I've Seen It All

I've Seen It All

I've see it all, I have seen the trees

I've seen the willow leaves dancing in the breeze

I've seen a man killed by his best friend,

and lives that were over before they were spent.

I've seen what I was, I know what I'll be

I've see it all, there is no more to see

Bjork (with Thom Yorke)

Remember the first time your heart hurt?  

I remember walking home (1st grade).  A little girl (second grader) yelled out (about me)  "look at how ugly that girl is!  I bet she doesn't have any friends, because she's so ugly!" 

I remember my heart breaking finding out my 'first love'* cheated on me, more than once [*what I considered love then, and now, are considerably different]. 

I remember the guttural pain; learning my birth mother kept me a secret from her family and has no intention of meeting me.

I, like millions others, have my September 11th story.  I wept, and wept for them.  On the ten year anniversary, I didn't watch the specials.  I still remember.

Over the past decade:
I've been to 3 grand-parents funerals.  
I attended a funeral for sweet Ava, who fought CDH courageously for 47 days.  Her mother's courage, still inspires me.
I watched an entire sanctuary fill up, to say goodbye to an amazing man, father, husband, son, and friend.  He left his wife, and 3 kids behind.  His kids are such beautiful souls.  I know he is proud.
I watched a close friend prepare herself and her family for her mother in law's passing (breast cancer).

Then I saw the news on Friday, and I feel - like -  I've seen it all.  I don't like what I see.  I don't want to see anymore.  I only want what matters & is truly important.  I want to live my life to please God.  If I don't have Him, I have nothing.  I pray I show God's love through: words, deeds, thoughts, and actions.   I pray for the health & safety of my family, and my friends. 

I pray for peace and comfort for the families devastated in CT. 

The Boys are Back in Town

Guess who just got back today?
Them wild-eyed boys that had been away
Haven't changed, haven't much to say
But man, I still think them cats are crazy

The Boys are Back In Town - Thin Lizzy

I don't like to brag, BUT....
Last week, I had the ENTIRE week off (and I don't mean Monday - Friday, I'm talking Sunday through Sunday.  My AMAZING, SELFLESS, TIRELESS, SAINT of a mother in law ASKED (yep, you read that correctly - SHE ASKED if the boys could spend the week with her & Pop-Pop.  What could I say?  I don't want to disappoint the sweet woman, so, I did what any selfless mother would do: I had my husband pack their clothes, and we said YES!
  
Did I get the boys' rooms cleaned out and organized?  
Did I get my projects completed? 
Did I get my craft room cleaned out & organized?

I didn't do much of anything; LOVED every minute of it!  Know what else? I didn't feel a snitch guilty, either!  See, I don't feel bad for taking care of myself.  Growing up, I distinctly remember my mom leaving for some 'her' time; when I'd ask to accompany, it was an unapologetic: No!  Know what?  I totally get that!  I realized early on (in motherhood), if I didn't take care of myself, I had little to give.  I love those boys too much, to neglect myself.  


My advice to new mothers: Take care of yourself without guilt.  As mothers, we take/feel enough guilt for 3 lifetimes. (We can cover that in another blog post, aptly named; Crucify)     


What did J & I do?  We reconnected.  Turns out, I still really like him. :)  We watched the Olympics, went to a few movies, drank our dinner (not every night), and laughed.  I know a week without kids isn't practical for every couple, but I highly recommend a few kid-less nights, every once in a while.  

The first verse of Thin Lizzy's song: Boys are Back in Town, describes today.  They walked in, gave us obligatory hugs, and fell right into normal.  They haven't changed - don't have much to say (unless you're talking Legos & superheroes).  While I loved my vacation, I'm glad my boys are back in town!

Dirty Little Secret

"I'll keep you my dirty little secret (dirty little secret)

Don't tell anyone or you'll be just another regret"

Dirty Little Secret - All-American Rejects

A website I visit every Sunday: Postsecret.  Not because I'm looking for my secret, [not that I haven't sent one, (wink)] but because I find it fascinating.  Some of the secrets make me laugh, others, break my heart.  


