Migraine

There is nothing worse than having a migraine and being around children.  I woke up with a terrible migraine this morning and it did not go away until this evening.  I was nauseous and felt weak all day.  The boys were really sweet, and luckily Don was able to work from home to help me out.  My brain is mush, so this is all I have to say.  I really hate migraines!  They hit you like a freight train!

SO gross!

This is the latest that I have ever posted something, but I went to yoga this morning and was busy all day.  I went to see Natalie Portman in "Black Swan" with my awesome bro-in-law this afternoon.  It was really good, but I almost threw up on him when she pulls a feather out of her back!  She starts to get goosebumps on her skin like a duck, which was gross enough, but then she pulls out a feather when she is changing into a swan.....or does she?  It is so disgusting.  There was a lot of lesbian-lovin' and creepiness in this movie, but it was very interesting.  Natalie Portman should definitely get an Oscar. 
I won't even ellaborate on my skin-phobia.  Those of you who know about it know that I scratch for hours if I even talk about pores or creepy skin disorders.  Bluuuhhhhhhhh, just got the chills.  I can't get the feather out of my head. 
Katie, don't see this movie.  You'll throw up.

Da Me Mas Gasolina!

Why do weird things always happen to me?  If you know me well or talk to me once a week, I guarantee that I always have something to say that requires a response “Only you, Brittany.”  I remember one morning in college I was sitting outside eating cereal out of a sandwich bag, it was Life.  This pigeon was right by my feet begging for food.  I gave it some Life and after a few pieces the bird started to act really strange.  Strange being that the damn bird puffed up into a ball and started to make weird noises.  Its feathers were standing straight out and looked like it was going to pop!  Have you seen “Shrek”?  You remember when Princess Fiona sang and the bird exploded?  It looked similar to that.  I ran to class assuming that I was a bird killer. 

Yesterday I was heading downtown to take Carson to the doctor and I had to stop for gas.  I got out and put the pump into the gas thingy, swiped my card, and got back in the car to wait because it was windy and cold.  I heard the pump stop; I got out and looked at how much the gas ended up costing…..$54.  I reached for the pump, took it out and it started to spray gas like a water gun!  When I say that it was spraying, it was shooting across the pavement like an UZI.  The lady on the other side of the pump was like “Oh my gosh!” and she was screaming.  I was screaming too, getting gas on my shoe and my jeans.  The button was stuck, so when I pushed it a couple of times I got it to stop spraying.  Just so you know how long it was stuck, I paid for $5 of gas, which is now on the pavement.  I went to the clerk and told him what happened and he said that I trapped air in the pump and I pulled it out too fast.  Well, in all of my years pumping gas I have never heard of that happening.  I was praying all day that no one would light a match near me for fear that I might go up in flames.  The worst thing is that I had to make several stops until I could get home, smelling like gasoline!  I was trying to wipe it up with baby wipes and using my perfume to cover up the stench, but that seemed to make it worse. 

I guess I can be thankful for these odd tendencies, for they give me something to write about on a seemingly mundane day. 

"If you want to be happy, be." (Leo Tolstoy)

I have to admit, I really had almost given up.  I thought that Lindsey and Logan were going to fight forever and that nothing that I did was going to make a difference.  I had tried and said everything to fix their relationship, but nothing worked and I was very discouraged.  Since last week when I said that I was going to split them up in school if they didn’t start being friends, they have been sleeping in the same room.  Lindsey slept in Logan’s room for the first five nights.  They had their alarm clocks side-by-side, woke up together in a pleasant mood, and there has been no arguing about the bathroom, who gets which bowl of cereal (yes, can you believe that’s true?), no griping at each other for anything.  It’s been wonderful but I’ve been waiting for the bottom to drop out.  This morning I went into Lindsey’s room to wake them up (Logan was a guest in her room last night) and they were both on the floor in sleeping bags, Lindsey was snuggling with Logan.   Reporting live from Lindsey’s bedroom…..Hell has officially frozen over. 

After I woke them up I walked downstairs to the computer and thanked God for this miracle; I turned on the computer, opened my email, and read a forward from my friend.  It was a cute little story about God making a tiny bamboo plant.  It was small, flimsy, had to weather many storms, but the moral of the story was that all along he was growing roots to be stronger in the end.  The email said “Don’t ever give up.”  Do you ever wonder if God is up there chuckling?  He really sews things together so perfectly sometimes; it makes me wonder how people don’t see the tiny miracles in their everyday life.  To add to this beautiful little story, I was in Pilates on Tuesday and talked to a woman who had twins.  (I talk to everybody.)  She said that her twins fought too and that it’s normal.  She said “It’s just them strengthening their bond.”  Growing roots I wonder?  She said that when twins fight it’s like marriage.  If you aren’t fighting then there’s something wrong.  You have to fight (productively) to change and grow together and that’s how you make it to the finish line.  Fighting strengthens your bond.  This is why I love people, the surprises.  Sometimes they tell you exactly what you need to hear. 

