Not Me Monday and Brag and Blab

I did NOT totally ditch my blog last week and neglect to post at all after Tuesday.
I am NOT sitting here, on the computer while DH wrestles the kids into bed.

I am NOT craving CHALK. (I know. Ew...but it sounds soooo YUM to my pregnant taste buds.)

Welcome to my Meme, friends! PLEASE participate! We really need to get this one going!!!!!

BRAG about something great, then BLAB about something that sucks!!!!

Brag: I have TWO today! Hooray for me and my great life.

1. Lilly had a dance performance on Saturday, and she was WONDERFUL. She's so stinkin' cute. And all our family came and brought her flowers, which are gorgeous, and then we had pie and ice cream at our house. SO FUN. I love having our family over.

2. I am registering for Fall Semester at Salt Lake Community College, for Photography classes!!! AHHHHH! I'm so excited. If I take 2 classes a semester, without skipping summers, I'll be able to finish all of it in 2 years and get my own studio. YEAH!!!!

BLAB: On Saturday, at Lilly's recital, I arrived early, but still too late to get a decent seat. So we were half way back. I reserved some for family, but otherwise, we were set to deal with not being able to see, and planned on sneaking up to the front during Lilly's dances.

Except that as the show started, a whole bunch of people came in, took a bunch of empty chairs from the back of the auditorium, and moved up to the front to where they could see. I was really pissed. I mean, saving seats on a ROW for someone is one thing. But I was there (and other people too) an hour and a half early with two other children to keep in check, and they get to come into the place as the show starts, and MOVE CHAIRS up front? I think not.

People are rude. HOW did they think that that was okay? Ugh.

Touchy Topic Tuesday: Movie Food

Touchy Topic Tuesday: Movie Food.

So, as sucky as it is, Brandon's day off of work is on Wednesday. (Well, Sunday too, but that doesn't count because we have church from 11:00 to 2:00, and that's pretty much the whole day gone.)

Most of the time, we lay around the house, take Lilly to ballet, do homework and read with the kids, and do errands here and there.

This last Wednesday, though, Lilly begged her daddy to take her on a 'date' after her ballet class. Of course, my big softy of a husband agreed, and Mahone and Scarlet and I had a 'hot dog date' at home while Brandon took Lilly to lunch at Carl's Junior.

Then, they came home, and we all went to the new movie How To Train Your Dragon. (Which, might I add, is SPECTACULARLY clever, cute, and downright adorable. We'll be buying it for SURE.)

Now here's the deal. We're pretty tight for money right now. (And lets face it, who isn't.) So, before heading into the theatre, we took the scenic rout through our local Wal*Mart. For less than a dollar each, Mahone picked a package of gummy worms, Lilly and Scarlet both picked skittles, Brandon got peanut butter M&M's and I got raisinettes. 5 bucks, folks. And I'm not talking candy bar sized. I'm talking the same size you buy at a theatre for 3.50 a box/bag.

So, at the grocery store, we spent 5 bucks on what would have cost us 17.50 at the theatre- on top of tickets, which cost 7.00 a person. (For those slow on the math- that's 35.00.) We figured we'd buy a couple drinks there to share amongst us, and that would be a fair contribution to the movie gods.

I grew up doing this. Mom would bring red rope licorice to the movies, and rolls of Butter Rum lifesavers (my favorite.). But I don't really remember there being 'rules' back then.

Now there are. As we gave our tickets to the ticket guy- a 17ish year old kid with a still squeaky voice, greasy, curly brown hair, and braces- I noticed the signs plastered all over the ticket box, the wall behind it, and the individual theatre doors: No Outside Food Or Drink Allowed.

Well, it seemed that no one suspected my bulging 'diaper bag' (never mind that Scarlet doesn't even WEAR diapers anymore) so I slipped in smoothly without being noticed, and happily, we all munched and shared our Wal*Mart treats and our theatre drinks.

But I still feel a slight bit guilty.

Was it dishonest? Or is it okay considering the absolute ridiculous prices they charge? Is it really okay for them to deny anyone bringing in outside foods?

