Another Headache Post

I saw the neurologist on Thursday last week. The medicine I've been on for the last four weeks or so that is supposed to help prevent my migraines hasn't helped much. He thinks it may help a little, but it's too soon to tell. It doesn't feel too soon to me--it feels like I have been doing this forever. So, I am staying on this medicine, but he cut the dosage a little so I don't fall asleep in my breakfast bowl. He thinks an additional medicine is in order. Both together, on low doses, will supposedly help.

What kind of new medicine? Well, remember the medicine the neurologist doesn't like to put "young girls" on because it makes them fat and their hair falls out? Well, that would be the one. And, since I have already gained six pounds in six weeks as a side effect of the medicine I'm on now, ask me how excited I am to start this new one--I dare you. But, I should warn you, I have a baseball bat under my bed, and I'm not afraid to use it.

This is my doctor's last resort and then he is done with his "bag of tricks" and would send me to a headache clinic for further help. I don't know about you, but my idea of a good time does not include living in a hospital and getting experimental I.V. drugs. I don't feel like a headache clinic is right for me at this time. So, I have decided it is much better to gain weight and have my hair fall out than it is to live with a migraine every day and great hair (which is what I am pretending I have now.) The other side effects, so far, don't seem too bad, so we'll see how it goes in a few weeks. (By "not too bad", I mean I can get out of bed and mostly walk in a straight line, so that's good.) I still have a headache every day, but hopefully that will change.

In the meantime, I'm working on my new book. Look for it on bookshelves near you soon: Fat and Hairless, But Finally Painless: My Journey from Headache to Heartache. It should be a real page turner. ;)

Covered Thighs and Cotton Eyes

Friday night, King's work party went better than I'd planned. I ended up choosing slacks instead of my fancy skirt, because I hadn't shaved my legs for too long. Nobody needed to see that, with or without fashion. I made lemon bars, and the boss said they were her favorite treat ever. Fantastic. I'm betting the person that made the divine chicken salad or the bringer of the supreme humus dip were kicking themselves for not being as inept as me. Too bad for them.

I looked well enough to have an exquisitely dressed lady chat with me for a minute. I'm sure she was wondering why my shoes didn't have heels until she found out I was a stay-at-home mom. She was excited to find out I spend most of my time at home, and explained her observation that kids whose mom's stay home with them are usually smarter, and congratulated me for teaching mine. She's obviously never met my girls, though. (I'm kidding--the girls are super smart and would have astounded her with their broad range of insults they can fling at each other. The latest one being, "You are being a witch, only spell that word with a 'b'" which was retorted with a sarcastic, "Ooooooh, I hate being a wit-bah, you are so mean. I think I'll cry myself to sleep now!" See what I mean? Such clever girls.) :(

Saturday morning, Cinderella and I went to a modesty fashion show and hair-care day. Cinderella participated in the fashion show, and we learned lots of stuff about hair. Including the fact that lemonade Kool-aid and shampoo mixed together are just like a Malibu treatment to clarify your hair. We are so buying some Kool-aid to try it out--our well water has so much iron in it, we may all come out with different colored hair after a good clarification. Cinderella also now wants ten other hair products to make her hair perfect. They all cost about twenty dollars each. It's a good thing she's getting that $3 a week allowance tonight (minus the $1.50 for not practicing piano--oops.) She should have enough to buy the shampoo the stylist suggested by summer's end. At least she'll look fabulous by the time 7th grade rolls around, anyway.

After the fashion/hair deal, it was out of town again for Sleeping Beauty's second dance competition. She had a great time and Snow White and I enjoyed watching her dance. We would have liked a lot of the other groups, too, had we not been scraping our jaws off the floor because of their scantily clad bodies. I'm just glad we were there for the day of groups that are twelve and under; I've heard that a lot of the older girls are less covered and more developed. If you have a son who is invited to attend a dance competition, my suggestion is to not let him go without a blindfold and a very cold shower. Ick.

Look how adorable our girls were, though. We're so grateful to have a dance teacher who thinks little girls should still be little girls, and dress like it, too.



