The Coppee Family

Carrot Stew

2011-12-26T11:41:00.002-07:00

I started a tradition last year at Christmas. I decided I was going to take carrot stew and rolls around to all of my neighbors. This was all inspired when last December I woke up one morning, looked at the house next door and thought, "Oh my gosh! I've lived next door to the same people for 3 1/2 years and I've never met them."

So I made a huge pot of carrot stew, purchased tupper ware from the dollar store, bought a bag of Rhodes frozen rolls because I don't do homemade bread so that's the best people are gonna' get from me, and I made up some homemade Christmas gifts.

It's healthy, it's cheap, and, gosh darn it, people like it!

My family was introduced to this stuff when we lived in Scotland years ago. A lady invited us all over for some carrot stew. I was 12 years old at the time and I remember crinkling up my nose and thinking, "Carrot stew? That sounds weird." But it was amazing and luckily my mother had the good sense to ask the woman for the recipe, which she gladly shared.

Just on a side note, I also remember that the woman lived in a house that was like a maze. It was the strangest floor plan I'd ever seen - but a lot of fun for kids to run around in and play hide and seek. Also, they had a large dog and rabbit that were best friends. Random, I know, but an interesting little tidbit that's connected with the memory of my first carrot stew experience.

Now, I don't know if I make it exactly the same way as the woman or my mother, but here's how I make it so here's what you're gonna' get:

CARROT STEW

6 carrots
3 potatoes
4 celery stalks
1 small onion
1 tsp garlic
Dill
Parsley
Salt
Pepper
Butter
4 Chicken bouillon cubes

Peel carrots and potatoes and put them in a pot to boil.

Finely chop onion and celery and saute in butter with garlic (I use about 2 tablespoons of butter). Add dill, parsley, salt and pepper - as much or as little as you want. I go easy on the salt and pepper, but I add about 1 to 2 tsp each of dill and parsley.

When everything is soft, spoon in carrots and potatoes, then celery and onion mixture, then carrots and potatoes and celery and onion mixture, back and forth until the blender is filled. Puree everything and dump into a bigger pot. (I always spoon in some of the water from the carrot and potato water to the blender so the vegetables will blend up nice and creamy) Then spoon in more carrots and potatoes and celery and onion mixture and puree. Do this until everything has been pureed.

Once everything is in the pot, add a little water until creamy soup is the desired thickness (or thinness - I prefer mine a little thicker and creamier). Add 4 chicken bouillon cubes while soup is simmering. Salt and pepper to taste.

So, there you go.

I quadruple this recipe and it makes enough to give to 10 families.

Who Knew Willcox, AZ Was So Exciting?

2011-06-19T16:48:00.002-07:00

My husband plays drums for another band besides The Mending Seed - The Jarred Truschke Band. I'm not sure if that's what it's actually called. Maybe it's just Jarred Truschke. Doesn't really matter. What matters is the music is good. Okay, that's a gross understatement. It's Jack Johnson meets...I don't know. Someone. Someone with cool beats. You'll just have to hear it to believe it. They're working on recording an album within the next two weeks so there will be something to show soon.

ANYWAY....so Jarred is from Willcox, Arizona and Jarred's father put together an event down in Willcox where people from Willcox could share their music with the community. There were other things going on, as well. Sounded cool. Something different. We had been warned that there really wasn't much to do in Willcox, but then we had to weigh in our other hand the fact that we were being provided a free hotel room and the opportunity for Bert to play live on his drums, so we decided to just go and enjoy the event and the time away from our kids.

The plan (okay MY plan) was for us to arrive in town, check in to the hotel, me take a shower and apply make up and put on something decent to wear. About thirty minutes from our destination I was informed that plans had changed. We were to go to Jarred's brother's house. I took note of the time and the fact that the guys were supposed to be on stage in approximately three hours and thought, "Hm. This little plan of mine is looking grim." Therefore, I applied makeup in a bumpy, diesel truck with the sun beating on me, washing out my face. You could say I looked like a $2 hooker. Sorry. That's what happens when the mirror tells you your face has no color so you proceed to apply five layers of blush only to discover at a later hour in a bathroom mirror with better lighting that...you look like a $2 hooker.

I then did a quick look over of my hairdo. It wasn't too bad. I figured a bit of pomade and some flat ironing action in Jarred's brother's bathroom would be good enough under the circumstances.

And then we arrived in Willcox. We headed straight to Jarred's brother, Jonathan's house and they welcomed us into their beautiful remodeled home and filled us up with delicious homemade shredded pork tacos. I took a trip to their beach-themed bathroom and emerged stating, "Wow. That is a nice bathroom. That's nicer than any room in my house." We enjoyed visiting with them and hearing about their life in Willcox. Turns out it's much more exciting down there than I thought.

Not only is a good portion of the town haunted, but Jonathan, a high school English teacher, has some interesting stories. He told us a story of one of his students showing up one day with a knife. He confiscated the knife and turned it into the front office only to be informed the kid was a convicted felon.

Good to know.

The kid was expelled and sentenced for bringing a knife to school. The end.

Or not.

He showed up some time later, burst into Jonathan's classroom and threatened his life. Fortunately he was caught before laying hands on Jonathan, but the good news is he's just recently moved in RIGHT across the street. And they lived happily ever after.

