The Hostess with The Mostest

My daughter has been described as the hostess with the mostest by her birth to three workers. She is constantly bringing them things and swishing about making sure she is being seen. So it was no surprise when yesterday my neighbor-friend Jenny was babysitting that she was catered to in a most thorough way. Aurelia escorted our guest to the restroom and then offered her a fistful of extra absorbency tampons. SIGH.....

This morning, she was handing out the super sleek thin maximum absorbency sanitary napkins to Melanie, her 2 year old daughter Lydia, myself and then graciously she went last.

So, if you come for a visit and are offered any type of hygiene item, please don't take offense. I am trying to train her that cookies are always much more well received.

These things take time.

Heather

Crazy kids and dreams

Night before last, I had a dream. Not your average dream of daisies and sunny skies, but a weird dream. I was in my current house, only it seemed like my childhood house. The bed I was in was my supersingle waterbed from that childhood and I was sleeping. I woke to find a high school friend had sidled up beside me to chat. Groggily, I listened. Then Ted flung open the door and said,"Don't come check on you, huh? I'll kill you!!!" (UNTED-like behavior).

It seems after much conscious thought this high school friend lent a movie to Ted and I years ago. It was called American Hollow. The director of that movie was Rory Kennedy and she also directed Ghosts of Abu Ghraib (which I recently taped and saw the director on the View the day before). Such is the working of my sleeping brain.


In other news:

Daniel says today to Ted:

"My gym teacher's name is Mr. Cunningham. I wonder if that is his name because he likes to cut ham?"

Later, Ted says to Daniel:

"Ask him tomorrow."

Daniel replies:

"I already did and he said yes. He likes to cut ham."


THAT BOY.

Cradle of Love

This baby girl has the rhythm down in her heart.

I am fine

Today was my laproscopic doo hickey. I went in around 8 am and came home around 12pm. From what has been relayed to me through the family my doctor spoke with, I have stage three endometriosis. There are a few options for dealing with that and I will discuss them at length with him in our followup appointment. Endometriosis is not deadly, but mostly causes pain. It seems that some of the cells that should slough off of your uterus during menses wander out and make new homes in other places. Then they slough off there too, except they have no escape route and irritate other places. No biggee. Again I am fine, I feel good, and love you all.



Love
Heather

Day out with Daddy

On his day off, Ted took Aurelia to visit with his parents. Here are some pictures.

She came home to tell me all about Mama, Papa, eggs, bugs, sleep, and a bunch of other words she strung together. I think she had a great time. Thanks guys, for keeping her so occupied and happy. Love ya

Heather

Lately

I hear you all asking, "What has that Heather been up to lately?"

Well, today, I worked my son's book fair. Made multiple telephone calls. Picked up prescriptions. Had fingerprints taken for volunteer work. Had blood drawn for upcoming surgery. Cleaned aforementioned son's room with a trash bag and a ruthless cold heart. Then took poor son and even poorer son to see Bridge to Terabithia.

All the while, my husband had our daughter at his parents. It was a busy day, but nonetheless BABY free!

Daniel explained that he was going to date me. I felt I should let him in on the fact that when Daddy dated me he had to hold my hand, feed me, and kiss me. This did not deter my little interfamily dater. Apparently, while he will wed his little sister, I am ok for the dating. Cold chill, vaguely ill feeling.

My clothes arrived from the Indian website. I will share that I am VERY pleased with the fit and will post some pictures soon. I don't plan to be the spokesperson for this site, but if you feel the need to buy some custom fitted clothes that are very comfortable I will refer you. The site is www.eshakti.com and if you use my name and email address with your order, not only will you receive a $25 gift certificate from the company, so will I. Not too shabby.

Night all.
Heather

My dad is sick, my brother is having a 7 millimeter kidney stone surgically removed, and my grandma is selling her house to move to Lewisburg. I hope my dad feels better soon. Shannon, I hope you have a speedy recovery. Granma, I hate to see you go, but as long as your happy.