Saturday, they got a gold level score and tenth over-all for their rousing 'Cotton-Eyed Joe'. Sleeping Beauty was the lucky gal to go up and pick up the trophy. They were thrilled.
It only took her twenty minutes in the shower to scrub off all the eye make up so she didn't look like a raccoon for church on Sunday. Speaking of Sunday, that's the day I started another new medicine for my headaches--but that's a whole other post, which I hope to get done in the next day or so. I also hope to put up a clip of the girls dancing and Cinderella being fashionable on my private blog for the grandmas and aunties.

That's pretty much our weekend news. We live exciting lives, don't we? :)

Pick Your Faux Pas

Tonight, King has a work shin-dig. More of a "thank you, boss, for being such a great person, now we will have a token get-together to celebrate your fabulousness and wish you well in your future endeavors that don't include this sorry lot" thing. The instructions are simple: bring a companion, come from 4:30 to 6:30, dress casual, and bring an hors d'oeuvre. Sounds fun, right?

Well, it would be if your husband worked with normal people. But, mine does not. He works with actual fashion designers and legitimate chefs. This does not bode well for me. What exactly does "dress casual" mean to a fashion designer? Perhaps this? Or, maybe one of these?

None of those really fit my "jeans and whatever t-shirt is clean" wardrobe plan.

And, then there's the food. I had to actually look up how to spell hors d'oeuvre, so it seems that actually making something that passes as a fancy French word is probably beyond me. I picture the chefs looking down their noses and thinking, "I think she actually bought yogurt to put in this dip. Who doesn't make their own yogurt?" And let's not even start thinking about what they'd think if I just bought something already made. From Wal-Mart. Shudder.

So, I think I'll just throw caution to the wind and put on my fanciest skirt, a button up shirt, and make a dessert to share. Then, I can claim that I never saw any instructions, and instead of questioning my wardrobe and food, they can wonder if I really know how to use a computer. Or talk to my husband. Or read. Somehow, that's better...


I really have problems.

Not that this post is your first clue, or anything.

Bemused Brother

Yesterday was my baby brother's birthday. I called him to wish him a happy day, and talked to him for a little bit. I shouldn't really call him my baby brother, since he is twenty-three, and his wife is expecting their first baby in a few weeks. We talked about the baby and the way his life will change. We talked about the new mommy, and the new crib. Since we live nearly two thousand miles away from them, I requested he email me a picture of the mom-to-be and the newly remodeled nursery.

"Okay," says he, "Text me your email address."

"It's (blah, blah, blah)" says I.

"I'm driving, just text me."

"Well, I don't have text on my phone."

Silence.

And then, "Uh, what year is it again?"

"I know! It's 2009! But I don't have anyone to text."

"Except me, apparently," he laughs.

Well, that's a very good point.

Time Travel Tuesday--A Day at Grandma's

Cue deep, important, echoing voice..."Ladies and Gentlemen, today we go back a bit in the past and bring you our first ever "Time Travel Tuesday". (I know it's a pretty clever way of posting something that happened a bit ago, but I stole the idea, from my sister.) As part of this time traveling experience, you will be seeing pictures that have not been edited, and details that have been cut down to fit. The author of this blog is not responsible for any bouts of dizziness or nausea during time travel."

On Spring Break a few weeks ago, we stuck around here and did some fun things. We spent time with friends a few of the days, Cinderella sewed, and on Friday, we spent a day at Grandma's house. Not our grandma's house, they both live too far away, but a grandma's house nonetheless. Our friends invited us to go to their grandparent's house and be "workers", filling eggs for their super duper egg hunt they do every Easter. We were excited to help, and spent the day with them. We filled about eight hundred eggs. You think I exaggerate, but, I do not. I personally counted several of them as they were filled, and I assure you, there really were more than eight hundred.The girls made quick work of filling the eggs, and even had time for some chips, drinks, and Goldfish crackers. What's a trip to Grandma's house without a little junk food?It was a beautiful Spring day, and the girls eventually made their way outside. The favorite mode of transportation was the car, but in an effort to pay it's riders back for repeatedly running it into the fence, it's battery died. Then, they switched to scooters. Eventually, even scootering took too much energy, so they started using Grandpa's thing-you-roll-around-to-fix-the-car (I know it must have a real name, I just don't know it.) They loved pulling each other around on this thing. It nearly gave Grandma a heart attack, though. She was so afraid someone would get hurt. They also got in some coloring with sidewalk chalk. They had so much fun, my girls decided we needed to "adopt" them as extra grandparents. I'm okay with this, but haven't really figured out how to break it to this nice couple. I guess they'll probably figure it out on Friday when I drop all of the girls off with their sleeping bags and pillows for a sleepover.

