The Road to Unsucsessful

I grew up just north of white trash. I don't mean some family down the road to the south. Metaphorically. We had a clean house pretty much all the time but we had a lot of dysfunction and problems. I did know my mom loved me. I did know my dad was fine with me. But I didn't know what success looked like. I tried. I got involved in high school. I did track and cross country. At church I didn't mind the talks about modesty and marriage. I was pretty sure there was about a 70% chance I would never get married but I didn't mind the talk about it. It was kind of weird when I first heard my friends tell me the names of all their future children. But it didn't really bother me. The lessons that bothered me were about talents. I didn't know God expected me to be talented. I was not talented, I had zero talents. I was clumsy, I was bad at math, I made stupid mistakes all the time and I would look around and pray that no one saw me making my stupid mistakes.

So I joined the runners. I wasn't good at it but I could put one foot in front of the other and try to move quickly through the course. It was enough to help me feel a little successful. I worked hard in school and joined the honors classes where I helped the kid next to me know he wasn't at the bottom of the class. I did well enough there and earned a tiny scholarship to a tiny school in the middle of nowhere. In the end I didn't use it because I had no money to pay for anything else. So I went to the community college and did okay and transferred to BYU after a year and didn't do okay. It was all right, BYU wasn't really the place for me anyway. I still didn't have any talents. I remember a sort of date I went on where the guy asked me what my talents were. You get the weirdest line of questions from guys at BYU. They need to know right then if you are worth a second date. No time to waste. No flirting for a while with someone you are attracted to and then going out with them. I'm sure it happened, I just didn't see it.

I left BYU with my tail tucked between my legs and went back to community college part time and work full time. There, I did flirt with a guy until we knew we wanted to be together and then we were together for the next 21 years. With a lot of stuff in between and a lot of stuff in the future too, hopefully. But I had my okay, full time job. Unskilled labor that paid the bills. I made enough to live with a roommate, though I didn't do that long. I'd tell people what I did and they would say, "You need to get a life." For real on an internet chat board, in their eyes and tone in person. In my head I was saying things along the lines of how I wasn't a success. I didn't finish college. I didn't have money and my parents would not fill out the financial aid paperwork. I didn't want to go into debt anyway. I'd seen the nightmare that debt can become. We moved about fifteen times when I was growing up. There was a reason for that.

I did get married and I didn't have debt. I had an okay job but no one admired me for my job. But what did that matter? I stayed in school part time. I wanted to go full time and finish. I still hadn't found what I was good at though. More than that though, I wanted to be a mom. That time in life hit. That time where all the voices in your head go silent and what you want more than anything else is to be a mom. So I became a mom. Three times. And I gave up my okay job to be a mom full time. My husband worked hard so I could do that and I still believe it was mostly a good idea for my kids. My kids were most important. But I kept remembering how I didn't graduate. I didn't ever get a real, grownup job. I was conflicted. I got a house and decorated it and fixed it up pretty nice. People admired my skill in interior design. Was it a talent?  I started a blog and I could write okay. It made me feel pretty good. Maybe I had something to offer. *Disclosure: when a stay at home mom says she wanted to have something to offer the world she isn't putting down her role as a mom. She knows being a mom is important. I am a mom but I am something else too. I think we all have multiple roles in life and lacking in one doesn't mean you regret the other.*

Back to the blog. I felt I might be good at something. It was a confidence booster. It got me thinking. Thinking about something that I always came back to. I should go back to school. Noah was in kindergarten so I thought it was time. I applied and got in and started in the fall, part time. I loved school but I was still scared. Always scared about something. Was my major right? Would I be able to go full time eventually. The money. Etc, etc. Those were just the small thoughts. Then the bigger obstacles came and I came to a halt. It wasn't going well. I dropped my classes the third semester. I had reasons, some were real, some were excuses. I came to the conclusion that I should go another direction. So I switched to a technical school. I enjoyed it. It wasn't too hard sometimes, and sometimes it was really hard. I'm a bumbler. I'm low on confidence. Hands on stuff doesn't always come easy to me. Sometimes I just want something to come easy to me.

When summer came I changed my hours and then stopped all together. Again, I was running out of steam. Though that isn't why I stopped. I'll be back around the end of the month though. I have to finish but I have a hard time seeing myself finished and actually getting a job. I'm a serial failer and I always wonder if I always will be. But I'm not giving up yet.

So now I have a teenager and I will have two teenagers in another month and a half. I can't separate my feelings for myself from my feelings for them. I've been a horrible example of success. I've been an okay mom, sometimes pretty good and other times pretty bad. Overall I'd say I'm a pretty good mom. But now that they are teenagers- oh the anxiety. Soon I will have to turn them out into the world. How can I believe they can be successful if I have been such a horrible example of success? How do I know they will be okay? They are their own people, they are not me, I know that. Am I vain to believe my own actions will shape their future? I do believe in them. They are smart, brave, beautiful girls with challenges of their own and so much to offer too. But have I given them a foundation so they can find success? I don't know. I've tried to give them opportunities within the bounds of our budget. I constantly feel like I could have done more though. I need to NOT tie them to my own issues. Let them be their own people. I need time to learn this teenager thing. It took time to get every other stage of their growing up down too, so I should believe I can do this. It feels different this time though. It's the finish line for their childhood. My finish line for raising them. I will always be their mom but when they finish high school their choices will become their own. I know all parents worry about their kids but why do I not hear about the things they worry about? I know they are worrying about drugs and sex and the typical teenage pitfalls. Am I alone in my worries? Why do I continue to enter this state of crippling anxiety when everyone else seems to be getting by fine? I know I worry too much, I always have. I need to relax and just love and support them, this I know. I just don't want to screw it up and ruin them. I want them to be better than me. I need to breathe. Breathe.

To The Dumb People

I've come to a conclusion after so many years on this planet. Something I've always been afraid of but have just kept from admitting even to myself. I'm dumb. Now I know, nobody likes self deprecation. I don't mean it that way. I think The Dumb may need a voice and I may be just the person to be the voice of The Dumb. Who better than a dumb person herself. How do I know I'm dumb? My first clue should have been that I planted an aspen tree in my front yard. Well not my first clue really because if I'm honest, I have suspected for years. But back to the tree. An aspen tree is a very pretty tree but it shoots up little trees all over your yard and you constantly need to cut the little suckers down unless you want a forest in your front yard. We were warned this would happen but we planted it anyway. Maybe I should have let the forest grow though. I'd have the only one in the neighborhood.