As for the sweetie-pies Dylan and Carson, I taught them how to say “Two” a couple of weeks ago and we practiced a little yesterday.  I say “How old are you?”  Dylan says “two” with a big, chubby smile. Carson says “I twooooooo” and holds out his two index fingers and scrunches up his lips.  They both hold out their index fingers, which means that they understand what the number two is and they aren’t just copying me.   I tried to teach them the peace sign for saying two, but Carson couldn’t get his fingers right so he started using two hands.  Dylan copied him.  Pretty smart for two babies not yet two! 

Ok, so I love Oprah.  I love her show, her network, and the fact that she helps so many people every single day.  She came from poverty, had a brother who died of AIDS, a sister who died of a drug-overdose, she was molested, you get the point—she overcame a lot.  She is living proof that education should be our top priority and that we should never give up on a child.  She’s definitely a diamond in the rough and it makes me think about how many of them are out there.  And for the record, she isn’t as big as everyone thinks.  I was on her show (front row, audience, 2003) and she looks like everyone else walking down the street.  I didn’t realize that I was on TV until my friend Michelle asked me months later “Were you on the Oprah show?”  YES!  I was!  They had me sit in the front row because they thought my skirt was adorable.  It was a live show, Condoleezza Rice was interviewed via satellite and I didn’t tape it.  (It was before Tivo but after VCRs.)  Before the show they tell you not to scratch your nose, pick your teeth, and do anything embarrassing.  Pretty funny.

The reason I am talking about Oprah today is because I want to briefly write about yesterday’s show.  It was about being happy.  Goldie Hawn was a guest.  They said that up to 50% of your happiness is genetic, so I have reason to thank me parents because I am one of those annoying people who wakes up chattering with a smile on my face before coffee.  People really seem to hate it.  But don’t get depressed.  They said that even if you didn’t inherit natural happiness, you can do things to stimulate it.  Breathing deeply for ten minutes allows oxygen to reach your brain which makes you happier.  Having more sex makes you happier—Oprah says that a man must have conducted that study.  There you go men, now you can say “But the more you have the happier you’ll be!”  They also said that for a family of four you only need an income of 75K to be happy.  After that, you’re just as happy as someone with a million dollars.  I believe it too.  I have never needed money to be happy.  I’ve been happy in really bad situations because I have always known that stuff is just stuff, and I have always been able to see the sunny side of a situation.  Happiness is about so much more than what you have.  You know the expression “Money can’t buy you happiness”?  Well, I think it does buy happiness to a certain extent, but after your needs are met, I don’t think it makes a difference.  The show says that this is true.  I know someone who brags about her newest splurge every time I see her.  First of all, it’s so extremely tacky that I am embarrassed for her.  I think “Does she think that no one notices?”  Second, she isn’t happy.  It’s written all over her face.  She is filling her life with things and that’s not ever going to be enough.  They said on the show that a new item loses its luster after nine months.  In other words, it can bring you happiness, but only for nine months.  I feel sorry for people that get caught in this cycle, filling their holes with items.  I want to say “Are you bringing these items to Heaven with you?”  No.  And unless you’re a practicing Egyptian and you’re planning on being buried in a pyramid, they’ll probably wind up in a garage sale one day.  I enjoy new things, but I know it’s not the whole enchilada, therefore I can go without. 

Those of you reading who went to high school with me…..remember one of the senior superlatives that I won?  “Most Likely to Marry for Money?”  HA!  That’s so not me!  How embarrassing would that be to marry for money?  How sad are people who do that?  That’s not me at all!  I had a boyfriend in high school that was “rich” and I couldn’t have cared less, but I guess people didn’t know me very well and they gave me that awful superlative.  I’ve always said “I’d rather be with someone I’m crazy in love with and living in a shack than someone I can tolerate in a mansion.”  But that’s just me, and I feel sorry for women who do the opposite because they are always going to have to fill in a void.  I guess that’s where “the pool guy” comes in. 

Here’s the link for a quiz. “Are you Happy?”   There are a lot of interesting facts at the end of the quiz. 

http://www.oprah.com/oprahshow/Poll-Are-You-Happy

I’ll leave with another quote……

“Of all the things you wear, your expression is the most important”,  Janet Lane.  (This reminds me of the song in “Annie”.  You’re never fully dressed without a smile!)

Girls, Girls, Girls

The past few days have been full of errands, chores, phone calls, appointments, etc.  I have been waking up really early to try to fit everything in and I’m beat by 8:00.  I think I’ve fallen asleep before 10 every night this week.  I am trying to do some spring cleaning in January and let me tell you, it’s not easy with the little guys.  Hopefully you can’t tell in my writing that I am exhausted, but who am I kidding…..it shows everywhere, especially under my eyes.  I have dark circles because although I fall asleep before 10, I am up putting one of the boys back to bed about 12 times before I get up at 5:45.  I’m only up for a minute, but constantly waking up makes me feel like I haven’t slept well. 

