Lucky Thirteen and Counting

I am juggling schedules, car seats and pickup times. 

I feel the need to purge all of my darkest secrets and bad shit just so everyone out there has all the correct information before they pass judgment. 

Here goes-

I am not Mother of the year, nor do I pretend to be.  I love my kids; some days I do not like them.  There are plenty of days I tell them I am going to kill them.  I am sure Dr. Phil and other professionals will deem this inappropriate.  I can’t help myself and they clearly don’t believe me because they don’t bat an eye.  I wish it worked, but I have been telling them since day one and none of them have witnessed me murder anyone thus far. 

I love my kids, but not other people’s kids.   I wish I could say I had this many, because I love children, but I recently discovered that that is a blatant lie!  I have met a few children in my time that I despise.  I could never be a schoolteacher for that reason.  My hat goes off to the educators in this world.   Some children that do not belong to me often drive me to drink and irritate the hell out of me. 

I eat like shit.  I sat here a few days ago and wrote an entire post about how much I hate the roll of fat that is growing around my middle. Then I sat on the couch to watch TV and ate one full row of E L Fudge cookies!  I justified it because I didn’t eat dinner. 

I would love to have another baby.  I wonder if I only want to get pregnant so I can have a baby, as in deliver a baby. Maybe I don’t really want another child.  I love to push babies out, I am wondering about the keeping part of it all.  Maybe I should have babies and give them to somebody else!  Surrogacy would work! Let me think about that one for a while.

Speaking of pregnancy, according to the four sticks I have peed on in the past 3 days, I am NOT pregnant.  Why don’t I ever believe those?  Why must I continue to pee on plastic sticks until I see the blood? 

I do not go to church because I can’t live the lifestyle it requires of me.  I don’t like to be an all or nothing Mormon, but I am.  I don’t feel that going to church is at all beneficial to my kids or me.  I currently feel it does more harm than good.  Maybe someday I will change my mind. 

I realized today sitting at the school waiting for my kids to come out, that I am an old mom.  I look at all of these mothers in their twenties and early thirties and I feel like a grandma.  When did this happen?  When I visit Bronson and Shaylee’s school, I am too young to get the respect I deserve. When I am with the little ones at their schools, I am ancient.  When was I perfect?  How did I miss the enjoyment of being perfect?  That pisses me off. 

I am ready to be loved on.  Brandon can’t get here fast enough.  I have said all day long that the anonymous poster on my blog doesn’t matter, but that feels like a bit of a lie too.  I think I am hurt. 

I have had other anonymous posters.  I think it sucks worse when I know they are living right here in my hood.   Makes me dread going to drop off.  Maybe I should take the kids late and check them in after line up.  How come I don’t get any credit for getting them to school looking adorable and on time? I wonder how she is doing in the mothering department?  Probably perfect.  

Kate and Jazzi announced to me today, that they want to start dressing like Twins.  I have never bought matching clothes for them.  Well, only when it’s for a picture or something, but to wear everyday?  Never. 

They got new dresses yesterday from Gap.  I wish I could post the pictures, but Brandon has my cable in Africa.  They looked adorable.  I am excited I get to go shopping for identical clothes.  We’ll see how long this lasts.  

Dalin lost his balance today and fell, arms first, into my rose bush.  He is scratched up pretty bad.  Poor kid.  The entire yard to face plant in and he picked my roses. 

I saw a mom at drop off today washing her child’s face with her spit on finger.  I still remember my mother doing that to me.  It’s so disgusting and wrong and I swore I would never do that to my kids.  DAMN that was a hard promise to keep to myself.  I do it constantly.  I was happy to see I am not the only foul mother out there. 

I am still surviving on my own.  I am ready to have a body back in bed with me.  It’s not as fun alone.  And my feet freeze without a warm body to put them on.  Brandon gets home Thursday afternoon.  THANK GOD! 