Well, I think, it's their right, as it's their premises, but I don't really intend to stop doing it. I rarely see movies, and even more rarely take my kids. And seriously? Should going to a movie with your family really cost around 55-60 dollars? Pshhh. I can almost get my family into LAGOON for that much money and enjoy an entire day of fun.

Give me your opinions, friends! What would YOU do!?

Brag & Blab and Not Me Monday

I did NOT break out my maternity clothes because I am already too fat to fit into my regular jeans. Yes, they are big...but SOOOO much more comfortable than squeezing into something so tight that you look like a muffin. I did NOT let my kids have lemonade girl scout cookies and milk for breakfast. I did NOT bawl my eyes out at church (pregnancy hormones on the fritz) during primary when all the kids were singing the mother's day song they sang last week and both my kids turned to look at me, wave, and blow kisses. I did NOT also almost fall asleep later that hour, and have to get up and walk around the church to keep from nodding off. I am NOT feeling insecure about my baby because I am not yet feeling sick .

You know how this works, my friends!!! Use this button to link back to me, link up, and then brag about something wonderful, and blab about something that sucks!

Brag: I got to spend the evening with Brandon's mom and dad and their kids last night. it was AWESOME! We love them so very much. I was sad to leave because we were having so much fun!!!!

Blab: Well, I wasn't going to sink to their level, but this is the crappiest thing that has happened in a long time.

You know how I used to write a fairy story on Saturdays for my 'other' blog (thegossamerjewelbox)- that one? Well, I've never really been shy about the kind of big dork I am, and that I LOVE to take pictures of fairies. YES, I do do some mainstream stuff- I have some really excellent (I think) pictures of my kids- portrait style- but really, I just like the hobby of it. Never have I proclaimed myself a professional, or even 'good' at it. I just LIKE it. It's a hobby. It was fun for me. I have never had any classes and I'm teaching myself to use photo shop, so I know I have a lot to learn. But I always figured that you have to start SOMEWHERE, and no one was ever good when they were beginning.

Well, on Friday, after two days of waiting through their 2 day 'waiting period' (lest, heaven forbid, they get a spammer) I was finally able to join the January 2011 birth board- which is why I joined http://www.thebump.com/ in the first place. It's an okay board, but it's slow. So I branched out and visited boards like "SAHM's" and "Preschoolers" and "Photography"

The "Photography" board was an absolute mistake because within 10 minutes of posting about my interest in photography, and the kind of photography I like to do, I was made fun of and had at least 2 other threads started with the explicit goal of demeaning me, my blog, and my hobby.

So I deleted the link.

Those who had already been there passed it around and started making mocking pictures of their babies with goat horns on their heads.

They lectured me about how my photography is no good. And it just went on and on.

My gossamer jewel box blog received over 500 hits that day from this site, and they continued to not only bash my pictures, but also to bash my writing and talk about how I abuse my dog.

So I had to set it to private.

Maybe one day- years from now, I will no longer have that blog private. But in the mean time, it's my own space. I am no longer so confident, now, in the possibility that someday I'll be 'pretty good' - which is what I was aiming for.


Still, I love it. I LOVE making wings and dressing my kids up and playing with photo shop. Even if I need a lot of education on the subject. So, even though my dignity has been crushed, I'm going to refuse to stop playing.


If you would like to check out the hateful things they said, please do at these links. All I wanted was to maybe receive some pointers, talk about styles, and maybe get some tutorials about photo shop. Stupid me. (Oh, and notice- I have 3 posts in TOTAL. And none of them were rude in the slightest.)

http://community.thenest.com/cs/ks/forums/thread/36703585.aspx
http://community.thenest.com/cs/ks/forums/36725668/ShowThread.aspx#36725668
http://community.thenest.com/cs/ks/forums/36717589/ShowThread.aspx#36717589 BTW, I am USUALLY totally up for other people's comments, whether the agree or disagree. And I don't care if people like my style or not. I realize that I'm a little strange and that my ideas are- for lack of a better word- weird. I'm cool with people disagreeing. I have never been one to want people to give me false praise or blow sunshine up my skirt, or pee rainbows or any of those other chat board phrases for 'brown nosing'. It might come from years upon years of creative writing classes- but criticism is good. I like criticism- especially the constructive kind. But I'm not okay with personal attacks, and I can honestly say that I have never in my whole life been involved in something this lacking in tact or basis, nor have I ever tried to hurt someone or diminish their importance the way these GROWN WOMEN have tried to do to me. (It makes me wonder who these women think they are, acting all high and mighty. Who taught them EVERYTHING, and forgot to teach them respect, tolerance, and love? It makes me sad for their children, because I know that MY children will be dealing with THEIR children when they grow up. And that is a depressing thought.)

