Another horror movie experience last night. I was in "Ralphie's" bed helping him fall back asleep (he woke up screaming...I think from a nightmare). He felt a little cold (the weather is definitely changing here) so I turned off the fan (for the first time since we have lived here) and laid back down. But then...I hear it. I hear a really strange noise...like paper or a plastic bag "blowing"...so look by the air vent, thinking that perhaps some plastic bag got on there or something...nothing. So then I listen more closely. Listen to try to find where it's coming from...somewhere at the foot of the bed... Then from behind "Ralphie's" toy box I see something long and skinny thing crawling up his wall!!!!!! I thought briefly it was a snake... But no, it was worse...it was a centipede...crawling up his wall...and the noise I was hearing was it's millions of feet scurrying on the wall...yah, I almost fainted. Seriously. I honestly almost passed out. So my weak scared voice calls for "Charming" who comes in, half asleep, and stares at the wall. I grab "Ralphie" and run for the bedroom. Then "Charming" kind of stands there for a while--(He told me later he was trying to decide what to do since it freaked him out and he didn't want to somehow accidentally touch it...we also knew if you smashed part of it and not the whole...it would run both ends away!! This from experience in my past.) Finally he grabs the bug spray and sprays that son-of-a-gun to death...chasing it along the wall. Then it mostly dies so he puts it in a jar and sprays in a bunch more poison for good measure. It was huge by the way...more that 6 inches long! Anyway, "Charming" refused to sleep in Ralphie's room haha...I don't blame him! When he told me he put it in a jar, I asked, "did you put it in one of my big good ones?" "Yah! I wasn't about to try to put it in a tiny one and let it touch me!" he told me. "Oh, dang. Well, I'm not going to use that jar ever again. I'd rather buy a new one if I ever need one." "I don't blame you," he told me. haha! Anyway, that's our horrible horror movie experience!
How crazy is life? No, really, how crazy and unpredictable is it? I have been transcribing mine and "Charming"s journals lately and yesterday I was working on my journal from the second semester of college. (You know, the semester when I met The Hubby.) It's funny to compare my journal to his journal of the same weeks...I talk about him the first time about four or five months before he talks about me in his. Granted, I am a girl and have about 5-7 entries to each of his one entries. But still! Course...I also only wrote about crushes, and dates and drama in mine and he wrote about more intelligent stuff...you know, like working out or selling pest control. You know, boy stuff. (I'll have to find a picture of him from back when I met him! You'll love it!! I only have one or two from that semester...so tell me if you wanna see them!) But one of the last entries from that semester...one on April 26, 2006...last day hanging out with him (and other friends) before we all left for summer ends like this: "Sadly this is probably the last time I'll ever see him [The Hubby] again though!" Hmmm...six years, a wedding, and one baby later I guess I guessed wrong on that. :-D
So...I've been thinking lately that we just can't seem to get a break from weird, and a bit miserable, happenings. I'll tell you the newest one here in a minute, but then I realized that these little and weird happenings are much better than trials that we could be getting. I'd much rather deal with no air conditioning briefly, postponed house purchasing, a small car accident where no one got hurt, low cash flow, and the lastest adventure (swarming ants) then deal with say...a more serious accident, or a seriously sick family member, or any number of things I could mention. So bizarre as it sounds I was very thankful in my prayers last night for our recent small trials. I would much rather them any day.
So here is our latest trial. Swarming, flying ants invading our home. Yep, that's right.
It all started innocently enough. "Ralphie" and I would play on the back porch and these big inch-long flying ants would occasionally come at us and I would smash them. They have huge pinchers and the last thing I wanted was for Ralphie to get bit. I can remember getting bitten by New Mexico ants as a kid and it hurts and stings for a long time after. Pretty soon though we start finding a few in the house and, like, you know, 5 instead of 2 outside on the porch. So I tell "Charming" to get some bug spray for us to take care of them.
