Resolution to the Prank

After being pranked, I was so angry! I called my dad, (because that is who I call when I want to be listened to or when I want advice).  I blew off a lot of steam to him and expressed how frustrated I was by all the pranks. I told him that I was so angry I didn't want to talk to my mom for 3 days.

But by the next day, I felt surprisingly better. Doing some deep-cleaning in the bathroom helped considerably. Then I saw Sam's Pinterest account open on my computer and pinned a few things on her "Stuff for Later" board about diarrhea, constipation, and STD's. I also changed her profile description to say something cute about her and her new husband and how she thinks he's a hunk. I felt it was harmless enough because the pins could easily be deleted. Plus, she is constantly taking her mom's phone and submitting bogus Facebook posts about her mom having elephantiasis, loving turtles, or something equally strange and her mom's friends leave comments on them and that's how my sister finds out that her daughter even did it. So, turnabout-is-fair-play (isn't that how the saying goes?).

So when I felt markedly better in such a short time, I realized I should call my mom and let her know that I am SO over the prank-and that all is well-and we can be friends-and Ha, ha, that was a funny joke. I get it now.

Well, that conversation didn't go very well. Turned out that I had really hurt my mom by being so upset over her prank. She felt awful about it. She told me that she had gone so far as to replace my scriptures with brand new ones with my name engraved in them and everything.

I felt bad that I was such a stiff and couldn't laugh at all their pranks. I felt truly handicapped. Like I suck the fun out of everything. That I couldn't just see the fun in it.

I realized that my mom and I needed a restart.

I took some flowers to her office with a funny card and some Jolly Ranchers for her to share with her coworkers.

I know it's not all smoothed over yet and that it might take time for all to be well again. But my relationships with my family matter to me and I want to get along. I guess the next thing I need to do is call Sam and see if we are cool after the whole Pinterest hi-jacking thing. I might need to take her to lunch again.

I Am SO OCD

...or as my nephew calls it, CDO (because a true person with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder would want the acronym in alphabetical order).

My mom and niece were at my house unattended while I was visiting teaching and they pranked me!

Part one of the prank I noticed upon getting home. I went to use my restroom and found that they had hidden all the toilet paper and left only four sheets of magazine that they had torn up and draped over the empty toilet paper roll.

Luckily, they had forgotten to remove the kleenex box so I made it through that one easily.

Then I noticed my scriptures that I left in the bathroom earlier that morning. They were open. I found that they had found a scripture on adultery and highlighted it in red pencil as well as the inappropriate word for donkey (ten commandments kind of stuff). They had written with bold letters in red at the top of the page, "Come and be Saved!"

That pricked me a little more than the silly TP prank. My scriptures are holy to me and what they did to them seemed vulgar and irreverent.

Later on in the evening, Kate excitedly thanked me for reorganizing the bathroom drawers. {She is CDO in the making.} I went in the bathroom after she had gone to bed because I couldn't think what she could be referring to...

PANIC ATTACK!

They had put all the contents of my three drawers in different drawers. My neat and tidy set up was a mess. And being the way I am, I couldn't just put the bins back where they were. No. I had to clean them out, and wipe off the film that builds over the course of a week, and reorder everything.

So instead of having a nice, brisk walk on the treadmill to clear my mind before bed since I had missed my Zumba class trying to help Kate with her birthday poster, I am now posting a blog as well as cleaning my bathroom from top to bottom. ARGH!

I am really surprised at how mad this made me. Couldn't they have done something nice while they were here? Clean something? Write me a nice note? I can't tell you how many times my mom deep-cleaned my sister's house. Where's the love!

And I just bought Sam lunch today!

Ooh! I am so mad!

......AND NOW I SEE THAT THEY SHORT-SHEATED MY BED TOO!!!!

Another Kind of Masterpiece

A while ago, I mentioned my dismay that I didn't have any art work that I was creating at the moment and that I felt I needed some inspiration. Today, I reminded myself that while I am not creating art in the traditional sense, I am a mother, and mothering is the highest art. I have been working on the greatest of all masterpieces, Kate. I can in no way take full credit for her but I try at least not to ruin her. Most of the time Kate is the one improving me.

Kate has been begging for painting time and we've been working on homework so much that we haven't had time to do any painting. One day last week I just said PHOOEY to homework and pulled out the paints. Kate looked on the computer and found some St. Patrick's day clipart that she sketched onto paper and then drew onto a canvas. She followed her drawing with an outline of permanent marker to make it have a coloring-book-page feel. Then she painted. I helped her mix colors and talked to her about caring for her brush and holding it right. She worked on her picture for THREE days after school.