Forgive me when I say that right now, my pride is completely shattered- and I'm perfectly okay if you looked at my Gossamer Jewel Box blog once upon a time, and thought it was crap. I very sincerely respect differences in opinion. But I'm not posting, nor reading, any comment that may attack me here. I have it under pretty good authority that they found THIS blog while searching for it on google.com after I set it to private. So if any of them have anything demeaning or negative to say to me, it'll be deleted before anyone else has a chance to see it. Because after I slander their names all over my blog, their value is gone.

Letters of Intent, Dear So-and-So, and Feel Good Friday

Feel Good Friday

1. Apparently the GI bill is supposed to start working again soon.

2. I sold a tiny pair of fairy wings to a good photography friend of mine-they're adorable. I'm very happy with how they turned out. it's great, because I haven't sold any for awhile.

3. Ren Faire season is beginning, so maybe I'll sell a few more pairs of wings in the next several months.

4. I'm helping to plan a fairy ball to happen at the end of June. I'm hoping to have a wonderful dress and a lot of lovely fairy pictures to share from that party.

5. While I don't have morning sickness yet, I am clinging to my sore boobs as a sure sign that I'm still pregnant. I admit, I'm really nervous this time around due to my chemical pregnancy last time...though, it looks as though this baby is sticking.

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Dear "Perfect Moms"-

You know the type. The ones who have never in their whole lives screwed up. The ones who have never lashed out irrationally. Who have never called their kids Brats and never will, nor will they let a name like "nasty", "snotty", or "naughty" escape their lips. The ones who respond to everything with cheerfulness and perfect, effective discipline. The mothers who have been in every single situation that any other mother comes across, and has not only handled it better, but also feels the need to tell the mother in question HOW to do it better.

This letter is for you.

First of all, I have to very vehemently disagree with your perfection, and move on to say that I don't believe you in the very slightest.

Like you've really never EVER let your kid watch television while you do something for yourself for 5 minutes. Like you've NEVER taken your eyes off of them and in the meantime, they amused themselves like an angel instead of doing something that causes a big mess and a need for discipline- like dumping flour all over the floor, or writing on the walls with red lipstick for example. Riiiight. You're with them 24/7. (And by 24/7, I mean, you never EVER, for a SECOND, let them out of your sight. Poor, poor depraved, repressed children!) YOU have the stamina and patience to play with them constantly, because THAT is what a GOOD mommy does.

I just have to say that you people, if you are indeed so 'perfect' are, in my opinion, the reason for the diminishing sense of respect and responsibility in today's society. YOU are responsible for the entitledness that people have today. For SURE the way to handle a child's misbehavior, gross antics, or otherwise unsavory actions is to coddle them, smooch them, and tell them that you love them soooooo much that nothing they do will ever upset you, but please don't paint the walls with poop anymore, okay, Shnookems? Yeah. THAT's the way to get your point across.

Furthermore, unless a parent is blatantly beating the snot out of their child in public, it is not your business, nor is it appropriate to approach the parent mid-discipline and correct their tactic. Nor is is appropriate to immediately dial 911, call the police, notify store security, or especially tattle to CPS.

A parent is not abusing or humiliating a child when they discipline in public. There is no humiliation involved if a child has to sit on a time out at a store, or if a mother gives a quick swat to the bum. There is nothing wrong with a child screaming in the checkout line because the mother told her that she may not have a pack of gum. For you to intervene in any of these and any other situations is out of line, and downright self righteous, wrong, and immoral.

Child abuse is a very serious, very real thing. And your self righteousness causes a lot of grief and pain and irreversible damage to a lot of good, decent families, which, in turn, takes time and resources away from the children who really DO need the help.

