Rate Me Pls...

 As a youth leader in my church, I've befriended many of the teens in our youth group on Facebook. I love seeing what they're doing and  pictures of them with their families. This helps me to be a part of their lives and them be a part of mine. It's being able to know if they're going through hardships outside of the church setting, where we are available 24/7.

This seems like an amazing thing, right?
Well, of course it is, silly!

However, there's been a trend popping up among every single teen I have befriended: Asking people (sometimes strangers) to rate them.
It ranges from asking people to rate their looks to whether or not they're dateable.

It seems innocent, and yes, I realize that since I'm 28, I "don't get it", and that's probably true.
But dear teens who are reading this, the reason that I "don't get it" is because I've been where you are and I've had "like a million years" to become comfortable with who I am. So, what I don't get, is why are you basing your existence on A) Other people's opinions, and B) Shallow things that are not important in the grand scheme of enter your name here?

Here, let me try an experiment, okay?

I'm going to try and read your mind for a minute.

 Just roll with it.

Let's go over some of the things you might worry about in a day, okay?
Now, I'm specifically going to be speaking with the girls in these details, because, well, I wasn't a teenage boy.

*Are my clothes the right brand?
*Will people find out that my house/car/parent's employment isn't as good as their parents?
*Is my breath okay?
*Did so-and-so see me Saturday in my sweats without makeup?
*Will someone make up a new rumor about me today?
*Do I smell good?
*Where the heck did that zit come from? And will people look at it instead of the rest of my face?
*Should I lie to my parents so I can go do that really fun thing that I KNOW they'll say no to?
*Will people make fun of my religion?
*I don't really want to make fun of someone else, but everyone else is. Maybe I should join in?
* Is my boyfriend looking at another girl?
* If I don't do what he wants, will he find someone else?
*My friends are being weird today. Are they turning on me?
*Maybe I'll blow off studying for that test so I can go do something fun and social.

You get my point, right? Yes, these are things I thought  as a teenager, yes, these may not be your thoughts because I'm a thousand years old and times have changed, and yes, I've always been a people pleaser and have always had confidence issues.

But  you know what?

I was MISERABLE as a teenager, guys!
Would you like to know why? Because I was focused on what other people thought of me instead of what I thought of myself!

However, as a 28 year old woman, that's all changed, because, well, my perspective has changed.

This is where the whole "she doesn't get it" thing factors in.
I had all of those issues and that was before Facebook/Twitter/Tumblr, etc...

I was able to come home after school and surround myself with friends and brush off the rest of the day. You guys have it rough! You not only have to deal with all of these issues at school, but then you come home, log on to the computer, and have to sometimes deal with all over again.

So, here's my question to you:
Why do you need a rating?

You aren't a restaurant, hotel, or business on Yelp.

You are a person. You were fearfully and wonderfully made. Your "rating" should be your opinion of yourself. Plain and simple.

Instead of wondering how you rate, wonder instead about "Did I make a difference to someone today?", "Did I learn something new about the world today?", "Did I learn something new about myself today?", "Did I help someone who needed it today?", "Did I accomplish all that I could today?"

These years for you guys are crucial. You're in survival mode right now. You just try and make it through the day some days. These years are put in place so us "old folks" to help you along, so you can get a lot of things figured out about yourself before being launched into the grown up world.
When we give advice, wanted or not, it's from experience, so you can maybe get through life a little more easily.

Please, Trust us.

And for everything that's good and lovely in the world, stop asking people to rate you.
You're worth so much more than that.

The Importance of Girl Time

Source

 Good morning, friends!

  I was laying in bed this morning, listening to the rain, and painting my fingernails when a big smile came across my face. 

I was thinking back to this time last year when I went on my first "date'' with who is now one of my best friends, Crystal.

  After a few personal messages were exchanged on Facebook, we set up a time to meet at her house and have a 'girl's night'. I honestly had never had one of these nights with anyone but family members, so I had no idea what to expect, especially since I hadn't ever visited with her in person. 

  Typically, a girl's night out means going out on the town and living it up with your friends and while there is nothing wrong with this, it's not who I am.

  I like personal time with friends where you can have meaningful conversations... Conversations your husbands don't necessarily want to hear. (More on that in a minute)

Crystal felt the same way.

  I finally arrived at Crystal's house after a nervous, gut-wrenching drive up the mountain, then drank a little too much wine out of nervousness and proceeded to have a great conversation while making sugar scrubs. 

 It. Was. Bliss.

 I felt like I had found out some amazing secret that only real women knew about...

 ... girl time.

  I had heard about it, but had only practiced this novelty alone with a ped-egg and The Real Housewives of New Jersey.

  Not exactly what 'girl time' meant.

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  In the last year, I have relished every single time she and I have gotten together. She has been patient in teaching me about why we only share certain facts and info about ourselves with other girls and not our husbands (not important things, but girls stuff they don't want to hear but don't have the heart to tell you), the importance of wearing something other than holy yoga pants and Monty Python t-shirts to bed, and most importantly, that I really needed to work on being a patient and understanding wife.

  I would share situations with her that were just making my blood boil and she would calmly say, "Well, do you think this may be why so-and-so said/did this?"

  "Well, yeah, you're probably right. Dang it."

Y'all, this is why friendships are important.

  God knew knew I needed some awesome friends in my life to bounce ideas off of and to help me grow. He has placed good women in my path. Of course, I already had good women in my life (my friend, Jerian, and my sister) but I hadn't nurtured those relationships.

  I'm learning as I go.

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  Recently, I've started running again, except this time, I'm running with a wonderful friend from  church. Typically, running is a chore, but this time, we use our walking times as 'girl time'. We bounce ideas about parenting, marriage, and any other topics you think of off of each other and most nights, we stand around talking for an hour after we run. It's so uplifting and I leave with new ideas and new scriptures to chew on until our next run.

 It's so important for it to be women that you share things with.
 Yes, you can share with your husband, and you should... to a point.
 BUT, men are wired differently than we are. They don't necessarily understand venting, so when we vent, they naturally want to FIX it.
"Oh, this person/ problem has made her upset. Therefore, I should  fix this, or I should be angry at this person. Why else would she be telling me?"
Men instinctively want to protect us, so this is simply nature kicking in.
And sometimes I'm very glad it does.
 But I'm telling him because I just want him to listen. Now I see that that's where having girlfriends comes in handy.

I'm slowly coming out of my shell when it comes to having a solid group of girls I can trust and that I whole-heartedly love, and it has been amazing.

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What do you like to do for girl time?
What benefits have you found from having amazing girlfriends?
Leave me a comment or share on my Facebook page here.

-Heather

God is Working on Me

I debated about really writing anything about my faith, my church, or anything of the God nature on here because I was afraid I would lose my audience.