I had thought I mentioned in my blog that Brandon went to Nigeria on business, but I was chatting the other day with one of my blog friends, and she asked me if he was serving a mission for the church over there.   I couldn’t stop laughing and I still haven’t.   She went on to say she was picturing him riding his bike around Africa.    So, yeah….  Let me set the record straight here.  He is working in Africa.  But, anytime I want a chuckle, I think of him riding his bike around with the Book of Mormon.  

I feel a sense of impending doom concerning my blog.  I am having a hard time knowing what to do.  I am here to ask for some blogger advice. 

My producer reads my blog, so if this is not something I am allowed to disclose, this post will be gone, and you will only imagine that you read it.  Understand?

We are days away from signing a contract with an amazing team.  We are excited and anxious for our new FUNVENTURE!  We honestly don’t know what to expect but feel like, if it’s supposed to happen, it will.  We love and trust the people we are working with.  We have been blessed with amazing talent and fabulous storytellers. 

My fear is that when we are picked up by a TV network, they will want control of the material on my blog because they are essentially buying my story.  We become property of the network.  Therefore, it makes sense that they will control the things I write about and disclose to the public. 

I am sad about the thoughts of this, I feel like I have my own little posse with all of you.  I read you, you read me.  I know and love every one of you, I am going to miss the heck out of this. 

I have thought about going anonymous and have even set up a new blogger account under pen name, but I can’t write fiction.  I can only write what’s in my heart and my head, and it would be pretty easy to track me down and identify this life.

Months ago I registered for BlogHer.  I have been planning to fly off to Chicago in July to hang out with all of you fabulous friends of mine.  Do I still go?  Should I proceed like nothing is going to change and just disappear one day?  Are any of you actually going to BlogHer?  

My heart is sad today. Not because I am giving up writing, I plan on writing another book, another reflection of this life journey.  But with writing, there isn’t instant feedback and love that comes with each chapter.   I will miss you.  Yes, YOU, right there at your computer. 

Today I have begun to mourn the end of this ability to purge my every thought and feeling onto these pages.  I have loved this hobby and have benefited from sharing my life with the Internet.  I am not ready for this to be over, but foresee it in the near future. 

As I prepare for my new crazy endeavor to share my family with the masses, I may slack a bit in the blog department, but until a suit tells me to stop completely, please keep reading.   But no matter what, you haven’t heard the last of me or seen the end of this motley crew. 

My best friend Tara came from Utah to help me this weekend.  She shipped her own four kids out to friends and grandma’s house, so she could come and help me.  And help me she did! 

I have been thinking about her, and the act of service and kindness she showed me.    She made a HUGE sacrifice just for me.  There was nothing in it for her.  We didn’t get to party and play on the beach, or shop all day.  We didn’t get to go to the SPA or even for a pedicure.  She knew, coming down, that she was here to be another set of hands and “mother” with me all weekend.  She didn’t hesitate for a second. She just hopped on the plane. 

However, the thing that’s got me thinking tonight, that I want to talk about it is, being a friend when times are good.

I think it’s really pretty easy to be a good friend when times are tough.  It’s easy to be a life savor, or a shoulder to cry on. Tara is great for moments like those.  I can count on her for just about anything and have for the past nine years. But Tara is also a friend in the good times as well.  Why is this so difficult for some?

I have numerous friends that, when I found love after a rocky marriage and horrendous divorce, disappeared.   These same friends would sit and count change with me from the dryer to buy a coke when we were living paycheck to paycheck, but they disappeared when the money was abundant.  Now that I am happy in my life and with myself, my friends are few.  But when I am struggling with past mistakes, or issues surrounding the divorce, they all flock and want to chitchat.

I guess my point is this.  I have learned to identify a true friend this past year.  I used to say, “A true friend was there when you need her.”  But I want to change that statement.  “A true friend is there all of the time, even when things are great.” 

