Wordless Wednesday-At The Farm

Picture taken by Carolyn Shelton, on a school field trip last fall. I long for the sweatshirt weather again.

A New Course

Saw the neurologist again yesterday. He asked how the new medicines were working. How many days had I had a headache last month.

"Uh, pretty much every day."

"Really? So, no change. How many days with light and sound sensitivity a week?"

"Well, three to five, or more. Probably."

"And," piped in my kind, but brutally truthful husband, "the medicine is making her a bit loopy."

Thankfully, the good doctor didn't ask for examples. But, we have them. Boy, do we have them.

Deeming this course of treatment unreliable, at best, we decided it's time for a new route. According to the doctor, he has tried me on two of the three best medicines. The third, he doesn't give to "young girls" (I knew I liked him for some reason) like myself because it will "make the girls very fat and the hair ugly, and terrible birth defects. We can do that for you in many years down the road."

Oh, good. I'm sure I'll be super excited to be very fat and have ugly hair when I'm, say, fifty or sixty. Whatever.

And, just in case you were worried. I'm not pregnant or ever planning on being again, so the birth defect thing wouldn't be an issue anyway. So don't get all freaked out about that or anything.

So. We go back to another kind of treatment, but one that is a different kind of pill of that kind of treatment. Clear as mud? Thought so.

A friend asked me if I was okay with this. Starting a new medicine again and just seeing if it would work. Well. What else do I do? Just give up? I figure I'll experiment for a while and when I can't take it any more, then I'll be done. For now, that's what I feel good about, so that's what I'll do. I've always liked science experiments. (Actually, that's a big fat lie. I can't stand them. I cannot tell you how many times this year I have jumped for joy that somehow we got an off year for all three girls in the science fair department. Wahooo!)

But, I do have to say that I will miss my medicine that makes me loopy. It's really nice to have an excuse for my stupid behavior. My regular excuse is that I have twins and just can't quite get it together. That excuse has really been too old for about eight years, though. Too bad. It's a good one.

A Value Tale

In school, Snow White and Sleeping Beauty have started a new reading unit. They are reading from the ValueTale books that teach moral lessons. I loved those when I was a kid. The students read books about historical characters and the values they posses, then answer questions about how the values might help them in their lives, as well as the world in general. It's a lesson in reading comprehension, as well as a lesson in applying a value to your daily life and the world outside of your daily life. Whatever the exact point is, I think it's good for them.

This past weekend, we were quizzing the girls on what characters they had been reading about. Sleeping Beauty had been reading about Will Rogers. She told us about how he was excellent with a rope, and could out-lasso just about everyone. I was pretty impressed. The only thing I can do really well with a rope is jump rope, and that's kind of overstating it, since I haven't really been proficient since I was in elementary school. I was stumped trying to think of how lasso-ing a cow could help improve the world. (I don't know about the world, but I do have to admit that had I known how to lasso a toddler to the ground, it would have come in quite handy in my life six to eight years ago.) So I asked Sleeping Beauty the value that she had learned from Will Rogers.

"Mmmmm...I don't really remember...uh...um...Oh! I know! I think it's the value of humidity," she finally recalled.

King piped in, very seriously, "Hmm, he must have been from Texas then."

**Will Rogers had the value of humor, by the way. And he's from Oklahoma, not Texas. Close enough, though.**

Brain Lapse

This morning, one of our little darlings had the privilege of showering all over again because last night she took a fifteen minute shower and somehow forgot to wash her hair. Completely forgot. I'll just let you wonder which little princess that could be. But, just so you know, she is keeping up with the British accent: at school, at home, at ballet class. I was informed that one of her classmates asked her if her accent was real. Ha! Our princess is in a class full of supposedly gifted kids, so it's good to know that she's not the only bright one that just forgets to think sometimes. I guess it happens to the best of us.

Crumpet, anyone?

Snow White has decided she is "a little London girl." She has picked up an English accent, presumably from a combination of Charlie and Lola, a sound recording of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and My Fair Lady, and it has stuck. If it weren't so irritating, it would be cute. Sure, it was cute the first ten minutes. And I must admit, her throwing a tantrum about not enough food in the house is much more charming with a British accent. It's quite funny, really.

But, after two days of it, we're all sort of ready to throw her out on the street and let her try her hand at selling flowers. King bet her a hug that she could keep the accent up all week. She aims to do it. Everyone in the house is about ready to kick his bloomin' arse for making that bet.

To Be Announced

We have a little box at our house that dictates what we will do for the next thirty to sixty minutes. Everyone in the family started going a little haywire last week when the box started spewing out "To Be Announced" instead of the regular programming guide. The worst part about this situation, is the box required a parental code to be entered in to make the box work, which is very inconvenient when the parent is either unwilling or unavailable to actually parent. Why else would we be using the little box?