Quite frankly, I've lost some friendships throughout my growing process. I don't feel the loss was intentional or angry, just a growing apart process. It happens sometimes and I was afraid to lose anything else. 

This blog has always been a mish mash of DIY, day-in-the-life, and me getting my thoughts and opinions out in writing. So, there's never been a difinitive theme to my blog. This has been bothersome to me because it breaks all kinds of blog and author cohesiveness rules. 

But, you know what? 

My personality is a mish mash of random ramblings, so it's fitting my writing would be the same. 

Anyways, I've decided to go ahead and include posts about my faith in here since it's also a huge part of my life. If you don't particularly want to read these, then I understand. If you choose to quit reading my blog because of them, I just want you to know that I have appreciated your following and I hope one day in the future we can be friends again. 

With that being said, this last week has been depleting for me. I tend to have rose colored glasses about most situations. As most adults know, however, this world is really good at turning everything rose colored into that nasty gray that snow turns after it's been plowed. 

This week the world did that to me. Imagine my horror when (SURPRISE!) people were human and let me down with their behavior!

*gasp*

Oh! The horror!

You may have scoffed at that, but really, I had my blinders on about certain things (not just church) this week. 

By the end of Saturday night, I was depleted and skeptical of the world. 

If you know me,  you know that I have honest faith in people to the point of it being crippling to me at times. 

Then, it happened. 

I was let down. 

Imagine a child standing there in awe of their beautiful pink helium balloon... Just staring at it with a big, drooling smile. 

Then, imagine some jerk walking by, poking the balloon with a needle. 

Imagine the horror on the child's face as she watches her glorious pink balloon dangle from a string, shriveled and broken. 

That was me. 

I was angry. 

I was hurt. 

I wanted to immediately prepare for war. 

My balloon was burst. 

I went to church yesterday caring less about God's word. 

I mouthed angrily my worship song during practice. I didn't even really bother singing the hymns out loud. 

I sat in Sunday school participating in the discussion, but really at that point I just wanted to make silly faces at the cute baby sitting next to me. 

I stood, stoically, half-heartedly singing our songs in front of the congregation.

I shuffled/ stomped back to our pew after worship was over and prepared myself to get through my preacher's sermon that I typically enjoy. 

I just really, really didn't want to be there. 

Then it happened...

God placed in my pastor's heart one of the most humbling sermons I've heard in awhile. 

Every sentence made me cringe because it could have been talking about me. 

By the end of the service, I just wanted to get to the car before I burst into tears in front of the congregation. Not because I was hurt anymore, but because I was embarrassed. 

When I arrived at church that morning, I was angry for a good reason.  No one would argue that. However, instead of mirroring Jesus' actions, I was stuck in a continuous pity-party cycle and was throwing a hissy fit. 

I suppose it's that same gene that makes me naive to the world at times. 

We'll call it the Peter Pan gene. 

Or just immaturity. That would work, too.

I hate conflict, I want to like people. 

When I'm mad at someone, I'm mad at them for their actions, but I'm equally mad at them for giving me a reason to be mad at them. I just want to like everyone!

So that's what I have decided to do. 

I've decided to let my love for people overshadow their faults, because I have my faults, too, and I would hope they would show me that grace. 

I don't have to be mad. 

I don't have to feel let down. 

I don't have to be cynical. 

I choose to feel/be those things...

... And I simply choose not to anymore. 

You know what? It's freeing. 

Just as often as I have to remind myself that God is working on other people, I have to remind myself that He is working on me, too. 

I'm so thankful for that grace. 

A brand new day

Today is a new day.

Yesterday I let the world know that our family lost another child. 

Yesterday was hard. I had moments where I cried. But as the day went on, I felt stronger. I actually laughed. 

 I felt guilty in the moments that I laughed. 

Who laughs the day after a miscarriage?

I do. 

Like I said previously, this was our fifth miscarriage. We've been here before. It doesn't make it any easier. At all. 

However, this means that I've grieved this situation four previous times. 

I've questioned God, been angry with Him, angry with myself, sad, guilty, basically the whole mish-mash of emotion that come with miscarriage. 

I'm also nearing 28, which mean I've had 28 years to get to know myself. 

One thing that I've learned about myself is that I crack jokes and make others and myself laugh when troubled times engulf us. 

When my grandma was dying I giggled when I remembered how she made me peel the wallpaper off her bathroom wall because it looked like a demon. 

When my grandpa was hospitalized, I was cracking jokes with my cousins while standing beside him. 

After my grandad passed away, my sister and I laughed roariously when we kept finding his multiple cigarette pack stashes. He was sneaky!

All of these examples are extremely innapropriate. I know this. However, I will let you cry if you let me laugh. 

This is how I move on. I feel that sadness is completely normal. I'm sad when I laugh. But laughter makes things seem normal again. It's like music to me. The people that we lose don't want us to be sad forever. 

When I die, I expect you all to wail and cry during my funeral because I'm a drama queen and like the attention. But the second you sit your butts down to nosh all of that glorious post-funeral food that the south is known for, I expect you all to tell the most embarrassing stories about me. I won't haunt you for it. 

Promise. 

My point in all of this is that life moves on. I can choose to move with it or stay stagnant. 

Which kind of water is prettier? 

The kind that is sitting still, algae covered, with Shrek  holed up in the middle? 

Or the clear water that flows through the twists and turns, overcoming rocks and logs in its way?

 I know which I choose. 

I still hurt. 

I still cry. 

I still laugh. 

I still breathe, though it's hard sometimes.

I still live. 

Living is important. It's more than your body continuing to function. 

It's Experiencing. 

I've been laughing with my two kiddos this morning and it's healed me so much. I have life to experience. 

And quite frankly, I just don't want to be sad. 

So if you see me acting normal and laughing, please don't think of me as cold. It's me healing. Respect it please. 

Miscarriage

My friends, last week my husband and I received the joyous news that we were pregnant again.

We were excited and terrified. We had decided earlier this year that our family was complete, so we sold all of our baby and maternity stuff. When we found out the news, we giddily thought of all the things we needed in just 9 short months. 

A month ago, we confessed to each other, that despite our having sold all of our baby possessions, and the fact that all bedrooms in our home are filled already, we both longed for another baby. 

Fast forward to last week. We couldn't believe that we had gotten pregnant that fast. It must have been in God's plan for us since we got pregnant so quickly. I, of course, was worried because we've had four miscarriages, but for some reason, I felt good about this pregnancy. 

Last night, we lost the baby. 

I couldn't even tell Josh. I gave him "the look" and almost burst into tears. I holed up in the bedroom the rest of the night. 

