The R-word Revolution?

You've probably heard about the newest movement to eradicate the use of
the "R-word" that is currently trending every which way.

The "R-word" being "Retarded".

It's become a "thing" to correct people who use it
much like the "N-word" and the "G-word".

This newest trend of political correctness only got our family's attention
because
we have Dean.
Dean is my special needs son, who, at twenty-six years old
is cognitively between 3 and 5 years old.
His development is truly "retarded" or "delayed".
But you know what?
He can sign the word "retarded"--
and he can say the word "retarded"
and he has been telling his siblings that they're "retarded"
for decades...
and he's usually spot-on when using it to describe one of his own siblings.
In fact, Mr W has said on numerous occassions that Deano is not that much
different than the rest of our yahoos.

The "R-word" is not a bad word in our house--
it's a funny one...
and it isn't offensive to us at all.

There are words that are used habitually in our society
that ARE offensive and for whatever reason,
they don't get attention at all.
The word that offends my senses the very most
is the "F-word".
I cringe when I hear it
while standing in line at a store, a restaurant, a movie theater, etc.
It's used in music lyrics, movie productions, and literature.
Disgusting.
And yet,
there are no posters lining the high school walls
declaring it to be offensive.
I don't get it.

The "B-word" is equally offensive.
Where are the posters for that?
There's even a new TV show with the acronym "GCB"
which stands for "Good Chr*stian B*tches"--
where is the backlash for that?

Where is the movement to remove these words from our vocabulary?

Seriously,
the things that people decide to put their time and money into
bewilders me.

I don't think I have ever once heard the word
"retarded" used in public.
It may be used in middle school or high school--
but I hear other curse words prolifically by young kids
much more often than the "R-word".

It is unbalanced.
We don't blink at the elephants in the room,
but issue a call to arms
for the fruit-fly that is flitting about in the bananas.

It's just silly.
Retarded even.

We are our own Mafia

That's what Diana said to me the other day.
"We are own mafia."

It's kinda true.
We are tight, yo
like unto a dish.

Mess with one,
mess with all.

We don't take kindly to outsiders
messin' with one of us.
If anyone gets to mess with us
it's Us.

If someone's unkind to one of us,
we have as close to a mob-mentality as one could get
in that
that someone is Un-lik-Ed by all of us.

I know it's weird.
Un-Christlike.
Un-civil even.

But seeing as how
we are all we got--
well,
we're possesive.

If however,
you are kind to one of us
you will find that our allegiance to you and your name
is written in concrete
carved in stone
forever and ever
amen.

Where this mob mentality came from,
is a mystery.
We're not even Italian.

Liars, Murmurers, Jason Bourne and Me

I have a core group of girl friends--
we see each other nearly every week
over lunch.
And it's not over chicken nugget Happy Meals
like in the good old days of young motherhood.
In fact,
I am the only mom that has young children.
They were all supremely smarter than me and stopped having children
by the time they hit 30
whereas that seemed like a cowardly way out
to me
and I continued to have babies until I was 40.
We're still friends--
I over look their cowardice
and they overlook my idiocy  lack of smarts.
In fact,
when we get together,
we breathe a collective "sigh" and congratulate ourselves
and each other for having survived thus far,
in the trenches of motherhood.
Really--
it is a scene right out of "Bourne Supremacy"--
we may be all beat to heck
after the exploding-rolling-car-scene,
but we can still chase the bad guys
in slip-on shoes and a no-fuss-no-muss hairstyle.
That's one of the liberating things older women don't talk about--
we don't really fuss over our hair like we used to.
If it takes longer than two commercials,
something's wrong and we need to get in ASAP
to get our hair done with the same gal whose been doing our hair
since 1993.

Anywho--
the point is,
and there is one--
I have friends.
And we go out to lunch.
N' when we go out to lunch
we talk about Life--
not the surface-y topics of Life--
no, we talk about it in full-blown 3D Digital Technicolor Dreamcoat.
There is little tip-toeing around subjects--
at our age,
it's not only unnecessary,
it's annoying
to make small talk.

It's like when you're a little kid
and you pull out your marble bag
(for younger readers: a marble bag was a little drawstring cotton bag that could fit into your pocket,
or hung onto the handle bars of your bike and it contained marbles of all kinds of colors--which had been won in a game of marbles with your friends. My favorites were the blue cat's eyes.)
Anyway,
when you play marbles,
you typically dump out the whole contents of the bag--
partly to show how proficient you are at playing the game
and partly so the other competitor knew what you had.
It's fairly simple.

When my friends and I get together,
we dump our marbles out on the table.
We've known each other long enough
that  it doesn't matter who has the most anymore--
just that you're still in the game is all that matters.
Am I making any sense?