Deeming this inconvenience too much, King decided that we would take our box in to the cable company to be traded in for a working model. He couldn't figure out why it wasn't working. I had my suspicions as to why the box had decided its time was up, but I didn't tell them what they were. Clearly it had been overused and too much dust had made its way into the motherboard. Have you seen the size of the holes on top of those boxes? Do you realize how long it has been since I have actually dusted my Family Room?

So, when we were out running errands, King packed up the all-knowing box and we went to exchange it. Only I waited in the car. There was no way I was going in there to have them laugh in our faces and tell us to get a new maid and turn off the TV every once in a while. But, miracle of miracles, King came out with a box that was half the size of the one he went in with. Apparently, our box had been collecting dust for electronic ages. Someone could probably have knitted a sweater from all that dust, because they don't even make the gigantic boxes we had been given all of eighteen months ago. It was outdated and archaic.

We now have a spiffy tiny silver thing. And all is well in our little kingdom again. No parental codes. No lives "To Be Announced". But, also, no big, shiny black box that actually shows the dust, reminding me to pick up a dust rag every once in a while. Drat. This one may wear out sooner than the last one.

Prayers

I know I've been a little whiny about my headaches, etc. lately. And, there's no denying it, it's been a rough few weeks. But, I just can't help thinking that I would so much rather have a headache everyday than watch one of my girls go through anything very hard or life threatening. I'd suffer anything to keep it from my kids. I'm sure that's how most of you moms feel. But, that's just not how life is. We don't get to pick our trials. That's why my heart just breaks for my cousin, Leslie, her husband, Kim, and their sweet little guy, Nikolas. Here's Nikolas, in one of his happier moments:Isn't he just the cutest? Right now, he's not having one of his happier moments. He's been in and out of the hospital almost since birth. He's on dialysis, he's got a lot of medical issues, and is now in the hospital again with some more things that the doctors are having a bit of trouble figuring out. It's hard on him, his parents, and his cute older brother, Conner. If you'd like to pop on over to their blog, you can go here to see more of their story.

And, while I sincerely believe that they have God to support them, as it says in Alma 36:3 "For I do know that whosoever shall put their trust in God shall be supported in their trials, and their troubles, and their afflictions, and shall be lifted up at the last day," I also know that even with God's help it's sometimes not easy. We need the help from others. So, if you have room in your heart for a prayer for this little family that you'll never meet, please join me in remembering them. Because I know, that, as it says in 1 Peter 3:12,"For the eyes of the Lord are over the righteous, and his ears are open unto their prayers," the Lord hears our prayers, and can bring comfort to Nikolas and his family. If anyone could use it, they sure could.

That's All

I have something to say. (Oh, stop the sarcastic move to the edge of your seat. I can't see you anyway.)

I am really, really, really tired of people saying "It's a good idea to ________________in these tough economic times." You can pretty much fill in the blank with whatever you want:

check on your neighbor.
make your own coffee instead of stopping at Starbucks.
save your money.
conserve your energy. (Electricity-you can still exercise, darn it.)
use your last slivers of soap.
recycle your newspaper.
smile at someone.
brown bag it instead of going out.
ride the bus.
wear a beehive hairstyle.

Well, maybe some of us already do those things, and we don't need to be reminded, thank you very much. (Except for the coffee thing, because I never drink coffee, which may explain why I have a hard time waking up in the morning.) But, I'm distracting myself.

Maybe if every other sentence on the news didn't talk about what a horribly tough economic time this is, all these people wouldn't be so hung up on it. I realize I'm oversimplifying here, but there is more to life than stuff and I'm just tired of being reminded of "these difficult economic times." All of the time. (Cue Forrest Gump voice.) And that's all I have to say about that.

A Backwards Tale

Once upon a time there were two girls who were born on the same day, exactly twelve minutes apart. They were inseparable from then on, and decided almost everything together. In the tenth year of their life, it was time for a glorious birthday party, but there was trouble in the land. "I want there to be pears as the 'best fruit'," said one. "But, I want it to be oranges," said the other. "Oh dear," said their mom, "let's just have both." "But that's stupid," they said. And, indeed, it was. Who has sixteen things on a list of top ten? It was time to think of something else. Being the cleverish mom that she was, she strapped on her super-mom-to-the-rescue cape and wielded her computer mouse to do some research. And, thank goodness, there are some super clever moms out there that really know what they're doing. In two shakes of a lambs nostril, she had a fabulous party idea that the twins were quite keen on: 

 A BACKWARDS BIRTHDAY BASH!!

