The Art of Starting (and stopping) and Starting Again, or, never give up on those dishes

Hey guys, it's been a while! Well, the camping trip was really fun. I say "really fun", but I mean "really scary there at the end." See, just like I predicted, good times were had by all until the sun went down. My friend and I were left all alone (with a .357 magnum, so not really "all" alone) by our wonderful men, who went to go "look at Michael's new laser". They're cool. Did I mention it was dark and scary? So, my friend and I are playing cards in the tent, because it was way too scary to be by the fire. We started hearing sounds really close to the tent, and even heard something bump against one of our cars RIGHT OUTSIDE THE TENT. We were beyond scared. I was holding onto that gun like I was scared it would try to fly away. We tried calling Michael about 12 times, but it's no surprise that he didn't answer. I wouldn't expect him to. After all, they were busy looking at the green beam of light emitted by his supercool new laser for his gun. So, long story short, we did NOT die, and we were very glad to see the boys when they got back. So glad, in fact, that we forgot about our promises to kill them for not answering their phones and leaving us all alone. That reminds me...

So, on to the reason for this post. I have realized that I am a starter/stopper. Maybe we could call it a starper? No, too weird. Anyway, I have this habit of getting into a really "productive" mood, where I will begin cleaning everything in the house from top to bottom. I'll wash clothes, do dishes, sweep floors, organize closets, box up items we no longer use, and generally act like a housewife.

The only problem is, I don't finish any of these tasks. I'm serious. None-of-it. I wash a load of clothes and forget to put them in the dryer (=mildew). I wash 1/2 the dishes, or until the dish drainer is full, and never do the rest. This means my sink is perpetually 1/2 full (or 1/2 empty, for all you pessimists out there). I sweep the floor in it's entirety, but I only do the living room and kitchen. I pull everything out of Molly's closet to organize it, end up getting involved with looking at an old photo album or tiny baby outfit that "I can't believe she was ever small enough to fit into" (insert sobbing), and end up sitting there for 2 hours and getting nothing done. I will start putting clothes I don't wear any more into a box, then decide that maybe that shirt isn't as hideous as I'd previously imagined, get it out, try it on, and forget what I was ever doing in the first place. Sigh.

I guess I do the start/stop thing because I get these little bursts of energy that make cleaning sound not only doable, but FUN. But it never takes long until that bubble of energy pops. That couldn't have anything to do with being tired from chasing an energetic 2 year old around all day, could it? No, didn't think so.

Does anyone else deal with this? Tell me about it! Comment below or email me. Don't forget to click "Follow this blog" on the NetworkedBlogs widget on the right side bar!

Have a great week.

Debra

They could be giant and very frightening: The dangers of camping

Today, I wrote my article for the Watertown Gazette and submitted it. I am so excited to see it on August 2nd! I've already submitted my article for the Roane Reader too, and that will be out at the beginning of August. I am also waiting to hear back from The Tennessean to find out when I can submit an article! I feel so purposeful. Important, even. Actually, I feel like a freaking celebrity. A very small, not-well-known, F-list celebrity, but a celebrity nonetheless.

 This Friday is Michael's birthday, so we are going camping with some friends to celebrate. We always camp at the same spot, and I love it. There is a rock fireplace, a grill grate, logs to sit on (but when I noticed that the world's largest grand-daddy long leg population resides on those logs, we started bringing chairs), awesome hiking trails, a waterfall, and the fire tower. It just isn't possible to have a bad time when all these amenities are available to you. Except...

Okay, this may sound ridiculous, but sometimes I get really scared while I'm camping. It always happens the same way: First, I'm fine. Everything is going great, it's still kind of light outside, and the good times are a rollin'. Then, it gets dark. Like, really dark. And everyone decides it's time to go to bed. I try to goad everyone into staying up for a little while longer to avoid the fear that I know will hit me when I lay down and it gets quiet, but you can't restart the party once everyone is ready for bed.

So, off to bed. In a tent, where you can see shadows on the walls (and the shadows usually look like a hand with a hook, or a chainsaw). And friends, it NEVER fails--every time I go camping, I start hearing what Molly calls "sceery-sounds", or scary sounds. Last time we camped, we thought there were wild hooligans in the forest with us, making some  weird high-pitched sound with clicking. I was imagining a tribe of cannibalistic African bushmen with spears and face paint. I wasn't the only one who was scared. And then we found out the sound was being made by a bird. A night bird. Which was still sort of scary, because who knows what night birds look like, anyway? They could be giant and very frightening. I'll assume they are.

