a budding insultor

“you are a toot-brush!”

“yeah, well you are a tongue-brush!”

“you are a littlest pet shop!” to keats, love chicka.

“you are a bakugon!” not much  of a stinger.

“well, you are…….” and bird proceeded to scream out our address, hometown, area code and phone number at keats. “that’s right! you are a house!!”

silence followed this insult in the car as we tried to figure out if it was insulting or not.

“you are a polly pocket!” chicka hittin’ the girlie side, which all teen-age boys hate.

“you are barbie!”

“you are justin bieber!!!!”  that one stung.

“you are toy story 3” bird screamed another insult.

again, silence in the van trying to figure out the insult.

“you are the floor on mcdonald’s playland!!!” seeing a teaching moment, i added this one in.

“you are a potty word!”

“what’s a potty word?” the hubby and i both immediately asked.

“i don’t know, bird says londyn tells her that all the time.”

“bird? what does londyn say?”

“she just says she knows a potty word.”

“and what is the potty word?”


thank you first grade playground, you are still safe.

“YOU…………ARE………..WALMART!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” came bird’s final blow.

i can see i need to sit bird down and teach her some real insults.

and as it is the end of the year i have been thinking that it has been a bit of a rough one.

best moment of 2010 hands down…………risperidone!and the return of our bear.

worst moment has a tie……

jenn losing her husband and……good things from the restraining order:

1) we still have the kids and that is not changing.

2) lots of attorney fees are not going to be paid by me.

3) i have the BEST attorney.

4) we found out just how supported we are and that our friends are heaven-sent because a person is not measured by the amount of money they have but the amount of friends they have and that makes 2010 one of the BEST years we have had yet.


gettin’ rid of the unnecessary

when shopping for queen you can count on her liking all things to make the senses sing.

lotions, candles, shampoos, and hair gels.

her bedroom looks like a bath and body work store, without the victoria secret model across the hall like in most malls.

she also makes sure those lotions come into good use by demanding foot rubs and calf massages.

last night we had a line in her room for foot rubs 3 deep.

no one told me i had to go to utah institute of massage therapy for this mothering gig.

now back to the real subject of this post after my most enlightening tangent.

other than smelly things, it is hard to know what exactly queen would like so we take her shopping.

yesterday she picked out a fisher price play and learn music table.as you all can clearly see, it has legs as it is a table.

as i was assembling said table,  the hubby and i looked at each other wondering if it would be an assembly of futility making it a table.

we were correct, queen carries around her table top like a moses and his ten commandments.

apparently fisher price had it wrong when sending table legs.

speaking of christmas gifts…….

keats got me the best gift ever!

when the hubby made a snarky comment to answer my snarky comment last night i grabbed the best gift ever and gave it a toot to the back of his head.the ensuing jump and glare from the hubby was not only giggle-satisfying, but made the point that i will not be out-snarkied.

i highly recommend an air horn to settle all differences.

an impossible perception

i live in a predominantly LDS community.

i  am also LDS.

in this community, women especially, feel the need to be perfect.

perfect hair, perfect home, perfect children, perfect scripture study, perfect memorization for children of all things religious, perfect quilting, canning, scrap-booking, perfect exercising, and perfect body only 3 weeks after having babies.

perfect wife in setting the mood for the home, a perfect feeling for the husband to come home to after work.

and above all…..perfect mothers.

mothers who teach their children on bended knee, teach with always a tender voice, teach through example, teach teach teach teach perfectly.

this, has all been put on by us.

tell me one scripture or edict from God that tells us we must to all of this perfectly.

you will not.

you will find many interpretations of how we should be, but not one from God expecting of us what we ourselves put on us.

guess what?

i am not perfect, nor will i ever be.

i started this blog because i have been in the special needs world for 12 years now.

i have seen a mother cry because her son suddenly ran off and hit another child and that child’s mother immediately started to yell at the crying mother to control her child.

she did not know that at that moment her child would suddenly run off and hit someone.

did she fail?


is she a poor parent?


more parents than i can count do not take their special needs children out to stores, libraries, restaurants or parks because they feel they just can’t handle it.


because they are judged harshly for any failings and feel that are imperfect and not fit to raise the children they were given.

many are in foster homes and wards of the state.

many of the children are making it on their own in their home.

so i started this blog.

i started it because i am not perfect.

we have had moments of complete melt-downs, moments of complete over-whelming episodes, moments of complete joy, moments of complete wonder, moments when i did not even think to expect what my children decided to do.


