Emotions

Laughter
-Cannon kept saying "That's in-ting", and I thought he was saying "That's itching". Couldn't quite understand why the truck and the sign and the tv show was itchy to him. Finally figured out he was saying "That's interesting". I laughed for a while.
Confusion
-I don't understand the lymphatic system. I don't get the differences between a humoral and cell-mediated immune response. B cells and T cells are a mystery to me. I think I'm going to have to accept that I am not going to get an A in anatomy.
Frustration
-I swear I just cleaned the house, top to bottom, not that long ago. How does it get to this state of disarray in a matter of days? How does the dog lose so much fur and not go bald? How does Cannon miss the toilet by so much? How hard is it for someone besides me to notice the disaster and do something about it?
Jealousy
-Some family members are running a marathon this weekend and I can barely waddle through 3 miles, most of which I'm in pain for. I am so looking forward to St. George next year and running hard and feeling the good kind of sore for days after.
Happiness
-Stopped by McDonalds today for ice cream. Mmmm, tasty.
Letting Go
-Emme has been a princess every year for Halloween. Every year. This year we went to the store and she decided she wants to be a witch. When I tried to cajole her into a beautiful princess costume, she said she knew I wanted her to be a princess, and she would do it for me. I caved, disappointed in myself and the pressure I put on her. She is going to be a beautiful witch.
Hanging On
-Chance went for a yearly checkup today. It is hard to talk to the doctor about him while he is in the room. I asked Chance later if he understood what the doctor and I were talking about. He said yes, that we were talking about him and his disabilities. I hugged him for a long time. Life used to be less complicated.

Arrr Matey

So Cannon wants to be a pirate for Halloween, although I'm not sure where it came from. Have we watched some pirate show recently that I can't recall? Anyways, we went to the store yesterday to pick up a pirate accessory set, complete with hat, hook, patch, and earring. He also said he needed a moustache, a Captain Hook variety. We had seen a costume in a magazine that included one, and of course, he was hooked. I, feeling that $5 could be better spent, declined to buy him the fake moustache and instead said we would draw one on. As we are leaving the store he puts on his gear, earring included, and says Arr Matey! Cute, cute, cute. I smile as we go into a couple more stores, and he walks around like a pirate hooking things and trying to keep his hat on. When we get home, he informs me that he wants his moustache now. I tell him that we will do it for Halloween, not everyday prior. A few minutes later he walks down the stairs with a gigantic black moustache drawn under his nose. I ask him what he used and he tells me a marker, a black Sharpie marker. I snatch him up and frantically try to wash off the permentness of Sharpie from his round little face. After his face was rubbed bright raw and most of the black was gone, I informed him that we don't use markers on faces, only on paper. And I promised when the time came, Mommy would draw a moustache on with special makeup. He hopped down and went back to being a pirate, sans moustache. It was hard to not laugh, and I was sad to not get a picture. However, the immediacy of the situation required fast action, before the black had time to set. Imagine if you will this picture, Cannon with a black pirate hat, black frayed vest, gold earring, eyepatch with skull and crossbones, silver hook, and a moustache about 8 inches long right under his nose. I wish you all could've seen it.

Scrambled eggs

Ever since Chance came along, Mike and I have traded off sleeping in on Sundays, which I mean sleeping past 6:00am. Now there has never been a drawn up schedule, but usually a tired "You slept in last week, it's my turn" or "Do you really want to see me cry? Do you want to cry? Because I can make that happen" would suffice. Sometimes, if one of us had a long night doing laundry or bills or grading papers, the other would give up our Sunday sleep in. But pretty much for the last nine years, we've had every other Sunday to sleep until we couldn't sleep anymore. As the kids have gotten older their morning needs have changed, from needing a bottle and new diaper, to needing a bowl of cereal and a reminder to use the potty, to just needing someone to referee impending quarrels over who gets to use the computer and who gets to play GameCube (I know, can you believe we let our kids do those things on Sundays? We are terrible role models.) It is a rare occassion when they leave Mike and I to sleep. (I say Mike and I, but for the most part, Mike can sleep through a train wreck unless I hit him and tell him to get up.)
So this morning, imagine my surprise to wake around 8:00am and find all three of my children quietly playing games. "Hey mom" is all I get as I pass them to go downstairs and get the paper, no barrage of questions or tattling on each other. When I get to the kitchen, I laugh out loud. Apparently, my oldest had made breakfast for everyone. Cereal for Cannon, as he can't reach it on his own, and scrambled eggs for him and Emme. Not only that, but the table was cleared and they were now playing nicely with each other. They had even let the dog out. When did they decide they didn't need us anymore? For that matter, when did they become responsible? My heart pangs a little at the thought of my children being closer to adults than babies. At the same time, I did a little hop, skip, and jump as I went back to bed. Life is sweet.

