Goodbye Funk. Hello Hope.

Well, Now that I have depressed the bejeezus out of all 4 of my readers, I thought I would bounce back with a little message of encouragement. But first I must do a little backpeddling to get you up to speed.

GirlyWoman is a chip off her fathers block. She is stubborn, determined, and acts before she thinks. She gets in too deep. She is flighty. And she's been making very bad choices in her life. The last three years have been *hard*. Even harder for us as parents to watch. She did alot of stupid things to try proving her independence, but she wound up regretting most of it. The highlights involve shutting out her family, an unsavory boyfriend, several insane roommates, the possibility of jail time, and a false alarm pregnancy. (not necessarily in that order)

Yep. It's been a trainwreck.

And yet. I see light at the end of the tunnel.

A few months ago, she turned 20. Then she landed a job. A nice job working as a personal assistant and receptionist. She dumped the boyfriend and decided to move into her own place. She paid off her car. She went to mandatory classes and paid a whopper of a fine, to avoid jail. And slowly but surely she is digging herself out. I can't help but feel that she's finally on the right road.

She called me today to tell me that she misses the family, and wants to come home for a few weeks in the summer.

For the first time in a long time, I feel hopeful.

Moments

Sometimes life throws you one. A moment that blurs your senses and gives you an immediate knee buckling. That adrenaline you feel when you can't find your child in the Walmart and for just a few minutes, time seems to stop and you lose the calmness of reality, and imagine the horror of what could be. Most times the moment is brief and you move on, but other times, it lingers.

In June 2007 our entire town had a moment.

We live in a TINY town. We have a mercantile where little old men sit around drinking coffee in the morning catching up on the local gossip. Our school has less than 300 students even with a combined gradeschool and middleschool. Everyone knows each other. You brush past them at the post office, you see them again later in the day picking up your kids from school. You sit next to them at the games. You are friends, and your children are best friends. Mayberry. Little House. The town in the John Denver songs.

So content it is, that you forget that bad things can happen.

The morning of June 1st seemed lighthearted. GirlyDiva was happy. So was BoyGenius. They trotted off to the school bus without a care. And then, 2 hours later..

The "moment" began.

I called my good friend, whose younger son also attends our school. But before I even spoke, she said "Oh my God - have you heard?!" No... I hadn't heard. "Three girls were killed last night, One of them was in the 7th grade class!"

I was silent. My legs went instantly numb. Because *MY* GirlyDiva was in the 7th grade. And there were only 3 other girls in her class. And of those girls, ONE was her best friend in the world. They were always together.They'd been attached at the hip since 2nd grade. Without thinking I hung up on my friend. My hands began to tremble uncontrollably and I struggled to dial GirlyDivas cell number. I chanted out loud "Please don't let it be Lana, Please don't let it be Lana, Please God, Please don't let it be her." When GirlyDiva answered, she couldn't speak. All I could hear was her gutteral sobbing, and boys & girls in the background screaming and wailing. I didn't have to ask. I knew by the deepness of her sobs- It was Lana. GirlyDiva managed one shaky word: "Mamma."

I raced to the school in 8 minutes flat. There were kids and teachers everywhere, crying and clinging to each other as though it were a crime scene. When I got GirlyDiva in the car, she fell into my arms and wept for what seemed like forever. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to comfort such incredible pain. I couldn't tell her everything would be okay. Because I knew that for her, life would never be the same. I simply whispered "I'm so sorry" into her hair.

As days went by, the horror of the tragedy came further into focus. Lana's family had been driving to California to attend a WEDDING. They were driving on the highway at night, when they slammed into the back of a semi-truck that had pulled over to the side of the road, but not quite far enough. It's trailer was sticking out into the lane with the lights off. Lana's mother didn't even get a chance to apply the brakes. The entire right side of the vehicle was simply sheared off.

Lana, and 2 of her 3 sisters were killed instantly. Lana and Mandy attended 7th and 8th grade. The oldest, Charlene, was preparing to graduate highschool.

Lana's mother who was driving, and the youngest sister age 10, were sitting in the left side of the car. They both survived the crash with barely a scratch.

