BullsEYE

Here we are at the last day of school, and I am so thrilled to have my babes home for the summer. We can all let our hair down and enjoy days with little scheduling and loads of fun.

At each year end for Hannah, and now for Ian, I've always felt sad on this day. I cry went they dance at their dance party for the parents, and I cry when the kids cry because they'll miss their buds from school.

I hated the last day of school. Truly hated it. Mainly because I knew I was going to cooped up for days in my bedroom. My bedroom had pink flowered wallpaper and pink tie-back curtains in it. I shared with my sister. My brother had his own room. If I recall correctly, it was blue. We weren't allowed to play outside. We couldn't talk on the phone or watch tv. We didn't have toys. No radio. All we got was a weekly trip to the library, which has now created in me a hate for reading. I read a novel a day, some times more. We also went to church every Sunday, imagine that. My parents were the church type. I hated the feeling of being home with my parents. We stayed out of their way, which was easy because we were not allowed out of our rooms. We just tried to stay quiet, stay unnoticed. The alternative wasn't pretty. I hated being around my mother, the cold hardened woman she was, and still is. It was an indescribable prison. I was so thrilled when my parents decided to ship us off for the summers at Camp Fair Haven in Maine. I didn't miss them at all. Not even a little. None, nada, zip. I loved being a way from them. For those three months I was able to grow into myself. I was able to discover myself, with out darkness looming just behind me.

For years I hated what summers meant for us. Truly hated it.

And although I know my children love being home for the summer, my heart aches when their's does. I know what it's like to miss friends. And although I know they'll be happy the second we get home, I still feel like that little girl myself, feeling like I'm going to be missing the better part of my life for the next three months.

For the sake of snapping myself back to reality, I have a dance party to attend, pictures to take, ice cream to dish out. Today is about the kids, not my inner one, and we plan to have a blast. All of us do. The adult me, the child me, and my 3 beautiful children. Today, things are going to be ok.

Ikea.

Here is one EXCELLENT way to avoid buying some thing you can't afford.

Up to something....

I did it.

I scheduled my appointment for my infertility consult.

The big date?

June 27th, NOON.

Last time, I was pregnant with in about 6 weeks.

I am TOTALLY freakin out. With excitement. And joy. For real.

Shameless.

We had a beautiful three day weekend. And, now it's back to work. I am SO freaking out this week, because.... are you ready for this?...... Friday is the LAST DAY OF SCHOOL.
I am beside myself with giddiness. We're ready for it. And boy do we have plans. We have so much fun to partake of.

We were able to go to the family cabin at Sundance this weekend. I LOVE it. I'm in heaven there. It's almost like my own little piece of Maine or New England saved just for me, but in Utah.
I started planting my vegetable garden this weekend, and hope to finish up today, and the house work..... OH the house work. And the ......er..... laundry...... the laundry that I was supposed to report back that it was finished......er...... not so much. I plead temporary insanity. I was playing all weekend with my husband and children. So, maybe I'm not so insane after all. It was a brilliant idea. To play. It was heavenly.

I'm working through the laundry today and hopefully will push through the last of the Spring Cleaning this week.

Just checking in. Lots of work to do around here, and lots of blogs to read, comments to make, emails to return, bills to pay.

Have a fantastic Tuesday.

Help A Sista Out.

Meet this girl. That's me. I have a confession to make. I have a problem. A big one. A huge flaw. I'm a wreck. I'm guilty.

I HATE doing laundry. Hate, hate, HATE it. No doubt, I'm telling the truth.

The problem is that I do really well at keeping up on the laundry for a week or two, and then.... then I have weeks like this where I've let it ALL slide. And slide in a big way.

This is the laundry in my room. Still waiting for attention.

Folded on top of the basket. No so much on the inside. Presentation is every thing.

And last. My love seat. Not feeling much love currently.

I promise. I PROMISE I will work on the laundry today.... and over the weekend. And I will report back Monday.

Maybe accountability will help. NOT.

Puppy Love.

Tuesday afternoon I went to Hannah's school for a 2nd grade musical program, with Olivia in tow. I took this picture of the two of them. I was disappointed to see that picture came out blurry, but it's darling. To me any way.

