Boots and Damnation

Does it ever happen to you that you're going along your merry way in life and all of a sudden you find yourself inundated with signs that pertain to a certain issue? Like maybe you're reading a book about say, endangered Pandas (just go with me on this- it's late and I can't think of a better example). All of a sudden it's like the Discovery Channel has tuned into your frequency and they're showing 2 hour documentaries on Endangered Pandas. The next day you get coupon mailers from Panda Express, and then maybe your kid brings home last week's homework with a sticker of a Panda on it, declaring "You Did It!". You're not sure what exactly you did, but you're almost positive that the Universe is talking to you through motivational stickers from your child's teacher.

That happened to me this last week. But not about Pandas. It was more about shopping. More specifically, it was about me and my mission to find the perfect pair of fall boots.

Boots have been on my mind for several months now. I've just been waiting for the weather to cool down enough for me to put on a pair of jeans, since I'm def past the age where I can make boots and a pair of shorts work. (Though I'm not really sure if anybody has ever really made that look work, per say).

Anyway, complain tho I do about the extra podunk in my trunk, I do have fairly good enough genes when it comes to build. I'm tall enough and slender-ish enough to pull off a good pair of high heeled boots. And I must say, they do make me feel like a sexy young mama.

So I got the all clear from Mr. C to take Sunday afternoon off. Me and Princess G were going to hit up the mall and spend some of my birthday cash. It did cross my mind that I could probably put that birthday dough to better use than to buy a pair of boots. Mr. C and I are trying to live on one income- and a teacher's salary income at that. However, having spent the previous 2 days flipping through my lusty Lucky magazine, it was not hard to justify spending the money on myself. My mind was set. Princess G and I would spend Sunday afternoon at the mall. But first, we'd go to church.

Do you want to guess what the message was that Sunday? Go ahead. Take a guess.

It was this: "The Gotta Haves are Gonna Get You."

Dang it.

Pastor Bob had some really good insights on the topic. Did you know that there are approximately 500 verses in the Bible about Jesus' message of love, but over 2000 verses that advise humanity how to deal with their finances? God takes this money stuff seriously.
I don't think I've squirmed so much in a sermon since I was 5 years old and wearing tights who's crotch only reached to the bottoms of my thighs.

So, as Pastor Bob spoke on greed and charity, debt and selfless living, I struggled internally with the age old question that has plagued womankind for centuries: "Do I want to look good on the outside or be good on the inside?"

I have a feeling that you all know which I chose. It wouldn't be much of a blog if I had decided to be a good girl. Before you get all judgmental though, I should remind you that I had been weakened by two days of poring through the pages of Lucky. Which is like letting a crack addict go on a splurge before checking him into rehab.
Yes, I went shopping
I know it was a sin, but I put it in the sin category of "I'll make it up to you later, Lord." (I know it doesn't really work that way, but I'm really good at disillusioning myself in times of emergency. Especially shopping emergencies.)

So Princess G and I went to the mall. We shopped. We had fun. God did continue to send the Universe to speak to me, however, this time it was in terms of price tags. Every boot I desired was at least $20 over my price limit. So I didn't buy my boots. I'm going to wait until the Veteran's Day sales.
Soooooooo, if you don't hear from me again, it's because God has struck me down.

You all have a good night.

The Road to Heaven is Filled With Nuts

Hey there. I've honestly had full intentions of posting a blog everyday, but yesterday just laid me out. It wasn't that the whole day was bad- there was just this one horrible, scary, stressful and stupid hour when I was dealing with a medical emergency involving one of my children and it took the rest of the day for my wrecked body/mind/spirit to recover.

It started out okay- did my carpool, came home and played with the baby and three year old, cleaned a little, put the baby down, and then bribed the 3 year old with promises of making a cake together if he would just let me sit for a moment and catch up on my blogs. Said 3 year old (surprisingly) complied and after my time on the computer, we moved it to the kitchen where we donned aprons and began making a spice cake.

Before I write further, let me give you a little background on my son J- he spent his entire first year of life completely miserable with allergy related eczema. Without boring you with all the details, I'll just say that it took a homeopathic doctor, lots of trials, lots of errors, and lots of trips to the whole foods market for us to find out that he was allergic to eggs, soy, nuts, and shellfish. We've since gotten his skin under control (calling him Lizard Boy no longer applies, thankfully). He's even mostly outgrown the egg and soy allergy, which makes life suh-weet cuz it means I can bake cakes, pies, cookies, and breads for my entire family once again. It'll take more than allergies to rid this mama of her extreme carb addiction.

Anyway, here's how my Stupid Mommy Moment of the Week happened: I knew he couldn't have peanuts. But at a party recently someone had accidentally given him a cookie with walnuts in it and surprise, surprise- no reaction! So yesterday when I was bringing out the ingredients for the Spice Cake, I paused with the bag of walnuts in my hand and thought to myself "This may not be a good idea." However, there was another voice in my head that said "Aw, what's a Spice Cake without nuts? He was fine before. He'll be fine now." And unfortunately, it was that voice that I decided to go ahead and listen to.

We had fun mixing the batter and when we were done J asked to lick the beater, which I let him do (cuz that's practically a kids' right after helping to make a cake).