Secrets are funny; especially the ones (secrets) we think are going to shock & appall, only to find complete understanding.  Don't you feel so relieved afterwards?  Like, what was the big deal?!  Obviously I'm not referring to serious secrets (I enjoy kicking puppies, or I'm really Dexter in my spare time), but the ones after confession, we find a closer bond to a friend or family member.  Some of the best conversations with friends include the following statements: "Okay, I'm gonna tell you something", "please don't tell anyone", and "Oh My Gosh!! Me Too!!"  

Here's my best beauty secrets:

Apply a neutral lip liner all over lip, then apply lipstick or lipgloss.  (Especially if it's a colored lipstick, it will stay on much longer!)  My personal favorite nude lip liner: Mary Kay's Neutral Lip Liner.  


If you don't take your eye makeup off at night, the next day, you'll have a short eyelash day. (sad face)


When you apply moisturizer, also, apply to your decollete, neck (in an upward motion), and hands. (Those are the first to show age.)

Here's a few of my dirty funny little secrets:

• Butt cracks make me laugh. I know, it's so immature; I can't help it.  I think they're funny.  [I LOVE the part in Braveheart, where the Scotts lift their kilts & slap their butts.] 
• I don't like my toes to touch anyone's toes. I have to mentally prepare myself to allow my toes to touch someone else's toes. 
• I've seen many of my friends FB photo at the bottom of Postsecret, but have NEVER seen mine, it makes me jealous/mad. (isn't that stupid?!) 
• It scares me how many donuts and girl scout Thin Mints I can consume in one setting.  I bury the evidence in the trash can - or - take the trash out.
• I want at least 3 more tattoos, (including a traditional Polynesian style) (much, MUCH to the chagrin of my parents, and J. 
• I can't stand Julia Roberts.  Every movie preview with her has that damn annoying {ha HAA HAAAAAHH} laugh of hers.  Every single preview! Pay attention next time, you'll hear it.  (I do like Pretty Woman & Steel Magnolias)
• Since my days as drill team captain I still carry the following in my purse/wallet: bandaid, rubberband for ponytail, safety pin, and paperclip.  (such a nerd. so embarrassing)
• I wash my face EVERY night.  Even on the rare occasion I've had too many cocktails, I still wash my face.  The next morning when I wake, I gently pat my eyes to feel for makeup, then smile when I realize I washed!  

When We Were Young

"Can we climb this mountain? I don't knowHigher now than ever beforeI know we can make it if we take it slowThat's takin' easy, easy now, watch it go"When We Were Young - The Killers
Nothing too profound or comical today.  I've been wanting to post, but can't think of much to say.  I know, I know: Jennifer, not much to say?  Impossible.  I will say this.  I've got a BUNCH on my mind, but I'm in the middle of processing everything, and not sure what I want to say, or how to say it.  So until then, enjoy some pictures.
I've said this before: I didn't know I wanted kids until I met J.  I 'retired' from babysitting at the tender age of 13.  It wasn't for me.  I didn't like crying babies.  I didn't like changing diapers.  I was very much a baby myself, so I didn't have much to give.  Makes sense, right?  
I love and adore being a parent.  I love seeing the world through their eyes.  Moreover, I love is their complete inhibition in front of a camera!   
Here are a few shots from our summer 2012 Colorado trip.  

Liam insisted on wearing that huge shirt because he was cold.

chilling, posing before our Coors tour

I can't remember how many times I heard the phrase: "Mom, take a picture of us."

He adores his big brother.  so sweet, when he's not giving me fits.  

what do you say about this pose, except: AWESOME?!

they wanted to squeeze in this nook, just because they could.

my attempt of inhibition in front of the camera. 

i love muscle poses!

seriously LOVE muscle poses!!

no need to worry - those grey shorts are IN the goodwill pile, having seen this picture!!

You Got It (The Right Stuff)

'You got the right stuff, baby

You're the reason why I sing this song'

You Got It (The Right Stuff) - New Kids on the Block

I have a problem.  Not a serious problem, but a problem, nonetheless.  I'm exposed to it every Sunday (or whenever I get around to clipping my coupons).  For you normal folks (non ADD), I bet you're able to flip right past these, without giving it a thought.  I struggle; I can't get past it.  I'm distracted.  I need to know why, who, WHY?  Then I spin an entire life for the person that buys these.  What's worse?  J has to listen to my story about Connie, the woman buying these items.

Are you wondering what I'm talking about?  

Allow me:

I love Elvis as much as the next person, but...