The puppy. We still have him. And I know some of you must be thinking I'm going to bite myself in the butt with this one. We've discussed puppies with the children. I know they, of course, want one of their own, but there is just no way. No way at all. We already have 1 indoor cat, 2 outdoor cats, and 1 dog. No.More.Pets.Period. Tempting as it is.... puppies AND kittens grow up to be their full grown counter parts. I certainly don't want another full grown animal.

But, because it's fun to show off this little wonder, here's a clip of Hannah and the ball of sweetness. At least he was a ball of sweetness until the CRAPED on my kitchen floor yesterday morning.



Want to know one of my greatest pet peeves when in comes to my journey of healing? My GREATEST pet peeve is when, in ignorance, some one tells me to "get over" the abuse, abandonment, and molestation of my childhood. I also think it is exceptionally funny when individuals think it's possible for me to NEVER again , feel sorrow or anger, over past circumstances.

I have no idea where I am going with this. But, really. I REFUSE to get over, forget, brush under the rug circumstances that lead me to where I am today. I don't intend to "forget" much of what my childhood was. I REMEMBER as a REMINDER of who I want to be NOW. Who I want to be as a woman, as a wife, as a mother. REMEMBERING ensures I am doing the very best that I can to be whole and healed.

Refusing to forget, is different then refusing to move forward. I don't use my life as an excuse to be less then who I know I can be. I don't use it as a "get-out-of-jail-free-card". I use it as a tool to become my best self. Some days I feel sorrow, some days I feel anger and many, MANY days I feel nothing at all. Neutral-ness, with the underlying frustration that I feel like "getting it right" some days, it all together too hard. Too hard, but REALLY worth it. I think it's my right to chose what my path should be. It's my right to chose what to remember and what to forget. It's my right to chose what to get over, and my right to chose what to let live on. What I chose is happiness, safely, power, strength, love, courage, and intelligence. I chose to have the smarts to get myself to where I need to be. Alone, if I have to.

Professional Baby Sitter.

We've been dog sitting the last couple days for this sweet little cupcake. Meet Houdini. He is a Great Dane/Mastiff mix, 8 weeks old, and we are IN LOVE. We're helping a neighbor out, which has been completely delightful.

House work, laundry, spring cleaning, home work, yard work, blogging, gardening.... I'm behind on it all.

That's what tomorrow is for. The house is tidy enough to "pass", and I plan on playing with my kids, and this pup, all day long.

This one's for the boy.

Here's to the other man in my life, my sweet little Ian. He turned SIX years old today. The party was a hit, and I am exhausted, but I could NOT resist posting at least a few pictures of the day.

Happy Birthday little one. You are more then any mother could ever want in a charming little boy. It's a treasure to have you as my son.

Pass with flying colors?

Yo Ladies.

My sweet little boy wanted a Ninga Turtle cake. This is the best that I could muster, my most valiant effort. Is it good enough? I'm counting on honest answers, and I need 'em fast. If this cake stinks, I still have time to buy one.

Bounce Back.

I love this kid. Ian drew me this picture months ago. He was going for "Mom", but his m's are upside down. Cute isn't it? I've got a busy rest-of-the-week ahead of me. It's Ian's birthday Friday. Today I have to pick the house up, work on the wash, shop for birthday gifts, and clean the car. Tomorrow I have to mow the lawn, pick up the yard, make Ian's Ninga Turtle cake, and take cup-cakes into Ian's afternoon Kindergarten class. Friday we get our tax rebate. Aside from putting money into savings, I get a tidy sum to shop around with as an extra Mother's Day gift. Ian's party is in the evening. We have a couple friends coming with their baby boy, one of Andrew's sister's family coming, complete with 7 (yes, you read that right) kids, and one grandpa should attend. We're having a slip-n-slide party, complete with a cook out! It should be a blast. I love throwing parties. More then any thing I love to spend the celebrating my little ones. Ian is one of my greatest treasures.

Here's the nursery. I'm not quite done Spring Cleaning in there, but it was clean enough to take pictures, so I did. Spring Cleaning is going to resume next week, I've got too much to do the next few days, so it's on the up-coming plans list. In this room we have a set of bunk beds and we're keeping the crib up. Olivia still sleeps in her crib, and as she grows more she'll move into the bunk. We're hoping for success in the conception-department with in the next few months, as it's nearly time to take my fertility drugs again, and we hope to fill that crib with a newborn next year.


Happy Wednesday-ing. I better get back to work.

Interesting, isn't it?