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A few days later, the party guests arrived with their clothes on backwards. They all hung up their shoes in the coat closet, threw their coats on the floor, and put on their backwards name tags. First order of business: what usually comes last, birthday cake and ice cream. After two rousing renditions of "You To Birthday Happy" the girls and their seven party guests dined on upside down ice cream cone cupcakes lovingly made by a friend of their mother's. They were divine, and ever so silly. It was a miracle they all stopped giggling long enough to eat. Really. Their daddy could not believe the amount of giggling taking place. 

 After the opening of the gifts, accompanied by many 'You thank's and 'welcome your's and more serious bouts of giggles, it was a dream come true for the ten-year-olds to practice talking backwards to their hearts content. It was a dream for the daddy and mommy to be in the other room to prepare dinner, which, of course, was filled with breakfast food.  

Then there were games of backwards charades, pin the donkey on the tail, and a mixed-up "What If" question game that brought not only giggles, but squeals of delight. The girls daddy had never, ever heard such noise, and even the neighbors wondered that night if they heard something in the air. There would not have been an unbroken fancy champagne glass in the house, had the girls' parents owned any.

Our little story ends with a farewell for each guest (but the twins offered a hilarious 'hello!'), and each guest received a birthday gift of Inside Out Junior Mints and a pair of inside out socks. 

 The girls and their cape and computer-mouse-wielding mom lived exhaustingly, happily ever after. Their daddy is still recovering. (It's a very, very good thing they have fabulous friends and only do these kinds of things every few years.)

A Haiku For You

A Haiku poem in honor of the mail I received today, and inspired by my poet friend, Nancy.(Whose blog, I'm sorry to say, is private. I wish you could read the all the things that tickle me so.)

Got the stinking bill.
Neurologist's charge whopping
three hundred dollars?

Seriously. I spoke with him for less than ten minutes. He poked me with a pin and made me touch my nose with my finger. I do think he's smart, just expensive, I guess. Sigh. This, my friends, not to mention the last painful three weeks of experimental medications that have not paid off yet, is the reason it hurts so much to go to new doctors.

Don't worry. I'm not giving up yet. Or robbing a bank. I'm just complaining a little.

Okay, I'm done.

We're Gonna Party

"...like it's nineteen-ninety-nine!" Remember when we all thought it would be the end of the world in 1999? (Well, some people did.) And then when it was closer and we knew it wasn't the end of the world, but we thought it might be the end of our technology? So we spent hours backing everything on our computers up in case they fried. And we got a bunch of cash in case our credit cards exploded. And we stored extra rice in case...I don't know, why did people do that? Because China might crumble? Because the cash registers might spontaneously combust? I have no idea. I was too busy. I had a three-year-old and two eleven-month-olds, I was too busy to care if the world was coming to an end. In fact, I bet there were days I wished it was. I don't remember. I was too sleepy then to remember much of what I thought.Anyway, tonight is the birthday party, and they can't wait. It's been three years since I've let them have a friend party and they are counting down the hours. You'll be relieved to know they have dropped the Ten idea. They did like the idea of a "Top Ten" party, but couldn't agree on the same top ten things, and "Top Sixteen and a Half" just didn't have the same ring to it. So, it's a "Backwards Birthday Bash!" we will be having. But, since tomorrow I get to start doubling the dose of my new meds, don't expect a party report too soon. Trying to take my pants off once I've got them on backwards will be hard enough. Have a good weekend!

It Runneth Over

Yesterday was a fun day. Snow White and Sleeping Beauty had a nice birthday (more pictures and details later) and we were busy. Which is why I was home alone last night, resting, when the doorbell rang. The others had gone to church and a friend's house and I had just pulled my jeans off for a more comfortable nap.

I ignored the first bell, but on the second, decided to check and see who was there. It was the twins' Primary teacher. She was holding two tiny cakes. And two cards. The roads were yucky. It was freezing outside. She'd come all this way. So nice. My house was a disaster. But, I had to let her in. So, I quickly pulled the throw off the couch, wrapped it around my waist and yanked the door open.

"Hi!" I said, "Come on in. You are so sweet to stop by. The girls aren't here, they'll be sad they missed you. I'm sorry my house is such a mess...The girls were in a hurry...I, uh...I didn't have them pick up because they had to make it to New Beginnings...I stayed home because I knew I wouldn't make it...I,uh...I have these migraines...I'm trying this new medicine...Thanks for thinking of the girls...Their school stuff is still all over...I'm so sorry...We just had dinner and they ran..."

The phrase 'my mouth runneth over' comes to mind. Ugh. Just stop talking already.

She was very nice, though. She said something like, "You are talking like I don't have children and a house and a job. Don't worry," and something else like, "My brother and mom get migraines. They're terrible."

