My Love, My Passion, My Hurt, My Life

Look over there to the right... you see that? It's a slideshow of some of my scrapbooking layouts I have done. Go me!

Why do I do it? I have been asked that question by a few of my friends that don't see my desire for it. They aren't scrapbookers, and they just can't understand why I get all excited if I find a pack of DCWV 12x12 paper stack on sale for $9.99

I am a pack rat by nature (I come by it honestly... you should see my parents house) but out of all of the things that they kept over the years, there isn't a ton of me in there. I mean, there are 3 pages filled out in my baby book. The kicker is... I am an only child.

So I have this unnatural desire to chronicle things in my life. The big and the small. I never want to forget what happened. (I could dig deeper and tell you that my grandmother had Alzheimer's Disease... and how that is one of my greatest fears... but I won't.) Besides... I don't think I am half bad at it.

See, I am one of those creative people... who doesn't have a creative bone in her body. I would love to be able to paint, to draw, to create... and the only thing I can seem to really do that is with paper. (Although, I do make forum signatures with Gimp and I don't think I am half bad at that either. LOL) It seems though that with photos and paper I can make things... things I like, and unless the world that I show my stuff too is blowing smoke up my butt, they seem to like them too.

I am not one of those "This is the latest trends" scrapbookers. Sure if something looks neat, I might pick it up, but... I am not the first one on the boat. Hell, the only reason I have a Cricut machine is because my dear Mother-in-Law gave me her old one. (But oh... I get it now... I so get it now...) I mean THIS looks like fun, but I won't be getting it anytime soon. (And for those out there keeping track... yeah I know it has been out for a while. LOL)

I am not one of those chronological scrapbookers either. I crop what I want, when I want. I have this awesome pic of Banana dressed up for school. She was rockin' the Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus look. She was adorable. Like I said, so cute I took a pic. I chose the wrong size when I printed it out so I can't seem to make it fit on the layout how I want, so I have to get it redone. Am I done with her baby album? Nope. Hell I am not even done with Butter's and he is going to be 10 in September. I just now, after scrapbooking for almost 10 years, figured out how I am going to make layouts if there is more than one babe in them.

Another reason that keeps coming back to the forefront of my mind when I think about it (like for this post), is that there is no hard and fast rule to doing it like there are in so many other crafts. I can journal if I want, I can not journal if I don't want. If I want to do an album that is nothing but black and white photos I can. If I want to put red on every single layout I can. As long as I am happy with it, who cares.

I also am one of those scrapbookers that crop the "not so good times". After the rain is done pouring, and the sky clears from the darkness, you usually can see a rainbow... and those rainbows are usually the most beautiful we have ever seen. That is another reason I don't scrapbook chronologically... sometimes I can't face the not so good. It's just too much, too fresh in my head. It will get done, just when there isn't a scab to rip off. I don't show those layouts to others though... well The Chef sees them, and depending on what it is, I will show them to the babes, but no one else does. The things that are on those layouts are my pain, my hurt. Who wants to see that? And for me, doing the layouts of the "not so good times", it seems to help heal whatever bad thing it was.

Because see, these are my books... and my memories. They are telling the story that I want to tell. There are good stories, stories to make the time pass on a Saturday afternoon, stories that you consume like junk food, and there are stories that aren't so great, but it is what happened. These books are telling the stories of my life. The stories I never want to forget, the things I never want to lose. The things that I hope if when a future generation look at, they will see my love, my passion, my hurt, my life.

They will see...

me.

To Banana on her 8th birthday

{Note: I have gotten into the habit of writing my babes letters on their birthdays. One day, when they are old enough to appreciate them, I will hand them all over. Either that, or they will get them when I die. Either way... I want them to know, to understand, how they were, who they were, and just how much I loved them.}

Dear Banana,

You are officially 8, and officially driving me nuts. Not in the "I have to drink everyday to cope with you way" it's more like the "Where did you come from" kinda way. You are so much more of a girl than I was/am/ever thought to be. Not that it's bad, I'm just unsure on how to deal with you when you get like that. I know that some of it is your budding hormones... which I can't believe you are old enough to have yet. Some of it I am sure is because of Pineapple. Not saying that you don't love her... because there is not a single doubt in my mind that you do. I know you do. But she is a girl... and I am sure that people fawning over her isn't helping you any.

Not that you would admit it. 

And I love you for that. There are days when I throw my hands up in the air and scream at the gods, and then you come out and throw your arms around me and tell me you love me. It is genuine, sincere, and it does make me feel better. Even though there are sometimes when you don't choose the right time to do it. I know you mean the best when you do. 