But now you are thinking, Wait Cindy, didn't you just write a blog post on how you like President Obama because of such and such reasons, despite the fact that most of your community disagrees with you? Maybe they disagree because they are smart and you are dumb?! Now I've thought that through already. There are lots of smart democrats/liberals out there: Hillary Clinton, Bill Clinton, Noam Chomsky. Okay, I don't really know who Noam Chomsky is. But it sounds like the name of a smart, liberal man. On the conservative side that George Will seems like a pretty sharp guy. There are lots of rednecks though who don't seem like geniuses, so it goes both ways. You can be smart or dumb and it doesn't determine your political ideology so much.

So anyway, back to being dumb. School's hard. I do well on the tests but it's set up in a way where you can do that but not really absorb the knowledge in a sustainable way too much. I'm awkward and mistake ridden and lacking in confidence. I read at a snail's pace. All possible symptoms. Why would I want to admit this to the world? You really do have to be honest with yourself at a certain point. And those two people reading your blog, well they appreciate honesty too, I'm sure. I shouldn't have married. Shouldn't have had kids. I think my kids have a fighting chance still, their dad is smart after all. But maybe it would have been better to let the cycle of dumbness die with me. Survival of the fittest my DNA out of the system, so to speak.

There are lots of dumb people out there. We recognize each other I think. Maybe. I may be too dumb to say for sure. But we should be able to support each other. There should be some sort of Dummies Anonymous. Maybe I can start a group on facebook. A private group where we can lament the fact that we use our fingers to add, can't figure out the proper use of whom, and can't tell if Frodo belongs with Lord of The Rings and Fredo belongs with The Godfather or vice versa. (Maybe that one's just me.)

A Brief Religious Interlude (or what I learned from Jon Huntsman)

Over in primary land I am able to feel the spirit and never hear religion mixed with politics. It is a blessing. To be honest though, my ward is pretty good about steering clear of that. From what I remember anyway. The internets are a different story however. I know, don't go seeking it out if you don't want to read that. You don't have to go there. So true, so true. But I'm a glutton for punishment, among other things, occasionally. Today I went to a blog and there was a little fundraising for Mitt going on. Dear old Mitt. The fundraising was going on so "America can get it's dignity back". Uggg. I hate that. "We have a president I don't agree with, he's not my guy, so of course our country has lost it's dignity." (Not an actual quote, just my guessing what is going on in these heads.) Why so vitriolic? I still say there is good in everyone. Why does it always have to turn so hateful? I'm being a little sensitive today, I know. Nursing an annoying, sinus bothering cold.

Anyway, That's not even what I was going to write about. Mormons are in a bit of an uproar because potential presidential candidate and former Utah governor, Jon Huntsman, is unable to clearly define his Mormonism. I really don't care about Jon Huntsman's Mormonism. I liked him as a governor. Solidly moderate he seemed. He seemed friendly on the environment. I liked that. But as far as his religion goes, a lot of Mormons aren't happy he didn't boldly bear his testimony. Or at least renounce the church. "You're either in or you're out!" they say. Now I understand people who like to comment on newspaper articles and threads and facebook statuses (stati?) on the internet are often more opinionated that the average person. So there's bound to be a lot of "You're either in or you're out!" "There is no such thing as gray! It's all black and white!" I don't believe that. I hate black and white. You should see the walls in my house, nothing black and white there. The ceilings are white though.

I don't mind that Jon Huntsman, for whatever reason, can't be completely black or white or straight with a reporter (he has time to do that anyway, why bother getting too personal on a subject that is very personal to some people before you've even thrown your hat into the ring officially). And I don't believe "you're either in or you're out". Is that what stake missionaries say? Do they go talk to the inactive family down the street, develop a report, get them interested in coming back to church and then, BAMM! "You know, Brother and Sister Jones, we really would love to see you at church (even though you haven't been in ten years). Please come this Sunday at 11. But remember, once you get there, you are either in the church, OR YOU'RE OUT! NO EXCUSES! If you ever have a question or doubt, don't bother coming back until it's gone. So we'll see ya Sunday, k?" And I don't believe the church feels this black and white about things either. They know we are all on our own path in our spirituality. If such a black and white stance was the case I would not be in the primary presidency. I was married in a church. I haven't been through the temple. My own spirituality is very personal so I don't get into it much. But if it was that black and white I don't think they would have called me to the primary presidency. This isn't about me. The whole black and white thing has long bugged me. The world is a beautiful place for all it's colors and shades of each color. I believe in God and Jesus Christ and I believe they know that too.

The Dumbest of The Smart

If I ever write a memoir it will be called The Dumbest of The Smart....a Memoir. It's almost as cool as the name of Brent's future memoir, In The Shadow of The Squeegee. Very mysterious I know. These names are copyrighted of course. Sorry, you can't have them. I've always felt that way, dumbest of the smart. Which is not necessarily a bad thing. There's always room for improvement. If I were smartest of the dumb, well then I would have peaked. I'd have to say, this is as good as it gets. In high school I was in honors classes...just barely. I should write a memoir just to save all the timeless tales of my childhood for my children and my children's children to read someday. I think about it then I think, could I ever really put my most embarrassing moment on paper? Or on the internet? Or even in microsoft word? I've had the same most embarrassing moment of my life since I was 19 years old. So for twenty years. It was so embarrassing it has been difficult if not impossible to surpass. There I was, waiting for my date to pick me up in the afternoon. We were going over to the community college to play raquetball. There was a knock and Chuck (my step dad) told him to come in... Nope. That's as far as I can get. I've only told this story to two, maybe three people. Maybe it's not that bad, I just embarrass easily. Still. Some things are better left unsaid.