Anyway,
yesterday I was with Kelly--
we've been staging an entire house
and took a lunch break and pulled out our marbles;
N' we got to talking about "liars and murmurers
and Relief Society."
She said a gal in her ward was trying to make a point about
"not murmuring" in Church, using a hypothetical situation--
(To "murmur" is not a good thing in Church--
it basically reiterates what Thumper's Mama said in 1959:

" If you can't say something nice,

don't say nuthin' at all.")

"Even if they serve cheese sandwiches at a ward Christmas party
because there was no budget left at the end of the year."
Kelly noted that several sisters response was in a similar vein:
"Oh that'd be okay. It's really the spirit that matters, not food", etc.blah, blah, blah.
Hearing this,
Kelly raised her hand in the class and said, flat-out,
"I'd murmur."
She said she'd wonder why noone had called around and made the dinner into a potluck meal,
or some other arrangement,
than showing up to a Christmas Party that was only serving cheese samiches.
And she turned to two women, whose husbands serve in the Stake presidency,
and they too, nodded in agreement and said they'd murmur too.
"Liars." Kelly laughingly declared, about the non-murmurers.
I admitted that I probably wouldn't say anything about cheese samiches,
but I wouldn't go to the event either.
When you get to our age, for whatever reason,
you can see past the fuss and focus on an easy solution.
(Except for finding things like car keys, eye glasses
and my favorite black sandals that have been
missing for 4 straight days so far.)

It reminded me of a luncheon I attended last week--
it was mix of women I do and don't know, well.
I mostly listened as they talked about things that were important to them--
and inevitably, the conversation got around to our children and the crazy-nutball-world
we live in.
The good influences we welcome
and the bad ones we try to protect our children from--
and to be fair in sharing this--
aside from en-capsuling our babies into protective Teflon bubbles
we came up with no solid conclusions.
But, what I noticed is that all of us want good companions for out children
to associate with--
even those of us who have children who wander off or separate themselves
from the "ninety and nine".
The truth is,
we especially want good companions/friends for our  wayward offspring
even when they don't "deserve" it.
But, we also fear that our faithful children may be more A-ffected than E-ffective
by associates that are struggling.
So what's a mother to do?

I've been on both sides of the fence on this one--
and it's tough.
On the one hand,
my yahoos have helped a struggling companion
to find their own strength and go on to do good things--
serve missions, get married in the temple, etc.
On the other,
I've also gritted my teeth and poured out my heart in prayerful agony
as one of my own was adversely affected by a companion
that pulled them down to depths that left my child barely hanging on--
and in that hour, I so wished a stronger companion would come along
and help me lift my charge to a higher place.

As I listened to the observations and fist-to-table declarations
from these sisters,
my thoughts came around that we want it all.
We want to Save The World
but not Be In The World.
We want a Garden-full of strong, healthy children
but heaven forbid we get our hands dirty
or chip an acrylic nail with a bedazzled daisy on it.

But, I'm like Jason Bourne--
to find out who I am,
I had to get knocked around a bit--
there is no room for delusions of grandeur in real life.
It's messy,
and uncomfortable and exhausting at the very least.
I will have to take-out some bad guys,
and pay attention to discover who the good guys really are--
cuz you know,
those bad guys are really clever at disguising themselves.
This much we've figured out
as we put our collective Mother-minds together
because at our age,
the more marbles there are to put together
the better.
I love my girlfriends
and their families.
Their honesty about family-life gives me
strength and courage--Jason Bourne-style.

And, seriously, isn't that what friends are for?

p.s. If you've seen my black sandals, please let me know.

Right to the Point

Remember back here,
when I confessed that we're weird?

Further proof surfaced last week,
when Boofus was leaving the house to go to school:

Boofus: Bye, Momza. I love you.
Momza: Love you too, Boof--have a good day!
The Caboose to Boofus: Be Holy!


Not,
"Remember who you are and don't be that person"
Not,
"Chase The Rat"
Nor,
"Return with Tacos"--

Just, flat out
"Be Holy".

That's the point, right?

And a little bit of Irish...

The Caboose turned eleven last week n' because we are all about 

celebrating the good things in life,

there had to be a party!

She invited 11 girls to come to her 11th birthday party

and she decided to make it a "St. Patrick's Day" theme.

Green was the color of the hour

and "Loud" was the word!

 She chose green cupcakes with shamrocks,

gold fish

gold coins

and little black pots full of skittles (ya know, to "taste the rainbow")

for snacks.

 Dinner was delivered by Dominos Pizza.

 Breakfast was obvious...

I mean, really, how much simpler could it have been?

 And of course, there was dancing in the kitchen!

That's how you know you're having a great time--

when music fills the house and there's swing dancing in the kitchen.

 Twelve 11 year old girls are 

very 

very

very 

loud.

 Just Dance!

We also had a craft--

painting wooden shamrocks.

It took longer to set up the table and supplies

than it did to paint.

The girls seemed to like it though,

so it was worth the effort.