It takes him a few days and finally he gets some. He sprays the back of the house's perimeter then decides he will spray our bedroom sliding door too since the few days before this we'd seen 5+ in our room. Well, I was downstairs helping Ralphie with something when Charming calls from upstairs, "Uh...Sandy? Can you come up here?
I kind got scared from the sound of his voice and asked, "is it gonna freak me out Charming?"
"Maybe." He paused and then said, "actually maybe you shouldn't come up here."
Yah, right, I was right around the corner and almost there...so I walk in and almost die. There are like at least 50 ants crawling around on our carpet, walls, blinds etc. And then I'm like panting crazily, cause I seriously have bug nightmares all the time and this was like a nightmare come true.
And with a guilty look he says, "it's worse." And opened the sliding door blinds.
I seriously almost start hyperventilating. There are literally HUNDREDS of these huge flying ants covering our porch. Hundreds. Maybe even thousands...I was never good at guessing numbers. And even weirder they are like in clumps. I only have a cell phone picture of the first night, and it can't figure out how to get it on here...but anyway...
Charming sprays the door and I texted my mom the picture. My dad calls back and says Charming better spray the entire perimeter of the house. So we head outside and he starts spraying. I spotted our neighbor Kimberly outside and went to ask her about the bugs to see if she had a problem too...because if it was just us I hated to think what that meant.
So I asked her and she tells us that it had happened the first year she lived here. Her back porch was black it was so covered with them. And that her pest control selling neighbor told her they migrate through here sometimes and land on the roofs. And that usually they are high in trees when they migrate and so you never notice them. But where we are there are no trees and her house at the time was the highest in the area. So they landed on her house only. She said she had to have someone spray the roof to kills them and it helped. She also told us she had been seeing tons of them too...and that since we were the only two two-story houses nearby that's probably why it was just us.
So Charming doesn't want to spray the roof and he says we'll just wait it out. We vacuum up all the ants in our room and more and more just still keep coming in. So I slept in Ralphie's room with him, refusing to have to worry about the bugs climbing on us or crawling into our ears. Which I did dream of and had to keep getting up to check on Charming all night. The next day they just got worse. And the next day worse. Charming still wouldn't spray and I still refused to sleep in our bedroom.
About three nights ago or so it rained hard and I washed a bunch of them down. Here is a picture of the ants after I had washed a bunch down already.
Then the next day after that there were even more than I had washed down. Here they are on the roof flying, buzzing and falling in clumps.
Here they are in their piles in the backyard. They are nasty huh?
FINALLY it just got so bad in our room and on our balcony that Charming finally sprayed the room, porch and door. And they finally all died. Here is a pick before I washed them off last night. They had blown into piles (piles at least 1/2 an inch thick)...just imagine these in clumps and spread all over the porch. Ick ick ick! I am iching just thinking of it. Anyway, I think the poison helped and the worst is over...but seriously yuck! Ugh!
(Charming's foot in an attempt to show the scale of the pile...this one was 1 inch deep in the middle at least)
The rain gutter as I was washing them out.
Remember to vote on that little picture that says "click here to vote" please!! Thank you!
The other day on my personal facebook account I wrote this:
“Living back out here I have found a huge part of me that started getting lost
many years ago when we moved to WA :-) It's nice to have it back. :-)”
does that mean? And what part of yourself
did you lose?
me step back a second and explain something.
I was born here in Albuquerque,
New Mexico. Yes, it’s a desert. Yes, it’s dry here and we have droughts year
round. Yes, there are few trees or lawns
and we have rock yards full of desert plants.