I could just start my memoir by telling how I got my name. Why did my parents name me Cindy? I'm not a Cindy in the '70's sense of the name. Cindy was always a dumb blond with a big chest on TV when I was growing up. I guess that is sort of appropriate. I am blond but anatomically I don't fit the bill. My dad had what I would guess was a small crush on a coworker. Why did he have a crush on this woman? Well, she'd had surgical augmentation, if you know what I mean. So yes, there you have it. My parents named me after a woman named Cindy who had a boob job. So glad I got that off my chest. Pun intended? I think my slight white trash upbringing streak is showing through. So back to my most embarrassing story. Could it really be worse than the story of how I got my name? I'm afraid so. It's funny if delivered properly. Funny and horrifying all at once. No, not yet. We'll save horrifying for later.

You're All Welcome Here

Euuugh. There's the made up word of the day. That and withdrawling. I just saw someone use that and it struck me as funny. So life sucks right now. I'm not going to sugar coat it. Oh, the expounding I would like to do right now. But sadly my personal issues need to stay tucked in my head, or at least thrown up all over Brent for a while. I need like twelve people in twelve categories to be able to vent to. You go in the category of politics (which would probably be pretty easy because I've been working on my apathy). You, over there, you take religion. You take paranoia and hypochondria. And what do you want? Hormonal induced depression? Or, what am I going to do with my life crisis. Or, what am I doing with my life crisis. And you. You get gluten free bread.

Really it's just one of those funks or fogs or something that will eventually lift and all will be fine-ish again. There was a glimmer of the fog lifting yesterday. There was also this good line in a song I was listening to: "Some guy on the net thinks I suck and he should know, he's got his own blog." Funny. And I almost feel a little better now. Plus Monday I'm going to start working on Project: Holy Crap I'm Going To Be 40 In About Six Months So I've Got To Get It Together in A Good Way Before Then. Yeah, I'll probably go down that sad little path a little.

I truly believe that being happy all the time is overrated. No, you don't want to walk around all the time like you can't get over the disappointment you met in your teenage years but I think it's good to embrace life and all the emotions it brings. With the caveat that you are still a functional human being and able to get done the necessities and not beat your kids or bug the crap out of your husband. (And yes, I may use the words "crap" and "sucks" too often.) But I see people say things like, "I have decided to allow nothing but happiness into my life." Sure happiness is a choice but you can't remove all pain and unpleasantness from your life. Unless, perhaps, you are very shallow and not capable of feeling a range of emotions or doing anything productive with those emotions. This takes nothing away from those who are naturally optimistic. I see them out there. They are a mystery to me but I know they exist. It's kind of like when I was reading this ADHD forum once (when I was convinced I had ADD, not ADHD though. I've never had enough energy to claim ADHD). Some of the people were debating the pros and cons of medication. Some were of the opinion that they did not want to be on medication because it masked their true personality and forced them into a mold that would make them fit in with society, making themselves sort of a shadow of their true self. I think there is definitely a point there. (*Disclaimer, I am in no way qualified to tell someone with ADHD what to do.*) I think those of us who occasionally go to "the dark side" (and I'm not talking about Satan here so relax) should embrace that side (and really, this is everyone at least once in a while). Like I said before, don't embrace it so much that it is all encompassing and you can't function. Also, too much of that can get a bit self involved and narcissistic. Embracing the good and the bad brings about a clarity I think. See, I was feeling quite blah when I started writing this and I already feel better.

Don't get me wrong. I know I have a good life. Got the husband, kids, etc, down in a good way. But sometimes the crazy- it's there. I don't want to feed it too much, but I want it to know he has just as much right to be here as happy and well adjusted do too.

Insanely Stupid

I do not have my finger on the pulse of all things tween. I tend to think that despite that, I'm still a good mom. I've still got the whole Big Picture thing going for me. Today, however, I almost blew it as a tween mom. Tomorrow is Zoe's 10th birthday. Today I got a phone call from her soccer coach and was offered free tickets to Miley Cyrus. Of course I said,"Woohoo! She's going to love that! I'm going to be a hero! Thank you so much!" Okay, I didn't really say that. What I said was "No thanks, it's Zoe's birthday." The coach's response was, "Oh, she's having a birthday party?" My response to him was, "No". So I say goodbye and hang up on the man who just offered me FREE tickets to Myley Cyrus on my daughter's 10th birthday. Immediately I know I am now in the doghouse. She's going to hear about this. She's going to be sad because her BFF is going. I've just ruined my kid's birthday!

Isabella is going to hear about this too and how I could have gotten three tickets. Isabella asked me why we couldn't go to her concert a couple of years ago. My response, "I didn't even know she was coming until the day after". See, no finger on the pulse of what tweens want there. Then she asked last summer, "Why can't we go to Stadium of Fire and see the Jonas Brothers?" I answered, "Because we don't like giant crowds and traffic on the 4th of July and Stadium of Fire is just a little too Republican Rally for our taste. I prefer my holidays nonpartisan." (Don't be offended by this anyone, I'm just joking. I've never been there. Not joking about traffic though. 4th of July, 1989, Phoenix, AZ, literally FOUR hours in traffic!) She wouldn't have to ask me why we couldn't go this time, her answer would be, "My mom is mean and clearly hates me!"

Why did I think it was so important to keep my kid home on her birthday so we could open presents and eat cake and ice cream together? Because those are our big plans. Fortunately, I realized I was being stupid and insane and called the coach back up and told him I may have been the teensiest bit hasty in my initial response. Luckily, his offer hadn't expired and I was still able to get the free tickets. I'm going to have to milk this hero mom thing for all it's worth.

Wrapping Up 2008 With A Big Red Bow On Top- Wait, let's make that A Big Blue Bow On Top

It's over. 2008 is gone just about. This may have been the quickest year of my life. So it's time to review some things of note. The problem with blogging is that inspiration usually comes while washing my hair in the shower and is forgotten by the time I'm done. Well I'm still the same old me, yes I did wonder if it was too lewd to mention the shower in my blog. I am thrilled to look out the window and see snow covering the fence and roofs and cars. The extra long Fall was just not right in my opinion. Yeah, it made biking and walking to school a snap but cold and snow are what we are supposed to have and I don't believe in messing with mother nature. What has been accomplished this year? I think it's normal in this culture to try to have a bunch of huge accomplishments to put up on some sort of imaginary scoreboard that will launch you ever closer to your eternal reward or just make you feel good about yourself and all you've done. I can never seem to find many of those things to tack onto the scoreboard. Life's usually a series of small events, some I feel good about, some that wasted too many hours of my time, most that were just living the daily functions of life and taking care of this thing called family. I dare say this is how life is for most of us.