Guilt consumed me. My body failed my baby and I was the sole reason my husband's heart was broken. 

Me. 

I'm the only one responsible. 

Of course I know I did nothing wrong. I know that it was out of my control. 

But was it?

I chose to chance this heart break. I convinced my husband that everything would be fine. 

I lied. 

He was angry. 

Not because he's a douchebag, but because he had to feel. Feeling isn't his forte, and he had lots of feels last night. I was broken and he was broken and he couldn't fix either of us. So all he could feel was anger. 

Of course I was angry at him for being angry. 

But then, something beautiful happened. 

I prayed for peace for both of us. 

I couldn't pray for anything else really. 

Suddenly, the situation was put in perspective and I was able to see Josh's side of things. 

When a pregnant woman miscarries, everyone is sad for her and worried for her, as they damn well ought to be. 

However, people forget that the husband loses a child as well. He is most often forgotten and pushed to the side. 

His heart is broken, yet he has to "remain strong" for his wife as he helps her body heal. He has to cheer her up while he's dying a little inside. 

I was being selfish last night. I expected total sympathy and comfort from him, but wasn't willing to return it. 

I was floored at this revelation. 

I sent him a text because I couldn't talk without crying. 

I told him I loved him and that I would help him through this however he needed me to. 

About an hour later he came in and we just held each other. We said nothing. 

He needed to be remembered.

 He needed to be comforted. 

Men like to be strong, but no one expects them to be strong when they lose a child. 

As for me, I have my moments where I mourn for what could have been here on earth. 

But you know what? My baby never had to live in this broken world. 

He or she got to go straight to a Perfect world. 

How amazing is that?

Please keep us in your prayers as we heal. 

Thanks, y'all. 

Sentence fragments, homeschool, and arguments. Oh my!

First of all, I need to express that this is the first time in months that I'm composing a long body of work that ISN'T an essay.

You know what? 

It feels GOOD. 

Rules are out the window. 

Fragment. 

Fragment. 

Dumb words.

Comma, splice. 

Mwahaha! Take that, English language. Take my abuse!

Okay, reel it in, Heather. 

I promised a post that explained where I've been. 

I've been immersed in college. 

Day in, day out. 

I hate it. 

Absolutely hate it. 

Let me start out with how I got here. 

I was in a stay-at-home mom rut this summer. I was longing for a career and I was absolutely sure that's the direction that God was leading me in. 

No, I didn't pray about it, and no, I didn't put much thought into how it would effect my family life. 

I was planning on waiting until spring to begin classes. I wanted to make sure that this was indeed where I was being led. However, after deciding that it was me procrastinating rather than being cautious, I decided to head up to the college and sign up for classes the Friday before college started. 

My advisor signed me up for Art appreciation, English comp 1, and algebra I, II, and III for the fall semester. 

I explained to him that I really, really struggled with algebra and I only wanted to take algebra I and II, but he said the college prefers students to take the three block. I trusted him even though every fiber of my being was screaming, "Stop!"

Some day I will learn to put my foot down and say no when my gut tells me to. 

I ended up dropping algebra III. That's okay. 

I have no fewer than four homework assignments in my English class weekly. One of those assignments averages 100 questions most weeks. That's on top of the class work and essays.  

I've had to skip my art class (the only class I actually like and want to go to) so I can stay caught up in my other two classes. This has cost me attendance points which has hurt my grade. 

With all this being said, I have decided to change degrees, therefore, none of the classes I'm currently taking count toward my degree. 

So... Yeah. 

I'm still taking my classes seriously and putting my whole heart into them. I feel that it's being respectful to the instructors and education is never wasted. 

I watched a video today about a Pakistani teenager who was shot by the Taliban for speaking out about women deserving education. 

How can I not appreciate being able to earn a degree after watching that?!

So, no matter how much my heart doesn't want to be at school right now, I have been provided with an opportunity to better myself. 

By golly, I'm going to stick it out. 

But here's what is really getting me to a place of wanting to quit. 

I miss my family and I have mom guilt. 

One of the reasons I decided to go ahead and start school now is because Sawyer started kindergarten this year. I figured I would have more time. 

About two weeks into school, we realized that our school system wouldn't be able to provide him with enough challenges and quite frankly, his teacher acted like a few choice words towards him at our parent teacher conference. 

We decided that was the final straw and as soon as he was officially enrolled in an online public school, we yanked him out of that school in the middle of the school day. (This whole story is another post in itself.)

Okay, back on topic. 

We obviously decided to homeschool. Well, that's a task in itself. 

Here is where Josh and I are right now:

I'm homeschooling my son and going to college full time. 

Josh is homeschooling our son and going to college plus working full time. 

We are trying to sort through chores, who fills the gas tanks, who pays the bills, who grocery shops, and who gets to sleep that night. 

Yes, this is where I'm struggling. 

My family needs me. 

All of me. 

Right now. 

And I need them. 

All of them. 

Right now. 

My heart and my calling right now is homemaking and my family. 

I was told by a good friend the other night that one can't deny a calling. 

When you deny a calling, none of the other life pieces for together. 

Yes, friends, this is what's happening. 

Our family life is chaos, and at times, feels like it's hit a wall at 70 mph. 

Josh and I are exhausted. 

We're literally exhausted. 

We're exhausted mentally. 

We're exhausted in our parenting. 

We're exhausted in our marriage. 

The hard thing is: Me going back to school is what has caused this. 

It was the catalyst in a cataclysmic landslide of our family. 

It. Just. Worked. Better. The. Other. Way. 

There is absolutely no denying it. 

For my new readers: 

I'm about to be honest about my marriage. Awhile ago I asked Josh if there was anything he would like me to keep off of my blog. 

His response was, "Who am I to stop something great. Write what's in your heart." 

How awesome is that?

Snaps to Josh.

(Yes, I just referenced Legally Blonde.)

Anyways, The stress reached a peak this week. 

This week is midterms and there were a lot of deadlines. 

Every morning for the last two weeks I have woken up and have been sick to my stomach because of stress. I've averaged about three hours of sleep nightly. Yes, I understand this is typical for college students. However, when you're nearing thirty and have three kids and a husband, all nighters are not that easy. 

Josh and I have bickered, blamed each other over the dumbest things, and have just been avoiding each other. 

Case-in-point of how gnarly it got:

I'm the kind of fighter in my marriage where I need to fix the fight immediately.  I always have been that way. Loose ends drive me crazy and I can't stand anyone being upset with me. 

The other morning, Josh and I got into over something. I can't even remember what now. 

I was tired of crying in front of him so I went to take a shower so I could cry in private. At some point in the shower, my hurt turned to anger. This NEVER happens to me. I always assume I'm to blame, so I tend to apologize incessantly. 

