CostcoWarrior

A Mother’s Skill 4 February 2010

So I got this email forward today:

One day my mother was out, and my dad was in charge of me.  I was maybe 2 1/2 years old. Someone had given me a little ‘tea set’ as a gift, and it was one of my favorite toys.  Daddy was in the living room engrossed in the evening news when I brought Daddy a little cup of ‘tea’, which was just water. After several cups of tea and lots of praise for such yummy tea, my Mom came home. My Dad made her wait in the living room to watch me bring him a cup of tea, because it was ‘just the cutest thing!’ My Mom waited, and sure enough, here I came down the hall with a cup of tea for Daddy; and she watched him drink it up. Then she said, “Did it ever occur to you that the only place she can reach to get water is the toilet?”

Now, I don’t really know if it’s a true story, and since it’s an “internet forward” it’s probably not.  But I realized something very true as I read it:

Pretty much, being a mother means you’re suddenly a super duper ANALYST.

Every situation.  Analyze, Analyze, Analyze.  You’re watching and continuously asking WHAT? and  WHERE?  and HOW?  Analyze, Analyze, Analyze.

Hot? Cold? High? Low? Sturdy? Tight? Wet? Dry? Smelly? Snotty? Reachable? Breakable? Salvageable? Loud?  Quiet?  Healthy?  Sugary?  Messy? Fun? Lame?  Cute?  NOT cute?  Time?  Not time?  Sleepy? Hungry?  Clean?  Dirty?  Washable?  Sick? Hurt? Poopy?  Bored?

GAH!  It’s never-ending!  All you do ALL day is Analyze and attempt to Problem Solve.   No wonder my brain is fried each night.

Next time someone asks me what I do, I’m going to skip the “stay at home mom” title that gets just a vague nod.  Instead I’m going to say “I’m a Domestic Analyst.”

not so candid camera 30 January 2010

For Christmas WarriorWife and I got a new webcam from “memaw & bapaw”, WW’s parents.  It was given so that we could occasionally do video chat with Skype.  Today I was playing with the webcam… how could I resist it said it did HD video and I HAD to try it out.  We were just looking at the video on my monitor, but we weren’t recording.  Then I found the RECORD button and just had to try it, realize of course that WW had NO idea that I had started recording.  She was on her phone and on hold, so she was just being herself… I just wanted to share a bit of the WarriorWife with you.

Its because of times like this that I KNOW I married the woman for me.  enjoy!

Get the Flash Player to see this player.

Note: I told her that I was recording at about the 25 second mark.

Sick Dreams are the Worst 25 January 2010

Ever since I was little I have had a recurring sick dream–one that only happens if I’m really sick and running a fever.  I’m sitting on a giant red chicken.  A HUGE hen.  She clucks off and on.  And she’s on fire.  Not huge ol’ flames, just a slow burn.  And there’s a whole bucket brigade of children and adults from the nearby “old west” town trying to put out the chicken fire.  No one sees me sitting on the chicken.  I know I should get down but I’m too comfy and warm and I’ve got the best vantage point for watching the frantic bucket passers.

Yes.  I’m pretty sure that makes me crazy.  Maybe even insane.  Definitely messed up.

Well, here’s the part where I admit that I have a cold.  WB gave it to me.  Which means, yes, she has a cold too.  It’s the saddest thing ever.  She hacks and coughs and sneezes so hard that tears come out her eyes.  And then she smiles and rubs her red splotchy face and I just want to cry.  Instead I wipe the snot and tears off her face and then blow my own nose.  # of hand sanitizer applications today: 269.

We’ve both been taking more naps today getting a jump up on rest.  But I think I’m done napping today–which, if you know me, you know is just a CRAZY thing to say.  But this morning while I was napping I had the worst nightmare ever!  I was at the mall and someone with a huge orange fro was after my baby and had hired this little teenage blondie to steal her.  I was chasing blondie through the mall just frantic to get my baby back.  WB’s cries woke me up and I was so grateful!  I called TW up at work to tell him about it.  He was super sympathetic until I mentioned my get-the-baby-back plan was to run really fast to catch the blondie and then throw my Orange Julius in her face to distract her while I grabbed WB.  At that he laughed.  Hard.  I think he even started to choke.

What?  It was a great plan…and had nothing to do with a burning chicken.

School makes you fat 16 January 2010

I just at an entire sleeve of oreos and drank a liter of caffeine free Coke.  Ugh.  So not cool.

But that’s what it takes to make it through a Economics Paper.  Ugh.  So not cool.

This is how school is hazardous to your health, and your measurements.

1-800-flashback 15 January 2010

The other day I had a dr’s appointment that I knew I’d spend a lot of time waiting for…you know the drill: show up, check in, sit in the waiting room, wait to be called, sit in the exam room, etc. I’ve learned there’s no guarantee of good magazines, and even if they are good I am scared to touch them. <cough> Swine flu. <ahem>

Anyway, to ward off boredom I took a book: The Little Prince. Quick read, super great story, and I haven’t read it in a long time. Grabbed it from my bookshelf and headed out. Got myself checked in and started waiting. Pulled out said book and had a serious flash back to 1998. Yup. Nineteen Ninety EIGHT. Whoa. Hold on to your hats as you turn your heads, folks, that’s a ways back there!

I had just started my freshman year at BYU. I was living in the dorms and had a sweet desktop computer with a top-of-the-line dot matrix printer. Never mind that it was also out-of-date and my parents gave it to me to justify their upgrade to inkjet.  The important thing is I had my own printer and a huge box of dot matrix paper and thus I was so cool. My roommate on the other hand disagreed with the printer coolness.  (Hi Meagan!)  I would have to print papers early in the morning before I left for class and somehow the line by line ee-aaaccc-zzzz ee-aaacc-zzz sound just ANNOYED her so much! I’m sure that printer is the only thing she ever considered killing me for. However, she exercised extreme control and only ever yelled at me once.  But this is all a digression.

Continuing to the true point of this post: stuffed in my copy of The Little Prince was a dot-matrix print out of an email my dad had sent me that freshman year.  He and my mom were struggling with this new phase of parenting called “first child to move out freak-out”.  They wanted me to be able to call home for free, so they got themselves a 1-800 number. You know, for me to CALL them OFTEN. Even though the root truth of the situation is in the last two lines of my dad’s email: “The challenge is if you can ever use this ‘800′ number. Will there come a time when you think of calling home before your Mother calls you?”

And suddenly in that drab waiting room all the emotions of Freshman Year come flooding over me: the freedom, the excitement, the adventure, the challenge, the homesickness, the classes, the dorms, the friends, the solitude, the food, the friends, the dances, the parties, the EVERYTHING that makes up moving out and far away and starting college. The beginning that marks a major end.

And I realize sitting there looking back that at the time I thought I was breaking free, starting new, and finally getting AWAY from everything that was so obviously imperfect and restrictive and thus BENEATH me.  When in actuality, I was rounding a bend in the same road I had always been on.  One big bend in what eventually lead me back to those who love me the most. Even when I didn’t use the 1-800 number before they did.

Thank you, Mom and Dad.  Thank you for trying so hard to keep in touch.  Thank you for letting go and trusting that I would find my way back.  I love you.