And for the record- when a child does something wrong, it is not automatically a sign of abuse- sexual, emotional or otherwise. If that were the case, every person, 100 years and younger, would be a victim of abuse- bar none.

Signed- Thanks for your unsolicited concern, but go find something more worthy of your passion than undermining parents in front of their children.

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Dear Sick Mommies-

Morning sickness is a part of being pregnant.

Sorry. Unless you are vomiting so badly that you are dehydrated and losing weight, medication is not necessary, and it IS required that you suck it up, work through the headaches, nausea and exhaustion.

Comfort is one thing. Taking a nap or going to bed early is one thing. But no one feels 100% great throughout a pregnancy, and the fewer drugs you give your baby, the better.

~Sincerely, ~eye roll~

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Dear Overly Sensitive Mommies-

Whether you ARE pregnant and you're pissed off because everyone else has moved past the "YAY!"'s and "Congratulations"'s doesn't mean they don't care about you or aren't happy for your new baby. It just means that they have other things to worry about besides you and how sick/happy/emotional/grumpy/sad/excited you are. No one cares except for you and your doctor. I've had 3. I'm working on 4. Believe me. It is not every one's job to bow down to you, wait on you hand and foot, and meet your every need. It doesn't make them insensitive, it makes them worried about their own things, which they have every right to be doing.

For those of you who are angry because a sister in law, or friend, or aunt or whoever, has gone on to have a happy and healthy pregnancy while you had a miscarriage, well, I'm so so sorry for your loss. I really do understand. But it is not their fault, and it is NOT insensitive of THEM to have a baby, it is insensitive of YOU to make them feel like they have done something wrong by having a child.

It is also not okay in any way to expect your sister in law, your friend, your aunt, or whoever, to put their family plans on hold simply because you lost a baby. Sensitivity, of course, is desired, and yes, i have seen some cases where women ARE sincerely rude about it. But it does not automatically make a woman a bad friend, family member, or even make her rude or insensitive because she chooses to have a baby that happens to coincide with your miscarriage.

Miscarriages are awful things that should never have to happen to anyone. But they do. And the world does not stop turning. I am very sincerely sorry.

But PLEASE look at this story from both sides before you go around whining about how insensitive they are and how you can't stand to be around them. When you step back and look at that, what does it REALLY sound like?

Signed- Who's the jerk now?

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Dear Cloud In The Sky That Looked Like A Fluffy Little Pirate Ship-

You made my day today. So cute. I wish I hadn't been driving and that I had had my camera.

Adoringly, Please Do It Again.

Tiptoe Through the Tulips

Well, today, I have chosen to participate with Mama Kat's writer's prompt Thursday. The prompt I chose was:
2.) Where were your shoes? Write about an interesting time when you happened to be barefoot. Begin and end your writing with a description of your feet.

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When I was a kid, I thought my dad was the smartest, most talented guy ever. He could build ANYTHING. Truth be told, I still think the same about him.

(My dad and my brother, Biege, at his wedding in Dec '08)

He's a drywall contractor by trade, and he built the house that he and my mom live in- the house that I grew up in my whole life- from the ground up. He did everything, from the framing, to the wiring, to the plumbing, to the tile floor and installation of their gorgeous claw foot tub- a relic my mom salvaged from a house that burned down across the street from my great grandmother back when I was around 7 years old.

(The famous claw foot tub that is as big as a twin bed.)

When it comes down to it, when I have an idea in my head, my dad is the first person I think of who could possibly build what it is I'm thinking of- which, knowing ME, isn't always the easiest feat: Giant birds nests, boat-like cradles (see The Roan Inish), laundry shoots that will reach my basement laundry room even though there is no REAL place in the house that makes a feasible path...and the list goes on.

Anyway, as a Drywall contractor, my dad had an easier time of taking us kids to work when we were off track, or on summer break. Often, my mom would insist on it. And we went with him a lot.

Going with Dad to work was great. We spent a lot of time playing in basements that were poured, but not finished. Wires usually hung all over the place, and pieces of scrap wood from the framers littered every corner. We brought our Bucket o' Soldiers and our Bucket O' Dinosaurs and played in the piles of dirt left by the tractors that dug the foundation. We would run through the houses- some small, some impressively huge with lovely vaulted ceilings and round front windows already installed, and claim 'our rooms'. Throughout the shells of those empty houses, my dad's music would drift through, and out to the unfinished yards where we would play, and the voices of both my dad, and his partner Val would occasionally rise with silly lyrics in place of the forgotten ones, or simple communication.