And by happily ever after I mean Jonathan had to file an injunction so that the kid couldn't harrass him (actually the kid is an adult now) and so the guy doesn't dare say a word to Jonathan. He just stands out front with his pit bull and stares Jonathan down while he mows his lawn...and also spits on any guest's vehicles, as we discovered a short time later. Nice.

"Sorry about my neighbors", Jonathan apologized. "I promise my street is nice, except for the people across the street, which includes a lady who's under house arrest right now and wears an ankle bracelet."

"That guy who threatened your life lives with some lady with an ankle bracelet? Wow. What is she? His girlfriend or something?" I asked, completely appalled.

"No", he replied. "It's his mom."

THAT EXPLAINS IT ALL!

After giving our condolences, we checked the time and realized we needed to get down to the park. It was almost time to play.

Upon arriving at the event, our ears were assaulted by some character in a sparkly blue sequined shirt moaning some Neil Diamond tunes. As the time ticked on and 7:30 fast approached...and came and went...and the guys were still waiting in the wings for Neil Diamond's yawn-worthy twin to come out of his self-induced hypnotic state and get off the stage, we got a little nervous. There was no place for Bert's electronic drum set. We asked the sound guy if we could pull some of the acoustic set off and he said, "Nope. Can't move it." So we went for plan B and set Bert's drums up in front of the stage.

That scared 'em off!

The people were scrambling with their lawn chairs and belongings, trying to get as far back as possible. I thought, "Um...those are electronic, i.e. they plug into an amp and have a volume control, but...okay." I sat proudly in front - by myself.

Then the trouble started. Bert's electronic drums weren't coming through the amp properly. They tried to fix the problem alone, then looked around for the sound guy. He was nowhere to be found. We were on our own. With no knowledge of how and where the system was dialed in, we were left to fend for ourselves and failed miserably. Fifteen minutes passed before I whispered to Bert, "Babe! You've wasted 15 minutes. Hop up on those acoustic drums or get off the stage and leave Jarred to do his thing. QUICK!" He opted for the acoustic drum set on stage. And so, finally, their set began. There was feedback, Bert couldn't hear Jarred AT ALL, and Jarred's microphone was way too soft, which, despite cranking full volume on it, never got any louder.

"Where the heck is the dang sound guy?" was all we could think.

After two songs, the sound guy magically reappeared! And shouted "4 minutes!" That was it. He let the Neil Diamond wannabe go five minutes over, he disappeared on us, and then he gave the guys the chance to play only 3 songs. We drove 3 1/2 hours for them to play THREE SONGS! The moment they finished their third song, the sound guy leaped up on the stage, grabbed a different mic, which was cranked up, and shouted, "This next band is something you haven't heard in a while, folks. I'm proud to introduce the..." I have no idea what he said after that. I was flabbergasted. It doesn't get any more unprofessional and rude than that.

In a surprising news flash - the next band up was THE SOUND GUY'S BAND! SURPRISE!

We certainly weren't.

Oh, not only was it his band, it was one of THREE bands he had booked for that night, giving all three of his bands one-hour sets and everyone else 30 minutes.

Not cool.

And also his bands were lame...unless you enjoy watching 50 to 60-year-old's drawl old country western tunes.

To say we were angry was a gross understatement. We were piss and vinegar mad. As we took our equipment back to the truck, Bert relayed the fact that some old lady behind the stage was yelling at him to play the drums softer....like the old dudes before him who gently tapped out a simple beat.

When he told me later that he couldn't hear Jarred at all and had some old lady yelling at him while he played, I was shocked. You never would have known. He was right on with Jarred, which is a testament to both musician's skills - Bert can play from memory on songs he doesn't know well and Jarred can keep up.

The good news: A photographer from the local paper took photos of the guys playing and later asked Jarred's wife (not knowing she was his wife), "Who is this band? They're really good." We also heard the next morning that other people approached Jarred's father and wanted to know what type of music he was playing and lamented that they wished they could have heard more.

In karma news: The rude dude who was more interested in promoting himself blew out his amp and had to end his set early. And also the old lady who yelled at Bert was the rude dude's wife. This dude ended up throwing stuff and yelling at his own wife in the end.

That darn karma. Gotta' watch out for that.

And so the night ended. Well...our night at the event. And we took off back to Jonathan's house.

I thought perhaps we'd visit a while, then head to our hotel room, watch a little TV and fall asleep.

"You guys wanna' go ghost hunting?" Jarred asked.

We perked right up.

Jarred and Jonathan have a grandmother who has lived with a ghost for years. Her house is actually registered as a haunted house in Willcox. She no longer lives in it, but the bank hasn't changed the locks, so we had full access.

"The house is creepy", we were informed. "Just wait 'til you see the outside of it. It's got kind of a Hitler 'stache goin' on." Sure enough, the little old house had two bushes on each side, pretty much resembling a Hitler 'stache. In the creepy looks department, it didn't disappoint. Knowing it was a registered haunted house might have enhanced it a bit.