Something has been on my mind the last couple of days.  I am noticing a lot of changes in Lindsey lately.  She’s moody, moves at a snail’s pace, doesn’t listen, clumsy, and extremely ditzy…..I realize finally that she’s hormonal.  I had to have a more in-depth puberty talk last night and I sounded like a nervous, bumbling idiot.  Those of you with young girls, just wait.  You think you know what you’re going to say, but it is not as easy as you think it will be.  I was trying to say things while leaving out really important details, all while keeping my cool and not embarrassing her.  I hated my mom when she talked to me about puberty.  Even that WORD, “puberty”, I wanted to jump out of a window when she said it.  Really, any of the scientific words completely grossed me out.  Remember “budding” ladies?  Ewwww!  It’s so gross!  Oh, and I threw a temper tantrum when she wanted to take me shopping for a bra.  I hated her for making me go with her and I pouted the entire time.  It wasn’t an act.  I really did hate her in that moment at the department store.    I was so embarrassed and I did not want to grow up.  I still played with dolls so how I was ready for boobs?  Oh, it’s such a horrendous time.  I would never want to go back to that age.  And here I am now, my daughter is nine and it’s me on the other end.  The bizarre thing is that Lindsey is so different than I was and she’s much younger.  She makes “ewww” faces, but she’s curious.  I can tell that she wants to grow up and be like me and that’s the thing that is the scariest to me.  She’s anxious to grow up and I wasn’t. 

I’ll tell you the truth, if you would have told me when I was in high school that I would be having this conversation in ten years with my daughter I would not have believed you.  It seemed so far away.  Also, she is NINE years old.  I thought she’d be 12 before I had to explain anything.  Long story short, she wanted to know what the word “S-E-X” is, she spelled it because she couldn’t say it to my face, and I told her that God invented it as a way to create life but it’s only for married people, and I got away with it.  Can you believe that?  She didn’t ask for any specific details!  That means that she’s not ready to hear anything else, which is good.  I was literally sweating through the conversation.  Thankfully I only have to do this once.  I don’t have to handle the boy talks.  I would rather crawl in a hole and die than to have puberty talks with my boys….I’m sure they would too. 

It is strange that this conversation happened yesterday because the fact that Lindsey is getting older was already on my mind and it was already upsetting me.  Actually, it’s been upsetting me for the past week, or year.  Two boys were checking her out at the library last week, they were probably 14.  The poor thing was hiding behind bookshelves and whining about it.  I gave them dirty looks.  I gave CHILDREN dirty looks.  Can you believe that?  It came very naturally, believe it or not.  Since that moment in the library I have been researching all-girl schools in our area and considering that insane idea of holding her back!  (I say insane because that’s what my brother said.  Actually, he said it was “terrible.”) 

I was in Pilates yesterday morning talking to a woman who I’d met this past football season.  Her little girl and Lindsey cheered together.  She told me that the school that they are going to next year (which is only 5^th and 6^th grade) is a different experience than the school they’re at now—something I have already been suspecting.  She told me that her friend dropped her little girl off on the first day and was shocked to see the other girls with their hair and make-up done.  Lindsey does her hair or I do it for her, but make-up?  These girls are at the youngest 10-year-olds and at the oldest 12-year-olds.  I can maybe see the 12-year-olds wearing make-up, but even that’s too young in my opinion.  I told Lindsey that we will talk about make-up in 7^th grade, but she’ll probably only be allowed to wear lip gloss and mascara, maybe blush.  What’s the hurry?  I don’t care what everyone else does, she isn’t wearing make-up.  She is nine and looks 14 with make-up (I’ve applied it for dance recitals and Halloween) so if she’s 12 wearing make-up what will she look like? 21?  No thank you!  Plus, I heard about that study that says that the younger a girl wears make-up the younger they are when they have sex.  Lindsey has like a 95% chance of having twins or triplets.  This is no joke; I will not be having twin grandbabies in five years.  Can you imagine that?  I’ll still be within MY child-bearing age.  And a grandma at 35?  Um, no.    Lindsey will be 28, married, and then she can have her twins.  If that study is true maybe I shouldn’t let her wear make-up until college!  She’s probably just like me, a walking baby factory! 

What makes me feel the worst though about this is that it’s my fault she doesn’t mind growing up.  The only girl she has in the house is me and I am a woman, so I think she tries to emulate me a lot.  She wants to dress like me, wear perfume and make-up like me, act like me, etc.  The bad thing is that I don’t notice her watching as much as she does.  That means when I complain about feeling fat and I do the unattractive self-loathing that we girls tend to do, she sees it.  It doesn’t matter what I say to her about her body, she thinks it’s normal to poke at herself.  I feel really bad about that and that she doesn’t have another little girl in the family to just be little with.  I’m her playmate.  And although I play with her, most of the time she just hangs out with me and the babies.  On top of that, she sees things on TV.  I just wish I could turn the clock back and maybe change some things.  I love her so much and I will do my best this day forward to make sure she stays little, but I know eventually, no matter what—I have to let go.  And that will be very hard no matter how old she is. 