I had my back to him doing dishes. As soon as I turned off the faucet I knew something was wrong because I heard him making gagging sounds. I turned around and saw him sticking his fingers down his throat, as if trying to itch his mouth from the inside. His ENTIRE face was broken out in tiny little blisters- they were even on his eyelids. I grabbed the beater away and started wiping the batter that covered his face with a washcloth. And everytime I wiped something off, I uncovered skin that was swollen and puffy. Thankfully, he could breathe and talk okay. He kept telling me that he was itchy. I keep Benadryl in the pantry specifically for his allergic reactions- so I whirled and got some, measured out the recommended amount for his weight, pushed his head back, and threw it down his throat. Unfortunately, I was in such a rush that I hadn't prepared him at all for this, and the poor guy spit most of it out. So now I had a quandry- I didn't know how much he ingested, and I was sure he needed more, but how much more?

Sooooooo, long story short I took him to Urgent Care (as suggested by my neighbor who happens to be an ER nurse and who also happened to be in his driveway-THANK YOU GOD- when I was frantically trying to load a baby and my now-vomiting son into my car).

So when we got to Urgent Care, I rushed to the window and practically shouted "My son is having an allergic reaction!" The lady behind the window bent to take a look at J who I was surprised to see performing a lively rendition of "If Your Happy and You Know It" for his baby sister. I hadn't noticed that the little turkey was feeling better. Don't get me wrong, I was glad for it, but really, would it have been so awful for him to act the part a tiny bit longer so that my dramatic entrance wouldn't seem so... well, dramatic? It all felt a little anti-climatic. The receptionist handed me a clipboard with a gazillion papers on it to fill out and asked me to have a seat.

Half an hour later, we had yet to even pay our co-pay. J's hives were almost completely gone and he was loosing patience with having to sit quietly in a chair. So I went up to the window and sheepishly asked if it would be okay if we just left. She handed me back the paperwork and said if we needed to come back to bring the paperwork and we'd be admitted right away. So we left.

The rest of the day we continued our plans as normal with me just keeping a close eye on him, but I was in a total funk. I was so angry at myself for taking a risk like that. I should've listened to that voice in my head that told me not to let him eat the walnuts. Everyone knows you're supposed to listen to that voice! Oprah always says to listen to that voice! Why didn't I?

And yeah, everything turned out okay, but I couldn't stop berating myself for being so careless. It wasn't until I was putting Princess G down for bed that I had a little moment that lifted me up.

We were in her bead reading the daily bible devotions that her Sunday School sends home every week. In the back of the Bible is a map of the land of Canaan. Princess G took a look at it and asked me "What's that? A map for how to get to Heaven?"

I got a good giggle out of that. It wasn't until later that I thought if only it WERE a map for how to get to heaven. I'd get on that road tonight and ask God directly if he's completely sure that I have it in me to take proper care of 3 children and 1 stepson? Cuz it's days like yesterday that make me take a look at these funny, creative and loud little souls and wonder if it's a fluke that I got to be blessed with them.

Dear Facebook Friend with the Strong Political Views,

Dear Facebook Friend with the Strong Political Views,

Can I be honest with you? I really REALLY hate it when I have a friend who I like just fine in the real world and then they ultimately ends up annoying the heck out of me in cyberspace. You, girlfriend, have crossed that line. And unless some serious corrective steps are taken, I’ma gonna have to delete you.

I mean it. You are really starting to bug me.

It’s not that I can’t appreciate an intellectual debate. Or a strong point if view, even when they are different from my own. Especially when they are different from my own. It’s just that EVERY SINGLE TIME I LOG ON I have to look at another status update in which you are either whining about something or demanding justice for someone- and quite frankly it’s bringing me down.

I log on to Facebook for the same reason that I believe most other people do- for a little fun and relaxing social networking. I scroll through my homepage and read what people are up to- who’s having what for dinner, who’s kid said something cute today, who’s got a date night with their hubby. I look through a few picture highlights. I check to see who’s climbed ahead of me on the Bejeweled Blitz Leader Board. But then, most days there’s you. Like a lump of black coal in a child’s Christmas stocking, there you are shouting your opinions all over my home page and demanding my attention, when all I really wanted to do was take some mindless quiz to find out what color my aura is.

What’s on your mind? Well in the past couple weeks I’ve seen you complain about organic farming, healthcare, childhood vaccinations, swine flu vaccinations, animal rights, , Katie Couric's interviewing techniques, media coverage of the President, and finally illegal alien rights. Then one of your friends piped in by saying that illegal aliens do in fact pay taxes, in the form of sales tax. I have no idea what that's about, but for now I'm just going to chalk it up to an embarrassing Facebook Faux Paux.

My point is that honey, you’re coming off like one of those people we all met in college (you know the type who didn’t wear makeup or animal byproducts) and are always marching for this or that, and protesting about this or that, and were always condescending to people about this or that. Those people never smiled. It’s time to lighten up, sister.

ANYWAY, I’m not saying that you shouldn’t care so heavily about the issues. I’m just saying that you’re using the wrong medium to express your views. Look, when I want to learn about “ISSUES” I turn on CNN or NPR. Occasionally I’ll have a discussion with a friend or family member. But when I log on to Facebook, I just want to RELAX. Maybe do a little light cyber stalking, but mostly I want to just relax. What you’re doing is a little much. Maybe you can tone it down to one issue a week? Or better yet, start a blog. That’s what they’re for. But until then, do me a favor and stay off my wall okay? That is, unless you have a good link to an E!News Weekly celebrity dish.

Thank you,

Meanie Mom