Imagine it. A little girl, who once had a home filled with the laughter of 4 young girls, is now an only child. Our tiny town grieved for them.

GirlyDiva still cries for the loss of her dear friend. And I cry for GirlyDiva, and the remaining family. I simply can't imagine losing any of my children, but THREE?

I had wondered what I was going to blog about to make up for the time I've been absent. And then today while picking up the BoyKing, I saw the memorial to these beautiful young girls- and I knew.

And then I went to read Lisas Blog. And then Natashas Blog.

And it all seemed appropriate, because it looks like their families are having a moment too.

Amber Alert

Hey peeps. No I am not dead. Nor have I been kidnapped. No bizarre pickle jar opening accident which left my fingers paralyzed. No..I have been having a SERIOUS case of Seasonal Attitude & Depression. I am so effin SICK of snow. and mud. and more snow. and more mud. It's got me down. and I can't blog when I am depressed.

And now I have a Cold. A bad one. One that easily rivals my Induction flu. It's kicking my Assets. But I will post Monday, I promise. A nice juicy long thought provoking post.

::Hack-hack cough-snot hack-wheeze::

Is It Friday Already?

● I haven't been able to post this past few days because we had yet another birthday to prepare for. This time for the BoyKing. He turned 5 years old. It makes me a little sad to start seeing the "boy features" popping up on him- my baby is slowly disappearing. He had a great birthday, and the Tweens had a great time decorating for him with streamers and balloons.

● In reference to the above thought- Don't try to bake cupcakes and inadvertently leave out the eggs. It isn't pretty, and your baking pans will thank you later. Just Sayin'.



● To The BoyKings Preschool: My local grocery store has had TWO salmonella "scares" in the last 6 months. One in the produce department, and one in Peanut Butter that the store was actually using in their own baked goods. Are you seriously going to tell me I can't bring homemade cupcakes because store bought cupcakes are *SAFER*? seriously? (Oh wait..Never mind.. I had to buy them anyway because of that whole egg thing.. But next time, You better believe I am going to be really put out about this.)



● GirlyWoman, (whom I rarely mention because even thinking about the trainwreck that is her life right now exhausts me) Called me out of the blue yesterday, and dedicated a song to me. Taylor Swift - Fearless Album - The Best Day. I cried for an hour. She never does things like this. She is possibly the most self serving child on the earth. NOW she's bringing this kind of emotion to the table?! She is trying to kill me. Cause of death? Broken heart.



● Apparently GirlyDiva is now a well known fashion trend setter. EVERYONE in her school is telling her how fabulous her shoes are (you remember..the BELOVED shoes) even with the faded mudstains, she's beating off the admirers with a stick. Here they are.


And last but not least, I have been on my diet since January 7th or so. It's been a month. I have summoned EVERY ounce of strength I have, and aside from the poptart mishap, and the cookie dough debacle and half a piece of Boy Kings Birthday cake I have NOT ingested *ANY* artificial carbs. NONE. If it didn't come from a vegetable, it didn't happen. I have not eaten dairy (aside from cheese) for a month. I have NOT touched a single ounce of chocolate. ZIPPO. And for that, I have lost 2 pants sizes. GO ME!!!
I am wearing a pair of jeans that last month *I could not even GET ON*. And they are even getting loose in the butt. My favorite bra is now about 3 inches too big.
( Slammit, I KNEW those would be the first to go...)

Always Sumthin'

A delightful morning. That's what it was. The dysd tweens got up in time to make it out the door for the bus without a rush, and there was *NO* morning bickering. A wholesome Toaster Strudel Breakfast was even administered. Peacefully quiet. Then time to wake BoyKing for Pre-school. He woke up in a fantastic mood - he was actually giggling. Got him dressed - easypeasy, even found his shoes in record time. He sat cheerfully and ate his french toast sticks while watching a short segment of Bob the Builder while I finished getting ready to drive him to school.