Tiger Mom

Has everyone heard about Amy Chua by now?  She wrote a memoir about how she raised her children with Chinese traditions and believes that Americans spoil their children and do not require enough from them.  It’s called “Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother”.  Remember Joan Crawford in “Mommy Dearest” when she’s flipping out about the wire hangers?  This lady may be even scarier.  I wish I had more time to write this morning because there’s been steam coming out of my ears from hearing about this lady and her stupid-ass opinions.  I really tried to see her side, but I just can't agree with her parenting methods.  

Chua believes that Americans praise their children for doing the simplest of tasks and that praise should only be used when a child does something remarkable that requires actual effort.  She believes that children are capable of much more than we ask of them and that by enforcing strict rules she is helping them meet their potential.  Her children were not allowed to attend sleepovers, have play dates, watch TV, or play videogames.   She enforced rules and gave little to no praise when they followed them.  She called her daughter “lazy” and “garbage” if she produced something that wasn’t perfect.  For example, her daughter made a card for her and she threw it back in her face because it wasn’t good enough.  She threatened to burn their toys if they didn’t play the piano to perfection.  She says that it's not about achievement.  How’s that?  If you are expecting perfection from a human being, let alone a CHILD, then you are going to be disappointed because human beings are not perfect, moron. 

She says that the Chinese are appalled by American’s parenting styles.  Well, honestly, so am I sometimes.  But I am appalled by the fact that the Chinese try to turn their children into robots, put them on a track when they are young that decides what they will do for a living, and pressure them until they put a gun in their mouth.  Another thing, if they are all about pushing kids to meet their potential, then does that mean that they tell kids that they aren’t capable too?  If they are the ones deciding who can succeed and achieve then what happens to the kids that don’t have gifts and aren’t extremely intelligent?  We may spoil our kids and we may be too lax and we may need to toughen up, and maybe we are producing a generation of kids that are lazy and spoiled…..but isn’t there a happy medium between too lax and PSYCHOTIC??? 

I really don’t think that Americans should be taking advice from a woman practicing traditions from a country that kills baby girls just because they’re baby girls.  There’s no compassion in her style of parenting just like there’s no compassion in gender genocide.  Sorry, Chao.  You’re a psycho and you can kiss my American butt.  At least my kids know what love is. 

Chris Farley, our Furry Squirrel Friend

I’m very short on time this morning and have a lot to do today, so this is going to be very short—if you can believe it. 

We were out on the back deck on Saturday and saw the squirrel that lives in the attic.  He leaped from the roof to a nearby tree.  I used to refer to this creature as “Erwin” for no apparent reason, but he is now known as “Chris Farley”.  This is the fattest squirrel that you have ever seen.  And why wouldn’t he be?  He’s been cozy and warm eating nuts in our attic.  We tried shooting it with Peyton’s BB gun but we missed.  We’ve now devised a plan. One person is going to slam the attic door or go up and scare it while the other waits for it to come off of the house.......then we’re going to shoot it.  The only problem is that now I feel bad.  I saw the chunky little rodent and I gave it a name.  I heard Chris Farley galloping in the attic again last night and I wondered if we should just let it live up there. 

Wild Card

We have that channel “Boomerang” for the kids.  If you don’t have it, you need it.  You can watch The Smurfs, Snorks, Scooby-Doo, Popeye, Tom and Jerry, The Jetsons, The Flintstones—you get the point.  It plays cool cartoons that don’t include Spongebob Squarepants.  Has anyone actually tried following that stupid cartoon?  I watch and I concentrate really hard and I end up saying “Huh?  Why are they there?  What happened? I thought he was making pizza under water, now he’s on the moon?”  The kids think there’s something wrong with me because I can’t follow a cartoon.  I think there’s something wrong with the people who are making it.  What are they smoking?  I’m not going to write about cartoons today, but I started thinking about one of my favorites when I was watching with the kids recently.  Remember Gummi Bears?  That was the best cartoon and I still know all of the words to the intro.  Remember Gummyberry Juice?  They would drink it when being chased by an ogre and they would immediately gain speed, bounce, and strength?  I need some Gummiberry juice.  Maybe I should call up Grammi Gummi.  Or maybe Red Bull is the same thing. 