Cue announcer voice..."This now concludes our travel back in time. Please watch your head as you exit the DeLorean. Thanks, and have a nice day."

Behind the Ball and the Tale of the Limerick

You know how it seems like everyone you know is on the ball and you're not? I think everyone feels that way at one time or another. This week has felt like that to me. Not only am I not on the ball, I'm quite a lot behind it. It's been a busy week, and, unless you're new here, you know that sometimes my body doesn't keep up with all that I need or want to do. This post is a quick attempt to catch up on a (very) few things.

So, remember how I was in that limerick contest over at Diapers and Divinity? Well, thanks to you (if you were kind enough to vote for me) and Steph for declaring two winners instead of one, I have the coveted space on the side of her blog. And, she sent me chocolate. Which is just about the best thing anyone could do, am I right? So, anyway, here is my winning limerick about attending church meetings with not one, but two, squirrely toddlers.

My twin girls climb all over the place;
Now my dress is undone to my waist.
I guess that’s why Bishop
Looks like he might throw up.
Wish this closing song had a quicker pace!

Sadly, it's a true story, and one that the bishop and his counselors on the stand are sure to never forget. Poor guys. Here's the longer version of the event, if you dare to read ahead. (Warning: this tale is not for the squeamish or anyone who has figured out how to keep toddlers quiet during Sacrament Meeting and thinks everyone else should, too. If you fall into the latter category, why are you wasting time reading this blog??? You have a fortune at your fingertips. Write a book and sell it for millions!)

SB and SW were just over a year old. Cinder was three, and I, well, I was tired. We were visiting my parents for a few weeks, and I had brought two dresses to wear during our visit. I had worn my black skirt and shirt twice to church already, and to a wedding, and a party, so this particular Sunday morning I decided to wear my button up shirt dress. I hadn't worn it for almost two years, because I was pregnant, and after the twins were born, I preferred skirts and shirts that did not button.

(You see, nursing twins at the same time is not only practical and quick, it's also tricky and not too discreet. Button-up shirts are an added frustration because then not only are you baring your chest to two little ones, but everyone else in the room also. And, forget about any blanket being discreetly placed over your two sweet ones and your babies. That would just be too easy, and at least one of the girls (I mean my babies, not my breasts) would complain.)

So, this dress. I prayed it would still fit. It was my best dress. Not because it looked good, but because it did not wrinkle and could be thrown in a suitcase or a basket of clean laundry for weeks and still come out looking fabulously pressed. And, lucky me, it still fit. I was quite thrilled, and continued my preparation for church excited that the "real me" was back. The me who did not have a parasite clinging to the inside or outside of my body. It felt fantastic.

We made it to church just on time, and, of course, mom and dad had chosen a bench right near the front. Knowing this was unwise, but not wanting to cause a scene, I sat down with them. If my parents wanted to show off their granddaughters, we'd show them off alright....with a commotion at the front of the chapel that would start when the snacks ran out and end with the 'Amen' of the closing prayer, or when someone (hopefully two of them) succumbed to slumber.

And so it began. The circus we call "worshiping in Sacrament Meeting." We all know it should be called "resource management, creative leadership, and try-outs for the wrestling team, sprinkled with a few moments of hearing someone speak into a microphone about something you wish you could remember." And, this day was no different. The twins kept crawling over me between Dad, who had the books, and Grandpa, who had the fruit snacks. I was just grateful for my parents' four extra hands to help out and had even caught a few words of the sermon. Until I looked down at my lap and realized that my slip was showing and three buttons on my lap were undone.

I quickly re-buttoned, and tried to think how the girls had managed to undo my buttons without me realizing it. A quick glance to the left and right assured me that no one else saw my undress, as they were all focused intently on the speaker (I'm pretty sure none of them had children.) Then, I tried to once again do the same. It was harder to focus, though. The climbing over and around me continued, but the girls were mostly quiet, and I was grateful. As the meeting was coming to a close, the climbing hastened and the sound increased. We wouldn't make it much longer without some creative leadership, so I set SB on the seat next to me, and leaned over to grab the big guns: Smarties.