We did a quick glance about the street to make sure nobody was watching us enter a well known vacant property - we didn't want any cops surprising us - and then stepped into the front room. The floor felt unstable beneath our feet, the air heavy. It smelled old and musty. My heart immediately broke into an even gallop. I tried to steady my breathing to slow it down, but to no avail.

"Hi Julia", Jarred half-whispered. "We're back, but we promise we're not going to hurt you."

My eyes widened. "Oh my gosh. This is really happening." I thought to myself. I parted my lips in the eerily street-lit front room to let more air into my tightened lungs. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, my heart leaped at the casting of shadows about the bare walls.

"She's here", Jarred informed us. "I can feel her."

"Oh my gosh", I thought again as I gulped and rolled my eyes backward, bracing myself against the wall. Though I've had many paranormal encounters, it's not something I generally seek out. I think it's safe to say I was terrified. I believe in ghosts. I had heard the stories associated with this house. And I believed she was there too. I just didn't want any personal confirmation of that. And I wasn't fully prepared for anyone to actually try to communicate with her right from the get go.

We went through a brief tour of the house, walking room to room as Jarred and Jonathan explained what room we were in each time. As we passed through the hallway into what looked like a dining room, I pointed to a door to my left. "What's in here?" I asked.

"That's where it gets creepy", Jarred replied.

I shuddered. "So, this is the dining room. Nice." I quickly changed the subject and tried to keep the mood light for my own sake. We toured the kitchen next.

"Be careful of the floor. It's really soft", Jarred warned. "A lot of activity happens in here."

I drew in a deep breath and blew it out, then tried to talk myself out of bolting.

Upon leaving the kitchen through the second entrance, Jarred asked, "Shall we go to the room?"

"The scary room?" I confirmed. "Where scary stuff happens?"

Jarred laughed then turned to his brother. "Do you wanna' lock the front door?"

"No", was Jonathan's prompt reply. "That's the last thing I wanna' do."

I chuckled...and silently agreed.

We were then led down a narrow hallway where the door to the room sat positioned at the very end, the door itself only slightly ajar. As we entered the room, we were informed that this was where a lady named Julia died. And also that several years, when the room underwent major renovations, which sparked all of the paranormal activity, some letters were found hidden in a wall - letters that Julia had written to herself. Letters that portrayed the madness that loomed inside her mind.

"What did the letters say?" Bertrand asked.

Just then a noise in the house startled us. "Did you hear that?" The guys all asked in unison. We all then confirmed that we had.

Just then I noticed something on the wall. Something written. I squinted in the dark and asked, "What's this on the wall?" Immediately thereafter I wasn't so sure I wanted to know.

"Oh, that's just something my mom painted on the wall when she was a teenager", Jarred replied casually.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Oh. Okay."

Next we explored the master bedroom. At this point of the tour I vocalized my observation that every single cupboard in the house was open. Every single one. For some reason that just creeped me out. It just enhanced the creepiness. I mean, seriously - why is every single cupboard hanging wide open? It's scary. You had to be there.

Okay, moving on.

We walked single file down the narrow hallway back to the front room and at this point decided to do an EVP session - electronic voice phenomenon. It captures voices that you can't hear with your own ears. We stood at one end of the hallway and looked down into the room where the most activity happens. We had left the door completely wide open when we left so we could see right into the room from our end.

With Ghost Radars in hand, Bertrand and Jarred began speaking in soothing tones to Julia, inviting her to come closer with the promise that they wouldn't do her any harm. I gulped hard and remained completely still, looking over Bertrand's shoulder down the hall. I was impressed at how casually and easily the two men could speak with this unknown presence. I certainly wasn't going to say a word and seemingly neither was Jonathan. I looked away briefly and stared out a side window, trying to calm myself.

Suddenly Jarred gasped. "Did you see that?"

"Yeah!" Bertrand responded with excitement.

"What?" I asked, my anxiety increasing. "What did you just see?"

They both explained that a shadowy figure had passed by the doorway of the room.

I shuddered, but remained silent.

"Julia. Come closer to me", Bertrand invited. "Let me know that you're here."

I grit my teeth, my breathing becoming more shallow.

Just then the Ghost Radar showed movement of a figure moving down the hall toward Bertrand. A few seconds later he exclaimed, "I just felt a breath on my face, like someone was softly blowing." Then he showed us his arms. He had goosebumps. "I can feel her. She's right next to me."

I didn't doubt that. But I also didn't want to acknowledge or feel it, so I remained silent, as did Jonathan.

"Should we sit down in a circle?" Jarred asked.

"No", came Jonathan's prompt response.

I chuckled nervously. "I agree. I'm not sitting down."

A short while later we saw lights from the street as though a car had approached. Fearing someone had seen our car out front of the house and called the cops we decided to leave quick. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I relaxed the moment I walked down the front steps and into the open air.

We hopped into the car quick and sped off.

Our next stop - the old Pioneer Cemetery on the edge of town. Bertrand and I were informed that this was where Warren Earp was buried.

"Who?" We both asked.

"Warren", Jonathan and Jarred replied. "The youngest brother of Wyatt Earp."

We had never heard of him.

