Stimulating Conversation... Literally.

So, not that this is going to send anyone into a humor-induced coma, but I just thought I'd share my exilerating (that's sarcasm there, people) evening at the dinner table with my charming daughters.

Brittney: Which veggies make you fart? Just asparaGAS?!! *giggles*

Mommy: *clears throat* A-hem,.. No, ALL vegetables can make you pass gas,.. most food makes you fart, just some more than others, sweetie. Now please finish your dinner.

Ashley: Does butter make you fart?

Brittney: Noooo, butter makes you FAT. Don't eat too much.

Mommy: Okay, girls,.. Now that's enough fart-talk, let's finish our dinner.

Courtney: I wonder if bread makes you fart...

Brittney: Oh no! ALL our dinner is going to make us fart a LOT tonight! We better put on some masks!! *giggles*

Ashley: Mommy, do I have to keep eating?! I don't want to be a fart machine!

Mommy: Yes, Ashley, you all have to eat some more of your dinner. Everybody farts, even if you don't eat. Now please eat some more dinner.

A few minutes later,... Ashley exuded the very 'topic'. Needless to say, the 'giggle-girls' left the table, and I, well, I am just flabbergasted.

And so goes another day in my world,... No philosophical topics for me. No, my world is filled with talk of flatulence,and the like. You know you envy me, don't you? Ah yes, of course you do.

*sigh* I wonder,.. can any of you beat my table topic tonight?? So much for prim & proper, eh? Not exactly the 'stimulating conversation' I've been craving,..........

And now,... I have to go bathe my 100#, mud encrusted horse dog.
Yay for me.

Oh, Virginia!

Well, first off,.. Happy St. Patrick's Day!

The girls & I all wore our green, St Patty's t-shirts and spent the day playing board games and enjoyed some much needed down time together.

Did I forget to mention that Ashley, the seven year old, was the FIRST one awake? Indeed she was! She proceeded to dress herself from head to toe in green, and thereby was more than happy to help wake me up with the jolt of a good *pinch*. Little stinker doesn't miss a beat, does she?? And her giggles were followed by more pinching until mommy cried 'uncle' and finally begged for mercy.

This morning also brought inquiries from Brittney, the nine year old, pertaining to the inevitable question: "Where do babies come from? Really, mom, I want to know." Okay, pause, freeze frame, something! Wasn't today supposed to be lucky?? I knew this day was coming, but c'mon, I'm still recovering from my early morning pinching trauma, and we have to go there?!

So, we had "The Talk". Honestly, I guess I'm relieved that I've been able to hold her at bay this long because as I recall, Courtney, now nearly 11 years old, was only 7 when she stopped allowing me to skirt the topic. What a funny story that is though! She took everything in, and seemed pleased with herself in the newly acquired knowledge. Keep in mind however, that she was only a seven year old (I can't imagine having this conversation with Ashley who is currently that age, but Courtney was a very mature seven year old), and as most seven year olds do,.. she inevitably produced hilarious quirps of verbage all her own.

I will never in all my life forget that day. Scott came home that evening, and our 'little miss ray of sunshine' ran to him absolutely beaming with the news that she learned where babies came from! "Oh? And how's that?" her daddy oblidged nervously, and Courtney proudly exclaimed, "The peanut goes in the china!". *gasp*

But now on to today's 'talk' with Brittney,...

It went very well, and she was equally pleased with being 'in the know'. With her, there was no mistaking any peanuts,.. no, this girl has that word down almost TOO perfect, but I might add that she can't seem to say it without errupting in giggles. *blush* However, remembering the counterpart has been interesting.

What was once 'china' has now become,.... VIRGINIA.

Virginia?!

I don't know about anybody else, but having 'The Talk' makes my sides ache, and quite frankly, I could use a glass of water. LOL

Neuro-mail?

Another silly quirp from my darling seven-year-old today...

To enlighten you as to why I found this humorous, well,.. The girls & I make a conscious effort to eat healthy foods, including watching portion sizes, chewing slowly & completely, and allowing 15-20 minutes to pass before eating anything additional if we feel we might still be hungry, blah, blah, blah. In most cases, after initially finishing a meal, we might feel as though we could eat a little more, but in waiting, it gives our stomachs time to send that ever important message to our brains that our stomachs are indeed full.

The girls & I have discussed this at length, and as I've stated, we make a conscious effort to limit ourselves by portion control to avoid overeating which can so easily be done. Anyway, we have learned a lot about neurons and how they transmit 'messages' to various parts of the body, including the stomach to the brain when it is full. In most cases, those messages travel quickly such as my brain telling my fingers which keys to type, and this is happening near instantly as I am thinking what I am going to say here. However, the stomach's message can take up to 20 minutes to reach the brain. This being a major factor in why so many people overeat thinking they are not yet full when indeed they are, and then feel uncomfortably full from having eaten by far too much by the time that signal has had a chance to reach the brain.

Anyway, enough with the lecture, this post is supposed to be funny!!

So, the girls & I were finishing lunch this afternoon, and Ashley being hopeful for a baked, soft pretzel for a treat afterward, was balking a little bit about finishing enough of her food because she wanted to leave room for the pretzel. Now I have never been one to believe anyone should be forced to finish everything on their plate. I just want to feel good that what was eaten was healthful, balanced, and sufficient to meet both the body's nutrion and fuel needs. She had done well, but I convinced her to eat just one more brussell sprout. She did without qualm, but then immediately asked for the pretzel.

Okay, so this still hasn't gotten funny yet.........

Long story short (or at least shorter then where it's taken us thus far), I asked her if we shouldn't wait a little bit for our stomachs to settle, and make sure we had room for the pretzel just yet.