The reason I say that I need Gummiberry juice is because I am tired and it’s mainly due to my big twins’ constant competing and arguing with one another.  They sound like a couple that has been married for 98 years and they are so sick of each other that they would rather jump out of a window than be near the other.  They sound like they are gnawing off each other’s faces when they speak.  It’s awful.  I am so tired of it and I have tried every angle, every Dr. Phil-ish theory, every punishment, it doesn’t seem to matter.  Maybe for a day they'll get along, and of course we praise them for it, but it doesn’t help because they’re back at it the next day.   It’s completely exhausting, frustrating, and it sets a negative tone in the house.  The little twins are so sweet to each other, but I fear that they will start imitating the big twins and I will have to deal with it again.  That is not an option.  I can’t listen to fighting anymore.  A normal amount is to be expected, but not this.

Yesterday we were heading home from running an errand and they got into it, yet again.  Lindsey was accusing Logan of lying about her at school.  He told a friend that she has a nasty habit, and I can vouch for her that it was in fact a lie, and Logan denied it.  I am playing referee as usual when it dawned on me……I can split them up in school!  They are young for their age, they sometimes act immature in comparison to the other children, and it’s an option!  Academically, Logan gets very high A’s and one B, every quarter.  Lindsey gets more B’s than A’s and I have been concerned that she’ll fall behind due to her talking and fluttering.  She’s extremely focused on dance, but not as interested in school.  Also, she looks older than she is and this scares me because she’ll be 14 entering high school and won’t have the emotional maturity that she could have a year older and I don’t want boys messing with her.  Socially Logan acts more immature and goofy than Lindsey, but at the same time Logan would be bored repeating a grade.  I do not want to hold one of them back because I don’t want one of them to feel bad about themselves, but this is the last year that they’re at their current school.  Next year they change schools, so now would be the time to do it.  There are some pro's to them being at the same school and in the same grade, I would say more than being split up IF they could get along.  I’d like to know that Logan is protecting Lindsey and that Lindsey is watching out for Logan.  But if they hate each other and create problems for each other at school, is that more damaging than splitting them up? 

I don’t think that this is something that I can seriously consider, but I can threaten it.  Maybe it was mean, but something has to change.  I threatened it during the argument and we continued to talk about it when we got home.  Lindsey was crying and looked at me like she hated me.  Logan liked the idea, until he knew that he could possibly be the one staying in 4^th grade another year. 

It may have been mean, but I am happy to report that they had a slumber party in his room last night and came down with smiles on their faces for breakfast.  This may be better than the “You’re getting coal in your stocking” card. 

Stupid Smartphones

My dad is hilarious.  He knows that I despise Ke$ha—as any self-respecting person over the age of 12 with any taste does.  Sorry, Ke$ha fans, but  if you’re reading this blog and you’re someone I know, you must be listening to her in secret and therefore I can’t be accountable for hurting your feelings.  She sucks big time.  I didn’t know that anyone could suck more than Lady Gaga, but I was wrong.  Anyway, I was pulling into my driveway and jumped out to get the mail.  I’m flipping through the pile.  Netflix, bill, bill, junk, junk, and one from the “Ke$ha Fan Club” in Ocala, Florida.  It was Girl Scout cookie money from my dad.  I laughed hysterically. 

So I’ll back up about an hour.  I was on the elliptical at the gym and I caught something interesting on the news.  The headline was “Kids Learn Smartphones Before Shoelaces.”  They said that kids as young as 2 are learning how to make a call from a smartphone.  Are you kidding me?   Why?  For what reason?  Who are they calling, Big Bird?  Carson loves to play with my phone, but I don’t let him because he erases contacts and gets on the Internet which I don’t pay for so it’s like $90 every time he gets hold of it!  He can’t read and he isn’t interested in calling anyone.  He is using his imagination, imitating me, and he thinks the lights and buttons are cool.  That’s pretty understandable. 

  The poll was based on children ages 2-5 years, 2200 mothers with Internet access were questioned.  Based on the information that was given to them 58% of those kids knew how to play video games and only 43% knew how to ride a bike.  That didn’t surprise me as much as some of the others because of V.Smile, which is a toddler videogame.  More of those children knew how to play with smartphones (19%) than how to tie their shoelaces (9%).   More kids knew how to open a web browser (25%) than swim alone (20%).  I find this disturbing on so many levels.  First of all, the obesity epidemic in this country isn’t just being imagined, it exists.  Also, it’s bad enough that we adults are aware of the fact that we have become dumber and fatter since we’ve had every technological advantage, but now we’re robbing our kids of a good old-fashioned childhood!  Smartphones?  Yes, they are.  They are smarter than us.  Our phones know our mother’s phone number by heart, but we don’t.  If we lose our phone we have to wait for people to call us back.  How ridiculous is this going to get?  Do you remember when you used to have a factoid or someone’s name on the tip of your tongue but you couldn’t remember?  It was frustrating, but what usually happened?  Eventually you would shout it out loud—sometimes to a person who had no idea what you were talking about-days later.  Well, we may have been suspected of having Tourette’s for the moment, but at least our brains had to work.  We don’t have to do that now. I’m not saying I don’t Google things that are on the tip of my tongue, I do, but I do wait a little while to see if my brain can remember on its own.  I’d like to know my name when I’m 80 so I exercise my brain occasionally.  What’s funny about this is that our brain WORKS like a computer, saving and storing information, it’s just on dial-up and that’s too slow for us these days. 

