, they told me they were going to go "mingle", which apparently meant, "You're not invited to follow or we won't meet any chicks." So, there I stood, pissed off and alone. There was a cute eighteen year old kid getting ready to leave on his mission that struck up a conversation with me. But here I am, at twenty one thinking, "Yeah, this isn't gonna go anywhere." After a bit, this kid Don walks in. Hallelujah! Someone I know. I met him at a party a few weeks earlier so I called out his name and he came over. Of course he didn't remember my name, but whatever. There was this hot guy with him when he walked in-who promptly walked elsewhere before even heading my way with Don. I was thinking, "Wait! I called Don over here partly because I wanted to meet you, hot mystery guy." Don and I talked for awhile and a bit later, mystery guy walks over, plops himself directly in front of me, put out his hand, and introduced himself. I might have heard bells or angels singing. I can't quite remember. But I was gone. Yes people, I believe in love at first sight because it happened to me. He later told me that he thought I was this cute punker chick. I was ranting about how much guys sucked because my friends had ditched me. And I was also sick of guys not committing. The song "Faithfully" by Journey began to play and I mentioned how much I loved the song. My prince told me later he was going to ask me to dance, but Don asked first. After the dance was over, a bunch of the kids I had previously met at aforementioned party were getting together at this girl, Cami's house. They invited me, so of course I said yes. My "friends" actually seemed annoyed that I wasn't going home with them when I found them to tell them. I was like, "Really? You're kidding right? I haven't seen you once tonight." So we get to Cami's and we're waiting for everyone to show up. I'm standing in the back of this guy, Russ' truck when we're finally ready to go in. B offered me a piggy back. We decided to watch "Dumb and Dumber" and B sat on the couch. I was going to sit next to him, but Cami plops down next to him and blocks off the rest of the couch. Threatened much? So, I opted for leaning on his legs on the floor instead. I untied his shoes-an obvious sign that I liked him. I kept finding conversation hearts in a dish on the table with notes. Doofus didn't even read them. He didn't get the clue. The way Cami was dominating his attention, I assumed they were together. That wasn't going to stop me from flirting though. This guy Mark offered to massage my shoulders during the movie-I must've been complaining. B told me later that he was so jealous. Ha! Later, when Don was going to take B home, I got a ride too. By the time we got to my apartment, this guy still hadn't asked for my number. So as I'm leaving the backseat I give him my pager number. Yes, I did say pager. He called the next evening and asked if I wanted to hang out that night. Unfortunately, I already had a date to a hockey game with a guy that I didn't like, but didn't want to be a jerk and cancel. Instead, we talked on the phone for three hours on Superbowl Sunday the next night. We set a date for Tuesday afternoon to hang out at the giant new-ish mall. We talked for like another two hours and even though it was time for him to go to his night class, he asked if I wanted to see "Titanic" instead. He didn't kiss me that night, which I actually thought was awesome. But he left the next day to go to Idaho and Utah for a buddy's wedding and to visit his dad. He was going to be gone for ten days. I have read him my journal from during that time. It already felt like we were dating, and I literally wrote that I thought he was really "the one". He came home a day early-just so he could see me. He called as soon as he drove in and we went out with the same friends that night for a bonfire. We got told to leave at the first place because it was on an Indian Res. We moved to the lake, but he and I never ended up getting out of his truck. We sat there for three hours talking again. It was amazing. Finally though, I had to take matters into my own hands and kiss him. I think even he was a goner after that. Four months to the day later, we were married in the Bountiful Utah temple. God definitely made sure we were both in the right place at the right time. And they lived happily ever after...

Loud and Proud

Do you ever feel like this? I seem to have more days than not when I just want to "Hulk Smash" something. Why is it that we get our parents worst traits, and then pass on our worst traits to our own kids. That's so unfair. Life is unfair enough, I don't want my kids to turn out like me. I'm stubborn, hot tempered (thank you Italian grandma), loud (again Grandma's fault), no patience, then throw bipolar in the mix. Unfortunately, I act or talk before thinking things over when I'm annoyed or mad. I don't really give a crap if I offend people most of the time. If someone is offended, it's because they choose to be. I'm not purposely being mean to anyone. Bubba was pushed down and called the "n" word by a junior in high school at a baseball camp this fall. All because he was pitching well in whiffle ball. If I would've been there, I'm not sure what I would've done. Probably stormed over there, got in the kid's face and threaten to call the police. It would be hard not to just full on punch the kid in the face. Pick on someone your own size, bully. Sheesh.

