Having five year olds you would think I was past this.  So did I.  But with the milestone of being five, came the privilege of being allowed to play in the front yard, loosely supervised.  As long as you tell Mom, Dad or Sk8r Boi that you are going out, and stay within these limits you can play outside.   If you chose to go play in the yard of your friends across the street, you have to stay outside, and within shouting distance.

They love this new rule.

So do we.

However, having the limited imagination and cunning of an adult, this is how it played out for us.

Tech Support was away for the weekend at a disc golf tournament.  We were three weeks into a plague wherein someone in the house had puked at some point during every one of those days.  Nothing cures the pukies like 7-Up so for a while we had said that they could also get a 7-Up if they were feeling sickly under yet another set of rules.

It was Sunday morning.  Tech Support was gone, we were headed to our fractal group for church, I kind of wanted to shower.  So, I did.  Of course all mom’s know that once the water starts so does the banging on the door and the questions.

Knock.  Knock. Knock.

“Mom, something, something, blah blah blah.”

I CAN’T HEAR YOU I’M IN THE SHOWER, I’ll be out in five minutes.  OKAY?

“Blah blah blah mumble mumble OKAY!”

So, I wrapped things up and when I got out of my room, couldn’t find the boys.   Hmmmm?  The front door was wide open.  Okay so they went outside.

Now, remember, I shower first in this house, so we have two unwashed five year old boys.  Boys who had picked out their own clothing for the morning.  Boog in pants that were about two sizes too big and Felpsy in pants that were two sizes too small.  Boog was walking on his pant legs, and Felpsy was sporting some capris.  They were marching up and down the sidewalk singing songs.  Each boy had a can of 7-Up and were guzzling it as fast as they could between verses because they knew they would be confiscated upon discovery.

Tech Support wanted me to remind you and the neighbors that he was out of town.

Maybe it was Sunday….people don’t sing good songs about Monday generally.

Anyway,

My Monday was GOOD.

First tweet of the morning.  Was in re my live tweeting of the Oscars, boring snoozefest that it was.

@annieology you have made me laugh so hard tonight!! Thank you.

Better  than any alarm clock ever.  So, if you all could follow me and send me lovely mentions while I sleep, that would be awesome.

Then I got a surprise in the mail, and by surprise I mean I was expecting it.  I picked it out and provided an address.  What I wasn’t expecting was it to be signed by the fabu artist, to ME.  I will totally dedicate a whole blog to the deal because it’s already linkin park in here.

The next celebration of my awesomeness come via Homegirl who has recently begun her quest to overtake the world gave me a couple of awards,

I was SOOOO excited.  Because as I mentioned….last night?  The Oscars.  They kept teasing us at commercial breaks….”Will there be a surprise in the ……. category.  Stay tuned to find out.”  So, I stayed tuned just in case I won something because how awesome would it be for the Best Director category going to a woman for the first time? Finally.   OK so that dream died for me last night.

(The rules state that I must list 10 things that make me happy and then give the award to ten people who make me happy.  It says nothing about not giving my Oscar ready speech first)

Well, first I would like to thank, oh wow, I wasn’t expecting this.  I’d like to thank Susan B. Anthony for being an outspoken woman in a day and time when, at the very least, it could have gotten her slapped.  Hang on while I punch this Kanye wannabe red head woman in the face, HELLO? my speech.  What, you’re playing me off already?  I’dliketothankGodandmanandonemaninparticular……

Now 10 things that make me happy.

1. Being in love, still.
2. Coca-cola
3. Lucky Brand Jeans
4. Thinking of deer attack youtube videos at inappropriate times.
5. All of my kids, here or elsewhere
6. My quilt
7. Vacations
8. 92 degree weather
9. Chocolate
10. Vegas baby
    

and 10 people who make me happy.

1. The people who make Uggs. (cheating?  A bit, yeah.)
2. One of my favorite social workers
3. Tara
4. Sadie
5. Tech Support (but I swear if you hit him up more than me it could cause problems)
6. My housekeeper
7. Corey
8. Katie
   
9. Becca ***DO NOT forget that beginning this weekend she begins hosting Unbloggable moments where you can anonymously or not post stories you cannot post on your own blog because the person you REALLY want to blog about is a reader.  Should be hilarious.
   
10. Sk8r Boi, my sixteen year old son who either has us completely snowed or is indeed a gem.
    

Alrighty then.  Today was great, and next year I will be the surprise winner at the Oscars.

Am I the only one with this problem?

I went back to the old church this weekend to attend a women’s conference.  It was great to see all my old friends, all 2300 of them.  It being a women’s conference they had many “resources” available for purchase.  One item, and I kid you not, was this….

I predicted the Jesus thong. (p.s. the picture is a link)

Now, before you write the Pope it was a WOMEN’S conference.  Now, as you may know women are in church in greater numbers than men.  Women want their men in church.  Go home from church wearing that and they will come.  (Yes, I did and unfortunately I was not the first, although probably the first to claim it.)