moments that have defined the mother i am and the mother i am still working to be.

i am not perfect.

i have, however, learned that i possess a fierce love for my children.

a love that i did not know i even possessed until the first time i held keats in my arms and it filled me immediately with full force and has grown stronger with each passing year and each child placed into our home through love.

i have been judged harshly, by a handful and vast exaggerations, and it has been suggested and i have considered the thought of closing it down or making it private.

i cannot do this.


because i cannot control the actions of others, but i can control how i let them affect me.

because i am not perfect.

i am a mother who loves my children.

children who have excelled, grown, and are continuing to grow with me.

and  continue to learn with me.

i am raising imperfect children.

children who were not born adults.

children who were born ready to learn.

some slower than others.

some who need a completely different approach in life to learn basic skills.

but all teachable.

and all imperfect.

and that is how God created us.

saved by a toothbrush

“mom,” bird leaned over to whisper to me, “did you get any presents from santa under the tree?”

“no, and i looked twice.” i whispered back.

“are you sure you looked?” she urgently whispered.

“yes.” i said back with big eyes. “i looked every where, i think i am on santa’s bad list this year.”

the look on bird’s face was exactly like this:i know, she does not look like a monkey, but the eyes and mouth are dead-on.

“are you serious?” she gasped.

at this point, chicka, who has the ears of a super hero when listening to whispered conversations, jumped in.

“you got a toothbrush in your stocking.”

and as we all know santa delivered the stockings.

obvious relief from the bird.

we all got new toothbrushes in our stockings.

all seven of us.

turns our santa is a savvy shopper and just happened to have seven $3 off coupons.

the new best babysitter

uncle ricky strikes again.

“mom, where are you?” chicka asked me over the phone.

“i am about home, where are you?”

i could not hear the answer because there was much screaming, giggling, and some “oh no!” thrown in.

“chicka? i’ll see you in a bit.”


and what before my wandering eye should appear?

chicka, bird and uncle ricky with lots of toy-r-us gear!

“we did not ask!” was the very first think chicka said when she ran inside.

they got to shop with uncle santa ricky.

of all the things they could have gotten in toys-r-us chicka got a bakugon and bird got a CSI kit to do experiments.

take that stereo-typing people trying to lure my girls with all your girlie commercials!!!!

they also helped pick out toys for the other kids.

uncle ricky is already scoring high points just for being here,

he does not need to jack-hammer that popularity home. the girls, however completely approve of the jack hammer approach.

thanks again uncle ricky!

“uncle ricky is the best babysitter so far.” chicka informed me.

chicka freaked me out the other night without even realizing it.

i heard her bedroom door slowing open in the middle of the night and then she came and stood in our doorway.

she always runs to the side of my bed for a hug or just to tell me she did not think she could ever fall asleep even though she had been asleep for 5 hours.

no, she just stood there and stared at us.

“chicka? are you all right?”

nothing, just more staring.

“blythe? do you need a hug?”

more staring.

now, i was beginning to get some chills.

“mark! blythe is just staring at us.” i tried to wake him.

she just stared some more, slowly turned, walked into her room, shut her door and i could hear her walk across her bed to lay back down.

she never said a word.

darn child had me scared for a while after.

thought she was going all paranormal activity on me.on the shopping list is holy water.


a missed parental teaching moment

bird found a piggy bank she forgot existed.

it may be because i hid it on top of a book shelf.

as i came downstairs to see her making her own counting house, she immediately informed me that she tore two $1 bills while taking them out.

“don’t worry, i already threw them away.”

apparently, we have not done our economic duty of teaching her the value of money.

at this particular juncture, she is now ready to have a seat in congress.speaking of money…..

my brother ROCKS!!!!

he took me last night, just me and him, with his funky Romanian hat fur hat that every time someone said how much they liked it, he wore just a little more proudly, shopping and to dinner.

by the end of the night, he was proud of his little pet on his head.he, once again, spoiled me far more than he should.

one of the dresses twirl better than i could ever hope for.

how do i know this?

there was a particularly good christmas song playing as i walked out of the dressing room to get his opinion; so, of course, i had to dance.

this particular dance move required a twirl.

and then more twirls.

“is she a dancer?” the woman working there asked.

“only in her own head.” my brother replied.

and in that moment, i was ginger-toe-tappin’-rogers

and yes, it does twirl this high.all went well until my final move of twirl, kick, with a forward finish while holding onto the dressing room door handle.

i locked myself out.

thank you ricky. you truly spoil me too, too, too much.