Another time we were camping, just Michael and I, and there were some other people camping on the mountain below us. When we got into our tent that night, around 3 am, we started hearing footsteps and laughter. Michael was asleep, so I was on super-alert and sat up to listen. The footsteps were so close, and when I saw the beam of light from flashlights, I freaked out and lay back down with Michael. I pinched him hard to wake him up, only to find he was already awake (I swear I didn't know this beforehand). The people walked off the hiking trail in front of our campsite and right in front of our tent. They stopped for a second, and then walked on. I was certain that these people wanted to kill us. Evidently, they did not. Michael thinks they were just drunk and stumbled through our site by accident. Apparently I'm "not reasonable" and "overly paranoid". I was fearing for my life! Come on.

Anyway.

Oh, my dad's birthday and Michael's mom's birthday are on Saturday the 28th, so happy birthday to them! When Michael and I first got together and realized our parents shared a birthday, we took this as a sign that we were meant to be together. We were right.

That's all she wrote!
Love,
Debra

Psychosis-inducing, medication-requiring, awe-inspiring, crazy life

Okay, it's happened. The world (however weird and small) of mom bloggers has sucked me in. There are so many types of mom bloggers--the funny, the thoughtful, the patient, the crafty, the chefs, the mothers of multiples. I have noticed one underlying element in most mom blogs, though, and these moms really need to be a little more creative: 90% of the blogs I read by mothers had a subtitle that promised how "crazy" their life is. Examples (these are actually from blogs that I read today, emphasis added by me):
"Adventures of me and my crazy family in Colorado"
"Writing about taking care of 3 crazy kids"
"The craziness of life with a husband, an ex-husband, and a kid under one roof"
"My crazy  life, as told by me"
"Things often get a little crazy in my household...beware!"

Seriously, it is tiring, because what are the odds of ALL of these moms living "crazy" lives? Sure, I understand that life with a little one can be described as crazy at times. Particularly when you are trying to just take one peaceful shower and your 2 year old is standing in the doorway, yelling "Why you take a baff (bath)?!? I WANT BAFF" and your husband is simultaneously dressed in full camo gear, holding his new Mossberg rifle, ready to go out in the yard and "control the European Starling population", so can't you just forget your own happiness and sanity for one minute and give Molly a bath?

Whew, sorry, I got a little caught up in that one.

Maybe my original point wasn't that good, after all. I guess life with a child is pretty crazy. But I still think they could be a little more creative and use a different word, like "psychosis-inducing" (yes, I know, 2 words), or "medication-requiring" (dang it, 2 words again). In fact, speaking of medication-requiring, as I sit here and attempt to write this post, my daughter is sitting on my computer desk, literally screaming "No, no, no" over and over.
Why?
I couldn't tell you, friend, because I do not know why. I do not know why she feels it necessary to eat only half of each baby carrot, or rub the watermelon on the suede sofa. I am clueless as to why she is compelled to hold my cheek with both hands as she falls asleep (okay, that one is pretty cute) or why she thinks the phrase "Wanna go swimmin'?" will get her out of trouble (okay, sometimes it works).

I figure kids are little bit like God, in that we aren't meant to understand them. Also, they have a habit of being omniscient (all-knowing). Or at least thinking they are.

You know, a lot of people ask me when Mikey and I are going to have another baby (Remember the pervert from The Big, Fat Pervert and the Teeny Weeny Bikini?), and always seem shocked when I tell them we are done with our child-bearing.
 "You're only 21! You will change your mind."
 ...wow, even though I just met you at the grocery store, you seem to know me really well! ...Not.

"Oh, you don't want Molly to be an only child, do you?"
...Yes, I want her to be the only one I have to give my love to and spoil. I don't think she will mind.

"I was an only child, and it ruined my life. Molly needs a sibling."
...Sorry to hear about your life. Also, thanks for telling me what my child needs. I was totally unaware of her needs, as I am only her mother. I was an only child for 12 years, and I turned out alright. In fact, I'm keeping the 1-child tradition alive! Go me!