As I leaned down, I realized that from the waist up, all of my buttons were undone. All of them. And hanging out were my girls (yes, that kind this time) covered in a well-used nursing bra that was stretched, ugly, and possibly a little bit see-through. I was mortified, and my first thought was, "Who saw this?" My second thought was, "I seriously need to go bra shopping." I quickly looked up at the stand, where right in front of me sat three men who were busy looking anywhere but at me, sweating at their collars, and all turning the delicious color of bright red beets. I was mortified, and quickly joined their face makeovers. Although, I'm quite certain that mine was a few shades darker than theirs.

Needless to say, I don't know what happened the last few minutes of the meeting. I do remember feverishly feeding candy to one of my one-year-olds and the mad dash out of the chapel as soon as the closing prayer ended. If I never see one of those men again until after I die, I am sure that will be too soon. Incidentally, that was the last time I wore that dress, too.

So, the moral of this story is: Don't take two toddlers to Sacrament Meeting. Okay, that is not really the moral, but I won't tell you it never crossed my mind. The real moral is probably: Test drive your clothing you haven't worn for two years in the privacy of your own home. And, pack more Smarties in your church bag.

Now, if you've made it this far, you deserve a prize. I'm sorry you had to read about the condition of my nursing bra ages ago. But, I did give you fair warning. And speaking of Diapers and Divinity, (okay, I know that was paragraphs ago) I have "joined" Steph's online General Conference Book Club. Each week we will read one talk from the previous General Conference, and then comment with our thoughts or inspirations as we have studied it throughout the week. I love it because there is no potential for embarrassing clothing moments. Follow the link to the GCBC here, and join us if you'd like. This week, we are studying "The Power of Covenants" by Elder D. Todd Christofferson. I must say I learned a lot last week with everyone's comments, so even if you decide not to join in reading, it's worth it to head over and gain some insight from the comments from last week as we studied Elder Holland's talk on the Savior's last moments of life.

And, while there is still more to catch up on, I am tired of typing, and if you are still here, you are tired of reading. So, until another day....

A Teensy Preview

This weekend, we head out of town for Sleeping Beauty's first official dance competition. Not only does this afford us the opportunity to use a lot of gas and find a McDonalds to eat at in a strange town, it lets us spend one whole Saturday immersed in dance. King can barely contain his excitement.

We had a formal meeting at the dance studio to make sure everyone was competition ready. The mom in charge looked directly at me when she said, "There will be one mom per group that is the inspector. If they tell you to put more make-up on your child, don't take it personally. They just need to be uniform on stage." I know this comment was especially for me because my ten-year-old was the only one at dress rehearsal that did not look like a drag queen.

Despite the overdone make-up, the girls did look mighty cute on stage. Here's a teensy preview of the dance. It could have been the whole dance had I remembered to take the pictures off of the camera before dress rehearsal. But, I didn't. And, you'll have to excuse the poor quality of the video. It was on my little digital camera, and I was a ways away. The dance director sort of frowned on people standing on stage to video tape their girls. She's kind of bossy that way.

(Sleeping Beauty is third from the left.)

Easter Events

Because I'm such a super on-top-of-things mom, these two pictures are the only two pictures I took Easter weekend. The girls trying on the new swimsuits I bought them. They fit, which is good, yet, they have nothing to do with Easter. Maybe it would have been more appropriate to take pictures of them in their new Easter dresses. Except I didn't buy them any. Yes, just one more reason for them to feel neglected and picked on. (I do my best.)
Luckily, someone else had the camera and snapped a couple of Easterish pictures during our festivities. First, the hunting of the eggs. (I'm in the background holding a tiny baby, which is why I took no pictures. I'm pretty sure I made the right choice. She was super sweet and tiny--just a week old, and, as you can tell, Cinderella preferred baby Grace over eggs, too.)