ENJOY LIFE!

Pink- Dear Mr President - Live

I love this song!

Self Affirmation

I am a good person. I am not stupid. I am not lazy. I take good care of my children and I love them. Just because I stay at home does not make me less than. I have skills. I can type faster than most front desk secretaries and with greater accuracy (including spelling). Just because I can do other, more domestic, tasks does not make me mentally dim.

I am working on a bachelor's degree in social work. I want to help people. It may take me a long time to finish, but I am DOING something in the mean time. I am trying to raise loving, responsible, intelligent, creative, beautiful children. I can't cook well. SO WHAT?! Does it make me less of a good wife? Hell no. If I forced my cooking upon us every night, I could be arrested.

Like so many of you out there like me, don't take the poopy anymore. I wipe shit daily, I don't need it from any of the holier-than-thou working force. I don't need to be reminded that I don't have an income check with my name on it. I don't need to be asked time and again when I will graduate and START my career. My life is good. I like it. So suck it up and face facts. I am fulfilled and happy. Maybe, just maybe, if you have to ask me questions about what I am NOT doing, it may reflect your less than happy life. Just a suggestion.

LOVE to all
Heather

Smile, you're on Candid Camera!

My daughter spent a little time in the basement with her daddy. He's been disassembling the transmission to our vintage VW Bug and she got a spot of transmission fluid on her finger. This is the snapshot that followed. :0)

So while she spends "quality" time with her daddy taking walks, painting, and flipping the bird, I have been reading. I am almost done with the third book in three days. They are all dismal with very little sunshine, but I feel almost like I did when I was little. Like I can't put the books down. I love that feeling.

Night all
Heather

Shed this outer layer and be free

My wish for my next life


If it is possible to have a next life, I wish to come back as something very flexible. Can I come back as wind? No obstacle would stand in my path; I would simply blow around it. How about a ribbon on the end of a child’s stick? I could fly through the air gracefully at the whim of a little one. I wouldn’t mind being clothes hung out to dry. The breeze and the sun on me as I bask in and absorb it all. Water, I could be water, with its fluid movement and the ability to wear down anything in my path given enough time.

Tonight I will dream I am these things. Tonight I will peek into a world with no restrictions, no limitations. Tonight, I fly, I bend, I flow!

Crying over spilled milk

I called birth to three about my daughters speech progress. I was making sure I was doing all I could to get our communication to it's highest level. The other day I was teasing her in the kitchen and telling her to give me "my" spoon. She kept saying 'mine' and then, apparently fed up, shook her head, placed the spoon behind her and said:

Don't take my poon.

Going to sleep last night she rolled over and said (while holding her chin),"MMMmmm, Lesseee."

I think she's coming along.

My son played at his friends house all day. He cried and hid when I came to get him. I even tried to bribe him with McD's. He said, " I wanna go to Toys R Us". Little shit.

So with Fazoli's and McD's in hand, I returned home.

I parceled out food while on the phone with my father-in-law. This entails trying to listen over the squeals and background noise of the poopers. I try to block it out. But the noise that prompted an end to our conversation was a pouring sort of sound. I looked all over the table, nothing. UNDER the table were the entire contents of a McD's regular milk jug.

I AM TIRED. But sleep comes less than two hours from now.

Night all.
Heather

Things Done Wrong Lately

No posts for days.

I labeled all the original Valentine's for the youngest boy with the name's of the recipients in the FROM box.

I bought a purse with Tinkerbell on it. Aurelia has confiscated it.

I bought a wallet to go with the purse. It turned out to be a cigarette case. (Lesson learned: don't shop with a two year old.)

A total lack of checking with truly loved family members.

There are a few things I may have done correctly:

I rebought AND relabeled Valentine's for the boy. He seemed to prefer the newer ones.

CASA volunteering.

Telling the kids I love them EVERYDAY.

Making time for myself.

