Shit Happens...Quite Literally

I started this blogpost today rambling on about my efforts to revamp myself and then shit happened. I'm not joking...shit literally happened. I was doing math with Peach while all of the other kidlets who had finished their school went running into the backyard. I just assumed Piper went with them. After finishing up the math lesson, I looked outside to check on everyone and didn't see Pi... This is never a good thing. It was suspiciously quiet. So, I went upstairs to see if she was there and saw her happily playing with her toys in her room. I started to back away slowly so I didn't disturb her and then stopped. Is that her butt crack? I slowly inch back towards the door and see that she was indeed butt naked sitting on the floor...and then it hit me. That well-known smell that strikes fear into the heart of all parents was so. very. strong. I walked towards her and saw it. Poo smeared all over her backside. Poo smeared all over the floor where she was sitting. That sock and headband sitting next to her? Covered in poo. She saw me, smiled and stretched out her chubby little hands towards me. You guessed it...also covered in poo. But what did I NOT see? Her diaper! Funny how you can go from having a good day to feeling so very defeated so quickly. In that minute the smell of defeat was as strong as the stench of the poo. So a bath happened. Again. This child takes more baths than any other kiddo I've ever had. Then the futile process of putting on clothes that I know she'll wiggle out of in under an hour. Then the scrubbing of the poo-covered laminate floors. Last but not least, the great diaper hunt. I found it on the floor in my room...which had been closed...with no poo in it. What the hell happened? 👀 I always loved mystery stories growing up. Clue was my favorite board game even! However, this is one mystery I could happily live without solving. 

Toddlers are cute for a reason. If they weren't, no one in their right mind would put themselves through this. 

Update: Before I could publish this, the mystery was solved. I heard loud complaints of "EWWW Piper has poop on her legs!" as Pi was coming in from outside for gods sake! I was doubly flummoxed by this point. She was still fully clothed, her diaper was still clean...how the hell did she get crap on her legs again? Then the littles started saying things like "Oh, maybe it came from the poop in her room." What poop in her room? I had just scrubbed all of that crap off of the floor! "Yeah it's on the Calvin and Hobbes book too..." Luke chimes in. By now I'm scrubbing Pi's legs with baby wipes asking what they're talking about. Peach says "Oh I'll show you!" and runs upstairs. Once we're there she shows me. It's the motherload. A nice pile right in front of Barbie's Dreamhouse. I'll bet Barbie's HOA didn't know what to think of that. Is there a fine schedule for "Dinosaur sized piles of shit on the front lawn"? Anyhoo, so now it all made sense. She's must've dropped trou in my bedroom, gone to play in her bedroom, and while having Peppa Pig and Susie Sheep invade Barbie's pink sanctuary, dropped a deuce right on the floor and continued playing. After that, she must have gone to the other side of the room where I found her sitting in all of the smears. But wait! There's more! She must've taken a short cut across the bottom bunk bed because the smears form a nice trail across the sheets as well. So when I bathed her and released her back to play in her room, she must've gone back to the dreamhouse, gotten her legs all mucked up a-fuckin-gain, and then run downstairs and outside to play with her siblings. 

Is it too early to pour some wine? Maybe a tequila shot? 

Apparently I shouldn't brag about it being a good day out loud because the universe hears me, gets that mischievous twinkle in it's eye.... and shit happens. 

Peace, love, and poo-free vibes. 

Hindsight is 2020...

 If I had any clue how 2020 was going to pan out after those last blog posts...oh man. Retrospect can be a real punch to the gut sometimes. It's kind of taking my breath away thinking of all that went on since then. Erik's coming home sick turned into a wicked case of the flu which of course spread like wildfire through the house. We were sick on and off through early March when we went to my cousin's wedding. That was an awesome roadtrip with me and my kiddos and we had such a blast. And then my Grandma passed away. We buried her on St Patrick's Day and were already starting to see the signs of the pandemic. Then it all shut down. Our campout was cancelled, our activities were all cancelled, the cabin fever set in and the new normal began. We went from having a full plate of outside classes, service projects, and Scout events to nada. Life got really messy at home and I can safely say I had some of the roughest times ever. Things have eased up since then. In some ways, we adjusted. In some ways, we still haven't. Part of me wishes I'd continued to blog like I'd promised myself, and part of me know I wouldn't even want to read it. Any journaling I did was private and sad to say the least. I went through periods of spamming my friends and family to keep in touch and periods of total withdrawal from everything. 