I forgot to keep taking pictures thru the night--

around 8pm we put on "Tangled" and listened as the girls

sang with every song

quoted the entire movie

and shhh'd each other at their favorite parts.

After the movie,

the girls arranged themselves into groups--

the more mature girls gathered in the front livingroom--

sleeping bags, pillows, stuffed animals, iPads and iPhones lit up,

and talked softly...

while

the less-mature girls stayed in the familyroom

where they could barely contain themselves and their squirrel-i-ness.

And that group of girls didn't go to sleep until 4am.

Crazy.

After all the guests left at 9am the next morning,
I was craving sleep so badly I wanted to go back to bed.
But Dean was down visiting,
so we kept busy all day--
went to the mall (to spend bday money),
to the park and played some tennis and bball
and out to eat.
It felt like the longest day ever!
Bed time couldn't come soon enough--

Arianna hugged her dad and I 

thanking us for a fun birthday.

She is a sweet, nutty little girl

and we love her so.

What's The Difference?

Mercy River: "Higher" Cd Giveaway Winner

Megan Jones, who wrote:

I have a strong testimony of music and that it can bring the Spirit no matter where you are. Thank you, Momza, for inspiring us with your many-faceted posts. I love sharing your words with my husband-especially the post you wrote about being a Mormon. Keep up the great work! 

Please send me your address via email so Deseret Book can get that cd sent to you directly.
Many thanks to Heather Hendrix @ DB and Mercy River for sponsoring this giveaway and inviting me to share in their celebration of the new release, "Higher"! I am thoroughly enjoying my complimentary cd.

Scenes from a Biopsy

At the Doctor's Office:

Nurse: "Did you take the pain medication before coming today?"

Momza: "No. My friend just had this procedure last week and said it wasn't that big of a deal. And, if I took anything, I wouldn't be able to drive myself here and back home. So I didn't."

Nurse, with eyes wide: "Oh?! This could be quite painful."

Momza: "Well, unless you're going to knock me out with something right now, it looks like I'm just gonna have to suffer through it.  How bad can it be?--I've had seven children, all natural, some at home even.  I think I can handle this."

Nurse: "Seven children, all natural?  Hmmm. Yeah, you may be able to do this without meds."

Momza: "At this point, it is what it is, right?  I'll be fine."

The Doctor comes in:

"You didn't take the pain medication beforehand? This procedure can be painful."

Momza: "Yeah, but how bad can it be, really?"

Doctor: "Here's the tool we'll use, it's flexible...the actual procedure should take just a minute or less."

Momza: "Go for it."

The procedure begins:

Nurse: "You doing okay? Most women would be crying at this point."

Momza, feeling a tiny bit of cramping/pressure:  "I'm okay. Is it going to get worse than this?"

Doctor: "Nope.This is the most painful procedure we do in this office. Worse than getting a IUD. Women cry out in pain...annndddd we're finished."

Momza: " I totally rock."

*this was an endometrial biopsy

Made By Hand

My friend, Nannette has a beautiful mother,
Alice Mae.
Alice is a white-haired, twinkly-eyed Southern woman
who makes homemade biscuits
every time she comes to visit Nannette
from a little town in Arizona.
Alice lives a quiet life.
A small life,
with a big heart.

She hails from Hope, Arkansas--
it's most famous for being the hometown of
a former President of the United States.
But that's not important.
Alice married young
and had six daughters,
one after the other,
quick
quick
quick.

If you were to have known her back then,
many decades ago,
you might have only seen a woman
who was struggling to raise a family.
According to Nannette,
her mother was overwhelmed by the experience
and as a result,
things got a little chaotic at home
with her older sisters and mom.
Her growing-up stories are varied and many
about the wild days and nights
of her sisters.

But I didn't know Alice then.
I've known her only for a few years--
many decades since her days in the trenches of motherhood.
The woman I know is soft-spoken, easy to laugh,
always busy with her hands
serving her family
by making biscuits or writing birthday cards
or making quilts.

Nannette's home has six bedrooms--
and in all of those bedrooms
there are several quilts decorating the beds
that have been hand made by her mom.

Because Alice's pocketbook is small,
she can't go to quilting stores and buy
quilt blocks of fabric to make her quilts with,
nor does she have a quilting machine
that can make fancy swirls of stitching.
Her quilts aren't store-bought squares--
each square is cut from former items
of clothing that, as Nannette points out
used to be a shirt or pajamas that used to belong
to a person in their family.

Alice's quilts are truly works of art
all made by hand
and each a treasure all on its' own.

So imagine my surprise
when I went over to Nannette's house
after she recently returned from a visit to Arizona
and she said, as I was leaving,
"Hey, hold on. I have something for you."
"Oh, you didn't have to get anything for me, Nan!" I replied.
Then, she presented
a beautiful quilt made for me
by her mother, Alice.
Words just would not come--
only tears.
I looked closely at the pieced quilt,
and marveled at the workmanship
and all the little pieces of fabric--
trying to mentally calculate the
many
many
many
hours
that went into this beautiful quilt.
I couldn't believe Alice would do all of that
for me.