After the kids found all the eggs, the adults had an "egg fight". You tap your boiled eggs together and see which one cracks. The uncracked egg is the winner, and the owner of that egg moves on to the next round. This year, King won the egg fight, and I was second. SW and SB swear it was their egg dyeing skills that did it. I'm sure they are right, they dyed some pretty sweet eggs. They were great cheerleaders, too. It was a nice weekend with lots fun, friends, and food. Even our turkey dinner on Easter Sunday was delicious--despite the fact that we forgot to thaw the turkey and had to have chicken instead. I told you I was on top of things.

Impossible Dreams

In our family, we do Easter Egg hunts and Easter Bunny visits on the Saturday before Easter. It helps us to focus on our Savior on Easter Sunday. This year, the Easter Bunny has rocks in her head, and forgot to pick up a couple of things without the children in tow. So, on Friday night, as the girls were heading to bed, I remembered that the Easter Bunny was due to visit. I reminded the girls, and decided that they might be a little disappointed with their haul this year, but we would get over it. The twins are ten, for goodness sake, and should be catching on any minute to the whole "big bunny who likes to color eggs and deliver goodies to every child in the world" thing. So maybe using all of the candy from General Conference bribery, and not having sidewalk chalk for the first time in years, might force them to pause and think about the whole validity of the Easter Bunny idea.

Well, it didn't really go down that way after all. As soon as I told the girls the Easter Bunny would be coming that night and they should leave their baskets in the Family Room, Snow White and Sleeping Beauty headed to their room. When checking on them, I realized they were scribbling notes to the Easter Bunny. Because, apparently, the Bunny has now joined ranks with Santa Claus, and you can write your wish list to him. And boy, did they wish. Behold, Snow White's masterpiece of a letter:My personal favorite is "that is all I ask" followed by "Also, I would love some eggs." Needless to say, the Easter Bunny didn't grant her first wish, so it's good she threw in that whole egg thing. And, listening to them try to explain why maybe the Easter Bunny forgot to bring sidewalk chalk this year was classic, too.

"Maybe he thought we were too old this time."

"Oh, I bet he saw our old container in the garage and thought it had more than just a couple of pieces."

"Yeah, and maybe he didn't see how our last chalk got left in the rain. Mom, what does the Easter Bunny have instead of elves?"

"Or maybe the Easter Bunny didn't find the kind of chalk he always gives us, so he didn't want to just give us junky stuff."

"Hmmm...maybe. Maybe he just forgot."

Yes, maybe it was that. Cinderella listened to this and rolled her eyes so many times I'm surprised they didn't roll right out of her head. Although, I give her loads of credit for keeping her mouth shut and letting Snow White and Sleeping Beauty keep believing in the the impossible dream. They're now holding out for Santa to bring them sidewalk chalk and a Nintendo DS. I'll bet he remembers the sidewalk chalk anyway.

Happy Easter!

I spared you the tap dancing family and decided to share with you this great video that shares part of Elder Jeffrey R. Holland's talk from last week. Funny stories about this weekend will come, but, for now, may you have the blessing of feeling the love of Jesus Christ this Easter season.

It Worked For Us

I just loved General Conference this past weekend. I know I mentioned it a little before, but I thought I would share our conference success story with you. We really wanted our girls to recognize the power that is in the words of the prophets. The things they share with us are from God, and that's a big deal. We hoped that the girls would feel God's love for them as they listened, and have a renewed desire to follow Christ and his teachings. And, this is the first time that our girls listened, without complaining, to every session of General Conference. Every word. Eight hours. It was incredible!

The first two sessions, I already told you about. (I think bribery is awesome, by the way.) On Sunday morning, we went to our local chapel and listened to the broadcast there, instead of at home on the computer. We gave the girls instructions for this session.

1. Make up at least one quiz question per speaker to ask the rest of the family.
2. You can make as many questions up as you want.
   
3. Your questions must not be too picky or detailed, but should be tricky enough to try to stump your sisters.
   
4. You get one piece of candy for each correct answer you get to others' questions.
   
5. You get two pieces of candy if you stump everyone else.
6. You can take notes so you remember things to try to answer a bigger amount of questions correctly.
7. Mom and Dad can throw out questions that are too picky (i.e. What color was the third speaker's tie?) and can also write questions to try to stump you.
   

