MY day

I have the best husband. EVAH. He got me this for Mother's Day:

What is it, you say? This big piece of nerd finery is the Epson Stylus Photo 1400. It will enable me to print directly onto my 12x12 scrapbook pages - clearly a critical function of life, I know. I am a scrapbook snob (meaning I don't do digital - I like getting my hands on all those beautiful brads, papers, ribbons, and chipboard letters), but I will now have the freedom to print my journaling or titles directly onto my pages (or should I choose, I can even print out high quality photos up to 13x16 right from my own desk - which is slightly secondary to the scrapbook function, of course). I am ecstatic.

Thanks, baby. Thanks for paying attention to the not-so-subtle hint in my blog. Thanks for looking at the printout I cleverly left for you from Epson's website. Oh, and thanks for listening to each kid individually remind you on Saturday that you needed to buy mom her printer ("...because IT'S MUVVER'S DAY! WE HAVE TO GET HER A PRINTER! That's what she WANTS!"). You really are the best (and you only needed a little help to get the job done).

The only challenge remains in leaving it long enough to do minor things like, I don't know, feed the children, shower, and use the bathroom. I'll do my best, but I'm not promising anything...

What if...

With it being Mother's Day this week, I have been thinking about all the blessings these three little creatures have brought to my life. I am certain I would be a completely different person had I never become a mother. There have been good times, bad times, hard times, and a whole lot of fun times. And in honor of all that mothers are, here is a list of things I would have missed had I never become a mother.

If I wasn't a mother...

I'd never know the feeling of tiny growing feet kicking my ribcage, kidneys, bladder, and other internal organs. Or how it felt to stare in wonder and awe at my own belly, watching an elbow or a foot sliding by.

I would have missed out on the indescribable exhilaration I felt hearing my babies cry for the very first time.

I would not have known just how sweet each baby would smell first thing in the morning.

I would not have spent hours peeking over the edge of a crib to make sure they were still breathing. (I still do this one sometimes).

I would have missed all those sleepless nights.

I would have missed all those perfect mornings.

I probably would not have known the unmistakable sensation of vomit, urine, and feces simultaneously being spewed upon my shirt.

I would never have found out that I didn't mind it - because it came from them.

I wouldn't have seen the sheer joy on their faces when they each took that first step.

I would have missed my own sweet tears of joy, watching helplessly on the sidelines; proud, and yet knowing that this monumental step was the beginning of the journey that will ultimately make them independent of me.

I would never have thanked the Lord for Teletubbies, Elmo, Bob the Builder, or the Wiggles.

I would have been spared the heart-wrenching anxiety of putting that big five-year-old boy on the school bus for the first time.

I would then miss the extreme, guilt-free pleasure of putting another boy on that very same school bus a few years later.

And I wouldn't be looking forward with glee to the moment when the little girl person in this house boards the school bus this fall.

I would have missed reading all the stories - and their soft, contented breathing right before bedtime.

I most certainly would not have known McDonalds' entire menu by heart.

I would not know the intense pride I'd feel when I watched them learn new things.

I would not know just how much it would hurt to hold back my own fears and let them try things for themselves, even if I knew it meant disappointment for them.

I would have missed seeing the Mama Tiger in me come out when I felt other kids had trampled over them on the playground.

I would not know the worry and heartache of being helpless when they're sick.

I would not know just how good granola bars and frosting are together.

I would not have found my own inner strength during times when all I wanted to do was fall into a heap and cry, but could not because they were watching.

I would have missed enjoying them reach a maturity level where they can talk about real-people type of things; a place where we can have actual conversations.

I would not have grown in more ways than I can count.

I would not be the me I am today. And I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world.

So whether you're a mother or simply have one, take time this weekend to tell her you love her. That's all she really wants anyway (...that AND a new scrapbooking printer - hint, hint!). Happy Mother's Day!

7 Random Things Meme

So I was tagged by DCR Mom for this Meme, and since I have no whiny stories about my life today (shocker!), I figured it was time for a Meme. I think I may have already done this one, but since I am SO random (and weird), I can certainly come up with seven more.

Here are the rules. You start with seven random facts about yourself. Tag seven people and list their names. The people who are tagged need to write on their own blog about the seven things and the rules. (Don't forget to leave them a comment that they have been tagged and to read your blog.)

1. I simply cannot drink Diet Coke without a straw. I also cannot drink Diet Coke without ice. I think the straw thing started when my friend Jackie told me that caffeinated drinks turn your teeth nasty colors (I believe anything Jackie says) and I have been a straw girl ever since.

2. I cannot have a shower until I have brushed my teeth. Day or night, noon or whenever - I can't step foot in the tub unless I've got that just-brushed, minty feel in my mouth. Just something about a non-clean mouth getting into the shower is wrong for me. (I have OCD, too, can you tell?)

3. I hate making phone calls (Laura, Oma, Mom, Gabi, and a few others are the exception). E-mail is my preferred method of communication. I don't really know why - I do enjoy talking on the phone, but I hate making cold calls. I'll do it if I have to, but I generally don't like it. It drives my husband absolutely crazy, but that's just me.

4. I can type 117 words per minute. I have been doing at-home transcribing for years, and the speed is still there. I love how fast I can type - and I'm pretty accurate, too.

5. I have to fall asleep with the t.v. on. Every night I set the timer, turn the volume almost completely off, and fall asleep to the light from the t.v. I like to think of it as my own grown-up version of the night-light.