I felt overwhelmed and very loved.

Today,
the quilt is in the family room.
I told the family they could use it
on cold mornings
or late nights watching TV,
on the condition that it is treated with care.
There are some squares that Alice's fingers and thread
just barely missed
here and there--
which to me,
add more value to it.
A quilt made with love isn't always perfect.
Just like people--
we do the best we can with what we have--
there will be missed stitches,
there will be mistakes, right?
But we keep at it,
keep creating the life we want to have,
and hopefully in the end,
we have worked enough that our lives
are a gift to others.

Life is a do-it-yourself deal.
It's all Made by Hand.
Thank you, Alice Mae.

What's In a Name?

My 10 year old Primary Class,
when asked
"What does your Last Name mean to you?"


G. Anderson:
"Andersons are, like, well, they're Air Force, and we all like Scooby Doo and gum. Yeah."

B. Bowen:
"My mom made up this. Our last name is Bowen, so we have this motto thing--'Bowen Appetit! Appetite for Life!'.
Me: So what does that 'appetite for life' look like?  Are you involved in sports or fun things?"
B. Bowen, shrugged shoulders: "Uhhhh.Yeahhh. Sure. I don't really know."

Arianna Anderson (my child):
"Andersons are Norwegians.  And kinda hot heads. Oh! and Andersons can't find things."*

N. Roberts:
"I don't really know about 'Roberts'--but I was named after an ancestor.

* It is absolutely true that they can't find things. If I am ever LOST, my husband and youngest two children are NOT allowed to look for me on their own--I will die alone in the wilderness if I must wait for them to find me. If I am lost, my kids know they must call my friend, Nannette, and she will head up a Search and Rescue Party to look for me.  That's my only hope.

Weekend's Here! WooHoo!!

This has been one

very long week.

I was ready for the weekend on Tuesday.

Dani and Mr. Idaho are coming for a sleepover tonight

with my adowable grandsons.

n'

We'll have a housefull tonight

as we get together with friends

whose son is leaving for a years' tour of duty

in Afghanistan

tomorrow.

Then,

tomorrow morning,

we're having the sister missionaries over

for breakfast--

which Dani is cooking her special

apple-cheddar pannycakes and apple syrup.

After that, there will be much play and frolicking

with grandsons and Mr W--

who is a devoted member of Garrett's posse,

along with Joseph and Ari.

And I do foresee a nap in there too.

I love Saturday naps.

N' Sunday naps.

Naps are wonderful.

Say yes to Naps.

What about you?

Big weekend plans in your corner of the world?

We're All Teachers

This is for my yahoos.
It's important so pay attention.

We teach others how to treat us.
By our words and by our actions,
we teach others
what we believe in,
what we stand for,
what we'll act upon
and what we won't.
We teach others how much we'll put up with.
What we'll ignore and
what we'll bend on.

Now think about that.

We want people to take us on our word, right?
Best make sure we know what "our word" is
before we teach others how to treat us, hunh?

Conversely,
Others teach us how to treat them
so you would be wise to pay attention.
If your friends say one thing and do another--
it's the things they DO that they really believe in.

If they lie to someone else in front of you,
they will lie to you.
If they gossip about someone else TO you,
your name will be on their lips
as they gossip ABOUT you to someone else.
If they tell you they don't have alot of friends,
there's a reason for that--
and it's not always for the obvious reasons
so pay attention.
If they say they have a hard time with moral expectations,
believe them and be careful.
Whether it's being honest or being morally clean--
they haven't figured out the value of those character traits yet
and they're not going to change for you.


The truth is,
not everyone you meet is going to
like you
be honest with you
or be kind.

And there will most certainly be people
you just plain won't like--
it doesn't give you permission to be rude to them--
you get no "passes" for bad behavior
just because you don't like something about someone.
BUT
you can acknowledge them while they are in your presence
and keep going.
That "keep going" part
is important.

To my girls who're dating:
A young man who says he "doesn't keep friends"
or
"hold onto people"
indicates he hasn't figured out how to appreciate others.
He's selfish.
And you can't fix him
anymore than he can fix you.

If he says he'll call and he doesn't--
he's a man who doesn't keep his word.
Move on.
Move on.
If he says he has a hard time figuring things out--
you'll be one of those "things" category.
Move on.
If he blames others for his failures,
you'll be in the "others" category soon
if you stay there.
Move on.
Move on.

The truth is,
we can't change others
anymore than
they can change us.

We can influence.
We can encourage.
We can "accompany" progress,
but we can't push, pull, beg, or bribe
someone to become better than they are
for us.
Truth is,
most often,
people change
when life dictates
that they have
no other choice.
And some people take the long scenic road
to change.

