Update

My laptop died about 2ish weeks ago. I'm very sad about it. If you follow me on Facebook you will see my hilarious posts lamenting its demise. Well, they're hilarious to me.

I'm doing this update from my phone and am finding it rather annoying (autocorrect doesnt think I mean what I think I mean) so I probably won't be doing it again soon.

I asked the kids to clean their bathroom today to make it presentable to the guests we will be having this evening (cooking a turkey dinner cause we like leftovers)(our neighbor/friends are coming cause they like turkey dinners) and it reminded me of a couple weeks ago when I asked them to clean it last time for company.  After making my request, Carus asked me who was coming over.  "Gramma and Grandpa are for Daddy's birthday."

"Oh, well then we're okay. We don't have to clean it. They don't mind."

Gotta love her reasoning. Ha!

Being Brave

Okay, first.  The title is inspired by this song, Brave by Sara Bareilles, that my friend Bethany introduced me to this evening.  I've been listening to it on repeat, it's really speaking to me right now.  This post started out as a Facebook update and then I went, "whoa, this is wayyyyy too long for Facebook. I should put it on my blog."  Which is what I'm doing.  And it's taking a bit of courage.  (Hold on, gotta push play again.) Okay, now on to the point of my post.

This article/project (Ashamed and Embarrassed That Her Daughter Posed For This Project) (heads up: Along with the article are photos of a nude fat woman - no nipples or genitalia is shown) is making waves in a Facebook photography group I am.  There are a lot of people saying, "well, as long as she's healthy it's okay for her to be fat" and other bullshit like that.

I have always struggled with my self esteem, and a lot of it manifests with issues my weight and other "imperfections".

Shortly after I noticed Carus mimicking me in saying she's ugly and she's stupid, I started really working on my self esteem.  I've been working on showing I think I'm beautiful even when I'm not feeling particularly beautiful. I don't want my daughter to ever think she is not good enough because she isn't _______.  That blank can be filled with anything, by anyone, - not tall enough, not blonde enough, not thin enough, not enough boobs, too much hair, too curly of hair, too straight of hair, too much of this or not enough of that.

And it's all a bunch of crap.

We all have our insecurities, but we STILL need to recognize that they are just that.  Insecurities. (And here I have to say that along with other friends, my friend Bonnie and her pro body image posts she shares has helped me a lot.)

When Carus looks at me, she sees her mom. She wants to wear makeup like me.  She wants to wear pretty shoes or pretty clothes, or curl my hair or blow dry it straight when I do.  Because she is my daughter and I am the most important woman to her.  She is looking to me to show her how to be comfortable in her own body and how to love herself.  I can't just tell her to love herself, I have to show her how it is done.

So I've been working on it, and I think I'm doing a damn fine job at it. I no longer lament how fat I am or how ugly I am.  I will say that I'm feeling blah or frumpy - and then I hang out with friends, do my hair or makeup or nails or, if I have a few bucks, go buy myself a new shirt or something, and THEN I say, "there, I feel better."

Carus is still working on her self esteem.  I did damage before and she's going through puberty, which can be a bitch.  But she is doing better and I think I will succeed in showing her how to love herself.  (And note - I'm just talking about being pretty/feeling pretty, but it's also extending into recognizing and celebrating my, and in turn her, intelligence. Also note, me having a positive self esteem also has benefits for Adam, but in different ways.)

So anyways, back to the article, and my point.  This is the comment I posted on that thread* and I want to share it here too.

"Stop trying to qualify beauty.  Stop saying "it's okay to be fat, as long as you're healthy".  Everyone has a right to be - a person.  You are a person, they are a person.  And all people are beautiful BECAUSE OF their differences (not 'despite' or 'even though').  The differences (short, tall, fat, thin, smooth, hairy, wrinkly, botoxed, crooked teeth, uneven feature, deformities, scars, stretch marks, big boobs, small boobs, saggy boobs, short hair, long hair, no hair, ETC are what make us beautiful.

I think Sue Bryce's message is that EVERY WOMAN is beautiful.  She uses glamour photography to pamper women, who notoriously don't take time for ourselves and notoriously make excuses not to be in photographs.  The pampering makes them feel good about who they are.  And they love the images she takes of them not because she minimized their waist or arm or bum; or because she smoothed out a few wrinkles - they love those photographs because they are a window to their soul.  They show the beauty that she sees.  The beauty that all of those that love them see.  They allow them to say, "I am beautiful and it is okay to love myself."