It. Was. Rough. 

But...we emerge, right? We evolve, we adapt, we move forward even when the very ground we attempt to make baby steps on feels like shattered glass. Resilience is bittersweet. Some of our coping mechanisms aren't quite healthy but perhaps they're what we need at the time. Mine tend to be repression, withdrawal, and food. Big shock there, right? Every blog I've had has had some tie to my struggle with food. Well, the pandemic and the home stress brought that out in full force. I left myself go big time. I leaned on food for comfort and naturally it was all the wrong kinds of food. I mean who comforts themselves with lettuce? Do those people even exist? If they do, can we talk? Teach me your ways....because my comfort comes in the form of cookies or fries. All of the hard nutritional work I put in when I was pregnant with Pi and afterwards is lost. Those days spent happily trying on dresses for Tay's wedding and feeling so happy with what I could fit into at the time...yeah those dresses wouldn't fit anymore. I'm almost back at square one. Not at my heaviest, but getting there. Emotionally, I snap easier. I let stress get the better of me. Even my dreams are stressful now and not the reprieve they used to be. 

So things must change and today is the day. 

I can't be any harder on myself than I have been, so I'm trying a different tact. I'm trying gentleness. I'm trying to give myself the same grace that I give so freely to others. I picked up a self care journal and a book of mindfulness exercises. I'm going to be more conscious of the things I put in my body. Because we emerge, right? We evolve, right? I know I can too, but I think I have to work with myself not against myself. I have a plan and I'm going to try to work it out here as well. We try. That's all I can do. 

I think in that case....Master Yoda was incorrect.... *gasp*

Peace, Love, and all the beautiful things.

Useless as the G in Lasagna

Well that was yesterday's goal anyway. I ended up doing Scout stuff and cooking some leftovers for the kiddos. I had intended on cooking nothing whatsoever but kids gotta eat I guess... However, it was a lovely come down day after all the bustle of the holidays and Winter camp prep. I actually sat all the way through "Ernest Saves Christmas" even. That's a feat for me. The entire Ernest franchise is not my cup of tea, but I managed to be lazy enough to watch the whole thing. Only down part of the day is that Erik came home from a sleepover sick. My poor guy is warm and hoarse with a horrible cough. People were dropping like flies at Bovay and I guess it made it's way to us too. I was really hoping beyond hope that it would have skipped us, but what can you do? Life and viruses find a way...
Anyhoo, not a whole lot to report. We were lazy. We ate junk. We got a well deserved and needed rest. Peace, love, and taquito grease...

"It's a quest! A quest for fun..

I'm gonna have fun and you're gonna have fun!"

This should be my slogan for this year. Like the poor delusional sap that uttered that quote, I'm sure I'll be driven to a crazed fervor bordering on mania some days, but a girl can hope, right? So it's doubly fitting. This year will be my quest for fun...a laid back year at least in theory. Part of this quest will be journaling\blogging. I don't really give a rat's rear end if anyone ever reads this, I'm not in it for subscribers. This is mainly for me. Even if I only blog a sentence like "Today sucked donkey balls. Going to bed." I intend on posting a small something every single day of 2020, a virtual journal if you will. I would make a "It'll be my 2020 vision" joke here, but dear god that's already overplayed. If I see Barbara Walters in my Facebook feed one more time...

Anyhoo, so this posting is being typed in retrospect for yesterday. Yesterday we had family and friends over for our annual New Years celebration. We usually have these soirees on New Years Eve but due to the Scouting life and Winter Camp getting out that day, we decided to postpone. It's a good thing we did too. My two campers and both girls crashed hard before midnight ever got close. So we spent yesterday in our usual gathering of good company, drinks, junk food, board games, cards, and so many kids we didn't know what to do. It was epic and wonderful; an excellent start to the New Year. I went to bed exhausted but happy. 

So here's hoping the rest of the year is like that...we go to bed exhausted from being busy in a good way and happy because we're surrounded by amazing friends and family. There should be some pretty grand adventures on the horizon...