However, something in me snapped. 

When I walked out of the bathroom, Josh apologized quickly. 

I started to walk away (unheard of between us), but then I turned around and said, "I am angry right now. I don't want to fix this right now. I have every right to be mad. We'll revisit this after the kids go to bed. Okay?"

I could have literally scraped Josh's jaw off the floor. 

I never feel justified in my feelings. I'm never in control of the argument. And I certainly never walk away with things unresolved. 

It felt GOOD.

However, this is an example of the extremes that me going back to school has caused  our marriage to go to. 

Not everything that has come out of this experience is bad though. 

I've had to learn to do things alone. I've learned that it's okay for me justify my feelings. I've learned that I'm important to my family. Most of all, I've learned that I'm not as dumb as people have told me in the past. I feel like my grades aren't good enough, but they certainly aren't bad at all. 

We'll see how the rest of the semester plays out. 

Thank you, friends, for sticking through this time with me. 

You are all such a blessing! 

Snaps to y'all. 

Why I'm excited for back-to-school: It's not why you think.

*WARNING: Soapbox session about to commence*

I haven't much thought about what it means when parents say "I'm exhausted! I'm ready for school to start back!"..  Until recently when I had a friend bring it up on Facebook. It just never crossed my mind as an issue. It was something that I heard regularly growing up, so it was just something parents said, right?

Why are parents so excited for school to go back in session? 

Usually the most popular answer is because they're tired and are ready for a break. 

What does that say to your child who overhears it?

"Mom/ Dad can't wait for me to get out of their hair. Am I a burden?"

Most likely they aren't reading into it that consciously. However, some might, and there is that implication behind it. 

You can't really take that statement any other way. 

We as parents made a conscious decision to have our children and raise them. 

Instantly that means we made the decision to make them feel special, important, wanted. If you feel they are a burden, remember, you chose this to be a "burden" you wanted. 

I absolutely have days where I'm like, "I'm so ready for bedtime. I need a reset. Tomorrow will be better." 

See, that's completely different from saying, "I can't handle this much time with my kid and I'm ready to send them off to a public babysitter." 

Okay, okay, that's a bit harsh. But do you see my point?

Like I said, I had never payed attention nor saw it from that perspective until recently. 

No, not all parents are maliciously thinking this. 

I know some who are. Seriously. 

So here are my reasons for why I'M glad my kids are heading back to school. 

1) They get to see old friends and make new ones. 

They certainly don't get to do much of that here with their parents. 

2) They'll have wonderful, influential teachers. 

I wouldn't have thought about this before, but Sawyer's teachers last year changed my mind. 

They will always be his first teachers and I couldn't be happier that they are his first memories of school. 

3) I get one-on-one time with Sofia. 

During the summer I get to spend a lot of quality time with the kids. Before Sawyer went into preschool, I had a lot of special time with just him. We danced, learned, and made memories of just us. It was nice. I'll get to do that with Sofia now. 

4) Those "I missed you" after school hugs are the best. I don't get those in the summer. 

5) I get to hear stories from school. 

There is something about my child sharing stories without me asking that warms my heart. 

6) "Mom! Guess what I learned today!"

He learns things at school that I never would have thought to teach him... And he loves to share. 

7) I get to shop!

Clothes, shoes, backpacks, oh my!

It's neat to see how Sawyer's personality and tastes change from one year to the next. 

8) I love seeing Sawyer become more independent every year. 

He's pretty fearless, but there's always apprehension on a parents part when you just go and drop them off all day without you. 

Seeing him just charge ahead reassures me we're doing something right. 

I'm a little misty-eyed right now, so I'll wrap this post up. 

Our school is back in session on the 19th so we're going to soak up the rest of Summer as much as possible. 

What are some of your favorite back-to-school moment?

God Smells Like Dirt and Tomatoes

I've been wanting to post this extremely personal story for awhile, but the right day has never really hit me until today.

HONESTY ALERT:

I've had 4 miscarriages. There, I said it. Most of you knew that I had had one, maybe two... but I quit talking about it around the third. Everyone has an opinion and I couldn't handle breaking the bad news to anyone anymore.

This was all in a 1 1/2 year span before Sofia. Two were back to back and then we tried for another year and then had two more back to back.

I was devastated.

After my fourth, I remember laying in bed asking God why this was happening. We were good parents, we were responsible, we were doing everything right! I fell asleep while praying and what happened next still to this day comforts me.

I had a dream. I don't remember where I was or what it looked like. I couldn't see anything that stood out. I remember a warm light and THE most peaceful feeling overcame me. I hit my knees and sobbed the same prayer that I had been praying as I fell asleep. Suddenly, I felt like I was floating and I just felt the sadness (what I can only describe as being "sucked") out of my soul. Not my body. It came from deep, deep inside. Then, I was in a garden. My Grandad's garden from when I was little. Specifically, the row with the tomatoes.

Grandad's garden was my make believe area where I played when I was little. It always felt so safe, so magical, so ... comforting.

Suddenly, I woke up reeling from what I had just experienced.
As  layed my head on my pillow and thanked God for that moment of comfort, a smell caught my attention. It was the distinct smell of dirt and tomatoes. The peaceful feeling from my dream returned and I got excited.

I smacked Josh awake screaming "God smells like dirt and tomatoes! God smells like dirt and tomatoes!" To me it was almost like a breakthrough.
"Oh yeah? You've heard the voice of God? Well I've smelled him!"
Josh was used to me smacking him awake talking about random dreams, but this time he listened intently. You see, at this point I was angry about my babies and I was struggling with what little faith I had left. Josh talked with me and hugged me. I was able to sleep peacefully for the first time in a year.

*************
So this morning I woke up to our refrigerator being broken. I panicked and called Josh almost in tears. This is just one thing in a long line of things that have gone wrong lately. He calmed me down (some) and I decided today would be the perfect day to write this post. I needed to remember that times have been worse and that we would get through hard times again... and to ENJOY the smallest things like certain smells, sights, or memories that comfort me.

-Heather

The Ten Commandments of Irritation

Would you like to know what the best cure for a nagging wife/mom/sister is?

DO WHAT YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO DO.

Most of the time I absolutely LOVE being a stay-at-home mom. I work really hard to make my family's life flow easily, to make a nice, clean home for them to live in, to decorate the house to create a peaceful environment, blah blah blah. But how peaceful is it going to be when I'm nagging all the time?

Not peaceful at all.

When it was just Josh and Sawyer here with me, I didn't mind cleaning up messes and organizing. I loved cooking and doing the laundry. Heck, I used to wash curtains just to have something to do! Fast forward a year-and-a-half later, Sawyer is older and makes much larger messes, Sofia is older and making messes, and Isaiah is a teenage boy... need I say more? I do need to say he doesn't really make messes and he cleans his own laundry and room. You'll see his list in a few.