But you know, what? I LOVE it! I
love it more than any other place I’ve seen or been to—in fact I prefer
Are you thinking I am crazy? Probably, but have you ever been here to the
“Land of Enchantment”? There’s something about it. Something that strikes a chord in most people
who visit here, many of them afterwards wish to come back and live here—and
many do! Especially this part of NM...because there really are some ugly parts haha...
spent the first 10 years of my life here (minus about 9 months that I lived in New Orleans as a little
girl). And I loved it! We played outside all day every day it seemed
like. Our dog killed our backyard grass
and so all there was was dirt, but my dad built us a cool damn and mountains
out of the dirt and we would run the hose for hours making rivers and playing
with our toys in it (as an adult I would love to know how much my parents water bill was every month haha). New Mexico is hot—we often have a few weeks
that are up in the 100s, but an average summer day is between
87-94—perfect. And it’s not like 90
degrees would feel like in Louisiana. No, it’s dry, there is no humidity, so it feels
a lot cooler and you aren’t all wet and sticky.
I HATE humidity. Denver was too humid for me even!
And the autumn in NM is GORGEOUS! The beautiful cottonwoods (which are my
favorite) the line the bosque and streets turn an amazing yellow! Oh, you haven’t seen anything like it until
you go down to the river and see the gorgeous blue haze of the SandiaMountains
hovering over the golden yellow of the cottonwoods on the Rio Grande river. It’s breathtaking. And the winters here? Wonderful.
It rarely gets colder than the 30s/20s and we hardly have snow. But we get enough snow to fulfill kids dreams of
building snowmen. And many days of the
winter we don’t even need coats...just sweaters...and I LOVE sweater weather!
And the Sandia are gorgeous mountains...the sunsets reflcting on them are always pink...sometimes bright sometime pale, but that is where they get their name. Sandia is spanish for Watermelon...the Watermelon mountains...how gorgeous!
I LOVE it
here. But soon after my 10th
birthday in about April, 1997 we moved to a little sleepy, wet town in Washington state,
minutes from the Canadian border and even closer to the coast. Now,
don’t get me wrong. Ferndale is a lovely town, with lovely
people, and it’s gorgeous and green. But
the people there are different…the landscapes are different…the weather is
different…and it rains…all the time. In
fact it’s a lot like that place Bella moves to in Twilight…gosh, I don’t know
they name of the town (I've only read part of the first book and seen the movies each once), but it’s the same.
Only rainier than the movies show it.
I mean it rains ALL THE TIME.
Some machine in Seattle once measured how much sun shone through in 90 days (and that included little
second bursts of sunlight through the clouds, however brief). THREE HOURS.
That’s it. Three hours total in
90 days. Yuck. No one dresses nice there either. I don’t think this matters to most people and
many times I think people would prefer it nowadays. But when you wear a sweater and jeans to
school and people ask why you are all dressed up…that’s a bit weird and kind of sad. But when the average Ferndale student wears their pj bottoms or sweats
to school, that’s what you get...I'm was odd I guess.
And I really am not dissing on Ferndale. I loved it.
It gave me many opportunities I would not have had here—especially where
school is involved. I have many dear
friends and families there who touched my soul and brought a lot to my
life. But even through the fun and
finding new loves, hobbies etc…over the eight years we lived there I slowly
lost a part of myself.
And through college in Idaho, and our few years in Colorado, it completely vanished. Do I know
exactly what that part of myself was?
Honestly? Not really.
All I know, is yesterday while driving through the slopping mesa, under the
bluest of blue skies, which the prettiest and most unique puffy white clouds,
with a complete view of the beautiful Sandia Mountains from highest peak to
lowest foothill, and listening to the Dixie Chick’s “Wide Open Spaces”, it hit
me. I had found a part of myself—a
feeling I hadn’t had in many, many years. And suddenly I felt almost whole again. (I say almost, because there are a few things
I’ve realized I am missing in my life like music, singing, acting etc that I still need
to add) but that is the closest to whole I have felt in many years…the most recent moments like before this where when I was 16 of 17, and they were very brief
moments where I was living in a world of music and performance which is also a
huge piece of my soul—that’s the part that is still missing right now.
But I think that driving through town feeling is one of the biggest pieces of my soul—of who I am. And it sure feels good to have it back. And I think, that I will make sure I slow
down in life and remind myself of it.
