This one time that I almost died

Tuesday

DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUUUUH!!!

maybe that tune doesn't play in your head when you hear that day, unfortunately it does for me.

Every Tuesday I make myself an humble servant before the Lord, offering myself to be used as a disposable person for a handful of children less that one whole hand old (this equates to under the age of 5). The possibilities are endless as to the different variations of children I may be left to entertain, it's like whataburger, where there is 23423452390578 million different ways to have your burger made, only this time with children... figuratively speaking.

Yesterday was not really different from any other, I had my normal babes, the ones who I'm used to and have trained, or at least tried to train. And then I had one surprise child! So, 2 two-year-old boys, and Zoey.

For one, I have nothing to humor these children with. They get their kicks out of pulling electrical wires out of the wall, opening up filing cabinets and pulling things out of them, opening up 'magical' closet doors and trying to take apart the jumbled mess of what's inside, going into the 'man den' (as I like to call it) and throwing all equiptment and machinery (computer and photography related) like they are small tiny pebbles.

Not to mention the physical pain inflicted on me. My skin being clawed off by untrimmed 9 month old fingers. CD's being jammed into my head. Being pushed literally. And emotionally being pushed off of a figurative cliff, which actually was for the first time was literally represented by the route via stairwell to the downstairs.

There were also large tripods thrown small distances. And digital cameras flung past the kiddy gate located at the top of the stairs all the way down. ALL THE WAY.

This is one of those things that seems easier to handle than it really is. Sit the children down, entertain them with a video of choice, hand them their own snacks, and be done.

Oh contrare. First of all, sitting still to watch a video ain't happenin'. There are way too many distractions in this craft room converted guest bedroom converted kiddy play area, with lots of odds and ends being currently stored there. So there is now way on God's green earth that these little precious angels will deny the desire to open up every openable thing and pull things out, throw them, etc etc etc. Therefore that rules out having them watch a show. I could try to take out as much of the interfering paraphanelia as possible, however, I'd have to shut the door to the room at that point, and this is when their hidden clausterphobia comes out. Apparently its physically impossible for them to be in an enclosed room without being suddenly magnetized to the door chanting "MOOOOOOMMMMY" and trying with their fat little baby hands to open the door by pulling the knob instead of twisting it. That is, until they grow weary of this and simply begin to pound on the door with their fists. This may take place either with me also being contained in the room, or located outside the room while changing Zoey's diaper.

Then again, I could try the opposite. I could shut the door to that room and leave them to play in the Playstation 3 converted media room converted death trap of small stair case, converted 'man den'. But hopefully you can use your conductive reasoning skills to figure out that this scenario also fails with the location of so many technological equiptment, small stairs, and the kiddy gate.

The kiddy gate evokes a similar reaction for small children as a shut door. They suddenly become magnetized to it. They insert their small feet inbetween the spindles of the gate and hoist themselves to stand on top of the first bar, hanging onto the gate for dear life, as well as boosting their heads above the top of the gate as to be able to see directly down the staircase. awesome. just awesome. At this point they spot their moms, and thus begins the familiar "MOOMMMMY" chant.

I can try to distract them with food or juice. But then, only one child brings a snack and the other wants what he has. This wealthy snack-haver insists that sharing isn't the happy way and instead throws a fit. I can try to force sharing, but frankly, I wouldn't want to share my pretzels with the other brat I'm locked up with who is making my life miserable by getting us moved from room to room either.

Point in case, all of these scenarios happened yesterday. And it was enough to... well I can't think of a good explanation.... IT WAS JUST ENOUGH.

So, I put Zoey downstairs, hoping that the intrigue of her exersaucer and the women gathered talking would be enough to appease her and encourage her to silently play, without the possible dangers of having her head slammed open with a flying tripod, or her small body replacing the digital camera as the random artifact to be thrown down the stairs. Of course, Zoey did not want to comply with this idea. Either she couldn't handle being down there, or the women were giving her attention which lead to her wondering why they wanted to wave at her and talk to her, but not get her out of her exersaucer so she could preform tricks involving knocking over full cups of coffee and stealing people's writing utensils from them.