Days at work with Dad started out with us stopping at a gas station to grab a doughnut, a soda and some other candy to snack on before lunch- and then we'd go to some fast food place for lunch, which was, of course the best...except when we went to Weinerschnitzel...which was dad's favorite, but it made me kind of sick. (Except that we could sit on poles with miniature saddles attached to them, which was cool. I don't know what that Weinerschnitzel was before it WAS the Weinerschnitzel, but I think I speak for everyone when I suspect that the saddles were out of place.)

The best days at work were the days that Val brought his kids with him too. Braden and Jordan were kind of like brothers to my brother and I. Braden was a year older than myself, while Jordan was my same age. Biege was, as my loyal readers know, 3 years younger than I.

Many a day we spent breaking and entering abandoned and condemned old houses, swearing they were haunted. (Honestly, I still swear that the rocking chair in the middle of that room was rocking ever so slightly. No, I don't think it could have been the wind, even though the window was broken all over the floor, and it was a particularly chilly and rainy day.) We built miniature houses out of blocks of leftover wood, bent, rusty nails and white, chalky drywall mud. We drew all over the place with red, permanent chalk that the brick layers used to map out their laying patterns. We played many games of Jurassic Park and GI Joe. Rarely did they ever give in and play girly things with me. But that was okay. I was keen on playing boy things.

Sardines was one of our favorite games. It's like hide and seek, but backwards. One person hides, and everyone looks for them. When you find them, you both stay put and let everyone else find you.

Once, there was this great new house that was one of the very first in the beginning stages of a new subdivision. Which meant that all around it was acres upon acres of field. Of course, we're in Utah, so it was FLAT acres of field, no interesting trees or forested areas, just flat overgrown weedy fields.

There were still interesting things there. For example, there was a wonderful old car out in the middle of this field, behind the house that my dad was building. Now, the logistics of how it got there is beyond me, now that I think about it. Who in their right mind would drive a car out there, where there were no houses or roads anywhere near it? (and by the look of this thing, when it was parked there, there WERE no roads or houses for miles) I'd like to think it was the result of some romantic plot gone comically wrong, though the truth will forever be a mystery. At the time, no thought about it ever crossed my mind.

To a girl of around 11 years old (and of course the 11, 12, and 8 year old boys with her), this car might as well have been a buried pirate treasure.

It was an old VW Beetle, though there wasn't a scrap of paint left on it. The old thing, in it's entirety was brown, dull rust. There were no tires, no windows, and no doors. The seats, though they were torn, and I'm sure there was a nest of mice living in the stuffing of the back bench, were there, and still properly installed.

This car was MY sardines hiding place. I actually fell asleep in the thing while the boys were looking for me. Braden found me first, and by the time Jordan wandered out there, where the rest of us were crouched so as not to be visible through the glassless windshield, Braden had a better idea than playing Sardines.

"I dare Brae and Biege to walk back to the house in only their socks."

Well, duh, we took the dare. I mean, what 11 year old wouldn't?

Besides that, at a glance it just looked like a lot of dirt, rocks, some soft grass and maybe some wild flowers or wheat shoots here and there. So we did it.

And we stopped half way across because what we didn't notice when looking at the growing things between the house and the old car was that it was choc full of stickers- you know the kind. The kind that HURT and scrape your skin, and stick to your clothes. And by the time we got half way across, our socks were no longer socks. They were a mess of white fabric puckered and pleated together by so many stickers that you almost couldn't even see the fabric itself.

Braden and Jordan gave us piggy back rides back to the house, where my dad promptly called us to go home. And he seriously flipped when he saw our socks.

I can't say I blame him. I did then, but from a parent's point of view, the words "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!?" come to mind.

Well, I already told you what I was thinking, and, for an 11 year old, I still think it was sound. It made sense at the time, to walk across a vast weedy field in our socks. (Note to self: Remember this when your pre-teen walks into the house with some strange behavior having made a mess of his life. To an 11 year old, different things make sense.)