"You'll want another one later, and by then, it'll be too late. You need to go ahead and have another now."
...This doesn't even deserve a response. *Walk away*

"Once you have another baby, Molly will be old enough to help you take care of it!"
...Oh, YEAH! Molly, you hear that? No fun childhood games for you, darling! You're going to help Mommy take care of a brand-new baby that she didn't really even want! Oh, what's that? That's called spit-up, Molly. Now be a sweetie, forget about your homework, and go get me a wash cloth.

Just to clarify, I've got nothing against moms of multiples. In fact, I've got nothing but respect for them. I'm just being honest and letting everyone know that I do not see myself as being one of them in the near future. Although Molly would be really cute in one of those Big Sister shirts...


By the way, I've joined a new blog networking site. This could help me get tons of new readers and followers. I know there a lot of you that read every new post, so why not subscribe to my posts and get a notification every time a new one comes out? Just click the "Follow Me" button on the right side of the screen in the Networked Blogs box to subscribe! I love seeing new followers, and you want to subscribe, so you can kill 2 birds with one ...erm, click!

Have a great day, weirdos! Oh, sorry, I am the weirdo. Anyway.
Debra

I can't see, but a bunch of other things are working out for me

How much good news have I received in the past week? SO MUCH, as Molly would say. Just a brief recap of this week's (so far!) awesome moments:

-When Michael got approved for his new gun and got to bring it home, finally
-When I got an email back from the Watertown Gazette editor, which said I will be able to run an article in August 2nd's issue
-When I found $5 in my pocket on Tuesday
-When I saw I have lost 3 more pounds since Saturday
-When I got an email back from the E-edition editor of The Tennessean, saying she will put me into the rotation of guest bloggers (YAYYY)
-When I got an email from the Oak Ridge Observer newspaper about featuring my blog, maybe
-When I sold almost $70 worth of clothes and toys on this awesome group on Facebook]
-When I found out we will be receiving a wonderful gift in about 5 months (NO, I'm not pregnant!)

Now, I may have just jinxed myself with all this talk of the good times, but that is okay. I probably deserve some horrible things to happen to me after all this goodness.

I almost forgot about the horrible thing that has happened to me today! I woke up this morning and my eye was in a lot of pain (it told me). I have had this problem before, and it required an eye doctor's attention and a prescription to some eye drops that have Dexismethosone and Tobramisin in them. They sting just as bad as they sound like they would. I had to take out my contacts, which I slept in, and rinse them with solution. When I tried to put them back in, my eye was like, "Nooooo!" so I had to dig out my old glasses and put in those awful drops, which don't even help with the pain until 3 days later. I would like to make it known that these glasses' lenses are my prescription...from 5 years ago. So, no, I can't really see that well, or at all, for that matter. That is really fun when you're supposed to be keeping a curious 2 year old out of trouble and off of table tops and other high-up places. My plan of "Come on Molly, let's just lay down and watch some children's shows" didn't work, to my dismay. Darn kids.

If I open a Lasik donation account and put a link to it on my blog, I know you guys will take care of me. ;)

But seriously, to all of you that have 20/20 vision, I really hope you're enjoying yourselves. Just remember ol' Debra is sitting here, feeling her way around the room, unable to cry because tears only make her eye sting more.

Have a great day, in spite of the fact that you just spent 10 minutes of it reading my ramblings!

Love,
Debra

The too-short snuggle and my case of the gimme-gimmes

Everyone likes getting something for nothing. Me especially. I know that there are a lot of good things about being broke; it's supposed to humble you, make you appreciate the little things, and force you to be creative about doing fun things. Yeah, yeah, yeah. You may not know this about me, but I am a shopper. A real, die-hard, no-nonsense consumer. I like to buy things when they are on sale, even if I'm not entirely sure what they are or why I need them (I can't figure out why I don't have any money!).

So now that our money is no longer for needless shopping, but for serious, no-fun family items and toilet paper, I am going crazy (this is new). That's why Craigslist's "Free" section has saved my sanity. On second thought, maybe it's stealing my sanity. If you've never looked at this section, you're really missing out. Yes, a lot of it is junk (free used toilet, anyone? How about a broken swingset or a hot tub with no motor?), but every now and then, I find a real gem. I mean, I never actually GET these things, but I enjoy looking at them and pretending that I might go pick them up.

Last night, I was on the computer for 2 hours browsing the last 3 months of free stuff. One day, when I'm on my deathbed, I'll think back to that night and hate myself for wasting my youth, but whatever. At least I saw that pretty nice couch and slightly scratched dresser that were available for pickup in some alley in East Nashville.