Apparently he wasn't involved in the OK Corral incident in Tombstone, though he did live there and serve as a deputy for a time under his older brother, Virgil. There's a whole history with Warren, though he's not as famous as his older brothers. Apparently Warren had a hot temper and people close to him often predicted he would die a violent death one day as a result. Sure enough in 1900, he was shot inside the Brown Saloon in Willcox, AZ after verbally abusing a man in a fight over (supposedly) a prostitute they were both interested in.

And now we were being driven down a dark, winding, dirt road in the middle of the night to his grave site.

"No flashlights this time", Jarred said to Jonathan.

Bertrand and I glanced at each other with concern in the back seat.

The brothers proceeded with a tale of caretakers who live a short distance from the old cemetery. They don't like people prowling late at night and so if they see anything suspicious, they'll come after you.

"And you don't go running after strangers in a cemetery in the middle of the night without some kind of protection", Jarred chuckled.

"What do you mean", I asked, apprehensively.

"Oh, they'll probably be carrying guns."

I shot a look of horror at Bertrand.

"Um...maybe we shouldn't do this", I said, trying to back out.

"Oh, we'll be fine", Jarred assured me. "We just have to be quiet."

Upon our arrival to the cemetery, we exited the car and stared in the direction of the caretaker's house, squinting in the dark for signs of any movement.

"Okay. I don't see anything right now. I think we're okay", Jonathan informed us.

And so we made our way to the cemetery entrance.

"There's a gate?!" Jarred exclaimed.

"It's locked", Jonathan replied.

"Oh well. I guess we can't go this time." I said.

"Nah", said Jarred. "We can just climb over."

My eyes widened in horror as the three men proceeded to enter the cemetery.

The gate was only mid thigh high for me, but still...we were blatantly trespassing in the middle of the night with the prospect of being hunted down by armed men if we were discovered.

Once inside, we squinted in the dimly moonlit cemetery with its man-made horseshoe path before us. The grave sites were intermingled with gnarly desert shrubbery, somewhat camouflaging the ominous feel of such a place.

My fear instantly shifted as fresh wild javelina tracks were pointed out on the walkway. I felt my heart pounding wildly in my chest, my breathing turning to pants as I attempted to clarify, "So, basically there's a better chance we'll be attacked by a wild animal or shot out here than actually seeing a ghost?"

"Right", Jarred confirmed with a chuckle.

"Great", I replied weakly.

My attention was then directed to the very back of the cemetery where the light of the moon danced off something metallic.

"See that metallic light shining back there?" Jonathan said, pointing it out with his finger.

"Uh huh", I replied.

"That's Warren's grave."

He walked ahead as I stood frozen, trying to identify what I feared most at this moment.

Eventually my legs responded to my brain and I was able to make my way to the back of the cemetery where we came upon the monument to Warren Earp. We walked about a few minutes more, my fear of wild animals and gun-toting caretakers still overshadowing any fear one might typically associate with midnight cemetery strolls.

Suddenly Jonathan gasped. "Did you hear that?" He whispered.

We all froze and squinted in the direction of the caretaker's house.

"I think someone's coming", he stated.

"Oh my gosh. Let's get out of here right now!" I whispered harshly.

We began to make our way back as quickly, yet quietly as we could, the occasional sticker jumping out and stabbing into my bare flip-flop clad feet. I stopped occasionally and bent down to remove the sticker.

"You all right?" The guys asked.

"Yeah", I whispered. "I just keep getting stickers in my feet and they hurt, but I wanna' get out of here quick, so keep going. I'm coming."

Suddenly Jonathan froze again. "Oh yeah. I see something moving out there."

We all froze. "What?" I asked in a shaky voice. "What is it?"

"I think it's some kind of animal. It's lower to the ground", he replied.

I gulped loudly and said a silent prayer. "Please, God. Please don't let any wildebeests eat me. I promise I won't do anything naughty like this ever again. I've got little children back home that need a mommy. I know I often say I wish you'd take them away, but I was just kidding. Please don't let me die. Not now. Not like this."

I held my breath and pushed forward, ignoring my possible hideous fate. I had one objective - get to the car ASAP - and I wasn't going to let any fear hold me back at this point.

As you can obviously tell, we all survived the night. And what an exciting night it was! The town is FULL of haunted locations and I hope to return one day soon and do some more exploring.

And also, thanks to the universe taking care of business for us, we just might return and play the event again next year - this time with our OWN sound system! That rude dude hasn't seen the last of us, although I've learned through history and my experiences that night that you don't wanna' mess with an old, infamous wild west town - not even in THIS day and age! Anyone who said the old west will never die wasn't lying.

Heavenly Peace

2010-12-16T10:43:00.003-07:00

My band, The Mending Seed, has just released an original Christmas song called "Heavenly Peace". This song was inspired in the wee hours of the morning. I tried to write a Christmas song about six weeks ago, but it wasn't coming together, so I gave up.

Then one night a tune suddenly came to me. I was up until 1:30 in the morning laying it down before I forgot it. Still, the song was not complete. I couldn't figure out how to write the bridge. I almost gave up on it - especially since it was already December and I felt I had missed my window of opportunity to release a Christmas song. But, one morning, around 3:00 AM, I awoke out of a dead sleep and heard the music in my head, so I rushed out to my Korg Triton workstation and laid it down quick.