All that to say

one of the things that caught my eye walking through the vendor area was a table full of Marcus Buckingham books.  So, I stopped to chat up the Life Coach there.  A three minute conversation has convinced me that I need a Life Coach.  Again, part of my mental disorder.  I can rarely convince anyone to do any thing in any amount of time and in three minutes she can convince me that she can get my life on track.  Which makes me wonder why she thinks my life isn’t on track, other than I am obsessed with Marcus Buckingham books and considering buying thongs at church in order to tweet about my “church thong”?  Is it that obvious?

So, I spent Thursday and Friday with about 1000 of my closest friends, then on Saturday we went on our weekend getaway, where good things were said about me during the “things I’m thankful for” game we played in order to right our wrong moods.  Sunday we spent at our new church and love love love.

Why then, was I in such a bad mood all weekend?  Me thinks someone is trying to steal my joy.  I decided to play the “things I’m thankful for” game anytime I feel my mood try to tell me that I don’t have a million reasons for joy.  Why can’t I take a compliment?  Why can’t I be joyful?  I think I have let my mind spend too much time on non-joyful things.  I  must guard against that in the future.  I must guard my mind against that which would steal my joy  as I have learned to guard my heart against relationships that are not beneficial.

And if that doesn’t work?  I got the name of a good Life Coach.

This is what happens when your health care provider puts you on roids.

Anyway, I was trying to tell you of our AWESOME road trip.  It’s awesomeness began with a RAD attack.  Felpsy’s.  I in my desire to please my husband by compiling a balance sheet for our finances that he’d been bugging me about, I imposed a time limit on Felpsy.  He does not do time limits.  Shuts completely down, goes into high anxiety and takes everyone else with him, especially when I am too busy monitoring the activities of four children, packing for a weekend trip, cleaning the house and figuring out that we have $0 that isn’t going somewhere, all while Tech Support is running errands, with zero kids.

So, rage, anxiety.  I hate the world and everything in it.

Whatever.  We got into the car on time.  Spent the next forty five minutes IN THE GARAGE.  Because, in no particular order, “my Leapster is dead, I can’t hear my movie, there is a song I don’t like on my ipod, did you pack the kids toothbrushes, where are the headphones that were all accounted for yesterday? I gotta pee.”

BEFORE we started the car.

An hour and fifteen minutes later we were one mile closer to our 120 mile destination.

We needed a happiness break.

I’ll let you in on another secret.

God only gave us his top ten list, because we (as humans) need a measuring stick.   We figure as long as we don’t make the top ten, we’re good.   It’s also a nice way to distance ourselves from undesirables.

So, we needed a list of do’s and don’ts and we got the law.  And we obsessed over it for thousands of years.  Every detail of life was spelled out.  Everything from what day to circumcise the boys to what fork to use when eating a salad.  What fork we use isn’t in there?  Oh yeah?  Prove me wrong.

Anyway, (yes it still applies, get yourself a drink)

The law was burdensome, and complicated, and can I still get an epidural on a Sunday?  But God did not intend for us to live under the law.  He was only proving his point, in a way that only God can.

We did not need rules, and regulations.  We needed love and grace.  Which he provided through his son.

And when Jesus was asked which were the greatest commandments he said this

³⁶“Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” ³⁷Jesus replied: ” ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’^{[a] 38}This is the first and greatest commandment. ³⁹And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’^{[b] 40}All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

I have known this for years.  “I love God.  He’s great.  I love people (not so much), they’re super.”  Although tonight I was busted with that one word.

All

Oh sure, he could have ALL of my Sunday.  Or ALL of my something.  But I decided which ALL’s they were.

Ten years ago it was ALL of my leftovers.  I faithfully gave him all of my leftover time and all of my leftover money.

I slowly added things over the years.

ALL of my money.

ALL of my marriage.

Guess what areas in my life are strong right now?

He got some of the rest of it.  Some of the time. Some of the  kids.  Some of my dreams.  And in return I got equal portion to what I had given.

In reality.  He was still getting a lot of nothing.

Because without me giving my ALL in every area of my life, I am not giving it my ALL.

And as much as I think I know what is best in my life, I have been proven wrong.

“I cannot possibly live with someone, TIL DEATH DO US PART,  that has a membership to NPR.”

“I cannot possibly give up my credit cards.  What if…?”

“Oh and if you think you are getting my sex life mister, well, you better rethink that.”

ALL is ALL.  ALL of it.

Including the orphans.

I can say “Thy will be done” but mean “they will take these kids when they pry them from my cold dead hands.”

And I have said it, and I have thought I meant it.   There was always the clause, anything but taking them from our home.

As much as I DO NOT want to say “Thy will be done”

Thy will be done.

And if I stand let me stand on the promise, that you will pull me through, and if I can’t let me fall on the grace that first brought me to you. Rich Mullins

Boog was slighted earlier today.  He and Little Miss Sunshine were playing airplane.   She took it upon herself to assign the duty roster.  “You can drive the plane, I’ll get the drinks.”

“Boys can get drinks too you know.”

No one wanted to be the pilot.  I’m going to spin this as they don’t feel the need to be in a position of power, rather they have a servants heart.  Well, it’s my story that gets told here.