Hold on, let me go get my bowl of Kix with chocolate chips... This is gonna be a bumpy ride.

There are Ten solid rules that no matter how hard I try, they feel they must live by. So here are our Ten Commandments.

1. Thou shall fill up any open space on shelves, coffee tables, dressers, desks, etc...

This is a pet-peeve to the max for me. It's something we've struggled with since day one of our marriage. But here's the thing, I've realized it's not just Josh. It's the kids too!
"Hey, look at this beautiful shelf with home decor and color coded books! It's the perfect place to dump all of my crap!" I grew up in house with lots of extra stuff, so clutter drives me crazy! I don't even know what to do with half of Josh's stuff. He has (last I counted) 8 pocket knives. What do I do with those? Not to mention the screwdriver, watches, packs of gum, trash, receipts, and other crap. It's too much! There's a place for all of those things! And the kids.... Apparently toys don't belong in their rooms in the toy boxes that are available. Nope, they go on the coffee table.

2. Thou shall throw all laundry anywhere but the hampers.

I have to admit, I do it too, but I'm also the one who cleans up the messes. I know, "lead by example", but I have to lead by example so much, I figure I should get some slack with laundry.
I find laundry under the couch, in bathroom floors, under beds, once I even found clothes in the freezer. (I'm guessing Sofia did that.) If a hamper is not available, make a pile where the hamper usually sits.

3. Thou shall half-ass all homework and chores.
I understand hating homework and chores as a teen. Hell, I still do. However, they are necessary  evils. If I ask you "Did you do your homework?" what I mean is, "Did you do all of your homework, to the best of your ability, don't lie to me." Also, chores.... If you know I'm going to check, wouldn't you do it right the first time? Or at least not lie about doing it? YOU KNOW I'M GOING TO CHECK! You're going to get caught! I don't understand it.

4. Thou shall proceed to flip out at Heather if something gets lost.
Here's the thing... If YOU lost it, I can't guarantee I'll find it. I'm not in charge of your phone, toy, homework, etc.... I already have enough to do besides find your stuff.

5.Thou shall hover over the cook in anticipation of food.

Back off... I'll let you know when dinner's done. I always have, I always will. Company in the kitchen is welcome, but do not get within 3 feet of me. ( Unless it's for a hug or kiss. I never get tired of those.)

6. Thou shall yell at the person who wakes you up in the morning.
I don't want to wake anyone up in the morning unless I have to. I would rather let everyone sleep while I drink my coffee and blog or watch my shows. I'm doing my family a favor by making sure they get to their respective places on time. I cringe when I flip the boys light on because Sawyer yells almost every morning and Isaiah gives me the go-to-hell look. I would rather throw a pillow at Josh and run, then leave the house for an hour so he can wake up. I have NEVER met a person who hates mornings so much. I try and wake everyone up in the nicest, calmest way possible, but when I'm telling you for the third time to get up, I lose my patience. So, can you guys just make it easier on me, please? After all, the only thing I'm asking you to do is wake up.

7.Thou shall get annoyed when a bill is forgotten...
...or when anything is forgotten for that matter. I have a lot going on in my head, I can't remember everything, and yes, that unfortunately includes important things sometimes. I understand people getting frustrated in that situation, but getting annoyed isn't going to make it better. A simple, "I understand, you have a lot on your plate. Would you like me to do it?" Or, "Mom, it's okay, we can take care of it." would help the situation so much! Most likely, I'll turn your offer down out of pride, but then I won't feel like I need to  get defensive.

8. Thou shall only focus on the things that aren't done.

Laundry? I hate folding it. However, silver lining? It gets washed! There's so much that I get done in one day, but it's easy to not see what did get done and focus on what didn't. Josh is super awesome when he understands that I've done a project instead of cleaning. I was productive on something different that day. Good job! Mix it up! The kids however, are a different story. "Mom! You didn't wash my footie pajamas!" Sawyer completely ignores the other 10 pair of pajamas he has clean. "Mom! You didn't find my show and tell toy!" "Son, that's your responsibility."

9. Thou shall get annoyed when errands must be run.

I hate doing them, too. But they have to be done, sometimes by myself, sometimes with Josh, sometimes with the kids. Being huffy about it, puts me in a bad mood when I already was dreading it as much as you were.

10. Thou shall get into everything that does not belong to you. 
Today I have gotten onto people for getting into my:
Paperwork
Phone
Candles
Food
Bedroom
Paint (Sofia drank it. After an ER visit and a cute picture of her covered in blue paint, she's a-okay.)
and Scissors

I have few things that I get to myself.  If I tell you not to touch it, that's because it's MINE. A mom has to put up boundaries. Mine were crossed today and I'm still grumpy about it.

So  there are our Ten Commandments... What are some of yours?

-Heather

Let's Analyze.... Christopher Robin

A few weeks ago, my sister had mentioned to me that her oldest son (14) and daughter (13) had just realized that the characters from Winnie the Pooh were all in Christopher Robin's imagination.
They were floored.

I imagine that this was one of those moments for them that was similar to when they realized that Santa, the tooth fairy, and the Easter bunny weren't real. There was a slight shock factor, but an understanding as well.

By the time kids are old enough to realize the truth, they understand the purpose behind the story.

With this fresh in my mind, Sofia and I were sitting on the couch watching and episode of Winnie the Pooh where everyone forgot Eeyore's birthday and they were trying to make up for it.

This got me thinking... Kids replay events through play. I've heard Sawyer do this with his Hotwheels.

Could this episode have been Christopher Robin reaching out, hoping that someone would remember his birthday? I mean, we rarely see his parents and he has to resort to playing with stuffed animals by himself in the woods.

Now, that got me wondering, who do all of the characters stand for?

Here's my little gut-punch to your childhood.

Obviously we have Christopher Robin. A lonely, only child who fills his time creating elaborate stories using his stuffed animals to work out his emotional issues.

Kanga- CR's mother. In real life, his mother is absent most of the time. She's probably strict and absorbed in CR's step-father. So in CR's pretend world, she's loving, involved, and is a kangaroo. Kangaroos have a pouch in which their young stay close to them. Obviously something CR craves with his mother.

Roo- CR's sibling which was never born, eventually causing his parent's divorce. Roo isn't gender specific, because CR didn't care which gender his sibling would have been. He just wanted a sibling.

Rabbit- CR's bitter, grumbling, neurotic father who can never be the same after the divorce. He thrust himself into his garden as an obsessive way to ignore what's really going on in his life.

Owl- CR's step-father. A pompous, arrogant man who is cultured and thinks he always knows best. He cares very little about anyone but himself and makes people feel small to make himself feel better.