Two items of business

Two things of interest:
1.Cannon had a speech evaluation this week, and as part of the process, had to have a psychological evaluation as well. I received a mound of paperwork to fill out, much of it questions in regards to his developmental history ie. when he started walking, using utensils, hopping in a straight line on one foot while whistling dixie and juggling plates, you know the usual. As the questionairre went on, there was a point where I had to list his court appearances, along with dates and offenses. I wonder how many 4 year olds have rap sheets. What did they do? I imagine a kiddie underground network of preschool criminals, stealing their moms' candy stash and selling it on the black market.
2.Emme wrote me a card when I wasn't feeling well yesterday, emotionally speaking. It says and I quote, "Your the best! Who couldn't have a better mom than you!!!! Your the Queen mommy. Roses are red. Dragons are green. Our door is blue. But my mom is you!!!!!! Go to sleep." I laughed out loud, because our door is blue. She is so funny. Definitely made me feel better. How bad is it when your 7 year old tells you you need a nap?

Homework sucks

So I just finished 13 and a half hours of homework, with an hour break for dinner. That is ridiculous. My poor children. What did they do today for the 9 hours they were awake and I was busy? I don't even want to look.

Girl Girl Girl Girl

So I went to the store yesterday to buy the items I need to make baby announcements. Some plain white cards and envelopes, cardstock, ribbon. I was feeling pretty proud of myself, in that I am planning ahead. As I stood and mulled over the ribbon selection, holding a few in my hand, I realized that I was having a GIRL, something I apparently had forgotten. I needed to put all the blue, green, and brown ribbon down. I looked around to see if anyone saw me, as I'm sure I turned bright red. I cannot believe I forgot the gender of my child. How does one forget something like that? I mean, I had even envisioned how they would look for a couple of days prior to the incident at the store, all cute and blue. I hope my forgetfulness isn't a genetically dominant gene. My poor children, they would have no hope at all.

Yes, it's a BABY

Today I ran into a friend at Chevron that I don't see very often. Ever since our wards split, we just don't see much of each other. Which is okay, because she wasn't a really good friend, just someone I would see on Sundays and small talk with. Anyways, she looks at me and asks if I'm expecting. I say yes and she tells me she is too. She asks me when I'm due and I say in 7 weeks. "7 weeks! You're freakin kidding me!" she yells, a little too loudly for the Chevron crowd. Apparently, I do not look like I'm in my third trimester, because she is the third person this week who has asked me if I'm pregnant and been shocked at my answer that, yes, in fact I'm due in a month and a half. I just can't believe these people haven't noticed. In fact, one girl on Sunday told me she thought I might just be gaining weight, which makes me wonder who else thinks I'm getting fat. I need to get one of those shirts Mom had, with the word BABY on it and an arrow pointing down. Of course, I should've started wearing it months ago. I can't wait for the people who haven't paid attention at all to ask me whose baby I'm holding a few weeks from now.

Meat

At the risk of sounding like a certain sister we all know and love, I am going to be bragging about my significant other.
Today I could not get enough to eat. Actually, it was the type of food I was jonesing for. I did not want any fruit, cheese wouldn't do, and even a handful of marshmallows and chocolate chips didn't cut it. I needed meat. Like a big fat slab of ribs, or a rotisserie chicken. Unfortunately, we were out of those items in the fridge. And unfortunately, I could not go get any due to the fact that today was a 'friends day' for the kids. So here I was, stuck at home, kids everywhere, and hungry, seriously hungry for some protein.
And then my husband calls, telling me he's on his way home. "Can I bring you anything?" he asks. Not unless he's got a big piece of meat on him, I say;) No, don't worry about it, I'll be okay.
A couple hours later he shows with a few bags of groceries. Rib eye steaks, baby back ribs, rotisserie chicken, pickles, ice cream, and a Diet Dr. Pepper. I was in heaven. This is his love language. He doesn't say it all that often unless I make him, but he does these cute things that I don't ask for or expect that tells me he loves me. Some men might buy jewelry, some men wash dishes, mine brings home meat. I am a lucky woman.