Project "fade out" is still in full force. Project fade out, as in the last chapter I'm allowing my "parents" to have in my life. It's the last chapter, actually, the one where they don't exist. I decided this was the year that I would finally decide "no more", and Mother's Day was a mile stone for me. I did nothing for Paula. She doesn't even deserve to be in the same sentence as the word "Mother". I hope it stung her a little. Stung her a little like her fist did my body. Stung her a little like her utter coldness stung my heart. I hope it hurt. I hope she feels a sad. Maybe lonely. Like I did all those years, when I wanted to die. Death was better then their imprisonment. I dreamed of being free, yet freedom continued, for years, to escape me.

I thought about my biological mother. Some one asked me the other day about her, if I felt sad for her. And I exclaimed "Why should I feel sad for her, I feel sad for MYSELF!". I don't feel badly for her that she misses my brother, sister, and I. I don't feel badly that she made this horrible bed for herself. Let her lay in it. It's NOT my problem. I feel "BAD" for myself. For real. I feel bad I never had a real mother. I didn't even know what a BED was. I didn't have enough to eat. I was frightened, scared, horrified. I feel BAD for myself.

Paula's mother has made a couple attempts to be in touch with me. And I found myself second guessing myself. Second guessing my decision about also removing ALL my "adoptive family" from my life, as well as my "adoptive parents". I found myself yearning for that taste of a "little more family". I want it. I always have. I've had this email from Paula's mother in my inbox for a week now. I deleted it this morning. The thought came to me recently, while I was toying with this idea, that while my adoptive grandmother has done me no wrong, I know she doesn't believe me. She doesn't, and neither do the others, believe that her daughter was a monster. She. Doesn't. Believe.Me. She wouldn't back me up, listen to me, hear me out. I don't need another person in my life, although she's a nice woman, to try to silence me. I am not about to walk down THAT road again.

Seriously, don't you think? Why bother.

Immeasurable.

It's hard for me to write with out tears. It's quiet in my home, it's late at night, and there's time to let my mind wander. Wander over the years that I have had the immeasurable blessing of becoming and growing into a mother. Words cannot express the depth that I love my children, how much I have treasured their lives - mine and theirs together. I cannot describe the miracle that takes place with in my body and soul when I have a child growing in my womb. I cannot explain how I love my children's voices when they tell me how much they love me. I cannot describe how motherhood has pushed me to the edge, exhausted me, broken me, fixed me. I cannot explain how I live for my children, that I have become every thing through them. I cannot explain the joy and yearning I feel to add on to our growing family, to experience the miracle of birth again. To my journey as a mother: the jagged one, the faltering one, the joyous one, the triumphant one, the loving one, the exhausting one.... To this journey, I want, with all my heart, to continue walking, running, leaping, crawling, each and every day of my life, with all that I am, and with all of the love I have to offer, I will and want to continue on as MOTHER.

Happy Mothers Day.

Love, Misty

Break it UP.

I'm having a love affair with these storage bins..... well... maybe not exactly, but they are taking up A LOT of my time. I worked yesterday morning on the laundry. I folded 4 loads initially. Then washed, folded, and put away two more.

I made an Ikea run yesterday with a girlfriend, hauling our children right a long with us... and let me tell you this: What a GREAT day for a break. Getting out of the house was just what I needed. I woke up feeling off, and I've am now a firm believer that all work and no play makes Misty a dull girl......er.... a raunchy, irritable, fussy, cranky-pants girl. Initially we canceled our trip, and on a whim decided to go any way. It was a blast. I'm glad we went. For sure.

We ordered pizza in last night. Tired-ness got the best of me. The children played in and outside last night, and I finished sorting the out-grown clothes into bins, and I'm proud to announce that I am almost done.

I never got to the Spring Cleaning for the nursery, so I "plan" (so maybe, maybe not) to get to that this morning. I've got to shower and pick up around the house, and then I've got an old friend coming to visit with her 4 children to play for the afternoon.

I guess I'll scoot and get started, and look forward to taking the weekend off from my much- needed-Spring-Cleaning. This is exactly why I've been putting off all these chores for 2 months. I guess I didn't really do myself any favors.

Oops, I did it again.

Back at it. Cleaning. Again.