And it is.  It is okay to love yourself.  As is, with flaws - imagined or perceived or real.  And it is okay for those women in that project to love themselves.  It's okay for you (man or woman, by the way) to love yourself.  Love yourself for who we were yesterday, who we are today, and who we will become..."

*It's a photography group that focuses on glamour photography in style with the amazing photographer, Sue Bryce's style.

The part where I can't stop crying...

But its okay. They're happy tears. And scared shitless tears.

Mostly happy tears.

That's how I work - get mad, I cry. Get sad, I cry.  Get happy (like really happy), I cry. And on and on.

Sometimes it's annoying. 

Sometimes it works to my advantage.

Anyhoo...

At 4 hours from our deadline I was staring at my phone wanting it to ring. 

Willing it to ring.  RING DAMN YOU, RING! 

Robert's phone was the one that rang. (Which was probably because I think he had already called our realtor for an update 10 times this morning.) Then he called me and tried to play dumb.

Me: "Hey, what's up?"

Him:  "Oh, not much."

Me: "Well?"

Him:  "Well, what?"

Me: "Did Christina call?"

Him:  "Huh? Oh, yea she just called."

Me: "Well?"

Him:  "Well, what?"

Me: "Did they accept? Did they deny? What?"

Him: "Oh, that."  *silence*  "Yeah, they accepted."

BRING ON THE TEARS!!  I immediately began crying - and resisting the urge to start jumping up and down and screaming.

It almost wasn't accepted.  The sellers were told another offer was coming in this morning and when it didn't show up they got nervous that ours would expire before/IF the other one came in and they would be left with no offers.  And they already had their eyes set on another house and just had to get theirs sold first. Thankfully for us, they played it safe.

We are home owners!!!! (almost)

Now to get to closing. Fingers still need to be crossed (PLEASE!!!!).  Closing date is April 23rd.

Ain't it adorable?

We have the kids set up with their own email addresses and with those MSN messenger. The theory was that grandparents who also have messenger could message them and talk to them online since most times its difficult to get my constantly speaking children to talk on the phone. Weird huh?

We also use them to send little notes to the kids randomly. Ya know, love ya, proud of ya, why did the chicken cross the road jokes, etc, etc.

The other day Robert sent Carus a little note from work saying "Hi big girl..!!" when he noticed she signed on.  She didn't get it until he had signed off at work, but did send the reply, "hi big daddy..!!"  And then a few hours later, he returned to his computer in the bedroom and finds...

If you need translating it says, "you make my hart (heart) grow    love... your prensess (princess) . . . . . . Carus"

Isn't that adorable?!?!

Mount Washmore

Laundry

I don't enjoy doing laundry. But since I don't have the money to just toss the dirty clothes and go buy new stuff every day, it is going to need to be done from now until the end of time...

My old approach of doing laundry is to do as much as I can on one day in the weekend and during the week attempt to cycle one load through (wash, dry, fold) a day but end up with a load in the washer and a load in the dryer at all times.  Sometimes even having to wash a load AGAIN because I forgot to switch it over before it started to get that mildew-y smell.  Yuck!

The only time I have absolutely nothing left to wash, nothing in the washer or the dryer and everything folded, hung up and put away is when gramma visits me.  The second gramma gets here she takes over my laundry room and I become spoiled with not having to touch stinky boy socks or turn jeans right side out and remember to check the pockets and find all the little stains that need pretreating and...

Gramma enjoys doing laundry.

Gramma enjoys it because of how she grew up doing laundry.  Her family didn't have electricity or a phone until she was 14 years old and she grew up doing laundry once a week with the boil-those-suckers-clean-method!  All dirty clothes were put into a giant pot of boiling water where it was boiled and stirred and then boiled some more.  Then it was pulled out of the boiling water and was wrung out by hand so it could be hung on the line to dry.  Because of having to do this for years she now enjoys doing the laundry with a washer and dryer.

So I will too.

That is going to be my new approach to doing laundry.  I will enjoy it.  I am determined to enjoy it!

This week, I've stayed on top of the switching laundry over part a teensy bit better.  Hopefully I will get better and better about staying on top of it and will stop dreading it so much.