Then came time for the lyrics. Again, I struggled to write anything on my own and so left it alone and decided again that I was too late anyway and would try again next year. That's when my good friend, Kendyall Guthrie, stepped in and said, "Let me help you. I love to write poetry and lyrics." She came over one morning with a large Dr. Pepper (my medication) and together we wrote two-thirds of the lyrics.

There were many more obstacles that came with the finishing up and recording of this song. My bass player, Brian Stewart, records our music through his studio 510 Audio and on the last night of recording, his system completely crashed and it looked like we weren't going to be able to get it up and running and finish the song. So many times I wanted to just give up. I wasn't sure if it was worth it. Then I thought, "What am I even going to do with this song? I feel like this song isn't even mine. The entire thing was inspired in my sleep."

That's when the answer came to me - "Donate half of the proceeds to a charity or organization. That's what you want to do with your band anyway - make a difference in the world. Here's your big chance to get moving in that direction."

I decided upon the Anasazi Foundation first because it was a young man in their program who named us. The entire story can be found on our site www.themendingseed.com along with a 2-minute clip of the song and a link to the Anasazi Foundation.

We have decided to donate 50% of the proceeds forever to Anasazi. I am so grateful to my Heavenly Father for choosing to inspire ME with this song. I know it came from Him and I know that He could have chosen anyone, but He chose me and my band and I am so humbled by this opportunity to record and share such a beautiful song and hopefully make a difference with it. I pray that I will be inspired every year with a new song to benefit a new organization.

I'm grateful to the wonderful people I am surrounded by who will drop everything and use their talents to help make my music and its release to the public possible. I have a website designer and graphic artist and band mates and friends who will stay up 'til all hours doing whatever needs to be done. Here's the beautiful artwork designed by Jordan Gallup. He was up until 11:00 PM doing this for me. And Dave Riddle, owner of Microworks Systems, was up until midnight getting everything loaded onto our site.
I hope you'll take the time to go to our site and listen to the clip and share it with others and when it's released on CDBaby.com, that many will purchase it and help make a difference for a wonderful organization. More information and links can be found on our official site.

Merry Christmas, everyone! May you feel the true spirit of Christmas this season, whether by giving or receiving, and experience the miracle of the Savior's birth.

Unbelievable!

2010-12-02T09:04:00.003-07:00

My husband is French. I'm American. We live in America. (Just setting the stage)

After four years of marriage, he finally obtained his green card, so I could quit hiding him in the attic and we could live life in peace. We were also finally able to leave the country. So, recently we did. We took all four of the kids and we left the country for a little vacation getaway.

We had a wonderful, uneventful time. Just relaxing. Not doing much of anything. That's not what this story is about.

This story is about the part where we tried to come home. TRIED being the keyword here.

As we approached the border, the situation became chaotic. We noticed ahead of us that agents were running in between the vehicles, throwing doors open and pulling people out. They were dressed like a SWAT team, shotguns in hand. I squinted my eyes, trying to get a closer view and figure out WHAT in the WORLD was going on.

Just then a car came squealing toward us and immediately our attention was diverted. A woman in a trench coat jumped out and ran toward our minivan, motioning with her arm for us to come with her. She kept shouting "Get out! Get out! Get out now!" Without thinking, I sprung into action. My heart pounding wildly, I began unlatching kids' car seat belts and grabbing bags. My teenage son, John, who was in the very back seat with my youngest daughter, unlatched her and helped her out of the minivan while I grabbed the other two kids. With my diaper bag and purse slung over my shoulder and my toddler son on my hip, I grabbed my 5-year-old daughter's hand and began running toward the woman and her car, screaming for the rest of my family to follow me quick.

The woman held her arms out as if to take my son from me, so I handed him over quick and shoved my daughter into the car then whipped around and saw my teenage son running toward us with my youngest daughter. "Hurry, John!" I shouted.

Then I realized he was missing - my husband. As John approached me, I grabbed his shoulders and said, "Where's dad?"

"I don't know!" He shouted back.

I whirled around and faced the woman. "Where's my husband? Did you see him? He was with us in the minivan. Where did he go?"

She quietly bowed her head and heaved a sigh.

I whipped around again and searched behind me. Our minivan sat there empty now, all of the doors hanging open.

"WHERE IS MY HUSBAND?!" I screamed, then whipped back around to face the woman.

"They have him." She said, a look of worry across her face now.

"What do you mean they have him?" I cried.

"Just come with me and I'll help you and your kids get across. We'll worry about your husband later." She put her arm around me and walked me around to the passenger side front seat of the car and helped me in.

I sank into the seat in a complete daze and stared straight ahead, my mind racing through hundreds of possibilities as to my husband's whereabouts and condition.

I felt the car sink lower to my left and the sound of the driver's side door slamming. The car lurched forward slightly and then veered off to the right. We drove in silence for a few seconds before I mumbled "What are they going to do with him?"

I heard the woman sigh again. "I don't know. Is he American?"

"No. He's French." I responded tonelessly.

"Hm." The woman said with a greater sigh. "They'll probably torture him, then."

I jumped in my seat and turned to face her. "WHAT?!" I shouted. "Why would they do that?! What's happening?!" I started sobbing. My children sat completely silent in the back seat.