I have two very stubborn children who also have no inside voice and hot tempered. Somehow there's a totally chill kid in our family. And then there's the Saint. Not sure where they came from. Actually, mellow boy is just like his Papa Bailey. Thank Heavens for that. And the Saint, well he just makes me want to be a better person. He's my hero. He may just be translated like Moses someday. And just to add insult to injury, with four kids, at least one of them is likely to be bipolar. At least I should be able to see the signs. I wish I would've known when I was younger. Maybe then I wouldn't have felt like I was losing my mind. Some days, I still feel like I am. Meds only do so much to make a person feel somewhat "normal".

Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love my boys. They also have awesome traits-incredibly loving and affectionate, kind to others (except for each other), funny, and well, just full on amazing. I know that God sent me these boys for a reason. I was meant to be a mother of all boys. I was a tomboy growing up. I hated dresses or curling my hair. Most of my friends in high school were boys. I had one best girlfriend, but everyone else I hung out with were boys. And I was a guy's girl. Burping loud, not afraid to pig out, loved shooting, grew up going to Angels' games. And now, I still love shooting, can shock my kids with my belches, love UFC (the more blood, the better), and I live for baseball season. I used to want a girl. Four times I did. But I came to realize after boy four was born, I didn't really want one. What would I do with a princess? I don't want to share the throne around here. I guess that makes me selfish, but my boys are learning from Dad how to treat a woman. He really is the greatest man I've ever known. And maybe, if I'm lucky, my boys will all grow up to be just like him.

Snow Much Fun

See how I did that with the title? We had snow much fun sledding today with Grandma. Since it only snows enough to sled like once year, we hit the hill today and had a blast. And I didn't break my tailbone this year, so that was a plus.

 Peanut got his first face full of snow with Grandma.

 Daddio and Bubba.

 Mama and JP. He was not a happy camper after that much cold snow in his face.

 Cute Coco after sledding down backwards.

 Grandma and Coco after he lost his beanie.

 Bubba's first face full of snow on this ride. He got hit like two more times.

Cute JP boy.

Fabulous Five Year Old

 Look what cute five year old lost his third tooth. He's the only one in Kindergarten to have lost that many teeth. It helps that brothers knocked a few loose this year.

My new favorite face he makes. He likes to make this face when we're trying to read scriptures before bed. He's really good at making everyone laugh. Random fun fact he told me today in the car: Polar bears can smell seals through five feet of ice. Never a dull moment with this kiddo around.

Baby, It's Frickin' Cold Outside

Man alive, it's cold out. That's my biggest complaint about living here. I seriously love everything else (okay, maybe not the slow drivers), but we have nice, hot summers, school is across the street from our neighborhood, we have great neighbors, we don't live right in town, it's safe enough for my kids to play outside and roam around the neighborhood. What more could a girl want? No snow! I hate snow. I hate everything about snow. I grew up in Southern California where it was 81 degrees one Christmas Day when I was sixteen. Those weenies down there are complaining right now because it's 55. I used to be one of those weenies. Now, when it's 55 out here, we bust out the short sleeves. It's currently 13 out and it's almost 3 pm. Gag! I have to drive my kids to school. It literally takes five minutes to walk from our house, and I have to stinkin' drive them because your face is frozen before you even make it to the sidewalk. It's not even Christmas and I'm ready for winter to be over. Give me 100 degrees any day of the week and I'm a happy girl.

Our house finally looks like Christmas is coming. We got our delicious smelling tree on Saturday and JP appointed himself Mayor of the Christmas village and set it all up-including who's in charge of each building. We set up our beautiful, new Nativity set that we just inherited from B's bonus-mom. I've always wanted one like it. I've learned to play a few songs on the piano. (Yes, I'm in my thirties and taking piano lessons). I'm done shopping and everything gets wrapped as soon as it comes in the door. I go straight to my closet, lock the door, wrap, and then hide them in boxes or bags (yes, even though they're wrapped). I don't let them put them under the tree until Christmas Eve. Those little buggers are at the age now where they want to shake things and guess what it is. Sometimes, it's hard to disguise the shape too. I caved and let them each bring one down Sat. night. I've even resorted to wrapping small things in big boxes and stuffing the boxes with extra tissue paper, magazine paper, or other stuffing so even if they shake it, they won't hear something rolling around. Made cookies last night and the kids will frost after school. Gonna decorate the gingerbread house tonight and possibly attempt to make some sort of candy to give to the neighbors with our cookies.

My sister is coming down for the holiday and to celebrate my fluffy bunny nephew's first birthday. We were also excited to find out that they will be moving back next month from seven hours away. The boys couldn't be more tickled to see their cousin all the time. And I'm sure my sister won't mind having a babysitter close so she and her husband can finally go on a date again. Plus, Meme is coming after Christmas for the New Year and Grandma Susan is coming after that. Woot! All in all, it's gonna be a great holiday season at our house. (Well, except for the sucky snow and icy roads).