I saw this special on MSNBC a week or two ago about how people think that they can multitask but that it’s actually not possible.  (This debate is hot right now with the texting and driving issues, etc.) They did an experiment on a college campus and it illustrated how well we multitask.  If I remember correctly (I won’t Google it, ha-ha) they had a clown walk around on stilts and act goofy.  Then they asked the kids who were walking around texting if they noticed anything out of the ordinary.  None of them saw a clown.  The ones who were looking up, of course they looked in the clown’s direction.  

I realize I’m not saying anything new.  It’s a big debate right now and maybe we’re all noticing how strange things are getting, but I don’t like where we are headed.  I fear that our kids are going to have a hard life because of the bad habits we’re displaying.  Well, our bad habits, the overwhelming and overabundance of technology, and Ke$ha’s horrible music.  We’re going to have kids who know how to download crappy music on their smartphones but that don’t know our phone number.  

I think that ending with this is perfect:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OWtDpGM36J8&feature=related

WORD (n): a unit of language

Grab your coffee before you read this.  If you aren’t awake it may be a little much for the AM.

I have recently been teaching Carson and Dylan the “ABC” song—one of the simplest and most important songs that they will ever know.  I will be honest, watching a baby learn to speak is one of the most amazing and miraculous things that I have ever watched.  There’s this natural curiosity and observation that occurs and most of all, there’s innocence there.  They know what words are even before they know the meaning.  It’s incredible to watch.  So we all know that letters make up words, which make up sentences, which make up paragraphs, which make up novels, and so on.  It’s a pretty simple concept and one that maybe we don’t feel compelled to analyze-but maybe we should.

I love words and I always have.  I love to talk, I love to write, and I love to listen.  I’d be lost without words.  I love the word “anarchy” and “puddle” but I hate the word “porous.”  Some words stand alone but sound disgusting when put together, like “window treatments.”  My little sister hates the word “chunky.”  My daughter hates the word “casserole.”  We all have our preferences.    But I mainly love what words do.  I love how the way you say a word can change its meaning, like sarcasm or tone of voice.  Words can display intelligence or ignorance.  I am frustrated by the fact that we can get lost in words during arguments and yet happy that they are there for me to tell someone I love them.  I love how words can strip off your skin and allow someone to see who you really are, and you can see the same.  Words can roll off your tongue sweetly, but can also be spat out venomously.  Words can be taken both literally and metaphorically.   They can be a conduit for expressing emotion and yet rot inside of us if suppressed for too long.  Words are born, sometimes they change, and sometimes they die.  Sometimes they are reborn.  Words can carry bad connotations that make our blood boil and then lose their meaning with the times, and they can be airy and fluffy and fun and stay that way.  They can distort history, create legends, pass on the truth, manipulate people, and guide people to light when they’re trapped in darkness.  Words can change what you are meaning to say if not used correctly, and they most definitely say something about the people we are.  If we are what we eat, are we what we say?  If you are genuine, so are your words.  If you are a hypocrite, your words are lies.  If you’re judgmental, often your words are hateful and ugly.  If you are sweet, your words are comforting.  I’m not sure I believe that words without action are meaningless because I know that speaking them is an action, and words have both the ability to lift you up and rip out your heart.  Someone can do a good thing while saying something hurtful and it takes away the good that they were doing—I think that people who believe that words are meaningless are fools because words stay with us longer than bruises.  Words have the power to create the type of environment we live in.  They can send unwanted messages that make us feel the way we do about ourselves.  When put to music they can give us chills; “Amazing Grace” does that for me.  Words are powerful.

My goal here is not to sound like a stoner (Words, man, whoaaaa) or that dummy in “Good Will Hunting” that said “Trust is uh, trust is LIFE”, remember him?  What a D-bag.  But it’s to get us to stop and think about what we’re doing and saying for a second.  Last night I watched Oprah’s new show “Master Class” on Maya Angelou.  I am not a poetry person (oddly enough) and so I’ve never really been interested in reading her books and I haven’t ever been exposed to her, but she is one smart lady.  When she was 7 she was raped by her mom’s boyfriend.  She told someone about it, he was arrested, and two days later he was dead.  In her mind she thought that her words killed him, so she stopped speaking.  For 6 or 7 years she didn’t talk and people called her a moron and said she was stupid.  She started to devour books and poetry and one day someone told her that until she felt the poems roll off her tongue she’d never love it.  (Maybe that’s why I don’t love poetry.)  She started to speak and said she realized that her words didn’t leave her, she left them.  Long story short, she says that she believes that words are things and that they get into the wallpaper, the upholstery, and eventually into you.  Well, you may not be able to see them, but I believe that they’re always there.  I was taught growing up that you can’t take what you say back.  Once it’s out there, it’s out there.  Have you ever forgiven someone for something that they said but the memory still lingers?  I completely believe that they’re tangible.  Otherwise, why do they explode from our mouths if they are forced into silence for a long time? 