Oh wait..Have I mentioned that this kind of morning NEVER happens at Dysdhouse?
There is always SOMETHING with the tweens: I can't find my shoes!..Have you seen my hairbrush?! ~ Where's my lunchbox!? ~ Tell her to shuttup!! ~ NO! tell *him* to shut up! ~ Get off my coat! ~ My Strudel was in the toaster FIRST! ~ So what! You're hogging the toaster!

Um..Yeeeeaaaah....

And then there are the mornings where BoyKing flat refuses to even put a sock on. Or wear those pants. Or that shirt.

there. is. always. something.


So anyway.

I am so giddy with the way the morning has turned out. On the drive home, I am so content that I start to tingle.

Wait.. tingle?! There it is again.. Distinct tingling. IN MY UPPER LIP. Oh For Jacksakes. A coldsore??!!

See...there had to be SOMETHING.

Cracker.

Wealthy Women Don't Blog

Okay Guys. I'm shutting down the blog.
DysdHouse is movin' on up! I've already picked out my Mercedes, and a Hummer for DysdHubby. As soon as all the money gets here, we're sending the dysdchildren to a lovely boarding school nestled in the Swiss Alps. We'll be buying property in London, Bermuda, and perhaps Canada..You know..for the skiing. Goodbye and farewell. Cuz..um..This letter that just arrived to my inbox just HAS to be the real deal.. LOOKIT. It's got all those big official fancy looking words & stuff...And the grammar. WOW. And Barrister? You *have* to know what an official name that is. And besides- I've always felt I had a formerly-unknown-rich-but-dead relative out there that remembered me fondly..

Greetings,

I understand that through Internet is not a best way to link up with you because of the confidentiality which my proposal demands.

However, I have already sent you this same letter one month ago, but I am not sure if it did get to you since I have not heard from you, hence i am constrain to reach you through Internet which has been abused over the years.

I wish to notify you again that You were listed as Heir to the total sum of Three Million Six Hundred Thousand British Pounds in the codicil and last testament of the deceased.(Name now withheld since this is our second letter to you). I contacted you because you bear the surname identity and therefore can present you as the Heir to the inheritance funds.

I therefore reckoned that you could receive these funds as you are qualified by your name identity. All the legal papers will be processed in your acceptance. In your acceptance of this deal, we request that you kindly forward to us your letter of acceptance; your current telephone and fax numbers, bank account number, and a forwarding address to enable us file necessary documents at our high court probate division for the release of this sum of money.

Please indicate your interest immediately for us to proceed. I shall feed you full of details of this transaction upon receipt of your reply towards this proposal.
I look forward to meeting from you.

Yours Faithfully,
Mr. Ben Mark (Barrister)
Telephone +447024058780.

Lick This.

So there he is, the BoyKing at bathtime. He's frolicking in the suds, pretending that Lightning McQueen has been engulfed in an avalanche. I peek in, ever so spylike, every few minutes to be sure that:

A. He has not decided to move the "scene" into the toilet, which happens to be in easy reach of the bathtub.

and

B. That he does not try to shampoo on his own because he's in this 'I CAN DO EVERYTHING MYSELF' phase. He get's that from his control freak mother daddy.

All is well, and bathtime goes off without a hitch. I tell BoyKing it's time to shampoo and get out.

First, he insists that I check his feet for "granny wrinkles". (apparently if you have no granny wrinkles, it is *not* time to get out of the tub.) Affirmative. Granny wrinkles galore.

I sit down on the toilet lid and lean in with the shampoo and begin scrubbing his adorable little head of hair. (Have you ever noticed that boy hair smells like a wet dog before being shampooed?) I tell him to hold still and keep his eyes shut tight, while I rinse. He giggles as some water drips down into his ear. He pokes a finger in the ear, and waggles it around wet willy style. He squints up at me, sticks the finger in my face, grins and says: "Hey Mommy, Why don't you LICK THIS!"

Ahh..Boys. Ya gotta love 'em.

Random Yakity Smakity

● Green tea flavor Crystal Light is the EXACT color of pee. I mean. exactly. like pee. yuk. I can't drink it without adding food coloring to it.

