Will the real time please stand up?

Hi, my name is Christie, and I am obsessive-compulsive. (Hi, Christie).

Bet you didn't know that.

Lately, I have been thinking about another facet of my ever-so-slight OCD (stop laughing). It is definitely not the worst of my many quirks, but is still something that drives the Husband a little batty. And that is the fact that I am incapable of showing up late to ANYTHING.

I think my eye just started twitching thinking about it.

It literally pains me if I am late to anything. Pains me. I just cannot be late. The Husband moans and groans every Sunday when we arrive 20 minutes early to church. But I cannot, and will not, sit in the back, so early we must be.

I have developed a bad habit of moving the time ahead on our clocks in order to trick my family into thinking they are late, thus making them rush a little more to get out the door. Imagine their delight when we get into the car, and surprise! We're not late at all. We're early. (Some in our family don't find this to be a good surprise. Cough*husband*cough).

The only problem is that now I have no idea what the real time is because I've moved every clock around by so many minutes. I have become terrified I will actually BE late when going somewhere, and so I combat that by moving the clocks MORE ahead.

I know, I need help.

Next spring, at daylight savings, do not be surprised if our clocks don't have to change at all.

Do any of you do this? Or am I standing all alone out here on my big crazy platform?

Probably. But that's all right.

At least I won't be late for all those therapy sessions I'm going to need.

My kids

My kids wake themselves up to play at the crack of dawn, and see nothing wrong with this annoying habit.

My kids make their own waffles and smear peanut butter all over the counter. And they never clean it up when they're done, either.

My kids climb trees in our backyard.

Then come in crying when they get a scratch.

My kids make huge messes. Especially in their rooms.

My kids track mud all through the house. I honestly believe they have no idea what a doormat is for.

My kids do not want me to come with them to the bus stop. They want to do it all by themselves.

But they do require that I stand at the window and wave as the bus passes.

My kids currently do cub scouts, swimming, baseball, and ballet.

My kids whine when they have too much homework.

My kids splash water all over the floor when they're in the tub.

My kids grow out of their clothes faster than I can keep up with.

My kids crave sweets, sugar, suckers, and gum. And they get it more than they should.

My kids tell the dumbest knock-knock jokes.

My kids fight with each other.

They absolutely detest running errands, unless it's to Target, and then they beg and whine to go down the toy aisles.

My boys love Star Wars, Indiana Jones, and World War II.

My girl loves dress-ups, dolls, and High School Musical.

My kids color with markers that sometimes leak onto my desk.

My kids break expensive electronic things.

My kids wear holes in their jeans faster than ice cream melts.

My kids cannot fall asleep without a kiss and a hug from me.

***************

This morning, my mind and heart is full of all the things my kids can do. We made our semi-annual trip to Children's Hospital for McKay's asthma and allergy check-up.

And as we sat in the shared waiting room, I couldn't help but look around at the other kids. Many were in wheelchairs with contorted, mangled limbs. Many were there getting their heart checked, because the core of their body just doesn't work like it should. A few were bald, with patchy tufts of hair the only remnant of what they looked like before the cancer reared its ugly head. Some smiled. Some looked sad. Some didn't look like they knew where they were at all.

And I have never in my life been more thankful for what we don't have.

So today, I will clean up that peanut butter. I will wipe the marker off my white desk. I will hug them when they slip and fall. I will probably still get mad at the mud they track through the house. But I am eternally grateful for all the annoying, physical, happy, healthy, busy things my kids can do.

And my heart just aches for the moms who have kids that can't.

It's a dog-eat-dog world

This morning I went to Sam's Club. And before you ask, no, I was not hit on today by any strange or handicapped men. Disappointing, yes.

But I happily wandered up and down the aisles of my local store, filling my cart with all kinds of treasures. Things full of partially hydrogenated oil and high fructose corn syrup. Things that probably cause cancer and diabetes. You know, things that taste really good.

And while there, I had me some samples.