By the time we got home, Dad made us both sit on the porch and pull out every last sticker from our socks before we were allowed in the house. It took us hours. But my bare feet felt warm on the cement of the front steps, and I certainly learned my lesson. Never again did I go shoeless across an empty field. Barefoot, yes. And I did walk across a small flowing river while on a camping trip with some friends, just to find out that those wet socks were the only ones I had packed...but never again did I subject myself to a pair of socks full of stickers.

Anyway, the next day, I didn't go to work with my dad and brother because I was still mad at him for making me pick out all the stickers, as well as horribly embarrassed about my idiocy.

Jordan didn't go either, I learned, and I wonder if Jordan and I had gone, maybe Braden and Biege wouldn't have burned down the entire several acres of field. (But that's a story for another time.)

~Shrugs~ Boys and their dares.

Wordless Wednesday, and You know you're a mom when...

(How's THAT for wordless? BTW, this counter is permanantly available for study at the bottom of my blog.)

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A NEW Meme I'm participating in because it's stinkin' awesome!!!!!!!!!!!

You know you're a mom when all your chapsticks have teeth marks in themYou know you're a mom when you get chocolates from your kids for Mother's day...and let them eat all the chocolates themselves.You know you're a mom when you're about to get down and dirty with the hubster and you have to pause to remove an offending baby doll from between the sheets.

Not Me Monday!!

So, I do NOT have more pictures on my computer than it can hold.

For mother's day my most amazing husband did NOT give me an external hard drive that holds all my pictures with tons of room to spare- meaning I now get to 'start over' with the space on my actual computer.

On mother's day, I did NOT spend most of the day jealous because my kids cease to notice me at all whenever Daddy is home...including mother's day.

Also, yesterday, I did NOT feel like a guilty failure when my son, who has been potty trained for more than a year, who is 3 years old, pooped in his underwear, and cried so ashamed, to Brandon "Don't tell my mommy." (Because I threatened that if he didn't go to the bathroom I'd put him in a diaper.) What kind of 3 year old feels too worried about something to tell his mommy?

My living room is NOT still full of costumes, wings, makeup, crowns, and a box full of rings I made that I shoved in there over a week ago after the ren faire i did. ~Sigh~ I'm lazy. i know.

It is NOT going to be freezing and raining all week - which means that I do NOT have to reschedule some fairy shoots. ~BITTER, BITTER whine.~

Scarlet does NOT regularly wear boys underwear. I'm talking Transformers, Spider man, Iron Man and Dinosaurs. They are NOT actually Mahone's underwear...but she does so enjoy those super heroes.

Happy Mother's Day, to MY mother, Brandon's mothers, and all children's mothers the world over. Sunday Sonnets

Sonnets are full of love

Christina Rossetti (1881)


Sonnets are full of love, and this my tome
Has many sonnets: so here now shall be
One sonnet more, a love sonnet, from me
To her whose heart is my heart’s quiet home,
To my first Love, my Mother, on whose knee
I learnt love-lore that is not troublesome;
Whose service is my special dignity,
And she my loadstar while I go and come
And so because you love me, and because
I love you, Mother, I have woven a wreath
Of rhymes wherewith to crown your honored name:
In you not fourscore years can dim the flame
Of love, whose blessed glow transcends the laws
Of time and change and mortal life and death.















My mom (Ammah)

My Paternal Grandma (Grammy)

5 Generations Left to right

My mom, my maternal grandma (Mammy)

Me, Lilly, my maternal great grandma (Nanny)

Brandon's mom (Banba)

Brandon's mother, (Grandmother)

Brandon's mom (Grandma Chrissy)

Feel Good Friday, Letters Of Intent, and Dear So-and-so.

I know! I've been gone and haven't participated and my sitemeter has gone down from several hundred visits on average per day to around 30 per day- so whatever brilliant blogger told me that it was okay to take time off if you needed it, and that your followers would be waiting and watching patiently for your return didn't know what she was talking about. I've only been skipping a single post here and there for 2 weeks and MAN, my blog is suffering.