I don't know what to say about this one.

Are you with me so far? 

Unable to move onto the next page, I'm filled with so many thoughts and questions about this stuff: WHO is buying this stuff? Are they buying this stuff for themselves or as a gift?  Is there a HUGE demand for these items?  Are these somebody's prized possession?  Who in the company decided these products needed to be made?  Does the manufacturing company have meetings to decide what product to design/make next?  Why would a company WANT to make something like this?  What would I do if someone gave me this?  Would I be able to save face?  

I like the sentiment, just not the scary tall angels!

As if Texans need more cliches?!

*Connie's unoffical biography:

Connie loves these figures. She and her husband Darryl have been together for 37 years.  Since being empty-nesters, Connie has adopted several 'babies' - (those life like [creepy] newborn dolls).  Darryl puts up with her, and deep down he would be lost without her.  They live on a few acres in Tennessee (or South Carolina? not sure).  She sees that teacup Chihuahua, and KNOWS it's perfect for her collection.  Her house is cozy, and decorated with items found in the ABC Distribution Catalog (the goose you can dress for every holiday is her favorite purchase to date.)  Every square inch of her house displays her collections.  It overflows onto both her front and back deck.  She wears her seersucker mu mus, because they 'breathe'.  (Her hair is in curlers anytime she's at home.)   

  Saturday nights (Darryl bowls with his buddies), she calls to chat with her favorite hosts on QVC or HSN.  This gives her a chance to brag about her collections.  (The QVC & HSN hosts have asked the operators to only let her through once a month, but depending on how nice the hosts are to the operators, determines whether Connie gets through!)  She receives at least one package a day, and has for sometime now.  Darryl has given up on trying to talk her out of her purchases.  He retreats out to his garage/workshop, and is content to do so. Connie and Darryl live a simple, comfortable life.  Connie hopes to pass her collectibles to her daughter and daughter in law.*  

Personally, I feel there are better items to decorate with.  Am I suggesting no collections, or figurines?  Absolutely not.  I love the Willow figures (love the Nativity scene).  Think of this as a cautionary message.  You don't want to end up on A&E's Hoarders or TLC's Buried Alive.  

The best one I've ever found: the solar meerkats.  They were awesomely awful.  They were so awesome awful, I sent the order form to my best friend (with her information already filled out), and instructed her to fill in the credit card information.  Shortly after opening her mail, I received a phone call, and started laughing in with her.  Apparently her husband opened it up, and thought I was being serious....

I am NOT immune to marketing.  I pay attention to ads.  

Example:

Pretty & Yummy looking, right?

(I'm intrigued) 

I've seen them in the store.

Then I see the ad in the coupons. (even more intrigued)  

Next trip (to the store), I study them a second time.  Then a woman chimed in, "Ohh, I liked those.. this one is my favorite, but they're ALL good."  "Cool, thanks," I replied. 

Freezer into the glass:(no prep!)

yah, I did! I added whipped cream.

The Verdict: loved it.  Will DEFINITELY buy again.  Perfect for a pre/post dinner drink.  (one serving ~$2.00)

*Connie & Darryl are figments of my twisted imagination.  I have nothing against these products, the companies that manufacture these products, or the people that purchase them.  The only thing I ask: Please don't buy them for me.  Fair enough?!

*Connie has this ENTIRE collection of shoes.  They're comfortable; don't irritate her corns.

*The pair on the left is her ALL TIME favorite pair.  They're just so versatile!

CONFESSION: I've absolutely purchased items from both: QVC, HSN, as well as ABC Distributing- Could I point them out in my house? Some things yes, other items, I've already purged.

Times Like These

It's times like these you learn to live again

It's times like these you give and give again

It's times like these you learn to love again

It's times like these time and time again

Times Like These - Foo Fighters

How many nights did my dad wait in the dance studio parking lot, past 10:00 p.m., because Carol (my dance teacher) had a choreography explosion?  How many times did my mom run all over the metro-plex, because we needed a certain something that was perfect for our costume?  My parents ventured to Lubbock for a good number of Tech games, too.  That my friends, is a LOT of dance performances!  A lot of boring, waiting around un-Godly hours, in stinky old gyms, with crappy sound systems, and crappier seats: ALL for a measly 2-3 minute performance.  Even then, the self absorbed, Jenn was probably bitchy because of a narcissistic, perfectionistic mistake that nobody noticed, anyhow.  God Bless my parents!  