● Jack Nicholson is right. NEVER trust a fart. The BoyKing learned that one the hard way today, in his preschool gym time. In his words: "mom! I was standing there having a fart, and all da sudden poop shooted out!!" Needless to say, he's South of the Border.

● GirlyDiva is having a shoe crisis. We went to Ross, and she found the shoes of her dreams. White Canvas Hightops. Quite literally, she kissed them and talked to them, all the way home. Statements ranged from "ohmagosh! These are like, the TIGHTEST shoes evuur!!" to "Mom, can you believe I found these rockin' shoes at Ross?!" Fast forward 24 hours: Front door slams, signaling the arrival of afterschool tweens. Loud shrieks and knashing of teeth follow. "Oh NO!! OHMUGOSH MOM! MOM! Come here quick! I got MUD all over my shoes!!"
You've heard of Georgia red mud right? Well, We invented it here, and sent it to them. It's the kiss of death. Worse than blood and red magic marker..*combined*. I worked on them for hours. To try and at least remove it partially. No. Deal. She is going to be heartbroken. Sigh.

● I kicked DysdHubby out last night. We had an arguement in front of the kids which went like this:

dysdhubby: "BARK YELL BARK ROAR SCREAM YELL GROWL GRUMBLE"

dysdhousewife: "but wait..."

dysdhubby: "YELL SCREAM ROAR ROAR GROWL EXPLETIVE BARK BARK!"

dysdhousewife: "I know, but.."

dysdhubby: "BARK YELL BARK ROAR ANGRYSCREAM YELL GROWL BARK!"

dysdhousewife: "Would you SHUTTUP! Okay fine. I'm done trying to talk to you! You're being an ass and you're out of control in front of the kids!!

dysdhubby: *front door slam* *car door slam*. Speed limit exceeded.

(children weeping, watching tail lights through the window blinds)

dysdhousewife: *calls dysdhubbys' cell* "Don't bother coming home!" click.

He came back three hours later, mumbling something about having nowhere to go. He must have known I was REALLY mad, because he asked me where he should sleep. We've barely spoken. It's not pretty. Limbo- I hate it.

● Oddly enough, I haven't fallen off the wagon since the dough debacle. I've eaten more fish in the last two weeks than oh.. the last 6 YEARS. Lord Help Me. DANG do I need some chocolate.

**UPDATE. Disregard this last statement. I just ate a friggin' blueberry poptart. frack. :::hangs head:::

A Pox On Your Toll House

I've been coasting. It's been too easy. NO adversity. NO temptation. Satan grew bored with my smug success.

DysdHubby and BoyGenius have a Boyscout camping trip this weekend. They have them once every month.

I *always* make treats for the troop. So, I decided (yes I am that daft) that It would be a great idea to make them some..COOKIES. Whattheheckwasithinking.

Weeeell, ya know the scene in Nemo, where the big shark gets a tiny little whiff of Dorys' blood and all hell breaks loose?

In retrospect, standing above a fresh bowl of tollhouse cookie dough wasn't one of my better ideas. I stood there, staring down at those luscious fluffy peaks of heavenly goodness..and my eyes glazed over...my *inner self* began screaming "Noooo!! Stop!! You can't!! Don't do it!!"

So. I stiffled *inner self* with an enormous dollop of dough, and what ensued can only be described as...Cookiedough Carnage.

It was like starving a Doberman for a month and then tossing him in a cage full of fat little bunnies.

I can't even bring myself to think about the carb count.

The P Factor

Well. Here's a little tidbit they don't tell you in diet school. You *will* be making more pit stops than a busload of pregnant women drinking cranberry juice.

Previously, I was known as the "family camel". (hey wait..should that offend me?) This is because I can ride in a car for 6-8 hours without even THINKING about peeing. And that's after drinking a soda or two on the trip.

And now, you ask? Russian racehorses ain't got nothing on me. I am constantly in the bathroom. I got up THREE times in the middle of the night. I never get up at night. And it's not just your little "dribble" either. It's GALLONS.

And yesterday.. I sneezed. - and peed myself.

So. Not. Cool.