Hoedown Throwdown

WHAT MAKES ME MAD! Part II

1. M&M arguing as soon as I am conscious in the morning.

2. Elle doing her famous “shake the living daylights out of her milk-filled bottle soaking the carpet” trick. 

3. Getty putting on the same purple and grey striped t-shirt and jeans every morning for school. Sometimes I notice, sometimes I don't (not a morning person). When I ask him to put on clean clothes he puts on another shirt he's already worn in the last couple of days and which is lying on the floor. He changes a 3rd time into a t-shirt he fished out of his dirty clothes hamper. Does he HAVE clean clothes? How about a selection of suitable t-shirts and shorts? The answer is he has far too many clean shirts in his drawers. All he needs is ONE, as long as it's dirty. That's his point. And my point is this also MAKES ME MAD! (okay, frustrated)

4. Ziplock packaging #@*&@!!!

5. "Leakproof" sipper cups. What a set-up.

Done for now.

WHAT MAKES ME MAD!

I've decided to keep an ANGER journal. Probably not the healthiest thing to focus on, but, hey, it's something to do. Anticipate many entries in the near future. 

Here we go...

Elle rarely wakes up before 8:00 a.m. Rob is out of town, so she has woken up at 6:45 two mornings in a row. The third night, she woke up screaming at 2:30 a.m. with a fever. I had just gotten to bed 1 hour prior because I had to pick up Mia from a dance competition after awards. Yes, the dance competition awards, which involve girls, ages 3 to 17 (the majority being under age 12) went until 1:10 a.m. She commences to sob for the next 30 minutes about how much she misses dance and how unfair it is that I won’t drive her to the freeway four times a week (30 minutes round-trip) and coordinate other dancer’s parents to pick her up from the freeway and take her the rest of the way to dance (30 minutes round-trip) and then pick her up at the freeway (another 30 minutes) after someone else’s mom takes her there (30 minutes). Because other moms, she explains, would love to take her to and from dance and the freeway four times a week. It’s not a problem. For them. Only for me. And we only care about McKenzie and soccer. We don’t do anything for her. (Only basketball, space camp, picking her up at 1:00 a.m. from a dance competition so she could socialize with old friends….) And I never listen to her. I only make fun of her and laugh at her. (I snickered when she suggested other people’s parents could drive her to dance for me…).

I am French braiding Mia’s hair, Elle is “combing” it (read: pulling hair out as fast as I can braid it). She’s frustrated, while Cam is doing all he can to get her to scream. The oven timer downstairs dings. It dings again. Again. Again. (It’s been 5 minutes.) MK is on the couch downstairs, lying there. Not asleep. I yell down, “Can you take the chicken out of the oven?” No response. “MK,” no response. I hurry and finish Mia’s hair and run downstairs through gray smoke. MK is staring off into space. “Why didn’t you get the chicken?" "You said we were done.” (As in done watching me prepare the chicken, so they could learn what you do with one.)

I haven’t slept more than 6 hours a night in the past 7 days. Does that have something to do with my anger? Or are my kids THAT annoying? You know what I think… 

Man Camp at Powell

I caught you a delicious bass.

A hair-raising experience.

I don't need directions—relax, I know what I'm doing...

(More Powell posts below Cam's video)

Do Little Boys Have to Grow Up?

My teacher was born of Jesus and her sing me "I am a Child of God" like this...

He's three. I'm in love. And I don't want him to turn four. I'll support his healthy development anyway. Because that's the kind of mom I am. Self-sacrificing. A martyr. Oh, I'll get over it.

Dudes and Drips

I had to talk Rob into going on this trip. And when I did, he dreaded it. Not the company (his boys and the Cattens), just all the fun in the sun and all—I mean, really, who needs it?!

He's an original. And he's all mine. Love that dude.

Drip castle with Morrie

Tube Wars, A Fuzzy Baby, and Popularity

Tube wars were not caught on film, but were the highlight. 

Another kind of tube war (above): Driver (Mike) vs. Tube Parasites. Getty was his sole victim thus far, and Mike was not well pleased. Pictured is the rampage that ensued. 

Getty, loving his fuzzy caterpillar baby.

Hieroglyphics. Cy showed me, "This guy thought he was popular." Guess which one.

Ancient Indian ruins.

"How Am I Supposed to Live Without You?"

Meanwhile back at the ranch, Cam was pining away for Cy. MK's idea was to put Cy's photo next to Cam's bed, but all Cam would say was, "I don't want frozen Cy; I want real Cy."

Shoot!

Rob decided a few soccer seasons ago that he would reward each goal with a candy bar. Harmless enough, right? Until Cy came along. He was regularly racking up 5 and 6 candy bars a game. So, a couple of weeks ago Rob thought it would be “funny” to make another deal. “If you make 10 goals in a game, I’ll buy you a dirtbike.” I say “funny” because Rob had no intention of ever buying him a dirtbike. But it was a safe bet, right?

 

In today’s game, Cy scored his usual 5 or 6 goals, then 7, then 8. By this time, his teammates had told their parents about the deal, so the entire Dolphin sideline was cheering Cy on, while Rob sat lower and lower in his fold-up chair. Two minutes to go, and Cy scores number 9. With only 30 seconds to go, he gets a fast break and drives to the goal. He shoots…and misses. With 10 seconds to go, he drives toward the goal and shoots.

He missed.

We’re saved.

Until next time.

Compromises

MK’s middle school dance company coach told her, “You really should try out for [the high school] drill team.” MK sulked, “My mom won’t let me, because of my soccer schedule.” Coach said, “Well, I need to talk to your mom, because you’re really talented, and it’s a shame if you don’t try out.”

What the dance coach doesn’t realize is: one, how painfully aware I am of her dance talent; two, how talented MK is at soccer; and three, how I yearn for a chauffeur who could keep up with not only year-round soccer and dance for MK, but also track, as the high school track coach has made special arrangements with MK’s soccer coach for her to run track whenever soccer is not in conflict.

To paraphrase Elder Ballard, perhaps these coaches do not fully appreciate that “when you schedule a child, you schedule a family, particularly the mother." Wouldn’t it be awesome if I could spend all of my time helping MK to cultivate her tremendous and varied talents? I would love to be that for her. Alas, I have laundry, meals, other soccer schedules, scouts, YW, diapers, toddlers, birthday parties, errands, homework, chores, and the list of excitement goes on….

MK (and Mia to a lesser extent) will probably be the only one(s) to have to sacrifice some of their pursuits, so the younger kids (particularly the toddlers) can enjoy a richer home life instead of be strapped into the car or left at home with an older sibling more often than not.

I trust that Heavenly Father has designed McKenzie’s life plan in such a way as to capitalize on her most important talents, experiences, and growth, because from my limited perspective, I just feel like a stumbling block and a hindrance as MK struggles to magnify her talents.  (She shares my view. L)

A Wish and a Kiss

I walked into Cam’s bedroom to say prayers and found him lying with his hands behind his head, deep in thought. He looked over at me and said, “I want to be ten.”

“Why do you want to be ten?”

“Mom… I just really want to be ten, okay?”

 “You got it.” And then we said prayers.  

Here, Cam demonstrates his morning send-off per Daddy's request, "Shoot me a kiss." Ka-POW!