I started thinking about all of the new ways we can communicate and started wondering if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.  I think it’s both, but we’re responsible for our mouths and for protecting our ears.  You can go online and slam someone, but you can also connect with a friend.  There are messages scrolling across the TV screen telling our daughters that they’re fat, but there are new tools that educate people who wouldn’t normally have access to the information.  I guess given the time we live in and understanding the power that words hold, I realize how important it is to think before you speak and write and how important it is to treat words for what they are…..an extension of ourselves.   If you are a nasty person, you speak nasty.  If you want to be a good person, watch your tongue because it has the power to change us from the outside in.  We’ve heard it all before, but maybe we can pause and think about it.  It’s a lot harder than it sounds, definitely.  We’ll never be able to get back to that baby learning a language, but maybe we can fine tune the words we choose. 

I’m closing with this verse because it’s so true.  If only it were easy to follow.

Proverbs 16:24 “Gracious words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body.”

Alcohol….it does a scab good

Since the last time I posted I have been cleaning the house and doing the laundry—not very exciting.  Carson and Dylan took naps at different times, which made mopping the kitchen floor especially difficult.  Carson was so cute; he helped me with the floors.  It’s a good thing that he was helping because he’s the reason they’re so dirty in the first place!  Well, he and Dylan.  They are in this wonderful stage where they throw their food!  I try to stay away from foods of a vibrant color, but it just doesn’t matter.  They can make a mess out of just about anything.  They can make Cheerios turn to glue.

After the kids got home from school we had to go to the post office.  Isn’t that strange after yesterday’s story?  Luckily, there wasn’t a lady asking to see passports but there was a guy in a velvet leopard shirt, hot pants, and black high heel boots.   I swear.  What is it with the post office?  I want to know what these people are mailing.  I’m sure whatever it is, it’s interesting.  Then on the way from the post office to the library, Logan said “Mom, this is so weird!  I just saw a pair of tennis shoes hanging from a telephone wire.  Why would someone throw their shoes up there?”  Well, maybe I shouldn’t have told him the truth, but I did.  I use any opportunity to inform them about the dangers of drugs and alcohol, and I sound like a D.A.R.E. teacher.  I tell them that it is very likely that you could become homeless if you even try drugs once.  I am a bit dramatic, but it seems to work so far.  Lindsey asked if alcohol is a drug and I told her yes, technically, but that it’s legal.  I said that if you have too much it makes you act stupid, of course, and I told her what the Bible says about being a foolish drunk.  Then I referenced my brother.  Sorry, Ty.  I told her about the time that Tyson had too much to drink at our wedding and opened our presents after the reception.  He thought it was the funniest thing ever.  Um yea, there are still people who have never been thanked because he lost the cards and I didn’t know who the presents were from.  My cute little Lindsey said that what he did was foolish but then she says “Well, alcohol can’t always be bad because it helps your scabs.”  Of course I told her that it’s not the same thing.  I don’t want her drinking rubbing alcohol one day. 

We got to the library and they didn’t have the book we came for, so we ordered it.  Logan wants to read “To Kill a Mockingbird” because he saw the movie and loved it, and it’s one of my favorites.  He shares my passion for books—I am ecstatic about that!  I have read the same amount to Lindsey and Logan and yet only he really loves books.  He has a really good grasp on language and grammar already, and any of you who know him know that he sounds like he’s 65 years old.  He’s a cutie.

Maybe you’ve already seen this, but I wanted to post this link yesterday and I forgot.  This was in “Going the Distance” and it’s so cute!  Hopefully the link will work.  If it doesn't, google "baby panda sneezing, scares mother."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E63ExmhOk8g

Squirrels, yoga pants, and schizophrenics

So I haven’t quite figured out when I’ll have the time to blog, but I named the blog “Haphazard Daily” with the intent on writing daily.  I hope that I do not fail miserably!  Thank you in advance to those of you who are reading!  Yesterday after going to Pilates and putting the babies down for their nap, I initiated this whole BLOG thing and if you could have seen the house after I finished it, oh Dear Lord.  It looked like a bomb had gone off.  Lindsey was feeding the babies BBQ chips in the living room, the babies had pulled all of the books off of the bookshelf, and no one couldn’t even get through the front door because there were so many bags and shoes blocking it.  But now I have it up and hopefully that won’t happen again.  My house can go from immaculate to a trash heap within hours.  And I don’t even discuss the laundry…..