Last week, while on Facebook I got chatted up by a former child of mine.  She wanted to know if she could come and see me.  Since she is still underaged I inquired as to her parents thoughts on the matter.  She emancipated at 17 so I encouraged her to come over whenever she felt like it.

I suppose my thoughts on the matter deserve their very own post.

She’s coming over tonight.

Then I’m going to night two of a women’s conference and let me just ask you this?  Why have we, as women as a whole, not yet gotten it into our pretty little heads that we are AWESOME, SO FREAKING AWESOME, and stop the whining?  Isn’t that the essence of a women’s conference, to tell us how awesome we are?  Apparently this theme sells, but more on that later.

Looking forward to going to church this weekend, corporately speaking.  We have a meeting with the Food Bank next week to finalize paperwork regarding the Back Pack Food Program, probably not in time for Spring Break, but  enough time to work out the kinks before the school year ends and we move from two schools to all of them.  We are doing our neighborhood school, it is not a Title 1 school, the needs here are real,  but overlooked in the evil rich district we live in.  We are also doing a school where it’s estimated that over 90% of the kids will participate.

So, I gots to go scan the horizon for my baby coming home.

Unrelated to the plague, I had an appointment today to get back labs and results of a biopsy for skin cancer. (Oh I don’t think I told everybody, but I’m white and I live in South Texas, not a surprise.)

“Unremarkable.”

The test results are “unremarkable”.  Not me.

Although, I can’t help but take it personally.

Plus I think I broke some sort of record for the highest TSH ever.

But none of that ended my baseball career.  It was my tinnitus.  The constant ringing in my ear.  I was told oh so many months ago by a doctor that tinnitus is incurable and I’d have to live with it.  I asked my nurse practitioner.  She says “something medical” and prescribed me steroids.  Bringing to an end my hopes for making it to the big league.  STEROIDS.  Although my Tweeple think I should just play the dumb victim and say I “trusted” my nurse to give me something that would be legal (untraceable and ass kicking).

Since baseball seems to be out, I guess Target keeps looking better and better.  You know  until 2012 when I am elected President.  Well, maybe just the Congress.  And yes I did, throw my name into the hat.  Move over Mr. Smith, Mrs. Awesome is going to Washington.  (pending finalization on adopting the orphans and getting my district to vote out a lifer.)

This unit is slow and unproductive during what should be peak hours.  It takes more effort than should be necessary to get this unit to function at 3 p.m. while once the demand has eased, around 10 p.m. it becomes quick and responsive, however this is less than ideal as unfortunately it also become impossible to shut down for several hours.

If there is a programming fix that you are aware of that will reverse this process, please advise.  Otherwise it may be necessary to send the unit to the factory in Las Vegas for examination.  While this may not solve the long term problem, I feel the research would be beneficial to all.

I look forward to working with you on a solution in this matter,

Annie

I’m not Hawaiian after all.  You know they eat it on a stick there.  Out of hot dog carts.  Blargh.

Anyway, I get lots o’spam.

LOTS.

I ran across one today.

The post was about how we were being investigated for spanking the orphans.  About how intrusive the state can be on an “anonymous” tip, about how it was probably the state because I had told the caseworker that Boog had come home from the latest visit yelling “spank my butt” every ten minutes.   About how they don’t differentiate between a spanking (beating) and a spanking (pat on the butt at bedtime when you tuck in a kid).

I was sick AND tired of dealing with the crap that is foster care.

and the spammer told me

“what a beautiful, thought out piece, I’ll take it to heart.”

Another gem is the one where I am talking on my iPhone and refusing to pay for medication for one of the orphans.

“I am referencing this post in my doctoral thesis.  So much information that I haven’t found any other place.”

Really, you’re getting your doctorate in being a bitch?

Good luck with that.

Even better than spam?  The flamers.

Those who are so against me listening to Amy Grant’s Christmas Album that they accuse me of purchasing my undergarments at Walmart.

Yeah, so hurtful.

I cried.

Tears of laughter.

Then I mocked them for being stupid.

Anyway,

what’s the best flame you ever got, or spam, or random comment?

For our purposes here today, we’ll use “obsessive” to refer to an unwelcome pattern of thought and “compulsive” to refer to an unwelcome pattern of action.

I tend to over think.  I “play the movie” to the end.  Of course with every conceivable outcome.  Particularly when it comes to CPS, knowing full well they give little thought to us, and have never acted on any of their threats but still….it may be defined as obsessive, or diligent.  Either way.  I put way too much effort into it.

As far as compulsions?

Video games.  Tetris. Farmville. Word games.  Sudoku.  If I am in the middle of the game, I cannot stop.  Don’t care if the house is on fire.  Kid’s bleeding?  They probably won’t die before I set the new all time world record.  Yes, people only challenge me on Facebook once, then I never hear from them again.  Because I will not quit until I am the top of the leader board.  And with Farmville?  I obsess over getting home to harvest my blueberries, and why I planted blueberries on date night, and “blah blah blah important stuff” conversation with Tech Support is drowned out by the voice in my head wondering how much money I’m going to lose having not harvested my berries.

It’s true.