Gopher- The crazy grandfather. Enough said.

Pooh- A friend that CR made up to make himself feel empowered and confident. After all, it always makes us feel better to have a friend that we can correct and make feel little -"Silly old Pooh." - Sounds sweet, but is meant in a derogatory way.

Tigger- Tigger represents the childhood that CR should have had if infertility hadn't caused the divorce. He's bouncy, hyper, and has the speech of a three year old. He's everything that childhood should be.

Piglet and Eeyore- These represent CR's emotions that someone as young as him can't understand. Piglet is nervous and scared of everything (Wouldn't you if your whole life was changed?) He hides when someone knocks at the door and is cautious of everything. He's constantly wondering "What's going to go wrong now?" He's eager to please everyone and wants to tag along. Eeyore is the depression that stems from the loss that CR has endured. "What's the point? No one cares about me. Everyone forgot about me." There may even be feelings of masochistic nature. He does keep asking people to stab him with his tail.

There you have it, people. That sad, sad tale of Christopher Robin. I'm sure there's much more that can be analyzed with these characters, but I already feel evil for even crossing this line. I suggest you go and watch the older episodes of Winnie the Pooh and see what you think now.

Happy watching!
-Heather

First Days of School

This school year was a hard one. It was Isaiah's (Josh's brother who lives with us) first day of high school and Sawyer's first day of preschool.

I have to take a minute to describe Sawyer before I go any further. I hope I don't seem like I'm bragging, but I'm just in awe of this child. Josh and I can take very little credit for who he is becoming. Of course we've raised him, but he was born with this intense thirst for knowledge and his perspective on the world would have philosophers thinking, "Huh, I hadn't thought of it that way."

We often have conversations that are equivalent with adults and he taught himself to read (with some help of course) by age three. He reads Josh's MicroBiology  and Anatomy books. He knows how to get on Google and type in what he wants to learn about, then find the articles and reads  them. I have moments where I forget that he's four.

So when the decision to send him to preschool came up, we decided that he needed to be a bit more socialized (not that it's really a problem, he fits in with any age group that he's around) and he needed to get used to a classroom setting.

I was honestly fine with it, until the day before school started. I had a full-blown, honest-to-God panic attack. I was going to miss all of those moments where he taught ME about the world, the funny quips that he would come up with, the morning snuggles, you know- all of the good stuff. But, I knew what was best for him, and that was preschool. Fortunately, he got the most awesome teacher who not only was patient with him, but she teaches him the life-lessons that I would have. She values him as an individual... not just another child in the classroom. She tells me stories about him and she loves him. I couldn't be happier with our decision. It's rare to find a teacher like Mrs. Jolena. The kind of teacher who understands the magic in children and who appreciates them as PEOPLE, not just kids.

So, the morning of school, I had cried all that I could cry the day before, so all that was left was excitement. We snapped some pictures and off we went. I caught a video of him and when we got to school, he had no problem letting us go... just as we expected.

It was a long day waiting for 2:45 to roll around and I don't think I could have gotten in the car any faster. We get to the school, and he threw a FIT because he had to go home.... just as we expected.

He's doing great now, and Jolena has him help her out by reading to the class. He helps the other students with their work and when they're having disagreements, he steps in to help.
All of the kids love him and they all yell "Good-bye" to him when he leaves and some even come give hugs or fist bumps.

Don't put limits on your children. Let them surprise you with what they can do. Listen to them (REALLY listen) and see what their take on the world is. I believe that children are some of the best teachers in the world. I know I've been "schooled" by my two many times. Kiddos are people. They are better people than adults in my eyes. Treat them that way. They only have one childhood, so don't bog it down with anger, stress, and worry. Just love them.

*Steps down from soapbox*

Okay, so here are the pictures we snapped on our first day!

He was so proud of his backpack!

Um, are you excited, Sawyer?

Isaiah and Sawyer doing his best "surprised" face.

Sawyer and Sofie

All four of us.

Cousins on their first day!

Happy School Days!
-Heather

Hey, There! Memba me?

Wow! It's been FOREVER since I've posted! I honestly had trouble even remembering how to work this thing. 

No one really reads this blog anyways, so I feel this might be a safe place to share. I have something that I hope will be big (eventually) in the works, but it all started with this book. It's called the Happiness Project. 

I have a good life, I mean a REALLY good life. Yes, there are everyday stresses like finances, education, and time management that always rear their ugly heads to deflate me sometimes, but if I look at the QUALITY of my life, I couldn't have it any better. My husband is smart, caring, and a great provider. He's never done anything that has truly hurt me, and goes out of his way to make me feel validated. My kids are smart and well on their way to being people who change the world.
We own our home, have three vehicles, and our bills get paid every month.

So, I got to asking myself, "Why am I not appreciating what we have? Why am I always so anxious? Why do I want to curl up in the blankets instead of being in the living room with the rest of my family?" I had read about The Happiness project from Natasha's blog (which I ADORE by the way!) and I decided to splurge on something for myself. When I first started reading the book, I was like, "This woman is educated, lives in New York, and couldn't possibly have any of the same issues I do." 

By the time I got halfway through the first chapter, I was like, "Holy cow. This is me!" Part of me was like, "Yay! I have something in common with this spectacular woman!" But then I was like, "Oh, I've got some work to do." I'll admit, I'm not even halfway through the book yet, but I've already been inspired. I won't be beginning my "project" until the beginning of the year, but there are some small things I can start today, like not being a stranger to my own blog. 

I'm making asking Josh to read it when I get done. He usually ignores my requests for him to read my vast collection of self-help books (Hey, don't judge, you can learn from anywhere, right?), but this time I think he might actually do it.

So here's to my homecoming blog! It's kinda good to be back!
Laters-
Heather

Drill Weekend Is Here Again

 Ah, the ever lovely, ever-present drill weekend. So, most of y'all know that my husband is in The Arkansas National Guard. You know this because one weekend every month I transform into some sappy-faced 13 year old who "misses her hubby SOO much" on Facebook. I mean, I'm kind of that way all the time, but I don't quite flaunt it as much on a regular basis.

 SO, here we are again, except this weekend is a 3 day drill and I woke up feeling like death licked me across the face and then sneezed on it.

Gross.

 I'm lonely and bored, so I thought I would post a probably-boring-to-everyone-but-me blog post.
 So, here's what's been going on the last few days.

I've been trying to get the house clean. It seems like such a simple task, right? No. You're a fool and probably only have one or two very polite children who find joy in helping you with everyday tasks. I know that you are out there, because while reading different blogs and websites to help me figure out how to organize and get the kids interested in chores, I found your pages and I sat loathing your parental awesomeness.