**Side note- for those who are thinking of becoming an ex follower, please don't. I've lost ever so many lately, due to heaven knows what- I sincerely hope that I didn't offend anyone- but I don't think you understand the major hit my self esteem takes when I see that my followers have dwindled. So keep following...or I'll hunt you down. ~Tries for a very very serious look~

Feel Good Friday-

Well, as many of you know, I helped out with a booth at a ren faire last Saturday (please see my wordless Wednesday for pics of my son in his kilt! So epically cute!) Of course, with the extremely depressing weather, I did awful, and didn't make any money at all!

However, I'm very excited because I have friends who have made appointments for me to take pictures of their lovely little girls as fairies for 30 bucks a sitting. (If you're in Utah and you're interested, send me a message!) This is very good news for me! It gives me both a little extra money as well as new models. I'm so excited about this, and I know that while many will read this and think it's soooo out of the ordinary 'Feel Good Friday" realm, it's just one of the things that has me happy lately.

Speaking of fairies, I want to share with you my latest capture- a little flower fairy- (flower fairies are a branch of the Dryad family and are bound in life and spirit to their flowers- more on this subject for Saturday at http://www.thegossamerjewelbox.blogspot.com/ ) This one happens to be an apple blossom fairy. Can you spot her?

Also, Miss Scarlet Serafina Estelle has potty trained her own little butt. And I had nothing to do with it. I mean, besides putting her on the potty when she said "Haffa go baffoom!" YAY for independent kids and no more diapers! That being said, there is still the occasional wet mess. But it's only occasional. And she's doing so well! When she has gone an entire 2 weeks without a single accident, she gets to have her ears pierced. She changes her mind every day about the color of earrings she wants, but hey, she's into it.

Dear Readers-

Beware- some of this is TMI. If you're tired of reading my letters to my body about how it's failing me by failing to conceive, then maybe you'd better move on. But I'd prefer you stay and savor all the disgusting, dirty details with me. So fun, isn't it? To talk about our grown, hormonal bodies as though they were something perfectly blase, like the weather, or a Friday, or cheese? How lovely to be able to discuss the texture, color, and amount of cervical mucus we have, because, after all, it's something all women have in common...right?

~Sincerely, Not for the Faint of Heart.

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Dear Head-

I am tired of feeling dizzy. I am tired of the almost- black outs, even after having eaten a good breakfast. The only other time this has ever happened to me was when I was anemic during pregnancy. Let that be a warning to you that this had better be what it is. Yes, I'm taking vitamins...but they're kids gummy vitamins as prenatals make me sick. So I'll start taking iron, you help me out by being a positive sign. Kay? Kay.

~Signed, Dizzy.

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Dear Neck-

It would be so spectacularly awesome if you would stop hurting today. I KNOW we had a really terrible time sleeping last night and that we were cold and then hot and then cold and hot again, and that Scarlet cried 'cause she had to pee, and we had to wake Brandon and kick him out of bed when Mahone had to pee- but considering the fact that we're already exhausted, Head isn't helping, and we still have the rest of the day to face, don't you think you could cut me some slack today?

Thanks- Needs a Massage

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Dear Boobs-

Yeah- you overgrown lumps of fat, you. You're still sore. Still. usually, by this point in my cycle, the tenderness is usually long gone by now. I mean, it's not like you're unbearable- just noticeable. Noticeable enough to make me depressingly optimistic. Don't disappoint this time.

~Cross My Heart

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Dear Sciatic Nerve in my lower back-

Okay, well, I might really be over thinking this because it's never ever taken me this long to get pregnant and back in the day, when I used to get knocked up really easily, I wasn't aware that there really were other symptoms aside from morning sickness, which never kicks in for me until around week 6 or 7 or even 8.

Oh, ignorance really is bliss. Anyway, the girls over at BBC are telling me that lower back pain is a possible early sign of pregnancy. Well, I dearly hope so, because, just like later in my pregnancies when sciatica kicks in, I kind of feel like sticking a fork in there, and, much like Chef Louis does to the fish he is cooking on "The Little Mermaid", I want to put so much pressure on the fork that it bends and then spontaneously flings the nerve out into nowhere whilst straightening like some sort of trebuchet. (See video below at about :35 seconds)

Yes, my friend Sciatica. Cool it. Or you'll be dinner. (or, even if you don't, I'll settle for positive energy toward my baby making machine.)