Tara is my best friend.  She is there for both the good and the bad, in times of need and times of want.  She is a true example of BEST friend.  She knows all my dirt, and loves me in spite of it.  She doesn’t try and fix me or change me.  She never passes judgment; instead she shares her own secret.  She shares her life with me, not just the hard shit, but the everyday joys and triumphs.  She is a huge blessing in my life.  I miss her already.  I was spoiled in Utah; we were next-door neighbors for years.  I don’t miss Utah, but I sure miss Tara. 

Now if only she would move to California!   PLEASE!!!!

Brandon has never ever let a day go by without telling me-

How much he loves me.

How beautiful I am.

That I am his world.

Brandon always

Starts my car in the morning

Brings the groceries in the house and puts them away

Checks out the things that go bump in the night.

Starts my tub

Opens my water bottles

Rubs my feet

Takes out the trash

Locks up at night.

I am 

His first priority

His number one

His favorite playmate

And Best friend

I am so in love with my man and so ready for him to be home.   We talk daily about how blessed we are, that still after almost 4 years, we feel such passion and such a great desire to be together.  Not many married couples are as lucky as we are.  We spend 24/7 with each other and actually enjoy it.  We know how blessed we are.  Our love grows daily and even when shit happens and trust issues arise, we know we couldn’t live without each other.  It’s a feeling I wouldn’t trade for anything.   

Shouting from the rooftops,  

Brandon Benson I LOVE YOU! 

I am dealing with a personal issue that I wish to share with non-judgmental readers. 

I am getting fat.  I am not happy at all about this and I wish so damn bad I could turn off my comments for this post.  I DO NOT want any of you to say, “You are not fat!” It doesn’t matter what you see or what you say, it is not going to dissolve the fat roll that is oozing over the top of my jeans as I write this.  Please just humor me and listen. 

I have been 105 pounds my entire life.  I may go up and down a few pounds here and there. My current weight hasn’t changed; I am still sitting at 105.  But I am getting love handles and a saggy gut. Is this just what happens when you get old?  And what in the hell am I supposed to do about it?  

How am I supposed to parent on the beach if I am trying to suck my fat in?  How am I going to wear my bikini if the fat rolls over the top of the bottoms and from afar it appears I am not wearing them?

I am distraught and emotional about this new problem.  Even doing sit-ups hasn’t firmed this tummy up.  I am considering lipo and a tummy tuck but Brandon thinks they will admit me to the physic ward if I ask for surgery! 

If any of you have a suggestion or a solution, please leave a comment. If you are going to tell me I am not fat or I look great, I will delete you!  I am not fishing for compliments, I have a serious roll and I am tempted to post a picture of it so you can all vomit with me.  Friends who vomit together stay together. 

The biggest problem of all is my craving for sugar.  I. LOVE. SUGAR.

A few days ago I was going through Pickles backpack and found a lone valentine at the bottom. I was so excited. Pickle was asleep, but the other nine were awake.  I didn’t want to share and my kids can smell candy on my breath.  So I hurried upstairs with this little treasure tucked up my sleeve. 

I got into the bathroom, ripped open the envelope and was happier than I had expected to be with what I found!  This was a homemade candy.  All colorful and swirly, I couldn’t tell by looking at it if it was a chocolate, or a hard tack candy.  I didn’t care; I popped the whole thing into my mouth.

It didn’t taste as sweet as I thought it should have.  It certainly wasn’t a hard tack candy.  Well, maybe they just used a little too much paraffin in their chocolate recipe.  I started chewing on it and quickly realized what I had done.

I had made a horrible mistake. I ran to the garbage can, and spit what I could, out.  I fumbled for my toothbrush to brush the remnants out of my teeth. I am leaning over my sink, drooling colorful toothpaste out of my mouth, as I opened the card that I had gotten this treat out of.  “Color me Valentine.  Love Ben.”

Son of a bitch!

Yes, I ate a damn crayon.  However I bet it was far less caloric than what I was hoping for.