See, that's the thing about you. You are always trying to make others feel better. You do what you can to make it happen. Even if it means giving some of your things away. Even if it means that you would go without. Which I guess know is the reason why your dad and I have a hard time with it when you say, "This is MINE!" It's just so unlike you. I'm working on it. Your dad is working on it. And I hope by this time next year, if you do say that, we won't get pissy with you like we do now.

You like your hair short, much to your father's dismay. I understand it though. I keep mine short. You don't look the best with longer hair, even though this last time when we went to get it cut, I begged you not to get it cut as short as you did. You actually wanted it shorter... but I said no. If you are anything like me, there will come a day when you will just do it. But that day is somewhat in the future. I would say a long time, but I know better... it seems like yesterday you were 2.

You are turning into one helluva hockey player. You played forward this year in Spring, but you keep telling us you want to be a goalie. We bought you a stick, and all we need now is to get you a baseball glove. If you want to be a goalie, I am not going to stop you, but I wish you wouldn't be. You GET being a center. You GET positioning and what you have to do when you get the puck. You GET it all... But I know no matter what position you choose... be it a goalie or a forward or defense, that you will rock it. You have heart for the game. You love it. 

You still have a love affair with giraffes. I don't get it, but I don't need too. Moo Moo bought you a stuffed one in a blanket that very very rarely comes out of your room. You take it to her house when you spend the night, and when I come in at night to kiss you and turn off your light, you are sleeping with it. When we go to the zoo, we spend a ton of time at their exhibit just looking at them. If it keeps up, I can see you getting a tattoo of one someday. 

You are also finding music... more so than before. Moo Moo and Grandpap bought you an MP3 player for your birthday, and I have been busy filling it with music for you. Some of the stuff... Miley Cyrus, Ke$ha, Lady Ga Ga makes me gag, but it is yours... and I have to remember that I was a pop junkie too at one point (Hell, I do like Miley's song: Party in the USA). Pop music is good... in small doses. It's like the junk food of music. LOL 

You are a scrapbooking junkie too. Again, no surprise there, that is my hobby of choice. And Grandma does it, and Moo Moo does it. Grandma got you scrapbooking stuff for your birthday as a matter of fact... so did Aunt Nyoka. You are constantly begging me for pictures... I told your dad that we are going to need two printers, one for you and one for me. 

You just finished up the 2nd grade. Your teacher's name was Miss L. You liked her enough. Everything in school comes easy for you except for spelling, which you come by never so naturally... but the thing about that is, I don't think you really try at it either. You haven't had one thing that you have struggled with, and I think that because everything else is so easy for you, you think why bother. Well that is what I think anyway. 

You have a few friends besides the ones you were born with. E being the most important and who has claimed the title of BFF. You two don't see each other as much as you both would like, I know that is partially my fault because I don't have a car to take you to her house, or to bring her here. I'm working on it. I hope that she will be in your class again next year. I think that would do you a world of good. E is a good kid. I like her. And when your parents like your BFF it makes the world smoother. 


You like to read... which I find to be awesome. I love to read... and when I was your age it is what I did. I would read for hours and hours, which is what you do. You take your books upstairs, and I can't tell you how many nights I have had to turn off your light, with the book opened beside you. You are picky about what you read... just like your dad. If the story doesn't grab you instantly, you are over it. You read to Jelly a lot, and Pineapple frustrates you because she won't sit still. 


I am amazed everyday with the things that you do, the things that you say. I am so blessed to have you as my daughter. I am so lucky that you choose me to be your mom. I just hope that I can continue to do right by you.


With all my love...
Mom

Did you know my favorite show was Stargate SG1?

When asked what my favorite show is, I will always throw in Stargate SG1. The idea that it could actually be happening now... that is what gets me. That is what makes me love the show... well the first reason.

That being said... I have a Stargate BFFF. Well, she is more than just my Stargate BFFF, she is a really good friend. Her name is Slidell. Well... her screen name anyway. She hopes to get a job educating young ones, so I don't want to take the chance and refer to her by her real name.

Anyway... we are rewatching all 10 seasons of SG1. And not only are we watching it... again... we are blogging it as well. The Stargate Best Effing Friends Rewatch Blog

Feel free to stop on by and tell us to stop. LoL

The Plan Still Stands

I have a computer. Finally. Again.

It's wonderful. I have been able to really see what people are complaining about in Facebook. I have been able to respond to emails. I have been able to make comments on forums that I love...

And I have been able to write some fanfiction... which is just warm up.