That’s part of why I am writing this.
To help remind myself. And to
tell you, that if you are feeling anything but whole—like you are missing some
part of yourself…go find it! Keep
searching! Trust me, to make it through
this crazy world of stress, frustration, disappointment, heartache (you name
it) we need all of ourselves. And I won't lie, it's a constant, constant battle, but it's worth it.
Please read the previous post (part one) before reading this one for a little bit of background information.
So we wear ourselves (and my dad
and brother and mom out) the next day packing and moving. We move in, finally pick up "Ralphie" and take him
to our new home. Guess what. The air conditioning isn’t working.
That’s right. NO air conditioning on the hottest week so
far this summer—temperatures in the 90s…nothing but unpacking for me to
do. And what’s worse The Hubby didn’t
believe me for hours until it was too late to call anyone. (Actually it was too late anyway, but still
he needs to start believing me!!) You
should also know that I go CRAZY when I am tired and hot and often get sick
when I get overheated so I was flipping out, literally. So mom basically drags me out of the house
(I’m convinced this was more to save The Hubby rom me than to actually help me)
and brings me to Wal-mart where we buy three osolating fans (I have NO idea how
to spell that and apparently Word has no idea what I am trying to spell either,
Ok, so we get the fans going, but the
temperature in the house keeps creeping up even as the evening wears
on…80…81…82…83…etc. I am laying there
like a sweaty slug trying to calm myself while my house is covered in boxes,
the food hasn’t been brought over (and won’t for probably 24 hours) so I am hungry as well (my family has a tendency to get SUPER grumpy when we are hungry...I'm the least worse of those of us infected, but it's nowhere close to pretty) and try to
remain calm and keep from getting to sleep.
Finally we bath Ralphie, The Hubby akes a cold shower and then I do. I feel slightly better, but am sooo not
excited to have to sleep in the heat. I
don’t know about you but I can’t sleep very well in the heat. It's like super impossible for me. We had the windows open and I have this
intense (The Hubbycalls it ridiculous) fear of someone sneaking in our house at
night and stealing Ralphie. So of course, with the heat and the fear
mixed together, I lay awake for hours….and hours…and the clock rolls on.
And I just keep getting more
frustrated and hot so I continue to toss and turn…finally at about 2 or 3am I
get up and go downstairs. I figured I
might as well be productive if I can’t sleep so
I find the manual for the gas furnance/air conditioning unit thingy where the air conditioner is attached and read the troubleshooting page…well, not too helpful since I have no idea
what the crap it’s talking about. So
more frustrating than ever I head upstairs and close all the windows, thinking
that since there is a tiny bit of cool air coming out of the vents maybe that
would work better. And per my OCD I make
sure they are locked tight, and proceed to throw myself in bed and groan some
more. (I should add that Ralphie has been asleep
this entire time! I can’t tell you the
last time he slept that long without waking.
It was like some kind of miracle.)
Anyway, my most recent groan wakes
up The Hubby and after some groans and frustrated conversation between us we decide
to get up (in our undies cause that is all we were wearing because of the heat)
and go into the garage and check out the system. Well, we head through the utility room and The Hubby pens the door to the garage. I
briefly think it’s weird that I had locked that door (I know, I know, The Hubby ells me it constantly, I’m OCD and too freaked out about someone getting into
the house, but whatever)—anyway, I think it’s weird that I had locked the door
but The Hubby pened it no problem. But this
was literally a brief instance of thought though since The Hubby as continuing out the door and heading
toward his drill and so I quickly followed him out.
Ok, so The Hubby akes apart the bottom
of the system and all seems to be working…so we have no idea what’s up. Nothing
looks wrong or switched off. So we sigh
and he starts to drill the plate back on.