The worst thing you can do in life
is to become friends with
someone you want to change.
It will end badly.
And one more thing:
BE careful to "bait your hook"
for the kind of "fish"
you want to catch.
If you want a modest, honorable companion,
then make sure your bait
is modest and honorable.
To bait with anything else
will get you a "catch" you may not like.

And back to YOU--
if you want to be treated FAIRLY,
BE Fair.
if you want to be RESPECTED
then be Respectful.
if you want FORGIVENESS,
then be Forgiving.
If you want a soft answer,
ask a soft question.
If you want to be LOVED,
then BE Loving.

It's all so simple.
We're All Teachers.

We're Weird.

We're not your average LDS family.
There.
I said it.
We're not.

With parents for converts to the church,
my kids are perhaps a little bit,
just eensy weensy bit,
warped.

Because I was raised by wolves
and Mr W raised by Norwegians--
well, we all have our crosses to bear, right?

On the one hand,
we can say without a doubt,
that individually, we both Chose
the Gospel...
we want to be where we are.

On the other hand,
there are things about the LDS culture
that blows our minds sometimes--
and, in true confession-style here,
we have fun with some of it.

There are sayings that are thoroughly saturated
within LDS family homes
which we put our own little nutball twist on--

"Love is Spoken Here"
=
"Loathe Is Spoken Here"


"Remember Who You Are"
=
"Remember Who You Are And Don't Be That Person"


"Return With Honor"
=
"Return With All Your Personal Effects
N' Lock the Door When You Come Home"


There. I said it.
We're weird.

Guests Are In The House: Mercy River Presents "Higher"

Really Honest-To-Goodness Opportunities don't come knockin' on one's door
every day.
So when I was asked if I'd be interested in celebrating a new musical collection
of inspirational songs by
Mercy River
I pulled my door W I D E  O P E N.

I've been listening to these talented, beautiful-on-the-inside-and-out,
Vocalists
for years--
I sing along with their cd's at the top of my lungs
all. the. stinkin'. time.

In fact,
one song in particular lifts my spirits so much,
that even my children know the words!
It's from their first album called
"Beautiful Dawn"...
how cool is that that my name is on my favorite album of theirs?
It's almost like kismet. Destiny. Awesome Coincidence.
And the song is
"Hello Sunshine!"
If I could have background music for my life,
this song would be IT.
IN fact, it's playing LOUDLY while I am tapping this out!
But my most favorite song from that album is
"I Belong" because I feel my Savior's love whenever I listen to it.

I am so honored to be a small part of introducing their newest musical baby,
"Higher".
I had a chance to ask them a question--
any question at all--
it could be about
their music,
motherhood,
whatever.
My Question was :

What Inspires You?

Mercy River :

We’re so happy and humbled to have a chance to guest post on this fabulous blog. Momza has that ability to touch our hearts AND make us laugh at the same time. That’s talent, people!

We were asked to write about what inspires us. I’ll be writing this post from my point of view (I’m Brooke, the blonde one). As I pondered this question about inspiration, I had one answer that repeatedly entered my mind.

Pinterest.

Juuusssttt kidding.

Being part of this music group has been a life altering experience. I’ve learned a lot about myself- things I’m sure would’ve remained undiscovered if it weren’t for Mercy River. That being said, with 13 kiddos between the 3 of us, this journey can be exhausting! So inspiration is a must, it keeps us going through the low moments and just adds to our fire during the good ones. For me, most of my inspiration comes from people. How general is that? Let me give an example.

As Mercy River, we are blessed to be a part of Deseret Book’s Time Out For Women tour. One of the best things about this tour is meeting women from around the U.S. and Canada. The stories these women share with us are always inspiring. Mothers losing children, wives losing spouses, women with infertility, cancer survivors, abuse victims…and the women who are doing everything they can to just keep their head above water. (Raise your hand if you can relate!) I can’t tell you what it means to us when someone says, “Your song ___________ helped me through ____________”. Sometimes we get so wrapped up in rehearsals, firesides, conference calls, and recording, we forget why we are doing this. But then we hear that comment, and we’re reminded. This has nothing to do with us. We’re here to provide a way for Heavenly Father to touch people’s spirits. We’re instruments. I’m so inspired by the incredible stories of those around me.

Personally, my greatest inspiration comes from…wait for it…my kids. Cliché, right? Someone once told me, “It’s not cliché if it’s the truth!” There are definitely days that feel like there is not enough of me to go around, but then I’ll have moments that remind me why I have two “jobs”.

When my kids belt out one of our Mercy River songs in the car, when they genuinely cheer about going to a rehearsal, when they pray for “mom to sing good”-I’m reminded that they enjoy it as much as I do. When my sweet kindergartener recently made the school play, she proudly announced she couldn’t WAIT to be on stage, and she “hoped they would give [her] a microphone.” I hope a bit of her courage comes from watching me perform hundreds of times. Whether that’s true or not, it inspires me. It motivates me to keep moving forward.