The plan still stands. I will have my book written by the end of the year.

When will the Mommy Ramble End?

I sub-titled this blog 'Who said it had to be all this "Mom" stuff?'. It seems as if that is all I blog about… the four babes. Sure, there has been the odd one out, but…

The main reason I started this is to help me find me again. Because if you haven't noticed, I'm all about my babes. Not that it is "wrong" or "bad" or anything else like that. It's just… there is more to me than just being a mom.

There has to be.

I promise I'll start blogging about other things than the babes. It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow, but I will.

Awesome things I forgot

Pineapple came along 5 years after Jelly. In that time things have changed... like no strawberries until 1 year. And of course somethings have stayed the same… like putting babies on their back to sleep. But you forget so many of the little awesome things that infants do.

Here's some of things I forgot, in no order…

Hearing them play in thier crib through the monitor.

The first time they reach for you.

When they learn how to splash in the tub.

After they get teeth and bite themselves.

When they get so excited they turn into little jumping machines. (Ok, my babes turn into jumping machines.)

When they roll over and get mad.

Being used as a teether.

Now here are some of the things that are just as awesome as I remember...

Big, open mouthed, slobber filled kisses.

When they scare themselves with thier voice. Be it laughing or just cooing.

Watching them get excited about something new.

Having them tap you when you are tapping them, be it for a burp or to try to get them to go to sleep.

Holding a sleeping baby.

Yeah… babies rock.

Summer Break started early!

I had debated for a while if I was going to blog about this. Now that it is no longer fresh, I can look back on it, and check Momma Bear when she needs to be checked. I guess what I am trying to say is that I can be objective…

Maybe.

The third graders at their elementary school have have a party. It's huge. It's a big deal because the third graders are leaving and going to a new school for the fourth grade. Well Butter still hadn't been told if he was going or not. I went to the school to ask his teacher about it. Butter had told me a few things that didn't make sense, and I wanted his teacher to explain it to me.

I went up there after school had just let out. This was on a Tuesday. The party was that Friday. I had all four babes with me. His teacher came down and we went off to the side of the main hallway to talk. Little did I know that it was going to turn into a screaming match, after the teacher, the professional, would lose his temper with me.

First, I asked if Butter was going to the third grade party. The teacher (who shall now be referred to as Mr. A) said that he hadn't made up his mind yet. That Butter hadn't deserved the right to go yet. Then the crap hit the fan because I questioned him.

I don't remember all of it. It has been a week now, but I do remember some key points. Mr. A screaming at me about how Butter has taken away so much if his instructional time, how Butter had to be perfect for four weeks to be invited to go, how The Chef and I did nothing at home to correct his behavior at school. I called him out about how after a sit down with all of the important people things were supposed to change. I asked him what about the things that they were supposed to do for Butter. Then I told him to do his job and be his teacher. It was so loud, not only did my babes hear him, but the secretary poked her head out if her office to see what was going on.

At that point, I walked away from Mr. A. I told Butter to get his things from the classroom because he was done with school. Then I went to talk to the principal.

I sat in her office for two and a half hours. I told her about all the things that had happened over the course of the year with Butter. I told her how The Chef and I tried to talk to Mr. A. We told him how to get Butter to do things. I told her how when we would question something we would be ignored. That we never were told one time that Butter had a good day. I told her how Butter would get in trouble for tapping his pencil. I asked her if Butter was such a horrible kid why was he then making the Merit Roll? Why was he being invited out to lunch for doing well on the standardized tests? She of course couldn't answer me. And most importantly, I reminded her that Butter is a 9 year old little boy.

Her mouth did hit her desk when I told her that Mr. A expected Butter to be perfect for four weeks. She did smirk when I asked if Mr. A was having a bad day.

She told me there was two options: A) we could let Butter start Summer Break early. Grades were already in. B) we could sit down, Butter, Mr. A, her and me. I choose option A. I told her that I no longer trusted Mr. A; Butter could walk on water fir the last eight days, but sneeze sideways and Mr. A would rip off his head and crap down his throat. Mr. A was human, but I could not take that chance.

She apologized to me for the unprofessional behavior of one of her teachers. I want a formal apology that I know will not come.

All I know is that if Jelly or Pineapple are assigned to Mr. A's class when the time comes, I will demand a teacher change. I know that Banana is safe. Even if things didn't go down like this, they try not to have siblings with the same teachers the year right after each other.

Next year is a new school. Next year is a fresh start. But the first time… the very first time we get a complaint from a teacher… about this BS, we will pull him. I can not make him suffer like this year.