I go to the door to check on Ralphie…and um, yah, the door is locked. Apparently it was locked but not closed when The Hubby ent through it to the garage. So
there we are…in our undies, locked out of our new house with no keys, or cell
phone, and our little baby asleep (hopefully) inside. Our little baby who wakes up every night
totally out of it (takes after his mommy) and freaks out if he can’t find
us. And he is locked inside the house,
upstairs, in the dark with only one bathroom light on and nothing else, in a
new house he doesn’t know, where mom can’t come to him when he calls for
So I literally start freaking
out. The Hubbygets mad, asking me why I
locked the door and why am I so OCD and why do I even think someone could get
in through the close locked garage and adds, also, that no one could ever climb up onto our
second story to get Ralphie. We stare at each other and wonder what the hell we are going to do??
The Hubbyopens the garage and we go
outside (undies and all) and he looks around trying to decide what the best
option was. The workers who had built
our house had left a pile of sand bags and tiles next to the garage and by the
“I’ll climb up and get in through
on of the windows,” The Hubby says.
Through my frenzied, emotional
wreck, guilt-ridden self, I say, “you can’t.
I closed and locked all the doors.”
He glares at me. “You sure?"
I can only nod.
"I think I’ll try in case.”
So he climbs up on the sand bags
grabs the roof and pulls himself up onto it (in nothing but underwear--no shirt
Let me throw this in here while I
have the chance and a voice—and he wonders why I think someone could easily get into Ralphie's window. Sheesh.
And he has done this before in even harder circumstances, so sorry, but
if someone wanted to steal Ralphie they could do it if they were strong enough. Sheesh!
Anyway, he pulls himself up and
checks Ralphie’s window. Nope, locked up
tight. He kind of walks around up there
angrily for a second and then climbs back down.
Then he goes to the back door just in case it’s unlocked. You got it, locked up tight thanks to his OCD
So he comes
back around and we go back in the garage and try to decide what to do.
has your keys right?” he asks. “I’ll
have to go get them.”
over emotionally, crazy lady (me) says, “you’re only in your underwear.” Even though I knew that was our only option,
I still didn’t think he would do it.
“What if Ralphie wakes up, freaks out and falls down the stairs?” I cry suddenly all freaked
stares. “Aren’t there ANY clothes in
remember that there are actually some boxes that the boys had put into the
garage instead of the appropriate rooms because they were so tired by that point and that perhaps there were some clothes
in there somewhere! “Maybe,” I tell
him. And began searching while I pray we
can at least find something for him to wear.
by some bizarre chance…amongst the girly sweaters and a silky robe I find a pair
of his swim trunks. I keep looking hoping
that I can find shoes, but to no avail.
at me then, in only his swim trunks and undies and thinks a moment. “Ok, I’ll
have to run there barefoot. It’ll take
me six minutes or so to get there.”
now live only about 1.2 miles away, so you do the math.)
He heaves a
sigh and points to the rocker that we left in the garage for him to fix. “You can sit and wait there. I’ll kind of close the garage. It’ll take a little while, ok?”
crazily and he heads out. And then the
longest minutes of my life start. Long
minutes where all I do is stand by the door, rocking crazily (this was either
from being freaked out with worry or because I had to pee really bad) and
listening for a scared frightened cry behind the locked door. My mind goes crazy (as a mind of an OCD,
overly worried, fatigued mind does) and I think…”what if Charming gets bit by a rattler or
attacked by that damn coyote that’s been wondering around the neighborhood
without fear?” Our little neighborhood
is at the bottom of a hill surrounded by nothing but mesa. Once you go the 1.2 miles to my parents then
you get to their little neighborhood around which is nothing but mesa…so yah,
it’s very possible those things could happen…unless rattlers aren’t out at
night, but I have no idea about that. So
I rock back and forth for five minutes or so that seem like five hours and
finally decide to start counting the seconds to maybe calm myself.
Meanwhile, Charming, after running on a lightless, dead street he finally arrives at my
parents house…sore-footed, sweaty, and tired.