I did finally get recycling down this year. We don't have those convenient blue or green recycling cans that many communities have. But I discovered about a year ago this thing out here called the Blue Bag Recycling Program. If you live out this way I highly recommend you try it out if you haven't yet. You just get those blue recycling trash bags that you can get at the grocery store and separate your recyclables into the bags and put it all in your regular garbage can and they separate it all at the dump. Brent's skeptical that they actually do it but there was a picture on the internet with a big pile of the blue bags that had been removed at the dump. I didn't recycle any cans this year (baby steps) so maybe I'll add those in next year. You have to rinse things out so that's why I've resisted so far.

I started a blog (pretty obvious one here). I found out that I kind of like to write and that occasionally I don't completely suck at it. It's a little surprising that I've stuck with something for so many months. I'm hoping in the coming year that I can be a little more open in my blogging. Dare to say more of what I want to say. It's always been my desire to make this a forum for my thoughts and hear others thoughts too, along with the pictures and the happenings in our lives. I censored myself more than I really wanted to when it came to politics and other issues.

Speaking of politics... We elected Barack Obama as our next president! I still can't believe that in a month we will have a President Obama. I learned a lot from this election about just how difficult it can be for individuals to come together on varying political views. I think I may have even harmed a friendship or two as a result of the election. Not because I wouldn't shut up about my views or I was trying to change another persons mind. More I think because they didn't agree with my guy and when he won (oh the nerve of it all, allowing the other team to win for a change!) they were upset and blamed me in a way for bringing this terrible thing to pass. That part makes me sad. Hopefully time will heal wounds. Let me just say how grateful I am for friends who tolerate me and my contrary political views. :) Let me explain just a little about what Obama's win means to me and others. It's like this time years ago before Brent and I were married and we used to go running together after work in the mornings. We were running and talking at the same time about some issues involving our future together. I know, we should have just stuck with the running. Well the conversation didn't go well and we were having a disagreement about something important to me. Honestly, I can't remember all the details but I was upset and started crying. Crying and running do not go together because the crying makes you unable to breath. So I started gasping for air. I was hyperventilating and could have used a paper bag to breath into at that point. So I stopped running, stopped crying, and took some slow deep breaths and then I was able to breath again. It felt unbelievable to be able to breath normally again. That's how it feels. We've had an administration running our country that has basically told those who don't agree with their policies to sit down and shut up, we know what's best, you don't and we're not going to listen to you. I can breath again. I can have an opinion contrary to my government's once again and not be accused of being unpatriotic. Not be thought of as a bad American. I've always believed that when you disagree with your country's leaders it is your right and even responsibility to stand up and say something. To protest peacefully. That is what I believe our founding fathers intended. We don't need to rehash the reasons I disagree. The war, the Patriot Act, Guantanamo, etc., etc., etc. Those things have been debated ad nauseum. It doesn't mean I don't have great respect for our troops because I surely do. After all, I'm too much of a chicken to do what they do. They and their families sacrifice in the most amazing of ways. But I want to see change. I believe there is more than one way of doing things and if you're hitting your head against a wall hoping it will stop the pain and it's not working, then maybe you should stop hitting your head against the wall and take a new approach.

Another development late in this year is that I think I've got this exercise thing down again. I'm on day 33 of a 90 day workout program, working out six days a week. Finally, I'm remembering again how much I love working out!

Those are just a few notable things that I wanted to mention as this year nears it's end. What about next year? I have this weird, no reason behind it at all, belief that odd years are lucky for me so it could be a great year!

Lefties Rule

I was thinking about how I noticed that John McCain and Barack Obama are both left handed, taking notice because I am left handed. I remembered that Bill Clinton was also left handed. So I was wondering what other presidents were left handed. Lefty presidents include James A. Garfield, Herbert Hoover, Harry S. Truman, Gerald Ford, Ronald Reagan, George H.W. Bush, and Bill Clinton. I guess Ronald Reagan wrote with his right hand but was one of those who in the old days was forced to learn to write with his right hand. You know, because being a lefty was a sign of evil (or at least thought to be at one time). There were possibly other left handed presidents but they were probably forced to go "right" as kids too. I find it interesting that four of the last five presidents (counting President-Elect Obama) are left handed. This may suggest it is also interesting that George W. Bush is not left handed (no, in my biased viewpoint he definitely could not be a lefty. LOL). Additionally, John McCain is left handed, as mentioned, as well as former presidential contenders Al Gore and Ross Perot. It's statistically interesting considering only 10% of the population is left handed. Is there something about being left handed that makes one more naturally equipped to become president? That's probably a bit of a stretch. I've always found it to be an interesting quirk for myself. Brent has made fun of my left-handedness in the past. The first time he saw me write anything was when we worked together back in "ye olden days" and I was figuring some numbers for the press we were working on. Writing in the way I was with the typical left handed tight grasp on a pen or pencil, Brent walked up to me and in a caveman voice said, "Me write big numbers". I don't write nearly as much as when I was a kid so I've lost the left hander callous on my left pinky that comes from dragging the hand across the paper, also resulting in pen and pencil all over the side of my hand causing me to reach down from my desk and rub my hand on the carpet at school as a method of removal. I was a little disappointed that none of my kids turned out left handed. Brent was just a little too triumphant over that one I think. So does this all mean that when your left handed kid grows up, assuming you have a left handed kid, that he or she will have a better shot at the oval office? Who knows? But it appears it couldn't hurt.

Is It Time To Rebuild?