 I used to be that way, too. Now, on any given day, between the pets, the people who live here, and frequent guests, we have 13 bodies roaming the house... The small-ish house... The house that seemed HUGE when we bought it... The house that feels like it's giving my head a mammogram because it's getting so cramped now.

Don't get me wrong, it's NOT the people in the house that's driving me crazy, it's the crap. SO. Much. Crap.

So, what's the cure-all for a crap-filled house? More crap!

Yesterday, Josh took off work to spend time with me since he's been gone so much and he was leaving again. We went to Prairie Market (Our local health food store) for lunch, then we did what this girl grew up doing best... junkin'.
For those of you who don't know what that means, let's just call it vintage or antique shopping in cozy little shops off the beaten path, filled with eclectic people.

Okay, that was me blowing some smoke up somewhere. This is how it really is.
True Story:
We accidentally stumbled onto a rummage sale while driving through the umm... not so pretty side of town. We sorted through other people's crap (they had nice stuff!) and when it came time to check out, there was this amazingly gay man, wearing a button up shirt (with the top 3 or 4 buttons unbuttoned), acid wash jeans,  and was missing a tooth, who sauntered over to us.

Man: "Hi, y'all! How did you hear about us? Was it my signs?! Were they colorful enough? Did they just GRAB YOU'RE ATTENTION?!" (His hands were doing the rainbow wave in the air.)
Me: "Well, we were just driving past and YES! We saw your signs and decide to drop in.
Man: " Excellent! I just wanted them to POP!
Me: "Well, you did a great job!"
Okay, while writing this, this conversation seems mild, but if you were there, you would have heard our enthusiasm and the desperation in my voice to make this man feel fabulous.
I told him I would post about the sale on Facebook and his face went into disbelief, which then turned into utter excitement. He said, "FABULOUS!"
My job was done.
I told Josh I wanted to go back and collect him as my pocket-gay. He was amazing.

Anyways, that's just a mild example of junkin', but basically, you're going through dirty stores, digging through shelves and boxes, looking at whether or not you want to by previously owned awesomeness.

I live for thrift stores, garage sales, pawn shops; They're all like musty treasure chests.

After hitting about ten places, we called it quits and I inventoried my finds. I got 4 small red and clear, blown glass cups, a running suit, a shirt, a mens Hollister shirt, two pairs of mens Hollister shorts, camo seat covers,  a cast iron spoon holder for the stove, 3 Reader's Digest books (I might read them, but I got them because the covers were adorable prints and look awesome on my bookshelf), a cookbook, 4 coffee cups, a beautiful glass bowl, a giant ceramic popcorn bowl, and a soy candle from a new pottery shop in town, all for $45. I think I'm forgetting some things.

So, it was a fun day.

 All right, this might seem abrupt, but I'm ending this post now. The coffee buzz has worn off.

Happy Junkin',
Heather

The D-Word

 Calm down, it's not divorce. It's depression, which is just as sad and devastating.



*Warning* This is a sort-of heavy post. So, if you're looking for purple unicorns and poptart cats with rainbows coming out it's arse, read no further.


It's been a particularly hard day 7 months. It started in my last few weeks of pregnancy. I started having anxiety, which led to depression and anxiety after I gave birth. I thought I was prepared this time. (I suffered with postpartum after my son was born and the anxiety attacks started after my second miscarriage and got worse after my fourth) I talked with my doctor and was prescribed anti-depressants and then anti-anxiety meds after Sofia was born. I had pep-talks with myself and discussed heavily with my husband about what to expect.

I had this.

Then all hell broke loose with my husbands family. I won't go into details, but to sum it up, his two youngest siblings came to live with us. It was all good.

No one had anything to do with my depression, only I did. Sometimes when I would seem to be recovering, a situation would set me back.  I will NEVER place blame on anyone but myself for this.

 I quit my meds a few months ago because , "Hey! I feel great!" It's because YOU'RE ON YOUR MEDICATIONS, STUPID.

I preach about getting help when you need it by taking medications, faith, teas, aromatherapy, yoga, talking to a therapist, family, or friends. That it's okay to admit that you're depressed. It's nothing to be shameful of.
So why was I ashamed? I was too tired or angry to think that I needed to do any of those things. I just today said to a friend, "It's mind over matter, medications just help you get to that point."  Will I EVER listen to myself?

 I have been trying (not quite successfully) to fake a smile every day. My heart feels like it's going to beat out of my chest when I hear my name called, when I have to go anywhere, or see anyone. And yes, that includes my family. I want to sleep all the time, my body aches, my head hurts, I cry any time I'm alone. Sometimes I take showers just so I can cry. I'm so ANGRY. The smallest thing will set me off. It's a dark, sad, and lonely place here.

Okay, I've dealt with this before. It's mild compared to where my depression has led me to before. The turning point was a few days ago. I started thinking about how things would be so much easier if I weren't here anymore. Mind you, I wasn't thinking it would be easier on anyone else, but it would be for me. Not having to feel this way anymore, no drama, no heartache, no worry... it seemed pretty nice.  However, I would NEVER act on this. I do have a boundary that bounces me back into reality, that reminds me of how much I love my family, how that would solve NOTHING, and  that "This too shall pass."

 *Please, if you're having these thoughts, it's not a solution. Visit this website. It will get better. Just hold on.*

 Anyways, so obviously I'm treading dangerous territory. How did I let it get to this point? I know my triggers, I know the first signs. How?

Because depression is a sneaky little bastard. That's how.

Depression reminds me of my ex. It gets in your head and tells you, "Everyone's out to get you. Let me take care of you. We'll just hide out in the bedroom in the dark. Who was that calling your name? Don't answer them. They just want something and you're too weak of a person to help them. You're worthless. You fat-ass. Why don't you gain another 10 pounds? Why would you want to get dressed up and go out? You're still ugly and no one wants to look at you. God, you forgot to make dinner again? You are the WORST mother and wife! Worthless."

Like I said... sneaky bastard.

Well, with the help of my family, I'm ready to get the sneaky bastard out of my system. My meds get refilled tomorrow and so starts the yoga, candles, tea, and most importantly, my talks with God.

Wish me luck.

-Heather

Heather's Adventures in Dunderland

So. I dyed my hair red.

Not the whole Oh!-you-have-the-prettiest-red-hair-like-Ariel red. More like, I'm-so-tired-of-crappy-normal-colored-hair-so-I'm-going-to-go-crazy red.

 I'm in a rut, folks. I NEEDED change. My sister (who you will NEVER see pictures of on here because my heiny and her foot never want to meet) gave me some hair dye a few months ago. It's been sitting on my bathroom sink since then... until Saturday.