The whole "free" thing has spoiled me a little. It's like my brain is on permanent tight-wad function now. Every time I see something for sale by the owner, I think about asking to just take it for free. Especially if it's only $10, because do they really NEED that $10, or are they just asking because they think there has to be a money exchange? I keep thinking I'll happen upon some rich person who is swimming in the money (come and find me, Nemo) and just wants to load me up with brand-new items that "don't match the new decor" and send me on my merry little way. That may never happen, but if y'all see me truckin' down the road with that king size bed frame, solid oak entertainment center, and sectional couch for nada deniro, you're going to be green with envy. Maybe.


Molly's new favorite phrase is "So much." Everything, so much. Thank you so much, you're welcome so much, I want to hold you so much, I love you so much (melts my heart), and the less-sweet Shut up so much. I guess you win some and you lose some with children. Molly has also discovered that I can NEVER say no if she promises me a snuggle in exchange for what she wants, but that sneaky child has found a loophole:

Molly: Mama, I want a cookie, thank you so much.
Me: No, Molly, you just ate lunch. You don't need a cookie, thankyouverymuch.
Molly: I will "snoggle" you. Please get cookie.
Me: -runs to get the cookie- Here you are, sweetheart! Now come snuggle Mommy!
Molly: -briefly hugs me then runs away to savor her cookie- Thank you so much.
Me: -crying-


Oh, guess what? I drove today for the first time in a couple months. It was only to the gas station 0.6 miles from my house, but the point is, I was behind the wheel. I may have gone a little overboard with my brief taste of vehicular freedom (blasting the radio, bringing a glass of lemonade, and rolling all the windows down for the 2 minute trip), but I had a nice time. A real nice time.

That is all. Good day!

M{omm}: The Meditating Mom, or, "Must not beat the children"

                                          

Moms are notorious for being stressed. Reminder: I am a mom. Maybe meditation seems silly to you; something that only single, childless women take part in to begin their relaxing day, most likely in New York City, because moms in small towns don't meditate. Wrong, wrong, wrong. I live in a small town (literally 1 square mile) and on some days, meditation can save my life, and the lives of my family, potentially.

We've all heard the term "Om", said in a humming way, complete with the visual of a man or woman sitting with their legs crossed, elbows on thighs, palms facing up. Having trouble picturing yourself in that position? That's okay. Meditation doesn't require any specific tools or positions, just a specific state of mind. That can be difficult to achieve when you are surrounded by children, so try meditating before they wake up (this helps start the day on a peaceful note), during their nap time, or after they go to sleep (this will help you sleep soundly). 

I've found that the best way to get started with meditation is to use a CD or even a track on your iPod. After you get the hang of the types of thoughts that relax you and turn you into mush (this is a GOOD thing), you can switch to doing your own meditations internally. A mantra that I use when meditating is "Om shanti", which means "I am a being of peace." Sometimes, as a mom, I feel incapable or inadequate. On days like this, you can boost your mom-confidence by adopting the characteristics you WISH you had; for example, I might chant "I am patient, I am kind. I am slow to anger." I truly believe that the mouth speaks, and the mind follows.

Meditating moms are everywhere. Even those who wouldn't consider themselves the meditation type have created mantras to get them through the day-- "Must not beat the children", or even "Serenity now!" However you choose to seek solace from the day, remember that the goal of meditation is to keep you in touch with yourself, sans diapers, cookie crumbs, and apple juice. Meditation is what anchors me to the girl I once was, and still can be.

I dream of...crossbows and washing machines

Last night, I had this incredibly weird dream. I know, you don't care. But, here we go:

I was in a mansion with about 200 other people my age, mostly those that I went to school with. It was like some slumber party for 21 year olds. We all started exploring the house, and there were tons of books along almost every wall. I remember thinking it was more like a bookstore or library than a home. As I started moving books around on the shelf, I found a Bowie knife. I put it in my backpack (why was I even carrying
a backpack..?) and kept looking.

My cousin walked into the room with a crossbow. She was pointing it in all directions, asking me "What is this?" I took the bow for safekeeping (lol) and other people started walking in with all these weapons. There were AK-47s, Mini-14s, Uzis, knives and machetes, grenades, and one guy even had a rocket launcher. Mental note: stick with that guy. We were so stoked by our armory finds that we didn't even question why they were all in this house, hidden around.