Like most moms, I vowed to be active in my boys lives.  I would be ever present, cheering them on: whatever their activity. If they wanted to be professional cup stackers - I would be so into cup stacking.  I'd have a bookmarked folder on my computer of youTube cupstacking videos.  We would own a nice set of stacking cups, maybe even have a specified table.  It just so happens, they enjoy scouting.  So, guess what?  I'm a scout mom.  Yep, I donne the stylish moisture wicking, SPF shirt WITH the patches.  Sure do.  No shame.  I help plan meetings, wrangle cats boys, attend trainings, and volunteer at camps.  (I remember being jealous of all the adventurous activities the boy scouts experienced.  I already was a girl scout, but lost interest & free time after elementary school. 

Enjoy our camp pictures, please ignore my natural face.

It was so dang MUGGY.

leather working a marble bag

leather working his marble bag

who knew?

Earlier in June, a local Boy Scout troop offered a rock climbing event.  It was HOT and MUGGY, but we put on our shirts AND good attitudes, and headed out.  Liam took one look at the wall, and decided his place would be under the shade assisting in dutch oven cherry cobbler.  The scouts spent quite a while adjusting his harness (seems they weren't used to trying to fit an itty-bitty 17" waist).

patiently waiting for a snug fitting harness

amazing those skinny legs can push him up.

He's a slave to dessert.

In March, we attended Scout day at Heritage Farmstead Museum.  It depicts life in the late 19th century.  They carded wool, sat in a one room school house, 'milked' Buttermilk (a mechanical milking cow), hoed a garden, and washed some clothes on a wash board.  The boys had a blast (as usual), but concluded, we're happy and content right here in 2012, [especially after I explained all the chores they would do before AND after school].

'Buttermilk' the mechanical milking cow, go ahead, milk her.

Hand washing with a wash board.

I actually had to tell them, it was time to let the other kids have a turn.  Who knew?

I own & acknowledge - it's totally MY dream for them to go all the way in scouts.  There are few awards you can earn as a kid, that still hold merit and respect as an adult.  Somehow, Eagle scout seems much cooler than: former drill team captain.  I hope I don't become one of those parents that forces their kids to the activities the PARENTS want them to do, rather than the kids.  As long as scouting remains fun and rewarding for them, they'll continue; I will be right behind them cheering them on.  When I see their joy, excitement, and PRIDE, I realize, hours spent at trainings/meetings is worth it.  It's times like these...

Whistle While You Work

"Just whistle while you work

and cheerfully together we can tidy up the place

So hum a merry tune

It won't take long when there's a song

to help you set the place"

Whistle While You Work - Snow White

The last week of school, we had a rain forest worth of papers (of which I've yet to sort through throw out recycle).  Another assignment: cleaning the tote tray.  Dutifully, I added dish soap and guided him to the deck.  It was basically giving him soap, water in a tub, and our blessing to have a blast.  His incentive: to add 5, that's right FIVE marbles in the marble jar (a currency for first graders).  Enjoy the pics.  

Hard at work.  

For once, looking DIRECTLY at me (for a picture).  

How fabulous is that red underwear band?  So stinkin' cute! Oh, and that step stool - not just for him, it's home resides in our pantry, and I use it for the top shelf of the pantry AND cabinets - yes, the joy of being short. 

I will give him this: when he's feeling generous - he's incredibly helpful - as helpful as you'll allow!

Confession Time: When I was in first grade, I too, had to clean my tote tray.  The teachers instructed us to use a lot of elbow grease.  My mom added dish soap and sent me outside.  Before making my way out the door, I remembered: I needed elbow grease.  So, I stopped and asked her for  some elbow grease.  My mom laughed a good 5 minutes, AND let my dad in on the joke (in between trying to catch her breath) before explaining the laughter.  I, on the other hand, didn't think it was nearly as funny as they did.  To this day, I still think there should be a  household cleaner or cleaning business named: Elbow Grease.  

Thank God I'm a Country Boy

Thank God I'm a Country Boy - John Denver

Thank God I'm a Country Boy Girl.  Technically, I'm not country at all.  It makes for a good blog title, no?