Because really, I don't have to boil it and wring it out by hand!

The golden age

We are in the golden age.  When body parts and their functions are funny.

Wait, aren't you suppose to 'outgrow' that humor?

The other day Robert was helping Adam clean out his toys.  He found so many dirty socks it isn't funny.

See I told you my ability to get laundry done in a timely manner had nothing to do with his lack of socks.

While picking up the toys that weren't broken Robert was pointiing out the nerf balls that go to one of Adam's nerf guns that he was to pick up and said, "you have balls there, and there, and there."

To which Carus replied, "Heh, balls." (Boo, writing it out just doesn't do it justice....)

Decorating the Christmas tree later that evening continued the theme.

Me: "Adam, do you want to hang a red ball?"

Adam: "hahahahahahha"

Carus: "I have a lot of green balls to hang."

Don't even get me started on the word 'fart'.

Good night baby doll

That's what I say every night when I tuck Carus in.

"Good night baby doll."

And every night she says to me,

"Good night momma doll."

I know I won't have that much longer, but I want to remember it forever.

Good night baby doll. Good night momma doll.

Mommy FAIL!!!!

And I failed bad.


I failed toothfairy duty.

Carus lost a tooth the other day and forgot to put it under her pillow that night - or forgot to check the next morning, I'm not sure because I didn't remember it. BUT first thing this morning, she comes out of her room holding the plastic zipper bag with the tiny tooth in it with the most scandalized look on her face.

"The toothfairy didn't come!"

"Oh, uh, well I bet she is super busy with all the back to school teeth that are being lost." Said with my best I'm-mom-so-I-know-everything look on my face.

'Cause yeah Becca, that makes sense. Everyone knows that kids collectively lose the teeth when its time to go back to school. Like duh! *rolls eyes*

Carus bought it though. She agreed with me looking at her bag and turned to go put it back under her pillow.

"Hey Carus, put that on the fridge so we remember to put it under your pillow tonight."

Which roughly translates to: 'put it on the fridge because your failure of a mother needs a reminder to do her duty.'

This isn't the first time I've slacked on my toothfairy duty. I have (more than once) snuck in there to make the switch in the morning before they woke - one time Carus was even starting to wake up.

Robert asked if maybe it was time to come clean. I don't want to. I'm pretty sure that Adam has it figured out, and I love that he is keeping up appearances for his baby sister. Plus, with how fast Carus is getting older and all that is discussed in school yards I'm sure that it won't be long until she knows.

I have a theory that kids handle the truth of Santa, Easter bunny, and Toothfairy better when they have figured it out on their own. At least I did.

I know several people who chose to never start the 'lie' with their kids claiming its because of the trauma they suffered as a child when finding out the truth. And I don't get it. Seriously, what trauma?

I hope she will laugh with me over this someday. I hope she will not be mad at me for being spacey and forgetful . . .

To remember when she's all grown up...

Just a quick note so I can get this down and will not lose it because of my craptasticular memory.

While grocery shopping the other night, Carus announced that for Father's Day she was going to get Robert:

"1 box of aloe-coated tissues, a handmade card, and....$5."

And then added, "Mom I need $5."

She wanted to get him tissue because his allergies are sooo bad lately (we also happened to be picking up a couple boxes at that time) - and the card is, of course, because she wants to be an artist and loves to make cards. Don't ask me where the $5 came from, but it was cute.

A story to remember

Last Friday when I was talking to Granny she told me a story that I liked so much I wanted to get it on here so I could remember it forever. I love Granny's stories. They make me smile and laugh and sometimes I want to cry - but in a good way.

Anyhoo - back to my story about Granny's story.

We were talking recipes and she told me of a meal her mother made during the depression.

Granny's Depression Meal

1 medium potato, cubed (per person)
1 slice of bread, cubed (per person)
1 egg (per person)

Brown the potato in a skillet.
Add the bread and brown that.
Add the egg and cook until done.

Viola.

This is pretty similar to something Robert makes that we call breakfast hash - we don't have bread in ours and we add in cubed ham and top with cheese.

The best part of this story was when Granny told me that this meal chased away a boyfriend. . .

One evening after returning from their night out her boyfriend was hungry so Granny made him this meal, and then she never saw him again.

And she says, "good thing I didn't make it for Gramps."

Yes Granny good thing you didn't make it for Gramps.

Love you!