So I'm out of shape. Not only am I out of shape, I'm a broken down shadow of my former self. Back in, when was it? 2004? Back in 2004 I was in optimal condition. Well sort of anyway. I weighed 20+++ pounds less than I do now. + equaling + or - 5 lbs. Don't worry, this isn't turning into a story problem. Or is it? It is a problem. Back when I did weigh 20+++ pounds less, I was in good shape. I had muscles, well muscles as far as I'm capable of building muscles. But I was hungry. Soooo hungry. And I hate being hungry. Not only for the obvious reasons but because it makes me loopy and unable to safely drive or operate heavy equipment, if I were to operate heavy equipment. So I slowly, steadily put back on most of the weight I lost when I decided it was time to lose that baby weight after Noah. Which doesn't count the 30lbs of weight you lose just by thinking about losing weight after having a baby. And now I'm out of shape. A broken woman.
I started exercising. Low impact stuff. Enjoyed the afternoon walking in the beautiful autumn weather. I feel like I could go on doing that forever, it's so beautiful with everything all awash in an orangy fall glow. But soon the winter gray will be here and that doesn't inspire. Exercise+Cold=Bad. Additionally, doing the walking and low impact, wimpy, sort of strenth training has apparently brought toxic poison to the surface with no apparent exit strategy in the form of aches and strangely, itchiness too. So what's a girl to do? Can you rebuild your broken down, self abused body to it's former glory? (Using that term very loosely.) Anyone? Bob? Jillian....? So that's the quest. The goal. To rebuild. Start from scratch. Resurface better than before. But without being hungry. Remember? Hungry is bad. I read this book a couple of years ago when I was still in my obsessed with health and nutrition books phase called the Perricone Diet. It explained how to do such a thing with certain exercises and specific healthy food like almonds, fish, berries, organic milk, etc. And of course there was a whole series of vitamins to go along with the diet that were very specific to it. Coincidentally Dr. Perricone was willing to sell these to you for a nominal fee. But the price was completely worth it and justified you know. ;) So should I go on a diet of nothing but say salmon, blueberries and flaxseed? Sounds like something a grizzly bear might enjoy. But I am not a grizzly bear. Bears are scary. So, balance. Is balance the key? Could be....

Elementary Meanderings

Kindergarten, 3rd grade and 5th grade. Those are the grades Noah, Zoe and Isabella are in this year, respectively. It took me until Isabella entered 2nd grade to no longer feel nauseous on the first day of school. Maybe it was because she started a new school and there were no lingering ghosts of past downtrodden school children floating around the halls. Or maybe it was because it didn't have that 1970s elementary school smell. Kindergarten is a blur for me. I remember the first day, I threw up the eggs I had for breakfast on the playground and the little overly helpful blond girl helped me to find the teacher. I was always mortified when people tried to assist me when I was sick. I had a kidney infection in 2nd grade and opted to stay home alone rather than go to my Grandma's house and be subjected to her friends pinching my cheeks and and paying too much attention to me (plus the infection made me pee my pants which was a secret I wanted to guard with my life). But I digress. That's all I remember from my first school and I think I became friends with that overly helpful blond girl again in 7th grade in a different town. She said she went to the same school in kindergarten and remembered me throwing up and helping me. But she was prone to lying, too. So I moved about a month in and my new teacher was strict but nice. The day I missed the whistle on the playground announcing the end of recess I stayed outside who knows how much extra time until I finally looked around and saw I was surrounded by the big kids. I finally found my sister and she walked me back to class. My teacher didn't look happy but she didn't yell at me, just gave me my math worksheet with strawberries on it and we carried on with the day. Later, my Mom went to parent teacher conference and came home and related the good laugh she and my teacher had at my expense over the situation. I was humiliated at the time, but now I know they probably just thought it was cute. That's about the extent of my kindergarten memories other than a boy named Skyler telling me I looked ugly on picture day because I had curled hair. He's the only kid in kindergarten who's name I remember. I guess you never forget the first boy who calls you ugly!

In 3rd grade I was on my 3rd school, having moved early in first grade. I loved 3rd grade. As far as elementary school went, this was the time when all the stars aligned. Miss Diston was my teacher. She was one of those popular teachers that every kid hopes they will get. She had long, straight, red hair and wore glasses, like me. Life was just easy that year, I had my friends Karen and Lele across the street and Colette at school. She had a twin sister in Karen's class named Nanette. The only way you could physically tell them apart was that Colette wore brown shoes and Nanette, blue. I was awesome in math that year. We had math groups and had to go to a different class based on the group you were in. I was proud to be in the highest math group. I loved the times tables and made it in the 3 minute club. You had to fill in the times table chart in 3 minutes to get in the club. After a lot of practice, I rocked it. But soon came my downfall when we had to master check writing and it was completely beyond my level of intelligence. Or maybe it was that third graders have no use for writing checks, thus they are not equipped with the capacity to learn such things. I also got to dance the hukelau in the third grade program, which was very cool. At the end of 3rd grade I moved and was sad, but I was accustomed to moving by then.

5th grade was a weird year. My best friends, Julie and Linda, moved over the summer leaving me on my own. That was partly good because my 4th grade crush was Linda's boyfriend and with her gone I could now make my move on Jamie Wright (who I secretly called Mister Right). But that was never to be for a shy girl like me. I had some work to do in 5th grade. While I believed my educating had been excellent in 3rd grade, even I knew my 4th grade teacher sucked and I had come out of 4th grade dumber than when I went in. Things at home were tense. My Mom and Dad were fighting even more than usual and I think we all knew the end was near. We moved just after Christmas after losing another house. I shared a room with my sister Lynn there. Every morning I woke up to that "Take off to the Great White North" song. The one by the Canadian comedians where they keep saying, "Take off, Hoser". It was on the radio every single morning for months, it seemed. I hated that song. I hated my new life at my new school, too. All the classes were full except the one that combined gifted 5th and 6th graders. I'm not an idiot but I wasn't prepared for that class. I was lost and the kids all thought I was a freak. I came home and cried a lot because the work was too hard and the kids hated me. Soon there was a diversion because my parents finally decided to give up and get the divorce we'd all seen coming my whole life. I think I was more relieved than sad. I'd never have to hide my head in my sleeping bag again, pretending to be asleep while I had a friend sleeping over, while my parents were having one of their screaming matches in the middle of the night. That was a good thing, and I got a new bike out of it. Needed that bike. So 5th grade ended on that note and I was off with siblings and my Mom to live in our first apartment ever. The divorced months offered new adventures, followed by the step-parent years. And as usual, they all landed me in a new school at the start of almost every school year.