Much love- the Chef

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Dear Baby Making Machine: (AkA Uterus)

I cannot believe you are making me write to you AGAIN. Really? What is it, exactly, that you are not understanding. I'm impatient. I'm terrible at waiting. I want a baby and I want one now. So shape it up. The doc says you're perfect and look rather like you've never even housed a child, which, BTW, he said is a GOOD thing. It means you're young and fertile. So show me some fertility!!!

Love- I suppose saying "don't make me come in there" has lost it's flavor by now? How about this: You're about to get Pink Slipped.

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Dear Ovaries:

I know you ovulated. Good job. At least someone around here is pulling their weight. I mean 2 days of pain is a small price to pay to know that there's a blessed spherical object soon to float down my fallopian tubes. 5 days of positive ovulation tests and a weeks worth of egg white cervical mucus confirmed my suspicions.

Keep up the good work.

Sincerely- I feel like a boss right now.

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Dear Egg:

IMPLANT IMPLANT IMPLANT!!!!!

Signed- Sunny side up, Please- No more Scrambled.

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Dear Brandon's Boys-

Swim straight and take your first left. Not that hard.

Signed: It's not me, it's you.

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Dear Body as a collective single entity:

WE (Brandon and I) did it right. Did YOU?

"We could learn a lot from crayons; some are sharp, some are pretty, some are dull, while others bright, some have weird names, but they all have learned to live together in the same box.”

My Kid In A Kilt. Wordless Wednesday

Touchy Topic Tuesday- Children and Technology

Hey there friends! I guess it's back in the saddle again, huh? I've been excessively busy for over a week getting ready for a fair that flopped for me, but was good for the school, so I guess that's what matters anyway.

Anyway- I'm still recovering, believe it or not. I cleaned all day. I'm exhausted...and it didn't seem to make a dent. I have costume pieces, wings, root beer kegs, and all manner of weapons thrown about my whole house. (Don't worry- the weapons are mostly decorative, unsharpened, stainless steel swords and such. Anything that would hurt any of my children is out of sight.)

So, today I'm going to make it short and sweet- but not as short as last time.

Children And Technology

All over the inter net, in articles, in conversation, I hear parents crying in outrage about their children and cell phones, computers, I-pods, blackberries, and the list goes on.

The majority of parents I talk to seem to be completely against their children having access to technology such as a cell phone, though, in my experience, the majority of children now-a-days have them. So they can't all REALLY be against them.

"I didn't have a cell phone or the inter net growing up. My kid can survive without it too!" passionate mothers declare, pointer finger stretched to the sky as though she is standing behind a pulpit.

The truth of the matter is, yes, we did survive. But we lived in a completely different age.

Back in my day, we had to write our papers in black or blue pen. And it had to be in cursive.

Did you know that cursive is becoming what some consider a 'lost art'? They don't even teach it in school now. The lessons for cursive have been replaced by typing lessons, and some junior high and high schools issue their students lap tops the way they would issue a text book for the year.

When it comes down to it, we survived, but it's possible our children can't. Well, I'm sure they'd SURVIVE, but I'm not sure they'd THRIVE. I honestly think that to deny them access to some of the 'controversial' technology out there really might be doing them a social and educational disservice.

I admit- when my children are around 9 or 10, they will probably get a cell phone. I'm also admitting that it will be heavily monitored- only certain phone numbers will be allowed to be called, only certain people will be allowed to text. There most certainly are dangers. But everything forbidden becomes desirable, and if the thing they want is completely out of reach, the more likely a child is to rebel. A child who is given a thing that they find completely wonderful, and given the responsibility of rules to follow, well, that child will live up to expectations.

My point is that our children are the ones who will be inventing the next big thing. They will be using this technology in ELEMENTARY school. Some of us find that intimidating because we have NO idea how to work it. It was a sad sad day when my brother (12) showed my dad how to put the parental controls on the inter net. But they will use it because they need it. It's the way the world is now.

Why fight it? Why not embrace it and teach your children how to be responsible?

What do you think? When will you allow your children to have cell phones or to access the inter net?