Mommy Rhapsody (Mother's Day Opening 2010)

Boobs...yeah, you read it right.

If you can't laugh at this...don't read on.

Whatever you want to call them, if you are a woman, you have them.  They come in all different shapes and sizes.  Some are fighting southern migration and others are like the Egyptian pyramids.  We woman fret about them so.  Men are fascinated by these wonderful glands of ours.

I have a love/hate relationship with mine.  On one hand, I loved nursing my kids, they balance my backside, and make me feel like a woman when I really don't feel like one.  On the other hand, I have underwires pushing into my armpits, permanent channels molded into my shoulders to hold up said mounds, and sometimes they are just too fascinating that no one looks into my eyes.  Heck, Oprah has an hour long show at least once a year on wearing the right bra.

But my biggest pet peeve about these girls, is buying a holster for them...that's right a HOLSTER!  With all the hooks, wires, and space age materials used, you can understand why you actually have to budget for a month to purchase one.  I mourned the loss of one of my bras today...the underwire finally succumbed to the pressure and busted in two.  It was sad...she had been with me for years.  She worked hard, bless her pink, lightly padded soul.

So today, my new plan included buying a new bra.  How hard can that be right?  Victoria Secret or Target, their are many styles and colors to adorn your girls with.  But me... I can't be normal can I?  I had to go to a special store and guess what...they are growing!!!  Are you kidding me?!  I'm not growing, gaining weight, pregnant, so this cannot be?  Maybe its the American obsession with resizing right?  Clothing manufacturers are actually relabeling bigger sizes to smaller sizes in order to dupe us into believing that we are not getting bigger....the exact opposite for boobs right?  At least that is what I am telling myself.  So I try on my size...too small.  I go get the next size and all they have are bullet proof bras.  I am talking padding so thick you can hide under this baby in an earthquake and not get a scratch on you!  So I find a couple of different styles and one that isn't padded for Armaggedon and go into the dressing room.  While proceeding to put this over the shoulder boulder holder on, I notice that this particular bra has a air filled pocket in it...my head is about to explode!!!  TMI...but I wear a 38/40 F!  Not an A or B or even a C...but a freakin F and they have an insert to make them BIGGER!!!!   What is this world coming to?  Yes, not only do I want to pad these personal size watermelons, but lets make them a little bigger so you can get even more attention drawn to your chest.  Sounds logical to me...NOT!  I kept thinking that maybe this store was just for hoochies and drag queens.  Evidently, I can have even more cleavage if I really want it...but don't hug me too hard, I might pop!

Don't worry, I found exactly 2 that were worth wearing.  I don't think we can eat anything but mac and cheese for 2 weeks to afford them, but trust me, you don't want me going African on you....

So all you ladies with cute bras that are normal and fashionable...I have bra envy.  Sometimes the grass on the other side is held together with superglue and teflon coated steel!

Temper Tantrums

Having 5 children has affording me the opportunity to be the eye witness to many a tantrum.  There is your classic Tazmanian Devil tantrum where said child is calm one minute and then spins around with such force, he knocks things off of the walls.  How about the Limp Noodle Tantrum when said child looses all muscle function and cries on the floor and it is almost impossible to pick them up due to the fact that they have rendered their arms and legs non functioning.  Then you have the Elimination Tantrum where said child freaks out so much that they loose all bowel function and begin to throw up.  Then you have the Screaming Tantrum where they lay on the floor and writhe around like they are having a seizure and the piercing sound from their mouth could break glass.  Then there is Brighten.

Brighten, bless her dramatic soul is a force to be reckoned with.  My job in life is to try and teach her how to constructively harness that stubborn soul of hers.  I know where she got it :).   We have tried everything with that child.  They don't last for minutes but hours.  As anyone who has actually come in contact with her knows, that she is deceiving.  Her frame is small, her voice is like a "mouse" according to one teacher.  But she can unleash a terror that is a force to be reckoned with.  This time it was over the fact that I asked her to put the sheets on her bed.  She needed help, she said, and I politely offered to help.  But it was still too hard.  The weeping, wailing, and nashing of teeth began.  It lasted an hour.  (no doors, walls, or people were harmed....she is a strong little thing) I've gotten really good at remaining calm and I got pictures this time...  Mean right?  Well I am just so darn proud of myself that I have this much patience.  2 hours later, her sheets were on and her clothes were put away.  I did not raise my voice or give in to the attention getting.  Victory!