I had some of these:

And I had some of this (which I buy on a regular basis and love):
And I even had some of this, and although delicious, I did not buy it. I prefer my wasteful calories in cookie dough form.
I was tempted to have some of this, but the sample table was too crowded. Lots of old men in cowboy hats dying for a miniature bite of a pizza bagel.

But it was all right. I was already full from my chips and cream puffs.

But the one sample that I was not even remotely tempted to taste was this:
Yes, they were sampling DOG FOOD at my Sam's today.

In sample cups.

For people to taste, I presume, since no dogs shop at my Sam's on a regular basis.

You know, seeing as how they don't drive or take the bus. Because THEY'RE DOGS.

Has the world gone mad and I just don't know it? Please explain this to me. Why would they sample the dog food?

I just don't get it.

The keeper of the kingdom

TravelinOma wrote today about the green people in her life.

Let me take a moment and tell you about the little green person that is in mine (who probably would be much happier with more environmentally-conscious parents like these).
Chase has always been fascinated by animals. It began when he suddenly became obsessed over elephants at about age one. And when I say obsessed, please think of stalker-like, all-consuming-type behavior. To say that he loved elephants does his passion a great disservice.

Elephants somehow morphed into dinosaurs around age three.

There were not enough books in the library to satisfy his need for information. Big, thick books with words I had to learn to pronounce like Orinthomimus or Pachycephalasaurus (which I still know to this day). It agitated him to see cartoon-like T-Rex's with three claws on scrawny arms. Because, after all, T-Rex only had two claws. And any self-respecting paleontologist would know that.

Dinosaurs eventually morphed into reptiles--frogs and snakes, in particular. He can identify any snake or frog, in pretty much any part of the world. He can reiterate its life cycle, predators, food, and mating habits. He even once tried unsuccessfully to mate two plastic frogs in the middle of church.

He has always expressed extreme sorrow when reading about the rain forests being destroyed. His little heart nearly bursts when he talks about the importance of protecting the environment. It has in the past, and no doubt will in the future, bring him to tears. When his hero, Steve Irwin, died, we felt like we had lost a real friend.

Chase is just that kind of a guy.

Well, lately his passion has taken on a new voice.

The very loud voice of recycling and energy conservation.

He lectures me on a daily basis for not recycling my diet coke cans. He yells at his brother and sister when they leave the water on while they're brushing their teeth. He digs through the garbage when he gets home from school, and pulls out anything that can be recycled. Even if that thing has disgusting dried up food on it. He sees beautiful neighborhood fountains, and is disturbed by the wasteful use of resources.

And, with a passing comment made by Aunt Heidi in Utah, he is busily preparing a full-blown lecture series on the environment for his cousins when we visit this summer.

And yes, he's only eight years old.

So, thanks to Chase, we'll keep recycling around here, even if it's against our will and without our consent.

Al Gore would be so proud.

Telling lies to get to Blogapalooza

There is so much to say. And yet where to begin?

Let's begin with the trip that almost didn't happen.

After getting a very sad email from my real-life friend, Annie, that she would not be able to make it (see why here), I arrived at the airport on Thursday afternoon. I was excited, nervous, and ready to go. I stepped up to the counter, and was greeted by a guy who looks disturbingly similar to this one:

Only a little less cute.

He checked my ID, and commented that we share the same birthday (except he was classy and smooth, and pointed out that my birthday is ten years sooner than his, thus making me essentially an old hag). He was flirty and eager, yet annoying, and I made nice long enough to get myself checked in, and on my merry way.

About ten minutes before I was scheduled to board the plane, the Seymour-Hoffman Ugly Twin comes to the terminal and announces that our flight has not even left Denver yet, and that we'd be delayed for an undetermined amount of time. He told everyone to sit tight, and that they'd work on connections and call us up when they were done.

Immediately 40 people got in line at the counter. I was wise enough to be one of them.

I watched five or six people in front of me be turned away without success. When it came to be my turn, I tilted my head, pathetically batted my eyelashes, and said in a sultry whisper, "Hello, birthday friend." He blushed, and apologized for the delay. Sensing my chance, I told him that I just HAD to get to Salt Lake tonight. He shrugged his shoulders and said they'd do their best, and for me to have a seat.