"We're here." The woman pointed to the building in front of us. "Just come inside with me and we'll get the paperwork done to get you and your kids over the border. Then we'll start working on your husband's paperwork, get an attorney, and get a court date."

I felt every muscle in my body weaken. "Oh my gosh." I muttered, slumping back into my seat. "Why is this happening? I just wanna' go home."

The next thing I remember is sitting in a small, sterile room alone. There was one table and one chair in there and I was sitting in it. My children were off somewhere else in the building. I didn't worry so much for my little ones. They were in John's care and I knew he was capable. I just worried for poor John. Those kids can be a handful and I hoped they wouldn't keep me separated from them too long.

The woman entered the room and handed me a stack of about five papers stapled together and a #2 pencil.

"Ok. I'm going to leave you alone to fill these out. Just come out into the hall when you're done." Then she turned abruptly and left, shutting the door behind her.

The room was dead quiet with the exception of the faint buzzing of the fluorescent lights overhead. I stared blankly at the papers, my head swirling with worry. I tried to focus on the questions; tried to read and understand them, but I just couldn't. I slammed my fists down on the desk and growled, then stood so abruptly, I nearly knocked the desk over. I began pacing the room then, biting my fist and trying not to cry. I was like a restless wild animal, pacing back and forth in its cage. I wanted my kids, I wanted my husband, and I wanted OUT of this place!

Realizing my only way out was to fill out the paperwork, I returned to the desk, drawing in a couple of deep breaths and blowing them out hard. "OK. I've just gotta' get this done and then I can leave." I tried to convince myself, but deep down I feared it would be a lot more complicated than that. And what of my husband? What if I couldn't get him back? What would they do with him? And what was I supposed to do? Did they expect me to just go home and get on with my life? Never see my husband again? Never know what's become of him?

I couldn't help but entertain these racing thoughts, which continually prevented me from focusing on the task at hand.

"Ahhh! I can't DO this! I don't understand these QUESTIONS! It's TOO HARD!" I yelled aloud. My adrenaline was going now. I grabbed the papers and pencil and threw the desk aside, then stormed out into the hall hell-bent on finding that woman and demanding she bring my children to me and give me answers about my husband NOW!

The hall was empty, but I could hear the drone of several chattering voices coming from somewhere up ahead. I walked briskly down the hall toward the noise and found myself in a large recreation room with high ceilings, bright neon lights and large televisions with fitness commercials blaring. "What IS this place?" I thought. "This is so bizarre." My eyes darted about the room in hopes of spotting my children.

As I turned around in circles, searching frantically for my kids or at least the woman who had brought me here, I bumped into someone. He was of average height with a muscular build, dressed in workout clothes. He kind of looked like a personal trainer, which was fitting considering the look of this room I was in. "Can I help you?" He asked in a cheery tone.

"Um..." I hesitated, still searching the room. "I...I need help."

"Great. Well, what can I help you with today?" He said, still bright and cheery.

I looked down at the papers in my hand and began sobbing. "I can't do this. It's too hard. I don't understand the questions and I just want my kids and my husband." I began wailing like a lost child.

"Ok. Ok. Calm down." He said gently, taking me by the hand and leading me to a small table with two chairs. "Here - have a seat and let's look this over."

I sat down next to him and then grabbed his hand in desperation. He looked puzzled as he searched my eyes. "Just tell me the answers." I whispered loudly. "Don't make me do this. Just tell me the answers to the test."

"I can't do that. I -"

"I'm American." I interrupted, my tone becoming more desperate. "Listen to me. I'm American. My kids are American. My husband is...well, he's legal. I'm from America. I just want to go home. I don't know what's happening. Just tell me the answers quick. I already know them. I just can't think right now."

The man took both of my hands and stared hard into my eyes. "No, you listen to me. You can DO this. You can do it. I will help you, but I can't do it for you. Just relax and take a deep breath and let's read this first question together. It's simple. You'll see."

I stared into his eyes a few moments, panting. Then I clenched my teeth and closed my eyes before finally realizing there was no easy way out of this. "Ok," I said. "Ok. I'll try."

I looked at the paper and found the first question. There was a picture of this:

I read the question aloud, "How many hours of energy will this drink give you?"

I furrowed my brow and lurched my head back in disbelief. "Well, that's simple. It's a five-hour energy drink, so the answer is 5 hours."

"Yes!" The man shouted in excitement. "See? What'd I tell ya'?"

I sighed and released a laugh of relief.

"OK" he said, sitting forward in his seat with excitement. "Look at this next one now."

There was a picture of this:

I read the next question aloud, "What do you do through these?"

"Ok. Ok." He coaxed me on.

"Well, they're glasses." I said in a disgusted tone.

"Yeah!" He shouted and lifted his hand for a high-five.

I shot him an irritated look and humored him with a weak high-five.

"This is dumb."

"Just answer it. You're doing great." He replied, still cheering me along.

Now I was ticked. This was a waste of my time. THESE were the questions they wanted me to answer to cross the border? Was this some kind of JOKE?!

"Come on. What's the answer?" The man coaxed.

"This is really, really DUMB!" I said, my voice growing louder with each word and ending in a shout.