(That being said, if I pretend like I’m Giselle from Enchanted and start singing, “That’s How You Know” at the top of my lungs, there is a general uproar of “STOP SINGING!!!” from my kids. Isn’t that sweet?)

Thanks again for having us, Momza! We find you, well, inspiring. 

Thank you, Mercy River for stopping by Momza's House!
You may come back any time at all.
I am a real true fan of your music and talent.
*******

The Give, O Give- Away:

To my Other Guests here at Momza's House:
If you'd like to become a fan in your own right,
and wanna check out their new music video that's coming out soon--
People will be able to view the video on their Facebook page http://www.facebook.com/mercyriver.  People can also visit their Facebook page to see the other tour stops the girls will make on the Blog Tour.
ALSO!!!
Here's your Opportunity to come to know and love these gals as much as I DO---
Leave a Fantastic Comment and I'll choose a random name so that Mercy River can send you
your very own copy of their new album, "HIGHER".  It's that simple and you're IN!

Now, to make this even more fun and really spread the word about this AWESOME new CD,
it'd be very much appreciated if you'd SHARE this Giveaway with your favorite people in the world--
your Family and Friends!
We don't wanna leave anyone out! the more the merrier and all that warm fuzzy feelin' stuff.

Many Thanks again to Mercy River for inviting me to being their Blog Tour 2011.

I Hate Mom Day--The lesser known holiday

Today is "I Hate Mom Day"--
created by my youngest Caboose
in 2010.

I asked her how we should celebrate the day
and she replied,
"Let's go out to eat at a restaurant that you hate
n' get a dessert that makes you fat."

I love being her mother.

Mercies for Me and Mercy River

I have learned something about myself.
Since my car accident last November,
my mind became very dull.
Along with my memory,
I also lost my ability to be spontaneously
creative.
It just wasn't in reach of where I was
to be pulled out and worked with--
it's hard to explain.

I've kept writing,
but in reading my past offerings,
my words have fallen mostly flat.

But, my creativity is slowly coming back,
and I'm looking at house projects
with a renewed energy
that has been missing since last Fall.

I think the Universe knew I've been outta commission too,
because I haven't done a single creative thing
for anyone else either.
No home staging.
No doula opportunities.
Nothing, really.
I have been in "repair" mode.

But, things are coming around again
and it feels so so good.
I've learned not to take my mind and creativity for granted.
The act of creating is invigorating and adds much
to my self-esteem.
Just yesterday,
my home staging partner and I got to begin a new project.

I so enjoy working with home owners,
re-creating their living spaces and sprucing things up
as they prepare to sell their home.
The house we went to yesterday is lovely.
A great "Colorado-style" home--
vaulted ceilings,
full size windows looking out at great views.
Fantastic finished basement with a full kitchen.
Four bedrooms, a study and formal dining.
Very well cared for too--
which makes our experience so much easier.

At first, the client said she didn't think she really needed a
"full-on staging"
she just wanted our opinion.
No problem--I am very comfortable doing that.

So Kelly and I started at the front door
and went through the whole house
making notes,
sharing our ideas,
listening to the homeowner.
Then,
we got busy.

First up,
Kelly decided to transform a row of bookcases,
into Showcases.
Once that was finished,
the homeowner was in awe (as much as you can be over a bookcase),
and let us proceed to the front entry and Living Room.

We started by rearranging the furniture.
Pulled out a chair,
moved the sofa and loveseat off the walls
to face the stone fireplace.
That alone changed the feel of the whole room
and the client was delighted!
We pulled accessories out of the room,
and added things back in from other rooms.
The client has travelled all over the world--
serving missions with her husband,
who is deceased now--
and she has little momentos all over the house
from those travels.
Often though, as was the case here,
none of those little things matched or had fluency.
Perhaps if they'd been in a curio cabinet,
then they would've been fine.
But as is, laying about the room on every shelf or countertop,
it just didn't work.
We had her pack those away for her new home.
Once the client saw the front room,
she had confidence that we knew what in the heck
we were doing,
and she was just plain giddy at the results!


When staging a home,
little "things" are distracting from what you're trying to sell--
the house.
Not your collections or hobbies.
What you will want to use as accessories
are hardcover books with the jackets off--
the canvas covers and usually gold lettering on the spines
are aesthetically pleasing.
but your eyes don't settle on them
which is good.
Kelly is great at rearranging bookcases,
and mantels--
really, she is so good at the accessories
that it's easy to just stand back and watch her
do her thing.
I think my talent is looking at a room overall
and seeing the possibilities,
using what the homeowner already has--
I try very hard to work with what is already at hand.
Kelly and I work well together because our strengths
compliment the process.
Every client we've ever worked with says that.