He rings the doorbell, waits a few minutes…nothing. He tries again…and again…who knows for how
long. My little brother Trent finally
comes to the door in a confused, sleepy state—he said later he thought it was
the police since in our past besides a crazy family we once knew in another
state that is the only time our doorbell was ever rang that late at night. He stares at Charming and Charming says, “we locked
ourselves out, Ralphie’s in the house alone and we need Sandy’s keys.”
hands them to him and stares again. “And
I need a ride home,” Charming adds.
And Trent kind of shakes
himself awake and is like, “oh yah, duh.”
Lol, he’s cute. Anyway, they
finally arrive and we are able to get into the house. Ralphie slept through the whole thing and never
woke up that night until 6am…that was a crazy, once in a lifetime thing for
him! So quite a blessing. We finally went to sleep…Charming had to get up
2 or 3 hours later to go to work poor guy.
Days later his legs and feet are still aching from the barefoot, dark
morning we went to my mom’s house to email the house people about the air
conditioner. My mom, all distraught
says, “what kind of mother doesn’t wake up when her poor son-in-law is half
dressed and locked out of the house at 3am?”
Lol, my dad and brother start cracking up and ask me if Charming was
“bare-assed” under his swim suits. When
I told them no, they said they were sure he was and begin to tell me about some
part in that movie “Water Boy” (which I have only ever seen part of) in which where they are all reminiscing about someone running
down a football field losing his pants but the guy runs “bare-assed to the touch down”
or something. So they start saying in a deep southern accent (which is not hard for my dad, being from New Orleans and once having an accent himself--which still crops up now and then),
“remember that time when Charming got locked out of the house and ran 1.2 miles
bare-assed to get the key?” and start busting up. Mom adds, “that’s probably how the story will
go down in our family history.” Haha,
probably knowing my brothers and father that's true.
whole long days later (after finding a huge, basketball sized, 50 pound chunk
of ice frozen around the air conditioner pipes and waiting for it to melt and
another day for them to arrive) we finally got it fixed--it was low on...free-on because someone didn't do their job fully. Since then it turns out our microwave is
shotty and only works half the time…we probably shouldn’t use it for that
reason, but I NEED my microwave to thaw meat and crap. (Ok, that sounded really gross haha) Anyways, that’s the story and as I sit here
headache and all I’m just glad I have air conditioning, and wasn’t the one who
had to run bare-assed 1.2 miles. Also
there are some cute little desert owls that live in a dirt hill one our way out
of our complex…they are adorable! I love
to stop and see them every time I come and go. :-) Pictures soon I hope!
it. We’re here…in our new
home…finally. Oh, and our air
conditioning is working.
what? Oh, I see you missed that
headline. Let’s start at the beginning.
went pretty smoothly the whole while our house was being built—minus the fact
that they forgot one of the windows that we paid extra for and were going to
put our tile in our dining room down crooked, but yah, whatever, we got that
taken care of without too much drama.
walk-through went well. Charming’s dad,
through a stroke of genius, suggested we film it. Which we did and in the two weeks since we
have referred to it numerous times since.
But a few days after that was when it started to get bumpy.
But, I need
to step back again briefly. We
originally were meeting with Mark Smith at Frost Mortgage here in Albuquerque. We LOVED
him! He was fantastic! He made our buying a house possible through
his know-how, even though Charming was self-employed for six months last year. He knows his stuff! Anyway, we just adored him, but at some point
we got transferred to another person. A
lady who is here in town, I am guessing because she was closer and Mark
Smith is so awesome he was needed elsewhere.
Well, she was not as wonderful as Mark, not even close. She never told us what was going on and
always informed us of things last minute.
And later we realized her secretary did most of her job anyway. Yah, she’s one of those people.
call her a few days before the walk-through to see what the deal is and why we
haven’t heard anything about closing.
She tells us they are planning for the twelfth. We are excited—knowing we have given them
everything they wanted and the literal hour they asked for it. No messing around or procrastinating. We were on top of things. So let’s see…the walk-through was Thursday
the 7th and closing was supposed to be Tuesday the 12th. So Friday (at 5:50pm, of course) the
secretary calls us and tells us that they had us fill out one of the forms
wrong and we need proof of employment from Dish Network before 11 on
Monday. Wow, thanks lady.