girl meets blog

So I have this other blog called "girl meets blog". Originally the purpose of this was to write about whatever I didn't feel like sharing on this blog. I very occasionally have this slightly dark side and I feel like ranting about things that only interest me. So I made this private blog. But I didn't like it because a part of me likes writing something and putting it out there into the universe so to speak. I wasn't necessarily looking for strangers to read my thoughts but I didn't really care if they did, as long as they were strangers. So I made the blog public. But then, since it was supposed to be more personal stuff, I didn't want anyone I knew to stumble upon it. So I started making up fake names for me and the family. Then I realized I might have to make up other fake details of our lives, such as where we lived. It started getting complicated because I'd forget what the names were or I'd change them because the names didn't fit us just right. Then I started going to friends blogs where I'd start to make a comment and realize I was logged in under this other blog name. So I almost "outed" myself a few times. Well it got to be way too complicated and not worth the effort. I guess I'm not cut out to be a spy. So I changed it back to private and lost the pseudonym. I know it's all kind of strange, but that's me sometimes. So this was pretty much all for naught since my other blog has become a place where I do nothing but log my workouts. Nothing scandalous there, or especially interesting either. I guess I don't have much of a dark side after all. I have only one blog entry that relates to anything other than exercise. So I guess I'll share it with you. This is the one I was making up names and such for (I later changed the names back to the real ones). It concerns our need for an exterminator earlier this summer. I know, why would I need a whole new identity to discuss my need for the bug guy to come to my house? That's a question that may never be answered. It may not be interesting to anyone, but what the heck. And it doesn't really fit in with my exercise log.


Eeew, Ick, Gross

About three weeks ago I was in the kitchen where I saw this thing in the sink that looked like either a little stick or a worm. Turns out it was a wormy little creature. Of course I screamed, then washed it down the sink. Soon after that, these wormy little creatures started showing up in the girl's bedroom downstairs and then in Noah's room. Brent says they are baby caterpillars. We haven't come to a consensus on exactly what they are. All I know is they are disgusting and I freak out every time I see one. We decided to wait 'til after our vacation to do anything and see if they'd just go away on their own but it doesn't seem to be happening. If they are caterpillars then it makes me think they will probably turn into something else eventually, like moths (it's highly doubtful that I could soon have pretty butterflies flying all around my house, that could be cool though). If and when that happens, and maybe now (I don't know the eating habits of caterpillars except for what I've read in the children's book "The Hungry Caterpillar") they will probably start eating things like clothes or carpet or who knows what. I finally got too disgusted with it all today and called an exterminator. A part of me feared we'd come back from our trip and find dozens of them throughout the house, not what I want to come home to after a long road trip. So they're coming tomorrow and they said the stuff they spray is safe for children. They even said the stuff they use is approved by the EPA. Well if it's good enough for the Environmental Protection Agency who am I too question? Ha ha. It's also a good opportunity to try to get the ants that are starting to show up in the yard again. Last year my method of extermination was to pour boiling water on them. It was somewhat successful and quite entertaining to the kids. The only problem is boiling water kills grass along with ants. (Originally written June 10, 2008.)

Update: The worms are now gone. I guess it was worth it to have my throat burn for three hours after the bug guy filled our house up with noxious chemicals!

This brain of mine

My brain is a scary place. I'm sure if you cut it open and looked at a cross-section of it, it would look something like an explosion in a penny candy and yarn factory. To put it mildly, it's a mess. There are days when I just feel like it's firing little explosions all over the place with that beep-beep sound of the garbage truck backing up all the while in the background. This is what I've done today: I got up around 8 a.m. after pushing snooze a few times. Turned on the computer twice, because the computer seems to like it better that way. My plan was to go for a short run and do a workout downstairs. Instead I mess around on the computer for too long until I start to see children surface from the basement. So we go look into eating breakfast and I get in an argument with Zoe. I send her to her room, tell her to do four pages of her summer school workbook. Change my mind a minute later and before you know it she's cleaning the bathroom. This leads me to decide we need to clean the whole house, top to bottom, because it is a mess. So I send Isabella off to clean the master bathroom thinking Noah and I will tackle the other one. Instead I change my mind and I'm off doing the bills. I realize that it is now lunchtime and the kids should go get dressed so they can eat (a new development for the girls, being told every other day to get dressed.) An hour more of me doing who knows what and I realize I should go take a shower and get dressed myself. A friend calls for Zoe and I tell her Zoe needs to do chores before she can play. As I hang up I think, no we need to go to the grocery store instead. So I take a shower and pretty much scrap all plans, for now.
In our "art room" sits a sewing machine that took a month for Isabella to convince me to get out so we could sew a purse she wanted to make. I took the machine out last week and told Isabella we'd try to get around to using it by the end of the week (I'm being realistic here). So we worked on that four days later and then I decided we should finally work on the sewing project they got for Christmas six months ago. We do half of it and I tell them we'll finish the rest tomorrow, we'll probably finish it by Friday, at least most of it. I've led my children into who knows how many incomplete projects. I'm constantly telling Brent about one crazy scheme or another. He listens patiently to me, knowing I'll have lost interest in a day or two. I have the hardest time getting organized, but then I can turn on a dime and clean and organize non-stop for eight hours. I haven't taken the kids to the dentist in four years. Partly because I'm an anti-dentite who thinks dental work is a sham. It's my parents fault for never taking me to the dentist as a kid, my first time was when I was 18. Luckily I've never had a cavity. Another reason they haven't been is because I can't get organized enough to call the office, especially when I know they won't be able to get us in for a month and a half. I'm sure I have ADD, at least a minor case, but I'll never get around to getting it diagnosed, and the thought of a 37 year old woman on Ritalin is just silly. It isn't debilitating, this self diagnosed ADD, and I don't think it makes me a terrible mom, just a flawed one. But it sure is annoying and gets in the way of functioning as I should from time to time. It also explains why we have canned soup for dinner more than any family ought to. Speaking of which, I better wrap this up. I only have two more hours of getting distracted before I have to figure out dinner for tonight!