6. I drink at least 80 ounces of water every day. If I don't get that much in, by the end of the day I feel dehydrated. I think my body just depends on water overload.

7. I feel panicked if I am more than six months behind on my scrapbooking. I work on it constantly to try and stay as caught up as I can (which is no small feat considering how many pictures I take). I think it would overwhelm me if I had more than a few months to do - and I'd probably just stop doing it altogether.

Okay, so there you have it. I tag Bridget, Gabi, Anna H., Annie W., Kristi, Kelly, and Andrew (and anyone else who wants to play along).

Highlights of my day today

4:00 a.m.: Wake up to awful, THUNDERING, wall-shaking snoring, and find Hannah in my bed. Wonder how something so small could make such a big noise.

4:01 a.m.: Take Hannah back to bed. Stumble, and step on large Darth Vader head and hear "Psh hsh...Luke...I am your father." Go back to bed swearing under my breath.

5:30 a.m.: Have the entire house woken up by Chase's loud, persistent, and annoying cough.

6:30 a.m.: Be told by Hannah that I am "berry, berry mean" because I got mad at her last night when she wouldn't stay in her bed.

7:00 a.m.: Be reminded by McKay that he has STAR testing this week and needs a "BIG" breakfast (i.e., something other than Eggo waffles, our standby).

7:45 a.m.: Finish cleaning up BIG breakfast and begin sorting laundry.

7:47 a.m.: Argue with Hannah for 20 minutes for refusing to let her wear a turtleneck and long pants (after all, it was 95 degrees today).

8:07 a.m.: Take McKay to school (as Chase's loud, persistent, and annoying cough is going to keep him home "sick," which is really just code for "don't want to go to school today and am going to use this little cough to get out of it").

8:10 a.m.: Have a vigorous run on the treadmill to try and burn some steam.

10:00 a.m.: Drop Hannah off at preschool.

10:01 a.m.: Drag "sick" Chase with me on errands. Be looked at crossly in every store because of his loud, persistent, and annoying cough.

11:45 a.m.: Pick up Hannah.

12:00 p.m.: Lunch and "Nap rest time" (a.k.a., LEAVE MOM ALONE TIME)

2:00 p.m.: Find Hannah standing on counters poised to pour cupcake sprinkles into her hand. Tell her to please put them back.

2:01 p.m.: Have Hannah give the evil eye, turn, and watch helplessly as she dumps entire contents of cupcake sprinkles into her hands (and thus onto the floor).

2:02 p.m.: Put Hannah in time out (where she reminds me again just how "berry, berry mean I am.") Be impervious to her criticism. Hold the swear words in this time.

2:03 p.m.: Sweep and mop entire kitchen floor. Worry that sprinkles have found their way under the fridge and are currently drawing armies of ants. Spray 409 under fridge in an attempt to make any sprinkles less appetizing to potential ant armies.

2:38 p.m.: Pick McKay up from school. Have Chase roll down his window and announce to all the children and parents passing by just how "sick" he was today.

2:40 p.m.: Try not to poke eyeballs out with car keys.

5:00 p.m.: Suffer through until dinner, baths, and story time.

5:45 p.m.: Put the children in bed (I know, I know, but tough. I'm all alone and I've had it. The boys read until 7:30 or so, and Hannah immediately falls asleep.)

5:47 p.m.: Validate yourself for putting Hannah down early, as clearly she was wiped.

6:00 p.m.: Remember the 20 loads of laundry waiting to be folded.

6:01 p.m.: Ignore laundry and take a bubble bath.

Last week's lessons

• Having the grandparents show the kids an R-rated movie (even a World War II historical masterpiece) will produce a lot of "discussions" on S-E-X (as McKay calls it). Even though the S-E-X parts were skipped over and not actually viewed by my children.
• These "discussions" will be so entertaining for me that I will have to leave the room to keep from laughing in front of McKay.
• When visiting my husband, I should always remember to bring my contact lens case.
• Putting my contacts in a cup - and informing my husband of that fact - will not stop him from accidentally drinking my contacts in the morning.
• Hannah will notice immediately if one shred of my outfit is new. Whining and complaining about the lack of her own new outfit will soon follow.
• It is possible to gain five pounds in four days.
• It will take twice as many days to take those five pounds off.
• When going to the grocery store solely for milk, I will buy everything else for sale and get home before I realize that I forgot to actually buy the milk.
• In Touch Magazine is purely a smut-filled trash rag that brings me great pleasure to read all alone on a plane.
• Having a few days away does wonder for a mother's soul.

Addiction

Someone I love very much has a problem. An addiction problem. And I've known about it for quite some time, yet turned a blind eye. Sometimes we just don't want to admit the worst to ourselves.

This sweet person is kept up at night - yearning for the one thing she does not need. She will sneak, con, and manipulate in order to get her fix. She is "using" way more than she should be. It is starting to get out of hand.

That's right.

Hannah is addicted to Band-Aids. She will go through about ten Band-Aids in the course of four minutes. She combs her body, like a monkey searching for nits, hoping for any sign of a scratch that she can smother with Barbie's smiling face. It doesn't matter if it's a microscopic, healed wound - she must cover it up.

I cannot afford her expensive habits. It is time to cut her off.

The madness stops. Now.

If she can't quit cold-turkey, I'll have to get some Power Rangers Band-Aids. Surely, the thought of something boyish will help to quell the monster inside her.

The time has come for an intervention. Heaven help me when I take away the pink Barbie Band-Aids from the Princess.

Heaven help us all.