That's when the lie suddenly, and without warning, came out.

I might have accidentally told him that I was supposed to be the keynote speaker at a very important conference Thursday night (unlike the real keynote speaker), and that I just HAD to be there. This lie might have been told with very doe-like eyes, and my bosoms may or may not have been squeezed together - accidentally. He glanced behind me at the ever-growing line of angry customers, and then slowly picked up the phone.

Turns out, his mother works for another airlines as a gate agent, and between the two of them, they were able to get me switched to another flight.

Yes, ON ANOTHER AIRLINE.

I have no doubt that others waiting behind me did not get the same lucky break (too bad they weren't born on the same day as the Seymour-Hoffman Ugly Twin. Yay me).

My lucky break, it turned out, was not as lucky as I needed it to be. I did get into Salt Lake and to my Blogapalooza party (after getting lost and requiring cell phone directions from my private navigation system, the Husband), but not until it was almost over.

I peeked my head nervously into the room full of women I have been dying to meet. Celia Fae looked up, recognizing me immediately. She screamed and rushed over, throwing her arms tight around me.

And I promise you, internets, I have never felt like more of a rock star than at that moment.

Right then, all the stress and drama was forgotten. It was such a treat to look around the room, and meet you all in real life, to recognize you from your blogs. People who I have been reading about for a very long time. People who actually read me, and then leave nice words for me when they come. It was a very good feeling, and I wished I had not missed so much of it.

I did not get to talk to all of you like I wanted, but those that I got to chat with were as generous, kind, and beautiful as they are on their blogs. I felt as though I knew you already. Conversation was easy. There was not the awkwardness that you would expect in a room full of people you didn't know. I felt as though I were in a room full of old friends.

And in a way, I was.

What say you to making this an annual tradition, new friends? Shall we meet every year? Say yes, and I will be there.

But I can't promise I won't lie my way into getting there again, and I definitely will work what I've got to get myself on that plane.

This is one party I wouldn't have missed for the world. Thanks for everything!

Some answers for you to chew on for a few days

Oh, my darling interpeeps.

I am leaving you for a few days to head out of town for some more girl time. I know it just seems like I got back from some time away, but lucky me, I get to go again.

I am heading to this conference, where I hope to pay enough attention that I learn something, and attending a huge party where I will actually get meet a large group of you, face to face, for the first time.

I leave you with some answers to your burning questions:

1. Spray-on tan: Absolutely god's greatest invention for skin-cancer phobics like me. (Yes, Dad, I realize I am the same girl that used to lay out in the backyard with baby oil burning on my skin. I know, I know...).

You do it at your normal tanning salon, but be prepared to pay about four times what you would for a regular tanning session. It is safe, FDA approved, and very effective. It lasts about 5-7 days, and then gradually begins fading away. For me, it just evens out my skin tone and gives me a slight glow.

Not once have I come out looking either like an oompa-loompa or worse, DonatellaVersace, which is what I was at first afraid of. I get that sun-kissed look, without the harmful, wrinkle-causing touch of the sun. I highly recommend it. I did it a few times this winter when I was feeling especially pale and ugly. Perks you right up.

2. My new mascaras: Hit up your local mall and stop by Sephora. Ask one of the annoyingly eager ever-friendly workers for Dior Show (for thickness) and Fiberwig (for length). Best new discovery I've made in a long time. It has plumped up and lengthened my normally stubby eyelashes. I'm in love.

3. Dan: I have gotten a few comments and some emails in slightly worried tones about Dan, who seems to leave nasty comments for me every day. He is (until proven otherwise) my brother. I love him for his sarcasm and would actually faint dead if he ever said anything semi-nice. Please do not worry about the things he says. It's his love language. Thanks, though, for your concern. It's nice to have somebody who cares if my feelings are being hurt.

That's about it. Just finishing up the laundry, lists, cleaning, and packing for my weekend away. Can't wait to meet you all.

I only wish it were going to be warmer. [Stupid weather has forced me to rethink my entire trip wardrobe.]

See you soon!