And there are some decisions that remain to be categorized:

The decision to forego standard dress and try out custom made Indian (East, not Native American) attire. Something tame and modest. And not wedgie-riffic.

Deciding I think a hysterectomy is the most all encompassing solution to my simply annoying female issues.

Thoughts?
Heather

My dad's girlfriend

This is the picture my dad would pull out of his wallet. He would tell all the kids it was his girlfriend just to watch them scrunch their faces. It is actually a picture compiled of different peoples facial features. Notice the eyes are different. Anyway, this picture scared the hell out of me. But my dad was like that.

He hired my aunt to sniff the farts out of the seats of his car when she was little. He used to fart in church and say loudly "Oh Faye!" which never failed to mortify my mother. He is the worlds most notorious pull my finger man. But he came by it honestly.

My grandfather, my dad's father, would tell us we were Shinn kids. (This was an insult mixed occasionally with being a Myers (my mom's maiden name), a Wiseman, or a Bishop.) If we got hurt playing, he would furrow his brow and ask why we had hurt his buddy. But most unforgettable to me was EVERY Saturday night. I always spent Saturday night at their house. My brother had Fridays. Hee Haw was a Saturday night staple and there was a woman who wore rag curlers and a tattered moo-moo. My grandpa would always say my mom had dropped me off at their house to go to work (as the Hee- Haw woman). Now I knew he was pulling my leg, but my brother would get fired up!

Apparently, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I say things to my children (and other people's children) that are clearly in jest. But today my daughter was being evaluated by birth to three. The lady was showing some pictures and getting her to say the names of the pictures. Most responses were some unintelligible generic word and a few clear ones thrown in. Then I heard Aurelia say very clearly and quicly MOMMY. She wasn't looking at a woman's picture. It was a picture of ..............

a clown. That's my girl.

Heather

I think I need a shower

I have been exploring some ways to get a better nights sleep. We replaced the girl's single bed with a queen size mattress (plenty of room for mommy's fat arse.) I have been taking my medication like a good girl. And then I decided to go to the chiropractor. I asked my doctor for a suggestion, alas that one was not in my insurance network. So left to my own devices, I consulted the all knowing phone book.

No X-rays were taken, no real cracking took place. This doctor is a fan of the pretzel adjustment that I despise. She also pulled my ears to check my sinus something or other and knucklerubbed my clavicle. A little odd. Not to mention that her lipstick was noticeably outside the lines of her lips. By a lot.

From her "adjustment room" I was moved to a "massage room". Bobby was the man of the day in his convict scrubs and black steel toed boots. The room was ice cold and Bobby had the unsteady aura in his hands of teenage virgin. I came away smelling like massage lotion and feeling a little soiled. Let's be clear, I love massage therapy. I am totally for chiropractic care, but I am certain that there must be a standard to follow.

And after Friday's surprise vaginal ultrasound I am just a little too violated for any further strangeness.

Heather

Books rock

When I was a little girl, I loved to read. I loved to read in a way that was a little abnormal. No matter where I was, who was there, what was going on I would rather be reading. I didn't read a single type of book. I read anything that I could get my grubby paws on. Many books were beyond me, but I read them anyway. Some would have been snatched from my curious little grip if my mom had found them. Others were an introduction to what the world is really like outside of your comfortable home. One of my early favorites was a book called One Child by Torey Hayden. It was part of a collection of Reader's Digest condensed books at my grandmothers. Even this book was a little sugar coated. A little girl named Sheila was badly abused and in need of special education. Torey was a teacher in special education at that time. One part of the book describes how they read the book The Little Prince byAntoine de Saint Exupery. The taming of the fox was related to the taming of Sheila. I had never read the book, but it seemed a fitting tale.

Fast forward to this past week.

I have been reading a book to Daniel at bedtime. A few chapters a night. It's called The Little Prince. It didn't down on my feeble mind that this was THE book.
Last night we read the chapters that included the taming of the fox. I almost cried.