The Unflappable Ms. Clare

So that roller coaster, huh?

Yeeeaaahhhh....

The Durian has some big electrical issues. Big issues mean big money, naturally. Is there anything smellier than a durian?

Ugg, oh well. Like Jason said "It is what it is, nothing we can really do about it." This is unfortunately true. So while my hearing did fuzz out for a bit when reading the total, I've decided to be...unflappable. It is what it is. Why fuss and fume over it any longer? Why let something completely out of my control ruin things? Deep breath, in and out...maybe touch or feel something near you and focus on how it feels as a distraction.

Goooossssssffrrraaaabbbaaaaaaa....

This morning was kind of crap in and of itself. Everyone around here was on edge. The kids were angry at each other, angry at their school, angry at things they couldn't control. Interestingly enough, it was more of an annoyance to me than a panic situation. I kept my calm. I was kind of...unflappable. I'm not sure why, to be perfectly honest. Could it be that I've been eating healthier? The yoga once a day? Are the stars in my house aligned in a certain peaceful manner? No idea. I do wish it would stick around, though. Let's see how long it lasts...

I have been feeling pretty great since starting this new cleanse, though. This cleanse is only three days and you can actually eat food. Let's be honest here...nobody wants to live on juice or pills and water for a week. Even I tried the infamous 48 hour Hollywood Juice Diet when I was 20. I made it to dinnertime the first day. Let's recount how that went:

Cook at work: "Girl, I got barbecue ribs in the kitchen tonight!"
Me grimmacing: "Oh so that's what smells sooo good...  Man, I'm doing the juice diet today though!"
Cook with mild disgust: "What? Juice diet? Huh...well I'm just sayin'...they're good! Hmph juice."
Me: "Yeah I'm sorry..."
*goes back to the records book, smells ribs wafting through the air, checks a few boxes*
Me: "Oh fuck it, this juice is gross anyway."
*tosses pen down on the cart, heads to the kitchen*

She was right, her ribs were awesome. Her potato salad was too. No one wants to live on juice or lemon cayenne water or whatever the hell else liquid concoction is trending. So while I haven't been eating BBQ or ribs on this cleanse, I have been eating delicious food like roasted chicken. No starvation, but real results. Tomorrow I'll weigh in and make a more official post about it. I can't help but wonder if all of this hasn't been helping my mood though. Perhaps the cleanse has been helping along this unflappableness I've felt today. *shrugs* It surely can't be hurting.

I can't say I won't give The Durian a swift kick when we finally go pick it up though. Not enough cleanse in the world for that.

Roller Coasters and Durians

Remember the movie Parenthood? Good movie. Remember the part where the little Grandma talks about the Roller Coaster and it becomes a metaphor for life? That is probably one of the most relatable movie quotes that has ever been put to celluloid. Whenever life tosses a monkey wrench our way, I think of the little Grandma and her roller coaster.

A monkey wrench came our way today. It came in the form of our Suburban. Big shock. See, ever since we bought that car three years ago, it has proven to be nothing but a big fat money pit. Not just little repairs, either! We're talking some high dollar repairs. It's a complete lemon. Actually, I don't think I'd insult lemons by comparing them to that car. How about a durian? I've heard that durians smell like rotting corpses, so that would probably be a more fair association. Anyhoo, our durian of a vehicle has been a drain since we bought it and always at the worst times. For example, my sister and brother in law came down for a wedding and we all journeyed up to the Ren Fest together for a long overdue day of ye olde fun and merriment together. Guess what died on the way there? Yup, The Durian! We never even made it. Or the time that the entire air conditioning system died right before the Houston Summer. Or the time we were simply on the road to church and the piece of crap died in the middle of the road. Or when we were on the Gulf Freeway on the way to my baby sister's wedding and it just stalled right there on the highway. Cars in general can be a financial drain, but The Durian? Ohhhh it's taken things to a whole other level. 

So today I had dropped my middle boys off at home after church and was on the way back to pick up the oldest from Youth Group. I realized that the console behind the steering wheel was pitch black. No lights, no dials working, nothing. I couldn't tell how fast I was going or how much gas I had. The car seemed to be running fine, though, so I figured I'd be as careful as possible and just get it home quickly. As an extra precaution, I decided to stop and put a little gas in it. All was well until I turned the key to leave the pump. Nada. Nothing. I tried again and only heard the radio blasting and a soft ticking sound. I started to panic a bit and then anger took over. Again?!? Why? Why AGAIN? It hasn't even been a full three months since the last time we had to have it towed because it wouldn't start in our driveway! 