I noticed a big, much older black man was now in the room with us. He had a really calm presence and we all trusted him. He told us he had an important message for us that would change our lives. We sat down around him and he read us a note. It said something along the lines of:

Humans are an inferior, unintelligent race. The entire race will be annihilated soon. Only those who are surrounded by books, which we consider the only evidence of intelligent life on Earth, will be given a chance to defend themselves. We have hidden weapons for this defense in areas with many books. We encourage any human who wishes to be saved to arm themselves for our arrival.

The man told us that the note was written by an alien race that had visited him. I know, we should have assumed he was crazy, but we all believed every word. Suddenly my crossbow seemed important. There weren't enough weapons for everyone. Some were stuck with only knives. And the atmosphere in the house changed--now everyone was on the defensive, afraid someone else would try to take their weapon.

I saw a small hovercraft coming toward the house through a window and tried to hide in the washing machine. That was really smart of me. In my defense, I was trapped in the room because I had locked myself in and there was nowhere else to hide. The hovercraft came into the house and I knew I could easily be seen, sticking halfway out of the washing machine. They would surely consider me Unintelligent Life and immediately kill me. I didn't really see how my crossbow would help me when the aggressor was in a metal machine, flying around.



So, of course, that's when I woke up.

I do want to apologize for making you read that, and I know it doesn't really make sense. But it really scared me while I was dreaming about it. Isn't it funny how fear doesn't translate well? I literally woke up in a sweat over this dream, and now it sounds funny to write it out.

In other news, I have been on a deep-cleaning spree for a few days now. I think Michael may have dosed me with some sort of amphetamine, because I'm like a machine. I've washed 6 loads of clothes in 2 days, rearranged the living room twice, swept and vacuumed every conceivable surface, and put away all our winter clothes so our closet isn't so packed.

If anyone who reads has a dresser they want to get rid of, we really need it. We have more clothes than can fit in our dressers and closet, so after I do laundry, I end up with lots of piles of neatly folded clean clothes that are soon mistaken by my husband as piles of neatly folded dirty clothes, which are then thrown on the floor and rewashed. What a waste. Text me at 615.517.1170 if you know of one for cheap or free! Speaking of free, I'm addicted to the Free section on Craigslist and the site Freecycle.

Forced to use The Big Red Van...

If the phrase "We bought you new tires" doesn't make you really excited, you obviously haven't been without tires for 3 weeks, forced to use The Big Red Van as your primary vehicle (with no A/C, faulty transmission, a head gasket leak, and no radio). Well, I have. So when my mom and aunt offered to help us out with some new tires for Michael's upcoming birthday, I was ridiculously happy. Michael is on his way to get them put on now, so we won't die when we go for a ride in the car.

I want to put the spotlight on a children's TV show called Ozie Boo. My daughter happens to love it, which concerns me a little, because it is the worst show I've ever seen, children's show or not. The premise is this: 4 penguins living in a socialist commune on an ice flow all get into weird situations with leopards and orca whales and in the last five minutes of the episode, suddenly a lesson is learned. And usually the lesson learned has nothing whatsoever to do with the content of the episode. For example, Molly is watching an episode now where one penguin is nearly eaten by the whale. At the end of the show, the narrator says "And that's why you should be nice to your friends. So long, Ozie Boos!" What? It doesn't help that the show was originally in French, so it's all a really bad translation to English. If you can find it on Youtube, it's worth watching one episode to hear the really catchy songs.

I forgot to tell you! We found a couch at the dump. It's not as bad as it sounds, because the people that dropped it off didn't want to throw it away, but told the dump guy to make sure someone took it home. It is a burnt orange suede couch, and it seems brand new. It was totally clean (but that didn't stop me from vacuuming every inch of it). Sometimes you get lucky!

Molly is full-on into her princess obsession. She wants princess everything. She told me she wanted "Pincess teapot", "pincess ball", and even a "pincess bike!" Here are some images of the items Molly wants. I promise you, I only have a little to do with this newfound obsession-I've only been making her watch The Little Mermaid, Cinderella, and Aladdin with me since she was in the womb.



Anyway, you have yourself a good day. Ya hear?

Debra

Destitute, yet amusing

Happy Saturday!

I realized I haven't posted anything about Molly's progress this week with the patches. Since we've switched to Nexcare Opticlude patches, which have stronger adhesive that she can't pull off on her own, we have had a lot more peace around the house. It's also helped that we're patching every other day now. Today is a no-patch day, thankthaLord. We live for no-patch days. They just don't seem to last as long as patch days.