We're going back on Monday to tackle the Master Suite--
we left the client a "TO DO" list,
using the muscles of her grown son's family;
mostly moving furniture about the house
from one room to another--
she has a great basement study with double french doors
that is essentially empty,
but she has enough furniture in the rest of the house
to create a perfectly fine study.
Anyway, we've taken the BEFORE pics
and when we're done we'll get the AFTER pics
which I will share here.

Last night,
I was bone-tired
and it felt so stinkin' good.
Can't wait to go back on Monday!
For more home staging tips go here.

OH! SPEAKING OF MONDAY!
Make sure you tell your friends about my special Guest Post by
the musical group,
"MERCY RIVER".
They have a new CD coming out
and what's more--
they're offering a FREE copy to me 
which I will be passing along to one of 
YOU!

Doctor, Diagnosis, and The Dirty Dash

I married a manly-man.
He is at his best when he's outside,
climbing some mountain at 50 mph,
sleeping in a tent,
wearing the same Columbia-brand t-shirt
that has a tattered neckband,
and his hiking boots are his go-to shoes.

He's pretty self-sufficient as he does his own laundry,
makes his own lunch for work--
using the same peice of saran-wrap
for as long as is possible.
He doesn't like to throw things away--
something he learned from growing up
in the very small town of Choteau, Montana.
It was too far to run into town for every stinkin' thing,
so you had to make do with what was on hand
alot of the time.

One thing he learned from his dad is not to complain
about being sick.
In fact, he barely acknowledges any illness.
So about a year ago,
when I noticed a little red blotch on the back of his calf,
he shrugged it off.
"Don't worry about it. It doesn't hurt."
Six months later,
it was still there,
he'd gone to the Doctor for something else,
n' while there he asked the doc to take a look at it--
a prescription was given for a steroid cream
and that was that.
The cream didn't really do a dang thing,
and he was just about to go back to the doctor
to appease my nagging,
when he got a really good sunburn last summer
and it looked like that little red blotch had been affected
by the sunburn.
I stopped whining about it.
Until.
Until two Saturdays ago--
I got a glimpse of his leg
and was shocked to see that red blotch was not only back,
but had grown in size and looked pretty bad.
Immediately, I went right to the phone
and called a friend of ours, whose a
Skin Cancer Dermatologist and even though the office was closed,
I left a detailed message and requested an appointment ASAP.

I then poked around our friend's professional website
and saw pictures of different kinds of skin maladies--
one of which is called, Basal Cell Carcinoma.
Afterwards,
I told Mr W that that's what was on his leg.
"You have Basal Cell Carcinoma, no doubt."

Mr. W grinned and said,
"I didn't know you'd gone to school for 12 years to become a doctor.
Thanks for the diagnosis." [his sarcasm is alive and well]
I told him I'd only charge him if I was right.
So, three days later, as Mr W was getting ready for his appointment,
I asked if I was invited to go with him.
He said, "I'm surprised you asked. I just figured you were going."
Of course I was coming. I was not going to miss that "neener-neener" moment.

So, we get into the treatment room with the nurse,
and give her a look at his red blotch.
Mr W mocks my diagnosis to her.
Then, our friend, the Doc comes in,
and Mr W says,
"Bret, I'm sorry you had to waste 12 years of schooling,
Dawn has already diagnosed me.  We're just here for a second opinion."
Bret laughed and took a glimpse at Mr W's leg--
"Wait. Put that up there [pointing to the treatment table]--
hmmm. Looks like the most common kind of skin cancer,
Basal Cell Carcinoma. Dawn, was that your diagnosis?"

I fist-pumped into the air:
"YES! YES! I WAS SO RIGHT!"
Probably not the "oh my heck" reaction I woulda had if I had not known
for a long time that something wasn't right.

Bret then asked, "SO you wanna cover for me tomorrow so I can take a vacation?"

I had to decline, unfortunately. I am only certified to diagnose and treat my own kin.
It comes with the territory of being a Mother. yo.

So the doc got out the tiny little melon-baller and scooped out the dead tissue and then used
a welding tool to cauterize it.  All the while, the nurse and Bret congratulated me on my talent and skills.
Next time, I may just have to borrow Bret's tools and make Mr W give me the $20 co-pay.

It was a Win-Win Day.

Tonight, Mr W and Joseph are going on a Scout camp-out in the mountains.
We got snow last night.
Supposed to get below Zero tonight.
My Mr W is holding onto his Man Card with both hands.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Okay so now something FUN:

The Dirty Dash! Ever hear of it??!!



It's coming to Colorado Springs, August 11, 2012.
I signed up to be a volunteer for the course.
The family is signed up to do the race.
I CANNOT WAIT!!!!

Have a Great Weekend!