I was quickly informed that her tummy did indeed have room for the pretzel because her brain got the message much faster today,... "my tummy sent my brain an E-mail and it is telling me that I still have room for the pretzel".

Well,.. How do you argue with THAT?? LOL

Where There is Love...

Picture a destitute man. He's standing on the corner of the street, holding the typical cardboard sign scrawled with a plea for anything you can spare to aid his circumstance. He's cold & tattered, dirty & bruised, his body is meagre with hunger, but nothing about this man's spirit leaves you with the feeling that he is desolate,.. not even in his dismal state.

This man expelled a vivid impression of reality, and it pained me beyond any explanation. Emotion welled up within me as though a special calling to this particular individual. Now, I've helped people before, but this felt different. You could almost imagine as if it were Jesus himself standing there as though a test for humanity. Despite his condition he had a peaceful presence about him. A sweet spirit. He had a twinkle in his eye that is beyond words, as though a window to his soul.

The girls & I quickly decided to turn the truck around and go into Fred Meyer's to make some purchases for him. As we turned the corner, we saw his weathered old bicycle with a black, plastic garbage bag no less containing all of his worldy possessions. I knew he wouldn't be able to carry much so I chose things carefully while also keeping in mind that he was missing most of his front teeth. We purchased some oranges, bananas, strawberries, and grapes along with some soft, fresh baked, whole wheat rolls, a couple bottles of apple juice, and a large bottle of water. Before we headed to the checkout, we decided to add a treat and grabbed some pumpkin chocolate-chip cookies. In addition, we purchased an ultra soft, micro fiber, luxury warmth blanket.

The girls helped me give the gifts to him, and his appreciation was overwhelming. His cold hands were so bruised ...every single fingertip... and his beard was filled with crumbs. His voice trembled as he thanked us. He seemed in awe of the fresh fruit and the new blanket... and the human contact. I'm sure most people simply throw change out the window as they pass the traffic signal. As I said, I've helped people before, but this was different, and this experience will definitely stay with me for the rest of my life. I hope it will for my children, too.

As we drove away, Ashley lovingly said, "Jesus is sooo proud of us, huh, mommy,.. We helped a hopeless man!" Of course, she meant homeless but she's a seven year-old. I acknowledged and then carefully explained the difference. I hope that this evening's experience serves as a valuable lesson. The lesson that, where there is love, there hope is also.

I think that too many adults actually make the same mistake, only not in the innocent manner that my child did,.. too many people confuse homelessness with hopelessness. But there is hope, people,... the hope is in you.

Silly Shorts...

I have to post this before it escapes my ever shrinking mind. Seems these days, things get harder & harder for me to hold to memory...

So for Valentine's Day last month, Scott gave each the girls cards, balloons, and so forth. Ashley's card in particular was especially fitting because she's such a goof ball. Why am I waiting until now to post about something from Valentine's Day? Simple. It wasn't until 20 minutes ago that she belted out the hilarious, little quirp that will follow shortly.

On the front, the card reads: "Happy Valentine's Day to a beaufitul, loving, intelligent, WEIRD daughter." On the inside, it reads: "Sorry, Honey -- but you had to inherit at least one trait from your dad." And enclosed, was a small button that reads: "Good Girl - Bad DNA".

It wasn't until this morning that she was looking at it again, and decided to ask me what it meant. As I started to explain to her that it meant that she got his silliness 'genes'. Before I could go any further to explain 'DNA' to her, she ran into the adjacent room to proudly exclaim to her sisters, "Girls! Girls! Guess what?? I get daddy's silly shorts!!"... Maybe it's just me, as I'm easily amused, but I about fell over laughing.

I guess I still have to explain genes vs. jeans to her. What?? I thought all seven year olds knew the difference, LOL........ Kidding!

The Choice Is Our's...

I came across this article, and thought I'd post it.

What Will Make You Happy?

APPRECIATION. Appreciation is the purest, strongest form of love. It is the outward-bound kind of love that asks for nothing and gives everything.

CHOICE. Choice is the father of freedom and the voice of the heart. Having no choices or options leads to depression, anxiety, and the condition called learned helplessness. Anyone can choose the course of their life, but only happy people do it.

PERSONAL POWER. Personal power has two components: taking responsibility and taking action. It means realizing that your life belongs to you and you alone, then doing something about it.

LEADING WITH YOUR STRENGTHS. When you take the path of intellect and spirit, you naturally begin to focus on your strengths (rather than your weakness) and start to solve your situation.

THE POWER OF LANGUAGE AND STORIES. Language has the power to alter perception. We think in words. These words have the power to limit us or to set us free; they can frighten us or evoke our courage. Similarly, the stories we tell ourselves about our own life eventually become our life. We can tell healthy stories or horror stories. The choice is ours.

I Need Fresh Air...

I haven't done much posting here lately, and I suppose it has had a lot to do with the life changes that are happening right now. I'm struggling to find the words.

I don't really know what to say. This is something I've kept to myself all of these years, with the exception of a small circle of close family & friends, and I do mean a very small circle. It is still not my intention to plaster all the ugliness 'out there' for everyone to see.

It does make it difficult to stand my ground though when so many people form opinions & base judgements off of what I consider to be a severe lack in information. I strongly feel that there are some of those individuals out there that should just simply trust that I wouldn't make this sort of decision in haste. Alas, there are those that are set in their ways or beliefs, and regardless of what good reasons I may have, they condemn the action I'm taking.

I do not desire for anyone to take sides in this, nor do I wish to set anyone against Scott, but people just do not know the history here. I simply wish that more people, that I have also considered my friends, would trust me and more importantly, respect me.

This has not been an easy decision, but it has been a long time coming. As I've said before, there comes a point in your life where you have to ask yourself, "When is enough, enough?". Well, I've had enough,... and I need some fresh air.