Oh! I am dangerously close to 1000 page views...last time I looked before starting this post, I was at 993!

Anyway.

Last night, Michael's friend came to the house and we had a discussion about Cain from the Bible. We were really worried, you see, about the fact that Genesis tells us that when God cursed Cain to wander the Earth as a vagabond for all of his days, Cain went to the East and "knew his wife", who then conceived Enoch.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hang on, Moses. Where did these mysterious people that were already dwelling in the East come from? How could Cain find a wife if the only other people on the Earth, currently, were Adam and Eve? I mean, he already slayed Abel, and I don't think Adam and Eve had reproduced again yet. Maybe I'm wrong about that. I read back through Genesis before that point to make sure I didn't miss any introduction of new people. I found this website during my online search for answers. Check it out and see if it makes sense to you. It opens in a new window.

Yesterday, I was reading some information about expanding your blog and getting more readers. Apparently, the most popular blogs are not like mine, where I talk about whatever strikes me as interesting that day. The most popular blogs have a topic, like My Life as a Substitute Teacher or My Knitted Creations. The problem with me changing my content is that I don't want to disappoint you guys, my readers. I think you like what I've been doing so far, so do me a favor and share my blog with your friends! Or else.

I am at a crossroads here. Do I change the content of my blog to get more pageviews, and potentially earn some cash through advertising, or do I keep it like it is and sit here destitute yet amusing? Why don't you give me your opinion? Comment here or message me on The Facebook and let me know what you would do.

Things my mother was right about (abridged version)

My childhood and teenage years were filled with my mother's voice, directing me on what things were okay and what things were wrong. Her wisdoms spanned all genres-- from when to wear a pantyliner (ha) to what friends were "toxic." And you just won't believe this, but that woman was right about nearly all of it. I'm compiling a list of things she was right about. That includes...

Girls that talk about other people nonstop to YOU, are also talking about you behind your back. Always.

Clean up a little everyday and your room will stay neat.

You can talk to anyone. I mean it, anyone. Just try a couple topics to see what gets them going.

Making friends is easy. Making good friends is hard. Keeping friends is work. It's worth it.

Always eat something for breakfast, even if it's just a cracker.

There is no better moment at the end of the day than taking off your bra.

Pray about things that bother you. If you can't ask for a solution, ask for Him to give you peace.

Be nice to your friends before they turn into your enemies!

The trick to perfect cornbread is 2 eggs, not 1.

"Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other, gold."

Do your best in school, in sports, in whatever you do. Don't let anyone be able to say you didn't try your hardest.

Never go out in public feeling like you look ugly. You WILL run into someone you know. Probably an old crush or boyfriend.

Try to look your best at your job. Even if you can't be creative with the work you do, you can show the boss that you take pride in your appearance, and that shows you take your job seriously.

When going after things you want, be relentless.

"_____ (old friend's name) is not a good friend. She will stab you in the back. You just wait and see." (She did.)

"_____(old classmate's name) is such a nice boy. Don't you make fun of him, I guarantee you he is going to be successful and all of y'all will wish you had been nicer." (She was right.)

"You never know who is related to who, or who knows someone else. Don't open your mouth to talk about someone in public where others can hear."
(Note: OHHH man, was she right. So many times this has happened to me. "I just can't stand my professor. Dr. Brown is so ugly I can't stand to listen to lectures. What an idiot." Girl standing next to me: "Uhmm, Dr. Brown is my dad. Everyone thinks we look alike." Ooops.)

Don't ever hit someone first. You take the first punch, then you whoop them. Yes, whoop.

If you don't know FOR SURE that she is pregnant, don't mention it. EVER.

I know a lot of females have ups and downs with their moms, and I am no stranger to that. We've had some lows that made me think our relationship was never going to be the same. But we have always been close, and we can repair our relationship no matter what happens. Now that I am old enough to see that my mom was nearly always right, I have so much more respect for her. She left me room to make my own mistakes, but she didn't just toss me in, sink or swim. She equipped me for life the best she could. I think she did a great job. I need to tell her that.

I'll add more as I think of them. I am pretty lucky to have such a wise mother. I would like to make the next post about questionable advice she has given me--that will be pretty funny. Thanks for reading! Kiss your mama if you can! Tell that woman you love her and thanks for birthing you! Happy 4th of July!