Ashley later asked me if it was that I just couldn't handle all three of them, and so that's why I chose to place Zoey downstairs. Here's the real answer, hopefully it isn't too blunt. Frankly, I care about Zoey's safety and wellbeing, so I made the decision to try to take her out of harms way. And being as how even when only two kids were up there when Zoey was down and objects were STILL continually being thrown even under my supervision, I'd say I made the right choice. There's also the dilemma that I can't really scream 'no' at the children because their mother's would hear and automatically assume I was being too harsh, even though the gash on my head from where the CD was catapulted may be gushing blood.

DISCLAIMER: if you happen to be one of the fantastic women who attend this Bible Study, please do not feel alarmed nor have pity on me. Just keep worshipping our Lord, and maybe insert me permanently on the prayer list. I want to serve you in this way and provide a time for you to come together, I'd just like to do it with all body part intact, this may or may not include sanity. Deal?

Anyone have any suggestions? Any legal suggestions?

Bow-Chica-Wow-Wow

Just a handful of days ago, my sweet friend Jacy and I 
From saying so long OCD, one day at a time
went to a conference hosted by Proverbs 31 ministries. And it was quite an experience. We really didn't know any of the people that were about to enter into our lives, EXCEPT for this precious chick right here:

Kate. SuperMom. 

Anyway, she was great. It was so cool to see her in real life. Isn't it weird how such seemingly ordinary people become rockstars in our minds? 

On the other hand though, can't you understand why this punk would become a rockstar in your mind? 
I'm sorry. I had to video it. And all those parts where the camera is shaking? 
That's me laughing.
Oops. 

I just can't take this song seriously anymore. 
And homeboy (Josh-Groban-wanna-be) was cracking me up with his seriousness.
However, Aeyisha Woods rocks the house, she was the other musical guest and is now my idol. 

And, another occurrence on the fun radar from this past week was my two friends birthday bash, 80's style. 
Mariela and Heather (who from now on 
will be affectionately called H-$)
both celebrated their respectively old birthdays this past weekend. 
And it was like, totally off the chain. 
As you can see, my mouth couldn't even contain all the excitement that this night provoked. 
I busted out the infamous Ashley-opened-mouth-party-pose
(as seen here:) 

Here's a shot of most of the group- 

As well as a photo of the 40 year old. 

And oh look! Here's a captured moment of me being completely ridiculous. Notice H-$'s extreme awe at the intense awesomeness of my current dance move. 
All in all it was a completely rock star weekend. And I was sad to see it end. But luckily... there's a little somethin' I like to call "complete annihilation of the Cardinals" happening this weekend. Score. Good thing H-$'s havin' a P-A-R-T-Y so everyone can witness my serious devotion to this game. 

A Day in the Life.


i thought it would be fun to show you a VERY small little smidge of what my day is like.

AKA a dream come true.

the news of the day is:

I signed up for Private Pilates Class.

For many reasons:

1. I will never do anything athletic until I have someone seriously kicking my butt to do it.
2. Because it's been proven to be addictive, and that would actually be nice.
3. Because I'll feel like a famous movie star.

So, did I already have to go invest in the cutest yoga-esque clothing I could find?
OF COURSE.

But whenever I get ready you know, I'll have to look disheveled and messy like all the stars do. Like I just threw something together and then tied a scarf 'round my neck and threw some shades on. Apparently it takes a lot of work to look this inconsistent.

I'm working on my next post: let's just say it consists of a little lady you might be familiar with.



The Scariest Thing

The last time I ever ran a fever was when I was 12 years old. I was at a summer camp with my church, and I woke up that morning, knowing I was sick. Now, most normal twelve year olds would just suck it up and go have fun and play at the beach right? Apparently, not me. I was bedridden the entire day. I don’t even know how we knew I had a fever, but it was a blazing one. I don’t think we had a thermometer until later, but whatever.

As I slept the day away, I was hardly aware of everything going on. The six other girls sharing our room came in and out, changing clothes, throwing their bags down, showering, etc. And I just laid there in my own private infirmary.