So we are frustrated, mad and
worried all weekend wondering if we can even get that that fast. We know Dish Network and they are jerks to
their employees…we don’t even want to know how mean they are to their
So first thing Monday Charming calls
them…only to find out that it’s even HARDER to get proof of employment that we
had figured. You have to go through this
email address and it can take at least 5 days.
So we are mad. Mad that the lady
told us to fill out the form wrong, mad that Dish can still torture us even
though we quit them. So we email, and
hope they get back to us in not too long.
Days roll by…days and
days…Wednesday we hear back…oh, sorry, “Please advise.” What does that even mean. At least use the word correctly. So we send them some extra info, and figure
we have to wait at least two more days.
Friday the 15th in the morning, the secretary calls us…the
lady (notice I am omitting her name to be nice) called and hounded Dish,
accusing them of breakings some equal employment act. So they eventually send the proof over and it
goes to underwriting. The lady tells us
we could maybe close that day. We don’t.
So she says Monday. We
don’t. Finally Tuesday we close…and it’s
a breeze because we have everything prepared.
And the house is ours! Nothing can go wrong…well, except for that we
can’t move until Friday cause of Charming’s bizarre work schedule. But wait! TCharming goes to work and finds out that by some
rare occurrence his schedule was changed (in six months they have only changed
his schedule one other time) that we can move Wednesday!
So we wear ourselves (and my dad
and brother and mom out) the next day packing and moving. We move in, finally pick up Ralphie and take him
to our new home. Guess what. The air conditioning isn’t working.
To be continued (because that is
probably enough reading for right now huh?)
A word of advice...and I mean it as kind as possible. I am in no way pointing fingers or trying to be insulting or anything. Please read this ENTIRE post before you decide to respond, you might miss the whole point otherwise and think I am being judgmental or rude. I am not.
I have made some of the same mistake I am about to talk about in the past....but experience has taught me much. And I'd like to help others to not make the same, hurtful mistakes.
Pregnancy is hard. Duh.
Motherhood is hard. Also duh.
But here's the thing. People need to stop being so negative and complaining about it in harsh ways. I understand the need to vent...totally understand, I don't very often vent, but more often than not I really need to...here's the key though. Present it thoughtfully, respectfully, or with humor. Otherwise you might be really hurting people who are already hurting.
What do I mean? Are you thinking I'm just crazy?
Well, I have a friend who can't have children. She would make a fabulous mother. She is so kind, beautiful, and sweet and wants children so much, but can't have them. It just breaks my heart. What makes my heart ache even more is where I see on facebook or blogs people complaining about being pregnant or about their children. Oh, that just hurts my soul. And what about those who have or are suffering miscarriage? Or months and months of trying for a baby? And I don't mean all of the comments about children and pregnancy...I just mean certain ones phrased without thought.
Example (and I hear this all the time.) "I am sooooo done being pregnant." Yes, pregnancy is hard. I think everyone knows that. But do you know what? Some ladies would LOVE to be almost done with a pregnancy and about to have a baby any second, so just be glad you are able to be pregnant and have a baby. Why don't we try something like this instead... "I can't wait until this baby gets here!" See what I mean? Almost means the same thing but with a good twist. Doesn't hurt anyone. And instead brightens peoples day with the thought that a cute baby's birth is right around the corner.