Do you want to talk? Not really

My sister Lynn was staying with us for a couple of days last week. After she left, Brent commented that she probably thought we were a really weird family. I asked him if it was because we went out to eat with her and our family barely spoke a word. He said he was thinking about the ride in the car where we barely spoke a word. You're probably thinking, these people are freaks or they don't like each other. No, it's not that. Okay, I may be a bit of a freak but I wouldn't describe the rest of my family that way. We are just quiet people (except Noah, sometimes that boy can go on and on and on!) Anyone who knew me as a child knows how completely shy I was. I'm not that shy now but I can still be a very quiet person. My Mom used to say I was just sitting back taking things in, observing. That's true. I think I catch things about people that others wouldn't catch as quickly. Sometimes anyway. And Brent, he's so comfortable being alone it's almost ridiculous sometimes! But I still love him. We do of course talk to each other frequently enough, sometimes for hours. And there's nothing wrong with the art of conversation. I have my moments when my kids are pulling on me because I'm talking with a neighbor and the kids are saying "IT'S TAKING FOREVER!" But we do have those times when we'll be together and not saying a thing. That's just who we are, it's in our DNA to be quiet more often than the average person. And it's definitely in our kids DNA, getting this characteristic from both sides. I think the best payback my parents ever got from raising me is me having a daughter with a quiet voice. My whole childhood was spent with my parents saying "Speak up! We can't hear you! Stop mumbling!" And now I've been blessed with Isabella, great girl, awesome person, you couldn't ask for a better daughter. But I have to put my head right next to hers to hear what she's saying a lot of the time. Definitely payback! I used to think there was something wrong with me, not talking as much as everyone around me. But now I'm okay with who I am. It's just a part of me, and a part of the rest of my family too. And the kids will get over this more and more as they grow up. But you gotta embrace who you are, right? What's that expression? Silence is golden. :)

Cleaner Salesperson, part I & II

A couple of months ago a woman came to my door selling cleaning products. Usually I try to pretend I'm not home, being the mature woman I am but this time I answered the door. Well she showed me some yellow cleaner and cleaned my window quite nicely before I had a chance to say "no thank you". Then she took the lid off the bottle and asked me what I smell. I smelled it and replied "Gasoline". 'Cause gosh darn if it didn't have a slight smell of gasoline. She looked shocked and said, "Gasoline?!" She said it was supposed to smell like lemons so I tried again and said "Oh yeah, lemons" adding "and gasoline" in my head. Then she asked me about my kids and showed me a picture of her twins. Following this I told her I couldn't buy her product, no money, husband wouldn't approve, yadda, yadda, yadda....no thank you. She said okay, then asked if I had any cheese. Yes cheese. You see she had some crackers but needed some cheese to go with them. Well sure, I had cheese. So I cut some up, put it in a sandwich bag and she was off. As she walked down the road with her cheese and crackers I wondered if she had gotten the crackers from a neighbor and I felt like crap for not buying her gas smelling cleaner.
Fast forward to today. A salesman comes to my door. I have to answer it because Zoe and her friend are looking out the window and yelling "Someone's at the door!" So I open the door and there is the salesman holding a bottle of blue cleaner. He asks me to follow him over to the garage so he can show me how well the cleaner gets fingerprints off the car window. As we walk to the garage I notice he has a limp, and then he mentions my kids and how he has twins (I don't know if all cleaner salespeople have twins or if the other saleswoman was the mother of said twins). He then cleans my car window quite nicely and lets me smell the cleaner that doesn't smell like anything in particular other than cleaner. I say, "yes I will buy your cleaner" after he tells me some fascinating tales about his life selling cleaner and how some of the proceeds go to helping inner city youth, yadda, yadda, yadda. Then I write him a check. So Brent comes home a while later and I tell him I bought the cleaner and how much I payed for it (eventually I tell him how much I payed for it and no I will never again divulge exactly how much that was). Brent says "You payed HOW MUCH for the cleaner!?" To which I reply "Remember that cleaner saleswoman asked for cheese! And he had a limp!" Needless to say I will never be buying anything from a door to door salesman again.

Thirteen and counting

Brent and I celebrated our thirteenth wedding anniversary a few days ago (May 27th actually). I can't believe it's been that long already! It's really flown by. We have our ups and downs but we really get along well most of the time. We have fun together and laugh at stupid things that no one else would find funny except us (just ask our kids). Brent really gets me (most of the time anyway) and it's good to have that.

A little history on Brent and Cindy~
I was a bright eyed young girl, fresh off the bus from BYU (okay, there really wasn't a bus). Needing a job as I did for the summer, what's a car-less girl to do but get a job at the place her sister is currently working and mooch a ride with her everyday. It was my first factory job (ah, we all remember our first factory job!) and my first time on the graveyard shift (oh wait, no it wasn't). San Segal Sportswear was a sea of "rockers" as they were called in those days. I was working with a foulmouthed bunch, I heard more colorful language in the first five minutes than I'd heard in two semesters at BYU. It was a shock to my sensitive post BYU system. When the chance to move to a quieter position QC-ing for the eight color press came up I gladly took it. This press had a couple of loud, obnoxious guys running it. There was a lot of yelling and laughing coming from over where they were. One was a guy who seemed different from most of the people there. For one thing I never saw him drive off at first break to meet the guy who "allegedly" dealed drugs. Another clue was I overheard him talking to another guy about classes at the University of Utah. I'd listen to him in the lunchroom talking to the other guys who didn't go meet the drug dealer (I couldn't help it because they were so loud). He would tell the craziest stories, I recall one about solving the garbage problem on earth by sending it by space shuttle to outer space. He'd have my sister Lynn and me in tears from laughing so hard. One day Lynn came up to me and told me that Brent was a Mormon. That was an exciting moment, because up to that moment he'd just been this cute, funny guy who would tease me while I tried to keep up with his printing. He'd purposely print the shirts as fast as he could so I would get way behind and he could stand there and laugh at me while I tried desperately to clean ink spots off of shirts and catch up. Or he'd tease me in the breakroom when he'd check out the tape in my Walkman and I'd be listening to the Morrissey tape with that "Ouija Board" song and he'd tell me it was satanic music. But now I knew he was LDS and he likely wasn't out drinking with these strange guys on the weekend (as if that could ever happen, there was still a lot I didn't know about this guy). So it went on for a while, he'd make fun of me, I'd blush (blushing being a big pastime for me back then), we'd talk at break and that pattern would repeat itself. Yeah, I could tell he liked me, but I didn't have the best track record with the guys, so I tried to play it cool. He wasn't going to ask me out though, so I had to come up with a plan. I asked him to go up to the University of Utah with me so I could get a catalog. Okay, I admit there wasn't much of a chance of me going there but I hadn't finalized my school plans for the Fall yet, so it was possible. We drove up in his red Nissan truck (he was an art student with a truck, you can't just dismiss a combination like that) and had a good time hanging out and then he took me out to lunch at a little Mexican restaurant his family liked called Su Casa, and I ate about three bites of my tacos because I was nervous and I didn't want to look like a pig (later he mocked me for being one of those girls who doesn't eat when she's with a guy and was glad when he saw I could wolf down a meal). We had a good time, although I was sure he thought I was a big dork, but he still didn't ask me out. So I had to take action again. I know, I'm starting to look like a pathetic loser here. I had some bounce back passes to Lagoon, where you can go back for free, so I asked him if he wanted to go with me. I knew I could only use one because they aren't transferable but I figured I'd just pay for his when we got there. He insisted on paying for it himself and then made fun of me for making him pay, of course. Anyway it was a great day and we held hands and I was all starry eyed but I promised myself this was his last chance and I'd move on if he didn't ask me out after this. So before we parted ways that night he finally asked me out and I told him "No". I already had plans to go to Bear Lake that weekend on a blind date with a guy who had a glass eye and with a friend and the glass eyed guy's cousin. So I declined. But.... when he saw me at work the next week when we were picking up our checks he asked me out again and we went out that night. We went to the movies and saw "Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey". And four years later, two or three breakups and a lot of maturing on both of our parts we were married, and the rest as they say, is history....