Counselors took turns watching me. I remember awaking one time to one just sitting there with her feet up reading a magazine. I tried to force out a smile at her, to thank her, but it probably looked more like, ‘I’m about to pass out and throw up’.

Finally, someone suggested taking me to the clinic there. Genius idea right? Well our leader decided that was not necessary. Me being you know, twelve, didn’t argue. I just laid there doing nothing. But inside I was begging for a doctor. I was miserable, 8 hours from my Mom, and had no one to take real care of me. Basically they all told me to just suck it up after that first day.

We went to the cafeteria the next morning, and I could hardly walk, I kept blacking out, and I was unaware of everything. I couldn’t really hear people talking because my ears were just full of sickness.

I tried to tell the person in charge of our cabin that I really didn’t think I could participate in the activities, and she told me I had to.

You know why I remember this so vividly? Its not because the pain was so bad. Or because I was so scared. Or upset that I was missing out on so much. It was because no one ever listened to me.

They wouldn’t take me to the doctor. They wouldn’t let me rest. They were forcing me to do things, when I felt miserable. And there was no way for me to convey to them what was happening.

That night we had a worship service and the whole time I was sitting there I was pretty much certain it was my last day of life. At the invitation, I even went up and prayed with someone there about me being sick. I’m not typically the type to take up to the altar unless something is heavy on my heart, but I went up there to pray about me feeling sick. It’s sort of like praying for your cat. It seems silly to everyone else but makes perfect sense to you.

Anyway, I finally arrived home a few days later. I promise you I have never been happier than THAT day.

Being ignored and forgotten was the scariest time of my life.

And sometimes, I still feel like that. And it scares the bejeebies out of me. 

I'm about to start the adventure of a lifetime....


hand crafting all my valentines. 


You may think that this is a joke. what sort of adventure is that? Doesn't sound too hard. some glue. some glitter, ba-da-bing. 

girlfriend, you are mistaken. This will be a WEEKS long project

anywho, that's neither here nor there. i just felt the need to get that off my chest. its going to be a heavy burden. 

Which leaves us with this...

dontcha just want to pinch her little cheeks?! 

Crafty McCrafterson

I made this address book for my boss Ashley...
 
Feel free to go visit her here to tell 
her just how lucky she is to have me.
You think I'm kidding? Just check this out:
Oh wait, that's actually just what my hair 
looks like after the children do it for me. 
Never mind. 
I just wanted to add that in there for 
comedic timing.
Catch ya on the flip side ;)

I wanna a hippopotamus for Christmas...

This is my baby cousin Kenna. She really likes my Chauncey. 

Sometimes, too much. Like this one time when she drug him kicking and screaming by his neck.

Or this time, when she suffocated him with love. 
Kenna has a strong personality for a little 22 
month old. I should probably learn to just 
agree with her, but my pride must be in the
way or something. Like this one time when
Kenna and I got into an interesting debate 
about her strawberry juice box, which she 
insisted was apple flavored. Say it ain't so 
Kenna, say it ain't so! 
(special appearance by little sister)


PS. For all those who inquire, we did get Kenna her own Chauncey! She's named it Lelly, after me of course :) 

Who is this Precious Punk?


Oh, just my favorite punk in the world.  

You see, how can you resist this little face? How can you not wake up bright eyed and bushy tailed, barely getting a wink of shut eye, because you're so darn excited to get your hiney out of bed and get that baby in your arms? 

That's right, you're probably looking at your own snotty nose children wondering why they aren't always looking this marvelous. I mean, did you want to see this again?

I thought so. 

Don't fret though, because seriously... this is what it's mostly all about:

Being a terror/terrorizing everyone... 
and screaming...
taking your anger out on unidentified Baby Einstein products...
and oh the uncontrollable angst of the spit-up queen...
'did you just call me that? We'll just see what I greet you with Monday morning...'

It's just that this is what its worth:

Oh, and this... 
 
Go ahead... lick those lips. This baby is mouth wateringly KEY-UTE! And the little punk is mine all mine, for 5 delicious hours a day. What a frick frackin' blessing.