I'm so over this car. My oldest and I realized that in the three years we've owned it, we've had to call a tow truck FIVE times now. That's just the tows, that doesn't include the countless smaller repairs also. If that isn't durian status, I don't know what is. Today was supposed to be restful. A nice laid back day... Not a day where I sit with a headache in a gas station chicken joint waiting on a tow truck wondering how much repairs will cost THIS time. 

Now I realize that there are a lot of silver linings here. It broke down at a gas station and not on the side of the road. It was only Sean and I, so we didn't have to hang out in limbo with all of the kids and find transportation for all of us. The gas station was close to home so Jason was able to just come pick us up really quickly once the tow truck had left. Roadside assistance is covered under our insurance, so we weren't out anything for the tow itself. My brain is telling me these silvery linings and I can acknowledge them but I just don't feel it. It's still discouraging. Why do the dips in the roller coaster of life just come out of nowhere and then tend to be so expensive?  But I guess that's the nature of the roller coaster; they're full of surprises, some good, some frightening. They twist and turn and go from thrilling to uncomfortable in a flash. It really is the perfect analogy for life sometimes. 

*fingers and toes crossed* that The Durian won't be too expensive to repair or won't need anything major this time. Please, roller coaster...start going up again. Pretty please...with sprinkles on top. 

Downton Abbey *Spoiler Alert*

DISCLAIMER: This blog post contains a huge plot spoiler regarding the series "Downton Abbey". If you haven't watched through to the end of Season Three, you may want to close this window right now. Seriously. 

One night Jason had fallen asleep on the couch and yet I was strangely awake. I grabbed a snack and scrolled through Amazon's instant video selection and saw Downton Abbey. I'd heard so much good about this series, so I clicked play.

And an insatiable addiction was born.

Since that time, many hours were spent in the evenings watching the trials and tribulations of the Crawley family and hanging on every elegantly pronounced word. I laughed, I cried, I felt rage. It was like the tamer British cousin of Game of Thrones for me. Jason became hooked as well and together we spent our evenings flying through all three seasons. We discussed it with my in-laws on Easter since apparently they've kept up with it but one thing struck me as odd. My mother in law kept saying how angry it made her that they were trying so hard to save Downton Abbey when financial ruin threatened the property. I inwardly wondered "Why?? Why wouldn't you want to save such a beautiful estate and such a genteel way of life?"

Then the season finale came. And Matthew Crawley, the immensely likable and totally selfless savior of the Crawley estate lay beneath his overturned car with blood running thickly through his handsome blonde hair. 

I was stunned. 

How could they do this? How could they kill off probably the most likable character in the entire series? And right after he'd finally produced a newborn heir to secure the title forever and continue the line! Then it hit me... perhaps Downton Abbey is evil...

Just look at the title screen...dark as well as light! Evil side much?

Of course! It's the house! It's the bloody house... It's alive like some Amnityville Horror of the English countryside. Until now, Lord Grantham has produced nothing except girls (therefore in sexist old England, no heirs) and it's been worried. But it can't off Lord Grantham because he genuinely loves the estate and wants to preserve it. But Sybil disses the legacy, marries an Irish Socialist, and produces another girl... and what happened to her? Yep, she's gone. Died within the walls of the home. But Matthew Crawley gets sucked in. He marries the prickly eldest daughter, falls in love with the estate, and sinks a fortune into it to save the legacy. He modernizes it to keep it afloat. He saves that estate's bloomin' arse. Then the crowning glory...he produces a male heir. The line is saved! Succession is achieved! Downton Abbey has no further need for dear Matthew. It chews him up and spits him out on the side of the road bleeding beneath his car like yesterday's rubbish. It won't off Mary Crawley though... she bleeds Downton's stubborn lifeblood like her father does and she'll need to raise the heir apparent with the same values. The house is intelligent as well as evil it would appear.

Or perhaps the writers are just cheeky bastards who like to toy with our emotions.

But I'd put my money on the house...