And I'm standing there looking at her with her two hands full and thinking, I can't take those two cakes from her because I have to hold up the blanket. I don't have on any pants. She's going to have to see my kitchen. Dishes not done for two days. Dinner still on the table. Floor not swept for who knows how long. Pile the size of Nebraska of mail on the counter. Two baskets of laundry in the corner. Okay, I won't go on, as to not embarrass myself further. But, it was BAD and I was panicking. What could I do? I couldn't very well let go of the blanket around my waist to take them from her, or say, "Ah, thanks, just throw them on the floor over here." I'd already spewed all kinds of babble, so I decided to humiliate myself further.

"Do you mind putting them on the kitchen table over here? Um, just kind of ignore the dinner mess," I mumbled, and turned to lead her into the wreckage.

I needn't have bothered letting her see my kitchen, though. As I made my move, the blanket slipped from around my waist and exposed my underwear-clad behind to her and anyone else who looked into my front window at the moment. Nice. Now she knows from up-close experience that my bottom runneth over also. Great. I just can't wait to see her at church on Sunday.

Fight Cub

This morning Snow White and Sleeping Beauty were supposed to be getting in the shower. I could hear them messing around in the other room.

"What are you doing in there?"

"We're fighting."

"Well, get busy and stop fighting. We don't fight."

"No, we're fighting like bear cubs. The kind that makes us grow and develop."

What? Do humans do that? Weird kids.

Confident

"It is not so much our friends' help that helps us as the confident knowledge that they will help us." - Epicurus (341 - 270 BC) Greek philosopher. 

I have to tell you that Epicurus was on to something with this one. As I have become increasingly debilitated by daily migraines I have had many people offer to help. It's hard for me to think of things they can do to help. But, I can tell you that it is beyond comforting to know that there are many willing, if I need it. I have had many friends that have offered to do many things, and this week I have taken them up on it. Not for me, but because Snow White and Sleeping Beauty deserve to have a fun birthday, despite my head. 

 I have one friend bringing my family dinner. This has happened a lot over the last few weeks and it is so nice to have things in the freezer ready to go if I have a bad day. The friend bringing dinner this week is bringing a "kid-friendly" meal with the recipe attached so that if we like it, the princesses won't have trouble making it again. She's so clever. 

One friend of mine is driving Snow White to dance this week. This ensures that I can clean the house that day and rest in the afternoon, instead of drive. (Which I can tell you, from experience, is not the safest thing to do when you have a migraine and are experimenting with new drugs. Legal ones, I promise.) 

 I also have two great friends that are doing everything for the twins' birthday party. They are making games and decorations, cupcakes and treats. (The birthday post is here.) I couldn't do it without them. This was a hard one to let them do. After all, if it was up to dad, he'd just have the kids over, throw candy at them and let them play. That could work. But, I wanted the girls to have it be the way they wanted it to be. My friends know me well enough to know what I wanted to do, and offered to do it so I could actually make it to the party in one piece. I think that SB and SW won't remember that their mom had a miserable week before their party, they'll remember their dream tenth birthday party. And that means more to me than just about anything this week. 

 And as if these friends weren't doing enough, one of them even found me mint M&Ms yesterday and brought them to me. My favorite. :) I really have the best friends in the world. You all should move here. Sure, we have snow and ice and sub-zero temperatures and your kids have to stay home from school half the time in the winter, but there are really, really great people. 

 And, I'm hoping after this week, I can stick with just being confident that they would help me if I needed it.

Dear Common Cold

Dear Common Cold,

I know that you are not really that harmful. You are not necessarily that dangerous. But you are really very, very annoying, and I am sorry to say, I don't like you at all. I usually don't use such harsh words, but you just won't leave our family alone. Can't you just go bug someone else? You, with your sniffling, and dripping, and stuff-headed dreariness, have hung out and traveled from one member of our family to another for too long. It is time to stop.

We have a birthday and a party this week, so it would be helpful to have all the used tissues that inevitably creep into the corners of the house long gone before then. (Supposedly, they belong to no one who lives in this house, so I can only assume that you bring them with you. Stop it. They're disgusting.) If you would have just shared your infectiousness with everyone at once, we would have been finished a week ago. But, no. You insist on lounging about in one body for days before you pounce on your next victim unexpectedly. In the middle of the night. When we've already used the entire bottle of Sudafed. It's rude.

I am writing to request that you leave now. Gather up your tissues and your excretions and don't come back. We don't need you. We don't want you. We don't ever want to see you again. Please don't come back. And please tell your friends Influenza and Strep Throat we have no use for them either.

Thank You,

The Queen of This Tiny, Tired Kingdom