Deb-B

On "losing" my glasses and Molly's tr-eye-umph (I tried)

Molly (and everyone who loves her!) got some fantastic news at the doctor's office this morning! Her patching time has been reduced by half, which means we will only have to patch her every other day. Her vision in the bad eye has improved a lot in the last two weeks, and he seemed surprised at how much she can see with the cataract. Since the patching is working, we will be able to hold off on the cataract surgery until she's old enough to tell the doctor what she can see, around age 4. This is such incredible news. I went in, prepared for the worst, and came out with the best case scenario!

Molly's eye troubles have redefined our "normal." We are adapting every day to new obstacles we face, and learning to accept this situation as part of our lives and more important, part of Molly. Yes, it still sucks. Yes, my feelings are hurt each and every time I overhear another child ask their mom "What's wrong with that little girl's eye? Why is she wearing a patch?" But I am looking at it now as something that has to be unpleasant now so she can have good vision later.

I had to get glasses in 1st grade. Oh, that was a terrible day. I had these huge Osh Kosh B'Gosh glasses that, even to my 6 year old self, were SO uncool. I figured out the solution to that uncoolness really fast: I just won't wear them. Ever. I only had to wear them at school, so when I got there, I would put them away. Thought I was outsmarting Mom and Dad and the ol' optometrist. I actually went as far as dumping my spectacles into the Lost and Found bin at Byars Dowdy. (Note: once my mom saw my glasses were MIA, she checked the Lost and Found, where those damn glasses sat, laughing at me, waiting to be perched on my face again.)

The point is, I refused to wear those glasses unless it was dark in the classroom while we were doing work on the overhead projector. And my vision continued to decline. Eventually, it was so bad, I had to sit in the front row AND squint to see the words on the board. That's when I got contacts--5th grade. I've worn them ever since. I know that my vision could've been helped if I had worn the corrective lenses prescribed to me, so that motivates me to help Molly's vision as much as possible. I don't want her to end up like me, blind as Ray Charles without my contacts in (but not half as cool, and minus the sunglasses). Maybe Lasik is in my future?

I want to thank my father, Vance, for passing on the terrible vision to me, my mother, Teresa, for buying me those ugly glasses, and most of all, Dr. Gallager, who suggested contacts, and therefore, probably saved my vision. Maybe life. Let me think about that.

That is all.

Dad, don't read this: When sex is NOT gonna happen, the mother/wife/live-in girlfriend guide

There are so many times in life when sex will happen. If there's a will, there's a way. But friends, let a married mother tell you from hard-knock experience: there are times when sex will be no more a reality than James Franco giving you a foot massage. Just to clarify, I would equate that with anti-reality. As in, that's never going to happen. Sorry, feet.

Sex is not going to happen...

*After he has been working all day, has not showered and/or is still wearing sawdust-covered clothing with sweat stains
*After you just suggested he not eat that 3rd honeybun because remember, aren't we trying to be healthy?
*When you're not on your period, but "sure as hell act like you are"
*During an important sporting event/ TV show/ video game (Darn you, PS3)
*When he wants to talk about your long hairs that keep clogging the drain (that he unclogs)
*After he holds his stomach and says "I think Mickey D's gave me the BGs (bubble guts) again."
*When your mom is literally in the next room and laughing loud enough to make you feel like she is right   there with you
*In the middle of a huge fight that involves you calling his parents...sexy
*When you're 9 months pregnant and you yell, "I think I lost my mucous plug, that means we need to have sex to induce the labor!" Uhh, no
*When you're wearing your Catwoman suit for Halloween (even though you might really want to, the suit itself will prevent sexual relations)
*When you're secretly wearning Spanx under your sexy dress ("Yeah, okay...just let me go to bathroom first...")
*When there is a small, snoring 2 year old nestled between you in bed

Obviously, you will encounter many situations when sex will not have a chance. These moments used to be the bane of my existance. Now? Well, actually, I hate them still. I do my best to avoid these scenarios and use the tried-and-true seduction techniques that landed us Molly. We all have to be good at something, right?

Dad, I told you not to read this. I apologize for the graphic information now clogging your brain and making you wish you had listened to me and just not read it.

Oh, how do you guys like the new page? I edited it this morning, and I think it looks more "me." Because a lot of people say I resemble tie-dye and dandelions.

Love forever,
 Debra Delightful