Is this normal dramatic girl, or should she be on meds?!

My Wonder Woman Cape Is Getting A Little Tight...

...must take a break. Don't get me wrong, I love to fly. Nothing makes me happier than feeling the wind in my hair as I blast through another super hero day. Saving souls and weddings and new homes and babysitting. Can't I do it all? I'm Super Woman aren't I?

NO! I am about ready to crash and burn. When did I wake up and realize that I could be the allusive and oh so sexy Wonder Woman? The boots are hot, and the head band is so retro, but it just isn't a good look on me. My super powers are starting to fizzle. Why you ask? Well I love to be everything to everyone. Love it! I love to save the day and save a soul and to save money and save a friend. It's my nature. Oh...and I wanted to to something for myself too. I always forget about myself. But who can do it all? Surely Wonder Woman right? Well I have come to the conclusion that Wonder Woman did not have kids nor a significant other. She was a slave to her job and serving. That is all she did. She didn't have a calling in her church, or friends to help out. So why oh why do I think that I can do it all? I blame the media...yeah that's it....the media.

Really it's my own fault. It's time to take the big red S off of my chest and reevaluate. Yes, I can blog everyday. Writing 2000 words a day in my first novel, you bet. Help with flowers for a wedding on Friday, no problem. Sounds like fun. Decorating for another wedding on Saturday, bring it. Teaching the gospel to an investigator every Sunday for 5 hours, happy to do it. Drive all my children to all their various activities, all in a days work. Babysitting for a friend who works, who doesn't want another little friend around to keep my kids occupied? Keeping up with me email, a breeze. Making gifts for everyone for Christmas, isn't that what every good mother does? Serving in my calling, doesn't everyone do this? Housework, necessary but not impossible. Laundry, we all have to be clothed don't you know? Eating, it's good especially if it's homemade and requires at least 3 pots. Putting out fires with relatives, all with the flick of the wrist. Taking care of your husband's needs, it's fun right? Helping a friend design a new home, isn't this what I went to school for? Of course I have to make time for myself like exercising and taking a Hip Hop class and having lunch with friends, I'd go insane if I didn't. Oh, and I have to go measure my own newly acquired house and pick out paint colors, isn't this what I have waited for? And don't get me started on the yard, it has to be done before it freezes. So why am I so tired? All of these things are either necessary or just plain flat out fun. These things bring me oodles of joy, so much so that it is overflowing. But I think I might just be overdoing it a tad. By the way, this is just this week.

Like I say, that cape is choking me, but man it sure is pretty.....

(sorry I don't have time to edit this one...run on sentences, fragments galore, and probably a misspelling or two...)

Diet Coke...the Mormon Housewife Addiction

When I lived in Utah, I did quite a bit of interior design work. Yes, I had a JOB! It was an awesome job. Let's just say that in the past few years since moving to Oregon, I have not been able to use my ability. The wind got sucked out of my sails so to speak. Not only did I not get many offers to stage homes or help with remodels, but I shunned it. Who wants to be reminded of something they can't have? Not me. One of the last homes that I was consulting on was going to be in Utah's Parade of Homes. And in the butlers pantry, we were going to add a built in Diet Coke machine...Yep! Diet Coke on tap 24/7. I don't know one woman that doesn't drink Diet Coke and live in Utah.

Diet Coke and I don't get along. Shhh, don't tell. I don't do diet. If it didn't exist before 1900, I wont consume it. Call me picky, call me a nature nut, I just don't like consuming chemicals. So this leaves me with a choice to consume very expensive soda like Jones or drink water. Don't get me wrong, I love a good Dr. Pepper or Cherry Coke, but it does not like me. Corn syrup and me are not friends. So what to do. Well I went to a company party where everyone was drinking but Patrick and I and a bottle of water just didn't cut it. So I took a Perrier. I'm hooked! Tastes great, no calories or anything else and I look cool! It's all about the cool...can you just see me? "I'd like a Perrier, waiter...." HeHe!