The man sat back in his seat and sighed.

"Ok. Sorry." I sighed, feeling bad about my rude behavior. The man was only trying to help. "You look through them, Ok?"

"That's right." He smiled. "Just write the word look in between the lenses of the glasses."

"Um....OK." I responded, completely annoyed at this point.

I began to write the word "look" on the picture of the eyeglasses when a loud buzzing sound rang through the room. It startled me and I jumped, writing a very sloppy "L" across the picture. I sighed in frustration and began erasing, but the buzzing sound wouldn't stop. In fact, it was growing louder.

I closed my eyes for a second, then looked up at the ceiling. I recognized the ceiling now. It was my bedroom ceiling. I was in my bedroom. My alarm clock was going off. I hit the snooze button and glanced over my shoulder. My husband was sleeping soundly right next to me. I heaved a sigh of relief and threw my head back on my pillow, a smile plastered across my face.

MAN, my dreams are bizarre!

It's Here! It's Really Here!

2010-10-02T00:35:00.003-07:00

Our CD's arrived about a week-and-a-half ahead of schedule and we're so excited! There's just something surreal about holding something you've dreamed about for years in your hands and realizing it's real; it's really happening.

There are some big things in the works that we'll announce on our facebook fan page as they are solidified.

But for now, here it is:

Our album cover.

If you like The Cranberries, you'll probably like us too. Check us out here for a sample of our sound.

And if you likee, go here to order your copy now. We're signing copies up until October 12th when we officially release our album on CDBaby, iTunes, Napster, Rhapsody, Emusic, etc.

Stay tuned for more news!

Sylvie's Artwork

2010-09-21T09:22:00.005-07:00

My daughter, Sylvie-Faye is our resident artist. She spends her afternoons drawing pictures with a story behind them. Her favorite subject is people and lately, a particular TYPE of person has become the main subject of her work.

Now, this is a Chester, see, and a Chester is basically any strange man walking along on his own. Now, he can be totally minding his own business, but if he is a man and he's alone....he's a Chester. And Chesters are not good for little children because basically they want to kidnap them and kill them.

What?

Where did she learn such things?

Umm....I don't have time for questions right now. Just listen to the story.

Now, other objects that represent a Chester include:

Ice Cream Trucks.

And also white, windowless vans.

So, basically what's happening in this picture right now is this guy is basically realizing that it's not a good thing to be a Chester because well....

This little guy in the corner is jumping on his head and...

This person is throwing rocks at his head and then, as if that wasn't punishment enough...

THIS little lady is actually swinging ANOTHER Chester around and beating the first Chester with it. It's insane....but, according to Sylvie-Faye, very necessary.

And the creepiest part of all is that, in spite of being jumped on, pummeled and actually beaten with another of his kind - the Chester is still smiling.

"So, how did this all end up as Sylvie's obsession?" you ask. "And why does she think men driving white vans and ice cream trucks and walking along on their own, minding their own business are called Chester and want to kill her?"

It's simple - I had to find a way to stop her from sneaking out of the house and trying to be "a big girl" - taking off on her own to explore the world. There are real dangers out there and perhaps I was a little dramatic. Perhaps singling out certain vehicles and all males, in general, was unfair, BUT, she never leaves my side. She no longer tries to leave the house.

OK and also she can't sleep at night and we had to hang a dream catcher above her bed, which we told her scares Chesters away, and also she screams in horror when she sees ice cream trucks, white vans and men, but....it's better this way, right?

I honestly didn't mean to petrify my poor little lady. I had no idea she was gonna' take the story so seriously. Geez!

Exciting News!

2010-09-07T23:10:00.003-07:00

Our band website is up and running. Check us out: www.themendingseed.com

Here's our promotional video we put together and added to our youtube channel:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lgqlX6z3No0

In this video we've included clips from 9 of the 12 tracks from our upcoming album, "Broken Souls" and information on how to pre-order, as well as our contest to win $200.

We appreciate the support and encouragement from our family, friends and fans.

I GOT IT BACK!!!

2010-08-28T23:35:00.010-07:00

Ahhh....cable TV, how I've missed you - I mean the REAL you. Not the basic crap that comes with a few channels mostly geared towards children and the rest is regular television or educational stuff. I mean, education is good....for the children.

But as for me, I prefer to be educated in all things celebrity. That is my hobby. These people entertain me with their drama and their priorities, or lack thereof.

Now, several months ago we felt it necessary to reduce our bills around here and thus had our cable channels reduced to practically nothing. It was pointless really. There were cartoons available 24/7 for the kids, but the kids are not awake 24/7 and there's this amazing invention called the DVD player.

Anyhoo, our receiver went on the fritz and upon ordering a new one by phone we felt it necessary to end our misery and boost our cable channels.

Which brings me to the reason for this post - I got E! back! E! Glorious E! E is for entertainment, you know, and that's EXACTLY what this channel provides me - pure entertainment.

Here's what I learned this week: (Squealing) Ooh, this is so exciting!

1. Demi Lovato wore a dress to some "Camp Rock"/Disney event and when an interviewer on the red carpet asked her who the designer was, she didn't even know!

What say you, Carson Kressley?

Thuper naughty!

Mm hm.