I was watching a movie and I saw this girl who was wild, daring, and most definitely not in a "mom rut." She had the red hair that I have been longing for for 2 years now. I typically stay in the dark reds or dark brown when I dye my hair. It's safe, right?

"Well," I thought, ''I'm a daring person. I kick ass. I can get my husband to look at me like the men in the movie looked at her.'' At least that's what I told myself while I was debating whether or not to go for it.

''I'm a rebel.''

I can't lie, my stomach was in knots when I went to the bathroom to get the bottle. But, with each step towards the bathroom I kept chanting my mantra to myself. "You is daring, You is kick-ass, You is REBEL." (Yes, that's a The Help reference. Good movie. Go watch it.)

My sister-in-law, Bekka, had agreed to do the dying. She shook the bottle and as the bottle came closer, the tighter my legs wrapped around the base of the chair so I wouldn't leave. I thought, "There's time! I don't feel the dye in there yet! I can still be an unnoticed boring little person like always! That's comfortable!" Then I repeated my mantra to myself, and I felt the first glob of dye hit my hair. This was it. I'm going to be AWESOME!

Hair dye glopped all over the counter, the floor, my face. I knew then, this was a sign from the hair gods- this was a mistake.

Too late, idiot!

 I waited the 25 minutes and went to wash my hair out. My shower curtain, tile, bath poufs, and tub all turned hot pink.

 Oh. My. God.

 I rinsed for 20 minutes and my hair was STILL dripping pink. I got out, squeezed what water dye was still in there and went to dry my hair. I hadn't looked in the mirror yet. I should have left it that way. I knew it was a disaster the second I pulled the now hot-pink towel off my head. I teared up for a second and thought, "I've never seen a rebel look like this." As I started drying it to see how bad it really was, I started laughing to myself.


Here's the finished product, folks.

Lovely, big, red spots on my scalp

Fortunately, Josh was nice enough to pick me up some black dye on the way home. I've wanted to dye my hair back to black for awhile now too, so it worked out.

Tada! Back in Black

Rebel

Much better...

Boy, did I learn my lesson. Red is NOT my color and I can be kick-ass without dying my hair.

Rock on, folks. Rock on.


Laters,
 Heather

The Untied States of Heather

 Yesterday, after a chaotic day, my sister-in-law and I were discussing how everyone has multiple personalities. (Mind you, we aren't talking about the kind that take over a body. We were talking about how you can have different sides to you.) But, then the hard questions started coming up; How does one build a wardrobe for the different personalities? What if two different personality's values contradict themselves? Will people understand my blog? I mean, I'm a different person every. single. day.


  I still haven't figured out the wardrobe thing, but since I rarely get out of my pj's, it doesn't really matter. I'm a hot little stay-at-home-mom. How can you resist my unbrushed hair, the flour on my shirt from cooking, not to mention that I won't respond to you unless you call me Mom? (I have a name? What?) Like I said, HOT.


   So, let's begin with the confusing blog posts.
I'm thinking about having different blogs for each personality. You know, naming the personalities, then blogging about what those personalities are interested in. It sounds weird and a bit obsessive, but weird and obsessive are my middle name! I'm concerned that my one blog would seem far too random. But that might be more fun!

  Okay, here are the different sides of me that I need to name. (Oh yeah, this is where the contradiction comes in.)

 The Hippy:
 She's the one who hates when her husband hunts. (Guns are dangerous and Bambi is cute!) She's extremely into essential oils and their healing and cleaning uses. She is interested in organic and all natural foods. Notice I said "interested in", not "practices the eating of". She is liberal and thinks that injustice is one of the worst things in the world. Holistic medicine is her preferred choice when it comes to medical treatment. She thinks herbal teas fix everything.

  The Southerner:
 She thinks it's horrid when men don't open doors, carry the groceries, or stand up to defend their woman. Sweet tea is a must in the fridge, bbq's are a must in the Summer. She scoffs when people take their car to a shop instead of fixing it themselves. She would rather have an extended cab 4-wheel drive Chevy truck instead of a car in the driveway. (Although she loves her car.) She lives for the Arkansas Razorback football season. Hunting season is an exciting time around the house and deer chili is one of the best foods out there!

 The Dude:
 He loves to get under the car with his husband. Broken things are a challenge, not a problem. He is prideful, raunchy, abrasive, and blunt. He drinks beer and smokes ciggs. He spits, burps, and loves shooting guns. He doesn't get out often, but he's always there.

 The Homemaker Part 1:
She's the frazzled homemaker. She's the one who feeds the kids, gives the baths, does the laundry and dishes. All the nasty cleaning is left to her. She handles the money, and is always stressed. She loves staying home and snuggling with her kids (which you can tell she does often when you walk in the door and she's still not showered nor changed her clothes.) Sexy.

The Homemaker Part 2:
 Ahh. She's the 'Bree' of the body. She'll wear an apron all day, arrange flowers in the Spring, make plans for her gardening two seasons ahead of time (Unfortunately, gardening doesn't seem to be something that ANY of my personalities are good at. We just kill things.) She organizes, sews, crafts, and cooks. Oh boy, does she cook. Cookies, cakes, roasts, turkeys, side dishes, she somehow manages to learn to cook anything. (Except for hamburgers. She REALLY sucks at burgers.)

The 13 Year Old:
 She gossips, has a temper, gets involved in drama, and is incredibly sensitive. She doesn't understand other girls, nor does she understand why some adults are idiots. I mean, they're adults. Haven't they learned their lessons yet?! OMG, really...

The Mom:
 She is probably the most annoying by far. She thinks she knows everything and every problem in the world is her responsibility to fix. (She has a plan for the Middle East.) She gets annoyed when people don't take her advice. She tries to mother everyone. She really means well. I mean, she's been in some hairy situations and survived. That advice is worth taking, right? She plans the birthday parties and hands out the punishments. She's neurotic and wants to take the kids to the doctor for everything. It's always a love/hate thing with her.

The  Feminist:
 She can do anything herself. She doesn't need a man to take care of her or stand up for her. She doesn't like thinking the home is her responsibility. Don't tell her she's done something wrong, she intended to do it that way! She would burn her bra, but it's pretty, and those things are expensive!

I'm sure there are more that I haven't thought about, but I can be any of these people all in one day. Some of them I enjoy, and some, well,  I just really hate when they come around. Poor Josh doesn't know who he's going to get at any given moment. I imagine it makes it difficult being married to me. But, he's stayed with it for 6 years. Maybe he's adapted different Josh personalities to deal with my Heather personalities. Hmm... That makes you think.

 Well, y'all, thanks for taking a peek inside my brain. Sorry for the clutter! =0)

 Laters,
 Heather (and some other folks hitching a ride)