Or those people who turn EVERY status into a "you're pregnant, aren't you?" status. Hey, what if that person can't get pregnant or is going through a miscarriage? Do you think that is really helpful or funny? If you look at miscarriage statistics...most people suffer at least one. So, let's think...before commenting and not make "you must be pregnant" jokes. Because most often people don't go around announcing miscarriages or months and months of trying to get pregnant....so you might not know how it will bother or make them sad :-(
And motherhood...oh so hard...I only have one child and it's hard, so I can't imagine having more children. Sometimes I see these status posts about people's children and it just makes me want to cry. Those poor children...their parents keep having kids and yet apparently (from what I gather at their status updates) hate being parents...wow, that makes a lot of sense. When really I think all it is is lack of thought before writing their status. I can't think of a good example, I really don't see this as often as pregnancy related ones, but I have seen a few in the past that just make me cringe. If someone read that who couldn't have kids, oh, I just can't imagine the pain that would cause them...knowing someone who seems to hate motherhood so much can have kids but they can't. Or if years down the road (with the addition of Facebook Timeline and all) your child reads that negative post? I doubt that's going to buoy them up or make them feel loved and wanted.
As I said earlier, I'm not perfect. But I think if you look at my facebook account 99% of my posts are positive and not negative--especially where motherhood or pregnancy is concerned. I really don't ever even think to post something derogatory, but on the few occasions I was in a bad mood or tired or felt like venting I thought it out first. My mom always says that more people will be drawn to you and like you if you lead a positive life (or a positive blog or facebook account in this case). So my point? I guess, be someone who spreads joy and positiveness on facebook, not someone who complains constantly and negatively about the blessings they are so lucky to have.
Aw, yesterday was lovely--believe it or not, knowing the day before we got a few inches of snow! We were able to have tons of fun and spend lots of time outside! Heaven!
We started off the morning by heading to Park Day at a big park here in town, met up with some other ladies in the ward. It was a lot of fun, Ralphie was super cute. At one point I was swinging all the kids (including Ralphie) on the tire swing and they all started singing together…but their own song. Adorable.
However, something bad happened too…I was talking to a friend, Iwalani, and looked away from Ralphie for no more than a minute (I had been watching him like a hawk, but he was playing with little Cadence so I figured he would stay near her and close)…but next thing we know they are MISSING! And this park is pretty big…and backs a VERY busy four lane highway!! So I started searching for him…some of us went one way, the others the other way. For some weird reason I was insanely calm…even though he was missing and minutes were passing and I still wasn’t finding him…I wasn’t freaking out! Whether I was just in shock or something was telling me that he was ok I don’t know, but I stayed calm…even when my mind kept thinking all these horrible things that could happen to him!
Finally from the other side of the park someone yelled, “They are over here!” So I ran over…they were all the way across this big soccer field by the gate and high way splashing in puddles. Oh, I was so glad I found him! Of course I tried to tell him to never leave or run off and always stay where he can see Mommy…but you know I am sure none of it made sense or sunk in. So…I am saying some serious prayers of thanks you today!
However, I don't know what to do! I literally watch him like a hawk...sometimes it seems more so than the other parents watch their kids. Are their kids just older and smarter? Or is Ralphie just curious and/or belligerent? How am I supposed to bring him to the park and enjoy it if I literally can't take my eyes off him? Anyone have any suggestions or ideas??
Later Charming and I took him to another little park we like to visit and attempted to fly the kite…it worked briefly…then we watched Ralphie drive his car along the brick wall for a bit and were about to leave when a few people in our ward showed up…who had a dog…which Ralphie chased for about 15 minutes non-stop…he almost followed it out of our site about three times so we had to chase him down and make him come back. Ugh! I have no idea what I am going to do with him! Please...share your ideas!
So as a child I grew up watching Disney movies, shows etc. As I am sure most of you did. But here is one of those "Sandy Blond Moments" you are probably beginning to know so well. Well, you know the famous Disney signature seen on everything Disney? This:
Well, as soon as I was old enough to begin to decipher cursive I remember trying to figure out why they used a backwards cursive "G" for the beginning of Disney. It wasn't until I was much older (I think a teenager) that I realized it was in fact a cursive "D"--which obviously made so much more sense to me! DUH! What a blond I am! Sadly, to this day I still see a backwards G until I concentrate REALLY hard while looking at it!