After a slow start Wednesday morning, I managed to get Hannah and Ian's room Spring Cleaned, which I feel super-fantastic about. Yeah, I just said that. Can you hear the sarcasm in my voice? I have to admit though, I dread the start of each new day as I have to think about what the chore of the afternoon must be. Tomorrow I'm going to focus on the nursery, which should be an easy fix, and the rest of my efforts will be on the wash. I'm in the middle of switching out the children's clothing, too. The too-small-gently-used clothes go into bins for the next child in line or child to be, and the current season clothing goes into drawers. You know the drill.


For those that have followed me for some time, through my "5th bed obsession", here is the IKEA fold out bed, which we LOVE. It's comfy, and provides a THIRD bed in this room.

The lighting isn't too hot in this photograph, but here's a desk we put up for the kids, also from Ikea. What's cool about this find was the price - $20.00 for solid wood. The other cool thing is it is mounted into studs for good hold-up, and also folds down.

Here are Hannah and Ian's bunks.

And also more from Ikea. These shelves are also cheap and solid wood. Great for toys AND clothing storage.

And last, but certainly NOT least. This little one knows when to make a break for it. I found Olivia this way, screeching because her finger was stuck in a tic-tac pack. Mom on phone + toddler = TROUBLE.

Until Friday..... have a great one.

From the mouth of Ian.....

I did it. The bathroom is done. I have yet to decide what my spring cleaning chore is for the day. Maybe Hannah and Ian's room. That would be a good one. A good, tortuous, time consuming mess.

This little laundry sign hangs in my bathroom. I've often though I should turn the sign around so the arrow is pointing down to the ground. Maybe underneath stick the word "hell".


Yesterday while I was scrubbing away in the bathroom these 3 beautiful conversations happened.

Ian: Mom, can I take a dump in the toilet?
Me: What did you say? Who taught you how to say that?
Ian: You did, Mom.
Me: (muttering under my breath) Heaven help me now. (Followed by a long pause while I thought) You have GOT to be kidding me. Boy! Go ahead. And don't say that any more.

Ian: Olivia, your hair looks horrible.
Me: Ian, don't say rude things to your sister. What do you know about hair anyway?
Ian: Moooommmmmmmm. Her hair is all straggly and stringy.

Ian: Wow, Mom. You are really scrubbing hard. Are you doing to scrub that floor too?
Me: Well... yes, I am.
Ian: Wow, Mom. That's going to be the cleanest that bathroom has ever been.

Mind you, Ian didn't help clean one tiny bit. Who's the sucker now?

What is in Misty's Pan? Prepare to be amazed:



Ladies, I admit it. It IS PURE laziness on my part to not take the cookies down and throw them away. It's been an eye-sore that's bugged me for months. Every time I look at them, I think to myself "Gosh, I really should throw those out.". But did I? NOPE. After I took that video clip, I stuck them right back up there on the cabinet. Talk about taking action.

Let's play a game.

Remember my grand plans to have my house spring cleaned in a week? I made that plan a couple months ago, and instead of spring cleaning, I had a spring melt down. It was my birthday month and all that goes with it. Yearly, around my birthday, I reface thinking of both (failed) mothers and I reface the memory of my mother abandoning my sister, brother, and I years ago when we were small. It's a sad month for me. My melt down has left my spring cleaning on the to-do list, which I am supposed to start today. As we speak plans are in the making to get close and comfy with my bathroom until it shines. I already roped Ian in for help. Sucker.

Let's play a game today. See this pan? It's on top of my kitchen cabinets. What I want you to tell me is:

A. How long you think it's been there.

B. What do you think is on it.

Happy guessing for you. Happy toilet scrubbing for me.

Denial.

I am in serious denial that it is Monday, and in denial of all that means. The laundry that is piled high, the chores that need starting, the meals that need planning, the yard work that is waiting, the home work that needs attention.

Instead I have spent the last 2 hours fiddle farting on the computer organizing 1 years worth of pictures.... which ones need printing, which ones to toss. I'm also in denial over how VERY far behind I am in my scrap booking. Like 8 years. For real. Bad... bad...bad!

This post is going to contain one major butt load of pictures. A few from our zoo trip over spring break, a few of the carnival over the same vacation. Nothing too special, but it was fun, to say the least. Can I say I love my kids. Every thing about them. Spending time with them. Playing with them.

Is any one else counting down the days until Summer Vacation starts? We so are.

Happy Monday-ing.... I suppose I'll get my head out of the clouds now, and get to work.