March Meal Sharing Menu

Well, it's the beginning of a new month
and that means a new menu
for my meal sharing group.
So here goes:

5- Connie--pulled pork sandwiches

6- Karen—Chicken lasagna

7- Dawn--Lighter Red beans & Rice (will need crockpots) *Creole Recipe

8 – Jen--fish tacos

12- Connie--Either a surprise with Zaac in mind or Chicken Rolls-- I will let you know

13- Karen—Ham & Chicken risotto

14- Dawn--Whole Wheat Farfalle pasta & marinara sauce w/veggies

15 - Jen - BBQ meatballs w/ rice

19- Connie--Sweet & Sour Meatballs and rice

20- Karen—Mexican Casserole

21- Dawn--Pan Roasted Garlic Lemon Chicken w/ red potatoes and green beans

22- Jen --pizza casserole (not healthy - comfort food)

Spring Break: OFF

April

2- Connie--Asparagus Ham Rolls

3- Karen—Aromatic Chicken (need crockpots)

4- Dawn--Baked Fish 

5- Jen --taco salad

I am preparing two recipes that I found on Pinterest.  I'll let you know how they go.

Old Women Cry Alot

When I was a kid,
old women made me nervous.
I didn't really enjoy being around them.

Their hair wasn't shiny,
their eyes weren't bright,
their skin wasn't as smoothe as mine
and in addition to all of that,
some appeared to be loose cannons
socially.
I remember wondering why they could go from smiling
and laughing
to crying in an instant
for what I perceived as no apparent reason.
It freaked me out inside
when I was young.
Then,
there were those older women
who just sat quietly tucked into themselves--
half smiling, hands folded, purple floral shirt perfectly matching
their purple polyester pants and white hair.
I always thought if I could choose,
I'd be like the latter purple-hued-white-hair-in-check
composed old woman
and that gave me hope of holding onto any dignity or self-importance
I might have conjured up between 7 years old and 50.

Now, I'm on the other end.
I'm at the magical age of 50.
I get it.
My skin is not smoothe anymore,
it's often dry and wrinkly.
It has "age spots" on it--
no wonder my granma always had a jar of
Pond's Cold Cream
on her bureau.
And I now look for moisturizing creams
for specific maladies--
like red spots, wrinkles, brown blotches,
n' whatever else I can find.

My eyes aren't as bright,
and I am constantly battling my eyeglasses--
I have a Love-Hate Relationship with them
On
Off
On
Off--
On when I need to drive
Off when I need to read.
Such a bother.
But, I think I've figured out something about my eye sight--
for as different as it in focus,
these days I see the world around me
in more detail.
It's like my eyes and my heart
are connected...
an invisible string that runs from my eyes
triggers straight to my heart.

I cry more than should be legal these days.
And it doesn't take much to release the ol' tear ducts flooding
either.
It's annoying.
I've become such a pansy.
And just so you know,
my family isn't surprised at all.
They say I've always been this way.
No. No. No. I haven't.
I mean. I've always been "tenderhearted",
that's true.
But holy hannah,
I am a mess.

Last week,
I had a meeting with one of the Caboose's teachers.
Before I got there,
I had to give my self a pep talk--
"Don't cry. No matter what, Don't cry! Dang it!"
It's not like I was going to get bad news--
it's not like I didn't like the teacher...
I just woke up that morning feeling weepy
for no apparent reason.
I did go to the meeting
and I did not cry.
Sheesh.

I had a doctor's appointment a couple of weeks ago
you know, the whole biopsy thing--
I even asked
"What's the deal with my emotions? They're all over the map.
Am I losing my mind? Is this normal?"--and I am not kidding,
even talking about it got me a little choked up!
Then I laughed at how stupid it was that I couldn't even talk about
being emotional without becoming emotional!
ACK!
The doctor is probably two decades younger than me--
she just smiled and said,
"It's normal. Every woman is different. You'll be fine once
you get through menopause."
I hate that word.
Menopause.
So depressing. really.
I can't think of a replacement word--
but it should have something to do with "sprinkles" in it.

So I cry.
I cry reading sad blogs,
listening to sad songs,
reading the news,
passing a car accident,
finding momentos in shoeboxes,
writing emails to friends,
watching sad movies ( I cried at "The Vow" like Channing Tatum was my own son. ugh. pathetic.)
Military Homecomings,
missionary homecomings,
baby blessings,
I cry when I see other people cry--
it's sympathetic crying...
yeah, you get the picture.

It feels like my hormones are having a party inside these days.
But it's one of those parties I was never allowed to go to...
the one where there were no parents at
--so out of control, ya know?

The good news is that I have friends who cheer me on--
some are bawling right next to me
and
some are on the other side of this Crazy Sprinkles World
and assure me there are better, more sane
days ahead.
Man. I hope they're right.

One of my favorite colors is purple--
in all of it's shades from lilac to aubergine.
The next time I find a purple sweater,
I'm buying it.
Not ready for the polyester pants,
but hey, it gives me something to look forward to,
right?
As for holding onto any dignity or self-importance--
I think that's going to be harder than I thought
whatwith all this Crazy Sprinkles Party
going on.
Alot harder.
And this is why it's important to have good girlfriends.