As I was reading, Daniel said, "Remember his volcanoes. They only come up to his knees." And they tell me he needs to work on comprehension. Pshaw. He needs to love what he is comprehending and he loves mommy time.

Since books work in circles for me, I have now reserved all of Torey Haydens books available through the library here. I plan to have Cory read them. It may also revisit that piece of me that has always wanted to get in the dogfight for kids.

Books used to be like Thanksgiving for me. I would just keep piling it in and never be full. I miss that feeling.

Night all.
Heather

Quotes from sweet babies

In the library today:

Miss Barbara sings: What is your name? My name is..... (laying her hand on little girls head)

Little Girl: FATBOY!

(Mother hides face, holding baby that little girl refers to as FATBOY)


Daniel: Oh, no, you will not put your big fat butt on me! (speaking to me)


During our play date, Miss Eleanor asked her mother: Mommy, can you come in here? Can you waddle around and be a hen?

and Aurelia's new catchphrase, performed with great facial animation and excitement:
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, babee, baaaabeeeeeee(==the last two babies being growled as she inches frighteningly close to my face while rolling her eyes into her head and doing jazz hands!)

Reasons my son cannot use the computer. AT ALL

Lots of people are willing to give you their two cents when it comes to how you are raising your children. I have tried to take most of it with a grain of salt, because how does anyone know how to deal with someone else's childrens quirks. But one rule I have for anyone under 18 in this house seems to garner much more spirited comments than the others (usually from my mother.) I don't allow my children on the computer. At all. I used to, but my oldest proved early on that he simply was not able to control the urge to see what was so great about forbidden content. Now, I don't operate under a constant fear that someone is plotting to steal or abuse my children, but I know that there is a chance it could happen. I know that no matter how much I tell them to be careful there are those out in the world that can convince them to do the exact opposite of what I have asked.

My oldest son is a strapping young lad. I can only give him a hug or get a kiss from him if he wants me to. I don't fear that someone will be able to overpower him. It just isn't likely. But they could outwit him. They could entice him.

So after watching the latest To Catch a Predator show from Dateline NBC, I will say again: My kids are not allowed on the computer. I know where the library is when assignments require encyclopedias and research. And should they be required to use the internet for some reason beyond my control, you had better bet your sweet patootie that I will be right over their shoulder and checking their cookies.

I mean for the love of Pete, you can buy these:

http://www.truck-nuts.com/index.html

What has the world come to?

Frankly

I have to be quite frank. Lately, I have been annoying myself. There has been an overuse of the word frankly in my vocabulary. I find my self saying things like:

Frankly, my dear Aurelia, I don't give a damn.
or
Daniel, I frankly cannot listen to another joke.
or
Cory I refuse to pick up your dirty underwear without a hazmat suit and a stick. Frankly.

Also, there has been an increase in Heather's need to reference herself in the third person.
When unable to make intelligible conversation, Heather points out that she is falling off of a mental cliff for lack of consistent sleep.

Frankly, Heather would like to know what you suggest she do about this problem!

A Better World

Last night I began training for a program called CASA. For those unfamiliar with it, CASA stands for court appointed special advocate. Volunteers are trained and appointed by a judge to represent the best interests of the child(ren) in abuse and neglect cases.

One of the most daunting statistics we learned last night is the sheer number of cases. There are too many cases in too many counties to give each one a volunteer. They just do not have enough to go around. While the children will have counsel to represent their interests, the system is overloaded. Social workers have 30-80 cases each. In a given month, they may be able to spend only two hours on a single case. They need the assistance to help find the best solutions for children that may otherwise slip through the cracks.

My social work studies are what brought me to know about this program. I know none of us really has "spare" time. But if you think you would like to make a difference I am going to link CASA's website on my sidebar.

My children drive me nuts, but at the end of the day I want them to know they are loved. I don't ever foresee my own children will experience anything close to the experiences of the children I will meet. But I would like to think that if they were in those circumstances there would be someone looking out for them.

Night all.
Heather