Procrastination

I think the only reason I have taken to this blog thing is because I get on the computer with every intent of doing my homework, and get sidetracked. "I'll start as soon as I read everyone's blog" and then "well I might as well post a comment to that" and pretty soon I'm trying to think up clever ways to post about my not so eventful day. Before I know it, I've been on the computer an hour and haven't accomplished anything. Well tonight I finished part 1 of a 4 part lab and I must admit, I'm pretty proud of myself. It's not even due until Saturday. That is a record for me. Yeah, I still have parts 2, 3, and 4 to do, but I am one quarter done. With my anatomy. Then I need to start my micro. Crap. Never mind. I'm going to bed. I'll do it tomorrow. Or Saturday. I work better under pressure anyways.

It has been observed that perhaps I comment a bit too much on the negative side of my life. For that, I apologize. I will try to find positive and uplifting things to write about...
Today I was 15 minutes late picking up my children because I desperately wanted a chocolate ice cream cone from Micky D's. I knew I wasn't going to have enough time to navigate the extra four miles, a double laned drive-thru, and still get to the school by 11:15am. But there I was, speeding down the road, willing time to slow down just long enough to spend 75 cents, on my debit card no less because the childrens' allowances are eating up all my loose change.
Now a good mother would forgo herself in order to prevent inconviencing her dear children. I am not a good mother, and I will never profess to be one. I am just trying as best I can to hopefully raise children who are not little heathens and turn out to be productive members of society. Or at the very least, business majors. I mean, anybody can be one of those.
I hope someday when my little dears read this they don't resent me for making them stand out in the heat, staring intently down the road, waiting for the maroon minivan to show. I also hope they don't notice the chocolate mustache and McDonald's napkins I hide in the drivers side pocket.

Today's Wants

I have noticed that it seems everyone else's blog has a topic that they pretty much run with, ridiculous exercise habits, interior design, significant others, good music, children. I have decided to not bore you with one aspect of my life, but shall bore you with all the tedium that I encounter on a daily basis. Today's Wants:

-I wanted to chuck my computer out the second story window when it froze on me after I spent two hours doing an assignment that, of course, I did not save.
-I wanted to do the same to my spouse when he suggested that it was a good lesson to be learned when doing online classes. He will feel my wrath when he gets home.
-I wanted to quit running this morning. I have felt like that almost every morning for three months, ever since my expanding belly made running feel more like a form of chinese torture and less like a good workout. If I get through another month, I'm rewarding myself bigtime.
-I wanted to eat an entire bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. Again, I resisted the urge. Mostly. Half a bag isn't a sin, is it?
-I wanted to do some cleaning. That urge is easy to resist. I took a nap instead.
So now I sit here, having accomplished not much today. Perhaps tomorrow will be better. I swear, if I wasn't pregnant, I'd think I was expecting my Aunt Flo(which, by the way, I actually heard someone use in a conversation). Hormonal mood swings. I bet Mike loves them.

Who cares?

I spent 14 hours yesterday helping a friend with her roadshow. 14 hours, plus all the meetings this past week to choreograph songs, change scripts, buy costumes, make soundtracks, etc. I was glad to help, because heavens knows I would need it if I was in her shoes. However, there were about six of us helping her, and pretty soon we were all going crazy. Who cares? That was my response to most everything, and it became my mantra. It's a roadshow, not a broadway musical. There was nothing involved that warranted hyperventilation. And quite honestly, who cares? I was just counting down the hours until we were done, so I could go home and finish my Anatomy homework. "Why is the pituitary gland not really a gland?" Who cares.

Get Fuzzy

There's this great comic strip called Get Fuzzy about Satchel the dog, Bucky the cat, and Rob. One of my favorite strips was when Rob said "Hindsight is 20/20" and Bucky the cat said "Congratulations to you and your magical butt." It really is hilarious, and fitting, seeing as to how many times my present vision has been clouded, and yet my hindsight is always perfect. That and the fact that my posterior is quite good at being a magician. Like now, it is the exact representation of a cow's backside. The joys of pregnancy are never-ending.