This was the best thing we could have done! They took notes, had from ten to twenty questions, and remembered a lot of things that even my notes missed out on. They listened and understood more from this session than any other. In the end, they cared more about what questions they were able to get right than how much candy they got, which is great! They spoke of their favorite talks and things they had learned.

For the second Sunday session, we played Conference Bingo. This kept them quiet and listening, but I don't think they got as much out of it. They were mainly listening for words, rather than thinking about what the messages of the speakers were.

So, I've decided that next time, in October, we'll try the quiz game for more than one session, and as they get older, do only this. Hopefully we can lose the candy, too.

Lest you think that we had a delightful weekend with mounds of spiritual enlightenment, and now have perfect children, let me assure you, we do not. Monday morning Cinderella got up on the wrong side of the bed, and still hasn't recovered. She's grounded, and the twins are about a tantrum away from losing all of their possessions. So, it seems that despite two days of overwhelmingly feeling the Spirit and learning and knowing the importance of family and gospel living, we still have challenges. Someone should come up with a better way for us to learn and grow, I think. I'm a little tired of this parenting one.

Gas Guys

Why is it that my van always needs gas on the days that the gas prices jump up ten cents? I swear that it happens to me every time. And, lucky for me, it was below freezing, too. I just love standing in the freezing wind putting gasoline in my car. But, mostly I love the scary looking guys there that joke with me about how warm the Spring is here. Just for fun, to keep my mind off the freezing cold, I memorized the clothes and faces of the guys in case I hear later that there was a robbery. I mean, with gas prices climbing higher, you really never know what someone delusional enough to flirt with me at the gas station will do. I drive a mini-van, for heaven's sake! (But, I was wearing my four-year-old sweater, so it's possible that they just couldn't help themselves.)

Fashionista

This morning, Spring gave us a gift of snow and below freezing wind chills. When I put on a sweater, I discovered it had a hole in it. I thought to myself, "A hole? This sweater is practically brand new. I just bought it. How can it have a hole in it?"

And then I thought about when I bought it. It was when the twins were in Kindergarten. They're now in fourth grade. Four years ago. Okay, so clearly my perspective is a bit skewed. At least I'm not wearing anything I wore in high school. And it's not only because they woudn't fit anymore. I really don't think I'd look good in acid washed peg leg jeans. I mean, without the matching jacket, why even bother trying them on?Yikes! when I did a quick google search for a picture (found this one at rustyzipper.com), I discovered that acid washed peg leg jeans are making a comeback. Heaven help us all!

Conference, Bribery, and Other Odd Random Thoughts

I love General Conference weekend. I love hearing the words of our Prophet and other inspired church leaders. Great messages and many things for me to learn and ponder. If you missed it, you can go here and listen to the archives from Saturday, or listen to it live on Sunday here at 10 a.m. and 2 p.m. Mountain Daylight Time. The information says that archives are available in 71 languages four hours after a live broadcast. Wow! Imagine the people and effort that takes. It amazes me. This afternoon, as we listened, we had a big picnic in front of the computer for the first session, and for the second session, we pretty much bribed our kids to listen--or at least be quiet enough that King and I could listen. We had twelve kinds of candy, and assigned a word (such as Prophet, Jesus Christ, Faith, Prayer) to each one. When the girls heard a speaker say one of those words, they could get the treat that corresponded with it. It was amazing. They were shushing us if we commented on something someone said. They didn't want to miss a thing. I was surprised how much of the content they actually picked up. King had a quiz for "bonus candy" at the end of the session, and they got almost every answer right. Hopefully we can afford all of the cavities they'll get from all of that candy.

In other weekend news, I painted Sleeping Beauty's tap shoes red to match her dance costume, King got ready to plant some grass in our bald spots (on the lawn, not his head), we got a new inhaler for Snow White and allergy meds for Sleeping Beauty, and I looked again at swimming suits and determined that none would fit me well enough to hide the flaws that show when I am not wearing winter clothes. So, it seems that Spring is on it's way, even if it's supposed to snow twice this week.

My Superpower

I have a superpower. I think a lot of mom's have it, occasionally. Last night I was invisible. It started just after the kids got home from school, and continued until they were in bed. Just in case you ever want this superpower, I'll let you know the details. This is how it happened...