 (Read in valley girl voice) Like, I'm from Plano, so, I don't know about country things, or country ways, but you can ask my mom, 'cause like, she grew up on a farm.  If she doesn't know, we can call my Grandpa, and he'll know for sure.

When I was a teenager, I jumped at the chance to go with my cousins to feed their pigs.  Their farm experiences were so different from my own in Plano.  (This was also the first time I drove down a dirt road, in a truck, without power steering.  Apparently, you're not supposed to do 80 m.p.h, down a dirt road.  Something about it being dangerous?)

Saturday, my friend and I took our kids to R & C Dairy and Farmstead.  We picked strawberries and blackberries.  We had a great time.  Now, I don't want this to be my daily job, but definitely once a year!  It was so peaceful.  The boys had a BLAST.. We were filthy afterwards, but it was worth it.  The berries?  Freakin' DELISH!!  I didn't know (some) blackberry bushes have thorns.  We didn't bring gloves, so we toughed it out, reaching for the berries with ninja precision.

Let's discuss John Denver for a moment:  I love John Denver, and I'm not ashamed.  That's right, I said it!  Is it because he performed with the Muppets?  Partly, but mainly because his songs are linked to great memories.  My cousins and I would chasse (sha-say) in a circle holding hands to Thank God I'm a Country Boy and Grandma's Feather bed.  My grandma would smile with bated breath, trying to enjoy the moments of childhood delight, and not think about the china that was also jumping in her china cabinet.  No china was ever harmed during one of these hootenannies, and to this day, it makes us cousins smile.

During my grandma's funeral, I watched cousin Denny's wife Shirley walk up to a boom box and push play.  I'm drained emotionally, wondering what song had been left out of Grandma's service?  Then it happened: John Denver's Grandma's Feather Bed came over the speaker, and I couldn't help but bust out laughing.  Next thing you know, all of us cousins were laughing at a funeral. I think it's exactly how Grandma would've wanted it.

We got the farm information from this website:  PickYourOwn.org

Here's a few pictures from our berry (ba-dum-bum) fun adventure.

Liam picking the goods.

Showing off his 'perfectly shaped' strawberry.

Showing off his goods.

In the blackberry bushes, right before the batteries died.

Last night, J & I put the berries on our ice cream... it was heavenly.

Not Ready to Make Nice

Not Ready to Make Nice - Dixie Chicks

I've debated and debated whether to post this or not.
I'm just going for it.
These thoughts have been boiling for some time now, and while I'm afraid of what I might say, i'm equally afraid of keeping it inside.
Is it possible for this to come back and bite me?
Absolutely, but it's a risk I'm willing to take.

I spent April on edge.  While our month of April was gorgeous, it's been a long time since I've felt so ugly on the inside.  I made the best of it, trying to work out anger and frustrations on my flower beds; digging holes, and pulling weeds.  I just wanted to get through my birthday.

I made it through April.  I was more defensive, and more sensitive than usual.  I let those close to me, know the thoughts behind the actions.  I didn't handle some things, as I normally would've, but at least I was aware of the reasons behind it.
I've always wanted to love my birthday, but most years, I dread it.  It's not for the reasons you might think.  It's not because it brings back sour memories of the time a boyfriend cheated on me on my birthday.  Devestating to a 16 year old, a big fat whatever now.  It's ALSO not because I'm getting older.  I could care less about my age.  I've earned every scar and (although faint) laugh line.

It's because (in my mind) it's a day someone (my birthmother) wishes she could forget.  I spend the majority of my birthdays wondering if she was thinking of me or did she spend the day trying to forget?  I don't know these thoughts to be true, but without confirmation one way or another, they were true in my mind.

More specifically, I spent wasted so much of my life trying to be perfect.  Not because I'm type A, ultra competative, but because I told myself I had to; so I would be worthy of my (adoptive) parents love.  I thought, I have to be perfect, and maybe if I'm perfect enough, then, someday, my birth mother will want to know me, and then I will be worthy.  You can imagine the continual frustration when I came up short (in my mind).  That continual frustration from my lack of perfection morphed into self loathing.  I hated myself, that I couldn't be the perfect, pretty, high achieving daughter they deserved.   In no way, shape or form, did my parents (adoptive) hold these standards.  They (standards of perfection) were twisted thoughts created in my own sick little head.  I didn't think it was possible for my parents or my husband to love me, because eventually they were going to find out what fraud I was.  I was confident their love was out of pity.  They loved me out of obligation, rather their own free will.