I ordered two pairs of CAPRI yoga pants from Victoria’s Secret and I was so excited to get them yesterday.  I put the SMALLS on and the CAPRIS were down to my ankles.  Now if you’re a dude reading this, capris are supposed to fall at mid-calf.  Well, I was just crushed.  Not only am I short, but my dreams of becoming a Victoria’s Secret model are now over!

I was discussing my ideas for my blog with my mom and I was telling her about the name and about how I want it to be about anything and everything-random, just like me.  She was telling me about her trip back home yesterday and it brought up a pretty funny and random story.  First of all, I should say that she started out in LA and had a layover in Atlanta before flying to Milwaukee.  Does that seem a little backwards to you?  So needless to say, she was irritated anyway.  But then she had to listen to this conversation behind her.  This woman said that she had gotten pregnant against her husband’s wishes and she was so scared to tell him about it, but that it was the best thing she’d ever done because her son was so cute.  Seriously, this is the type of thing that makes men think that we are all crazy, manipulative beotches. But I’ve gotten off track.  Here I go with the random story.   She said that there was this strange woman sitting across from her, she was dressed weird and talking to herself.  Not only was she talking to herself, but she was answering back.  I told my mom that I have so much empathy for schizophrenics, but I am also terrified of them.  I have had more run-ins with them than any normal human being, and they always seem to hate me-including the lady at Starbucks when I was at Georgia State.  She banged on the glass and screamed at me with such hatred and proceeded to find a campus cop and told on me for something.  He laughed about it, but the Starbucks employees were so alarmed that they offered to walk me to class!  Not only am I terrified of them, I was so happy when I turned 25 because I knew that my chances of becoming one were slim to none.  I thought “Yes!  My insurance rates AND my chances of becoming a schizophrenic just went down!” I told my mother all of this and she said that when I was a little girl there was this lady who stood outside of the post office and asked to see our passports.  Every time.  Finally, my mom would have to say “Kids, show her your passports.”  I would look up at her with confusion and then pull my pretend passport out of my pocket, my hand shaking with fear.  Thanks, Mom.  Thanks for that.  That must be why I hate going to the post office as well.

To wrap it up, Last night I watched “Going the Distance” which was cute, but not for little ones' eyes and ears.  Then I went to bed and tossed and turned because I could hear the damn squirrel galloping across the attic and hiding nuts in the insulation.  We have to get some cage for it and drop it off 30 miles away or he’ll find his way back.  Is it a rodent or a nuclear engineer scratching around up there?  I need navigation to find my way home 30 miles away!  Anyway, Carson and Dylan woke up five or six times last night and Carson threw a fit about having a cookie for breakfast this morning.  And I realize there’s never a dull moment in my life.  Life is good.  Have a great day!

Martin Luther King Day

Today is the 10^th day the kids have been home. I am happy to report that we survived the snow and being cooped up together, but I am pretty sure that even the kids are anxious to go back to school.  Our driveway is like Mount Rushmore and once it got icy, we were stuck.  It really sucked.  You know that movie “The Shining”?  I thought about Stephen King during the storm and realized that he too was probably stuck in the house for days with his messy kids and nagging wife, wandering around like a zombie going without exercise, sunshine and the desire to shower.  I also realized that if your family can survive a snowstorm without killing each other before it melts, well dammit, you can survive anything!

We woke up this morning in a rush because I had a hair appointment……going blonde and I am excited to feel like Brittany again.  I dropped the kids off with Libbie and went to the bank to make a deposit and realized that it is Martin Luther King Day!  Then later in the day I proved that blondes not only have more fun, but forget about national holidays twice in one day.  I loaded the kids up to go to the library….duh, Britt.  It’s closed.  So I took the big twins home to clean their rooms and I took the babies with me to the gym.

I think that the most important thing to note today is that I realized something very bizarre, yet very obvious.  Did you know that Martin Luther King’s “I have a Dream” speech was in August of 1963?  Well I never knew what the exact date was, but I know one thing, I thought it was like a million years before I was born!  It’s in black and white on TV, so it has to be old, right?  It was 17 years before I was born!  Why is it that I just now realize that the 60’s weren’t forever-ago?  I mean, Adam Sandler was born in the 60’s and he’s still cool!  17 years is the difference between me and a 13 year old.  And now that same 13-year-old thinks that I’m old and the 80’s are forever-ago.  I mean, in their defense, I am as old as Pac-Man.  Yes, Pac-Man came out the year I was born, 1980.  I don’t care what they say, it still kicks ass.  They can have their games with 500 buttons while their brains turn into Spam.  I'm sticking with Mario and Luigi.

The weirdest part about this revelation is that I heard all of these weird, cliché things about getting older and how your perspective on time changes and how it’s all relative, blah blah blah….but I didn’t think it applied to me, just like every other young person.  Or if I did think it applied to me, I didn’t understand it and knew I’d have to understand it later.  Well, I do now! And it’s weird! It does make me feel better about aging though.  Imagine what I’ll know when I am 70, and I don’t even know it yet.