The girls got off the bus. I smiled and asked them how their day was. No one answered me. Instead, they whined about having nothing to eat and how horrible their lives are.

Then, we had ballet class and an orthodontist appointment. I told the girls involved with these activities to get ready; they had fifteen minutes. Approximately 17 and 1/2 minutes later, I was yelling urging Cinderella to brush her teeth and just get in the van already, at the same time I was helping Snow White with her tights that would not cooperate (i.e. they have seams in the toes, how unreasonable!) We were late for ballet, and cruised in to the orthodontist's office in just enough time to for them to pronounce Cinderella's teeth disgustingly dirty. (Alright, so they didn't say this. But, I saw the teeth and I can tell you that this is what the good doctor thought. They were gross, and of course, not brushed. Because I'm invisible, remember? So, they told her to brush them, and she went to the sink immediately, acting like she hadn't heard those same words from me for the last 1/2 hour.)

I somehow managed to Clark Kent my superpower for the next thirty minutes, as I took Cinderella to visit her Young Women leader and her tiny newborn daughter. Somehow Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella could see and hear me as I gave detailed accounts of their births to the questioning new mom. They were slightly appalled, yet surprisingly attentive, asking questions and interacting with me like human beings. I thought I had their attention.

But, no.

I'm thinking now that it must have been the hospital that masked my super power, because as soon as we walked out the doors, I was undetectable once more. We headed back to the dance studio for a required "mom meeting" where I patiently told the girls they had one hour to work on their homework and get things done while I attended the meeting. For the next hour, I listened to a Mary Kay make-up sales pitch, thinly veiled as a dance company make-up "how-to" session, and learned how to part my daughters hair correctly over her left eye. (I was glad I was invisible for this part, my rolling of eyes and exasperated sighs may have been embarrassing had the other moms heard.)

What were the girls doing? Homework, you say. Why, of course not! They were running outside, pushing each other, giggling, and anything else you can imagine three terrors let loose in a dance studio would do. The mounds of homework were undone, and bedtime was in twenty minutes.

So, as we drove home, I lectured myself on responsibility, obedience, and integrity. I added in a little vigilance and work ethic for good measure. It was an astounding lecture. It's too bad no one else heard me.

Foolish

April Fool's Day. The silliest holiday on the planet. The thing that I don't like about this day is that you have to come up with something new every year. Last year's trick won't work unless you have very gullible or forgetful children. Mine tend to talk about a trick for months, so they never forget. Here's the rice crispy meatloaf and ice cream mashed potatoes I served them last year:
They thought it was hilarious, and reminded me how fun it was last week. Last week. So, they won't fall for it again. Here I am on the morning of April 1st (nothing beats procrastinating things until the very last minute), trying to think of something fun and creative to do to surprise the girls. Maybe I'll tell them I planned a trick for weeks. That's the joke. That I planned ahead. Funny, eh? (I know, they won't like it either.)

In other foolish news, I started another new "maintenance" medicine for my headaches yesterday. The last one was possibly working, but it was too hard to tell because I was sleeping an average of only four hours a night, and not enough sleep is one of the triggers of my migraines. So, it's on to another new medicine to try. Just call me lab rat.

I was not too happy about this new endeavor yesterday, so had myself one of those "I feel sorry for myself so why should I bother doing anything constructive?" days. It was nice. Although, I ate all of the chocolate chips left in the freezer (don't worry, there wasn't a whole bag or anything--probably just two or three handfuls worth. Fine, probably four. Anyway...) So now all I have tucked away in the freezer for those emergency doses of chocolate to save my sanity are store brand butterscotch or vanilla flavored blobs of wax. This will not work for long.

Luckily, I wrote a limerick that is in a contest over at Diapers and Divinity. If I win, Steph has promised to send me some chocolate. So, hop on over there and vote for my limerick. Or, vote for any of them that you like. But, mine is a true story, and you should probably vote for me just because what is more foolish than accidentally showing off your nursing bra and everything surrounding it to the bishop and everyone else on the stand? It's April Fool's Day, so it seems fitting. I wish it had been April Fool's Day then. At least I could have pretended it was a joke instead of my real life. C'est las vie.