Let me also preface: my parents have never been anything but unconditionally loving and accepting of me, in all aspects of my life.  My mom KNOWS beyond a shadow of a doubt, God specifically picked me for her and my dad - and I believe it too.  Jeremy has shown his strength time and time again.  I haven't always made it easy, but I knew if I could get past these thoughts, I could be the person I wanted to be.

Another thing: I'm angry.  I'm angry I wasted so much time hating myself, instead of enjoying life and the people around me, that love me unconditionally.  I'm angry I put so much of my self worth and beliefs in someone I've never met.  I'm angry and hurt that she doesn't want to know me.  I'm angry that I'm her dirty little secret.  - because I'm here.  Whether you want to acknowledge it or not, I'm here.  I'm not going anywhere.  I'm going to live my life, and tell my story.  I will no longer apologize for my existence.

Postscript:
In no uncertain terms, am I seeking sympathy OR compliments.  These are feelings I'm tired of holding onto.  I don't want them anymore.  I'm putting them away,  I don't want to feel this way anymore, and MOST days I don't.  With grief, you have good days and bad.  Like any loss, adoption is a loss too.

I've reached this angry phrase, and haven't enjoyed my time here.  Any time spent here in anger, is merely another step in the right direction.  I know it was just a phase, and I'm determined this past birthday will be the last one spent with anxiety.

Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree

Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree - The Andrews Sisters

"Don't sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me,

with anyone else but me, 

with anyone else but me

no no no, Don't sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me, 'til I come marching home."

Our neighbor's tree fell.  Quite a tall tree, maybe 30 - 40 feet?

Thank God it landed towards the street.

Is that root rot? I don't know.

Front Row Joes watching the city employee.
Good, wholesome entertainment.

Our neighbor's tree fell.  Neither the boys, nor I heard it.  So, if a tree falls in a neighborhood, and the neighbors are inside their house, i guess the tree DOESN'T make a noise.


Mom & I's unproved, somewhat educated theory: the tree fell due to last summer's drought and water restrictions. 


somewhat unrelated side note: I love swing music (referring to today's blog title).  I swear, I was born in the wrong era, but then again, I'm very appreciative of today's luxuries (air conditioning, power steering, and some synthetic fabrics.) 

Songbird

Songbird - Oasis

This school year, I declared the boys were having 'good old fashion birthday parties at home'.  We would play games, run around, open presents, and have cupcakes.  I refuse to participate each year trying to top the last.  That's just me...

So, we sent out evites, without even having a theme (gasp!)

Then, we got a new tv.  What does that have to do with the birthday party?  Thought you'd never ask.  I was having a bad day, and I wanted to kick the box.  I didn't - BUT it got my wheels turning.  My boys LOVE playing angry birds on our iphones.  What about a 'live action' Angry Birds game?  We could stack the boxes up and kick balls to try to knock the boxes down.  Next thing you know, we're having an angry birds party.

So, a trip to Target and $15 later, Angry Birds: live action game had been born. (I got those big bouncy balls from the wire bins ~ 2.99 each)

We set the boxes up on some boards so they would be steadied.  Then J re-arranged them for each kid.  They got 3 kicks (or so) during their turn.  ELEVEN of these six/seven year olds waited IN LINE patiently for their turn.  They had a blast rooting each other on, 

If I had more time, and wanting it to look pretty on Pinterest, I would've painted the boxes brown, blue and gray, but the kids didn't seem to mind, so neither did I.

Select the link for a YouTube video of the game in action

One of J's intricate box combinations.

Another 'good old fashioned birthday party game'

Pin the tail on the donkey, er, rather pin the beak on the Angry Bird.

I bought a red poster board, traced an outline of the bird.  Used  yogurt lids for the eye cut out, a bottle for the pupils, orange and brown for the rest of the bird.  We used duck tape to 'pin' the beak.
Next, blind fold the kid, and let them go.

Easy, fun, and has made a nice 'door' decoration since the party

Here's the birthday boy/Pig

Gotta love a party with a Pinata!

The party was a success by 7 year old party goers. those are the only opinions that count, right?