to thine own self be true

There was a good talk today in sacrament meeting about how we're all unique and we don't have to be the same. It was sort of about how our neighbors who aren't LDS may not be comfortable around us because they feel different. This is a subject I've thought a lot about recently, but not for my neighbors so much as for myself (although the neighbor thing is certainly important too). I often feel like a freak around my peers at church and in the neighborhood because I feel like such an oddball in so many ways. It's easy to compare yourself to your peers when they try to live a lifestyle that strives for perfection. That usually ends with beating yourself up because you can't sew, can foods, teach the gospel to your children, etc. as well as your neighbor. Which is nonsense anyway because we all tend to try to put on our best faces when we think others are looking. I know that's true for me anyway when I try to make my house spotlessly clean too often when I have guests over, much to my children's and my husband's annoyance. There's a whole list of things that as women, mother's, mormon's, etc. we tend to think we must excel at. When we fall short in a certain area we tend to beat ourselves up about it. That's how I am anyway, and often I'll just give up because it's too hard or not worth the aggravation. Lately, however I've been thinking about how the world is full of millions of different personalities and characteristics and talents. God made us all so the truth is we all bring a unique set of ingredients to the table. For me there are the things that are no-brainers such as raising my kids to be moral people and teaching them about Christ and striving to be a decent human being myself. Then there are the specific things that hold meaning for me. Big things like the environment and social justice and smaller less important things like being at least a partial vegetarian or my slightly irreverent sense of humor or singing along with my music in the car. The point is we all have things that are part of the fabric of who we are. Some say oh those things are superficial and should be cast aside. I disagree. When you cast off the things that make you you, you can cast off your desire for doing the right things that you don't necessarily love to do. I think if you are being true to yourself it makes the other things that might not come naturally to you more appealing. If I'm happy with who I am, I'm more likely to desire to do things like service and scripture study. If I'm not happy because I'm going against my grain, trying to do what I believe everyone else thinks I'm supposed to do (even if it is all just a fabrication of my own mind), I get rebellious and don't want to do anything. Well that's my take on the whole thing. So tomorrow I think I'll study the New Testament, right after I do my workout with my favorite mildly loud and obnoxious music. =)

Looking Back and Going Forward

A couple of weeks ago on a Friday night I was hanging out at home. It was a quiet evening, Isabella was at a sleepover, Zoe and Noah were downstairs watching a movie and Brent was doing freelance on his computer. I went on the other computer and was just messing around and started watching old '80's music videos and such. It was a fun trip down memory lane. I saw my teenage crush Howard Jones in videos and performing at the Live Aid concert, which then took me to watching U2 at the Live Aid concert. I was struck at just how many variations of the mullet there were back then. It wasn't just the Billy Rae Cyrus types. I went on to watch old Erasure videos, another modern music group I devoted many hours of my life to back then. I never saw any Erasure videos back then because I didn't have cable for the most part of my teenage years and Erasure was a bit off the beaten path for the popular late night '80's show "Friday Night Videos". I thought it was funny how the way they danced in the video "Sometimes" was the same way I danced back then. I was really into going out dancing back then and people used to comment on my "unique style". That all ended of course when I met Brent and he held firm on his strong anti-dancing position. Anyway I ended my Youtube viewing with Tears for Fears' "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" video. I noticed in the video the car going past a gas station, where gas was a mere $1.40 a gallon. Oh the good old days! And I was remembering when that video came out I was a junior high student in Pocatello, Idaho. Which strangely, or not, I remember as having much "cooler" teenagers than the teens I knew in high school in Sandy, Utah. So I was talking to Brent about the "good old days". Brent didn't seem to think they were "the good old days". He said he wouldn't go back and I said I would. Of course only if I was transported back in time and I could do it all over again retaining all the knowledge I have now. This always leads to the conversation about what we would do if we could go back in time. How we would be rich because we would invest in Microsoft and sell at just the right time and we would meet up at the appropriate time, get married, have our kids and all that with extra money and knowledge to boot. Discounting the Microsoft investments that would make us rich I told him I would go to college for a very long time and get extensive degrees. I wouldn't worry so much about the stupid things like going into debt because of student loans. If I knew then what I know now I'd know it would have been worth it to go into debt and I would be able to pay for it and I wouldn't live in fear of the unknown because of some crazy rationale that the world was going to end. I'd have the confidence to know I am capable of more than I thought I was back then. So Brent says to me "Why don't you just live that way now". Saying to me basically I don't have to take a trip back in time to accomplish my goals. That was sort of one of those "aha moments". I hate that expression but for lack of a better way to describe it, that's sort of what it was. I do live my life in fear of the unknown too much, with too much self doubt. So I am working on that. I'm going to try to make the most of this time on earth. I don't get to go back, this is my one shot and I've got to try to make the most of it.