 You can barely see the clipart on the computer in the background. She kept referring to it throughout the process.

 She had so much fun doing it. Here is her finished product.

She shared it with my family for the talent show this weekend.

The Seven Year Itch

I never thought this day would come! We moved into our house when I was pregnant with Kate over seven years ago. We've raved about the location, the views, the proximity to family, the quiet street, the friendly neighborhood, etc. We always think of our home as superior to all other homes.

And yet, I suddenly have an intense desire to move.

Is it temporary? Will it pass like a cold or a flu? Do I need another round of antibiotics?

I must be bored. I do not doubt that what I am experiencing is the seven year itch but with our house instead of our marriage. That's all it is. Strange.

But what if it's something more? What if moving is the right thing for us? What if I'm having these feelings to push us to the next adventure in our lives?

Scott started it. If anything it's all his fault that I am even playing with the idea of moving. He is talking about it and running ideas past me and I am falling for it. We are going through all the different scenarios. We talk about what we would give up and what we would gain. What if? What if? What if? Oh, goodness, me. 

So I have a dilema. I am not sure if these are the kinds of thoughts a person can share with others. Is this something you keep to yourself until you plop that 'For Sale' sign on the front lawn? What if I blab my mouth all over about wanting to move and then we don't move? Will people treat us differently, like we are temporary, because they will think we are moving and then our experience here with be diminished? It's a wonder. What do you think? Share dreams and thoughts with others or keep them secret?

A Special Visit

Tonight, Scott, Kate, my mom and I visited with my cousin who has terminal cancer. We went up to his house not knowing if we would even be able to see him. My mom told me that he is in so much pain that he is just staying in bed and not seeing anyone. We decided to visit anyway knowing if nothing else, we would at least be able to visit with my uncle and aunt and see how they are holding up.

I can't tell you what a treat it was that he was having a good enough day that he could come out of his room and visit with us. As he began to struggle towards the end of the visit and his lips started to turn blue from being off his oxygen for that short while, I felt honored that he would suffer himself to be so uncomfortable, long enough for us to enjoy his company. He was so pleasant. So meek. He carried on with us in happy talk until it was time for him to go back to his room and rest.

But before he descended down the stairs to his room, he snatched up one of the big, soft, snickerdoodle cookies I brought to share and savored a piece of it in front of me and my joy was full. I wasn't sure what my cousin could eat because I had heard that the nausea associated with his illness comes and goes and I just don't know enough to know what he eats these days. Seeing him enjoy that cookie just pleased me. It's a small thing. But since I can't take away all the pain and hard that he and his family are going through, just knowing that for that one moment he enjoyed that cookie I made gave me to feel that I had helped in some way.

The Hair Battle

The whole first part of Kate's first year as a full-time school-girl presented me with a daily battle. The battle usually had something to do with her hair. She had definite ideas of how she wanted it styled but complained to me because of how inept I was at executing the hairstyle or, more commonly, she complained at how painful the process was. She would whip her head around and growl at me, "You are HURTING ME!" She would take it as a personal offense and assume that I must surely hate her if I would hurt her so badly. The whole experience was excruciating for both of us.

At Christmas, Kate had the genius idea to ask Santa for headbands. Something in her just switched over. Once she received the headbands, she contented herself with her own abilities at brushing her hair, however sloppily that turned out, and putting in a headband. Essentially, she cut me out of the equation.

Ever since Christmas, her and I have had pleasant mornings. I don't hurt her while brushing her hair. I don't fail at impossible hairstyle requests. She is ready and presentable for school.

Yesterday, I was complementing her at what a responsible girl she is. I was telling her how awesome she is, how grateful I am that she gets herself ready for school, and that she is happy, and willing to go, and that she doesn't battle me over anything, and so on. She said, "That's because I want to make you happy." I beam at her with pride thinking what a wonderful child I have and then she pops my bubble by adding, "You are SO GRUMPY when you are upset."

Art Stink

I need to work on some art. I have had a lull. I haven't been creating. I am worried about it. I think being sick for so long put me out of the practice. Now I just can't bring myself to do anything artsy.

I don't even know what I want to create. I need inspiration.

It's the weather, I bet. Having snow for such a long time and looking out and seeing shades of white and gray is NOT inspiring.

I haven't been reading the books I want to read either.

It's time to get busy!