2. Julia Roberts had the NERVE to wear a modest dress to a Sony event in Japan.

Thus earning her the title "Grandma".

The HORROR!

Nobody wants to be GRANDMA!

Especially not Joan.

That woman is paying good money to resemble The Joker just to avoid being called "Grandma".

Poor Julia.

Oh, they did say her shoes were cute, though.

Whew! There's hope.

3. When it comes to college fashion, pants are NOT in.

Vanessa Hudgens' fashion choices are apparently deciding this for the rest of the world and I'm thinking...

...a lot more guys are gonna' suddenly realize the importance of a college education in the next few months.

4. Heidi and Spencer (big grin)...sorry, I just LOVE these two. I know people love to hate on them, but seriously, when we all need a good laugh, they come through EVERY TIME!

So, apparently these two are divorced now, which is a HUGE shocker!

Whoa! Not THAT huge!

Gee whiz!

ANYWAY....where was I?

Oh yeah, so OK apparently after the divorce Spencer decided he wasn't done being "famous", so he posted something on Twitter (Are people following him? Really? Ok. Wow.) about how he now had possession of Heidi in a sex tape that he was planning on releasing to the public, but that's not even the disturbing part.

The disturbing part is his description. And I quote: "The sex tape will not feature any bisexuality. It will however feature trisexuality. Also - a triceratops.

Looks like that photo Lo Lo made for her in photoshop years ago gave Spencer some good ideas. For THAT full story, go to my IT'S ON DONKEY KONG post from 2008

Oh man! Good times. Good times.

I learned more, but I'm gonna' just leave you with that because it's a lot to absorb all at once and I don't wanna' overload you with too much info all at once.

So, study up and class will resume next week.

MEOW

2010-08-23T10:27:00.003-07:00

"Meow." That's what I say when I'm in a weird mood. I don't know why. It just comes out. Sometimes I drawl it out. Other times I just say it tonelessly.

A few years ago I lived out in Queen Creek and met and quickly became friends with a woman named Amanda. We're like twin sisters in another life. We look a lot alike and we have similar personalities and...basically we're the same person in two different bodies.

ANYWAY...so, we became so close that we kind of had our own special way of communicating. OK, it was just me. I'm a weirdo - that's the only difference between the two of us. I'm the weird twin.

Anytime I saw PRIVATE NAME/PRIVATE NUMBER on my caller ID, I knew it was her and I'd pick up the phone and say, "Meeoooow." She'd laugh every time, which is the main reason I did it, and then sometimes she'd either say "Meow" back or we'd jump into conversation.

During this period of time, we were working with an immigration attorney to obtain a Green Card for Bertrand so I wouldn't have to lock him in the attic to hide him from Sheriff Joe for being an illegal and we did all of our communication through e-mail and snail mail...unless I called his office to speak with him directly to ask a quick question.

One day around noon I received a call from PRIVATE NAME/PRIVATE NUMBER. I was in a particularly weird mood just then and smiled at the opportunity to express my weirdness to the one person who would understand. I picked up the phone and drawled the longest "Meeeeeeooooooow" I'd ever done. It was a new record for me.

There was no response.

I furrowed my brow and pulled the phone back to double check the caller ID, then placed the receiver back to my ear and said, "Meow?"

Suddenly I heard a man's throat clearing and a voice say, "Uhh...hello?"

I gasped and my eyes bugged out of my head. Reflexively I hung up the phone. My jaw dropped and I just sat there frozen. "Oh, crap! That was NOT Amanda. That was our immigration attorney!" I thought to myself in horror.

He was an old man on the verge of retirement and the word serious does not even do this man justice. I don't think a funny bone exists in that man's body. In fact, I believe him to be incapable of showing emotion PERIOD!

He didn't call back.

When I finally recovered from my shock, I dialed Amanda quick. She answered and I called out her name in desperation.

"What? No meow?" She laughed.

"Oh my gosh." The panic was evident in my voice.

"Are you OK? What's going on?" She sounded concerned.

"Uh...." I started in a shaky voice. "my lawyer just called and I thought it was you and I meowed into the phone and he didn't answer, so I meowed again and I heard him clearing his throat, so then I realized it was him and I hung up quick."

She immediately burst into a giggling fit, so I sat there, biting my lip, waiting for her to finish.

"Oh, THAT is hilarious!" She laughed again.

"No, it's not. I feel so stupid right now."

"Oh well", she attempted to console me. "He'll get over it."

We chatted for a few more minutes and then ended the conversation. I made a mental note to never meow into the phone again when PRIVATE NAME/PRIVATE NUMBER called.

The weeks passed and I continued receiving PRIVATE NAME/PRIVATE NUMBER calls from Amanda. I very quickly settled into my usual routine of meowing into the phone when she called. Old habits die hard.

Mid morning one day, as I sat typing medical reports, my phone rang. It was PRIVATE NAME/PRIVATE NUMBER again. I was only too happy to take a break from work and visit with my good friend. I decided to answer with a slight variation and barely squeaked a newborn kitten-sized "meow" into the phone.

There was no response.

I thought perhaps Amanda didn't hear me because the meow was so faint.

"meow" I squeaked again.

No response.

"meow.....meow......meow" I persisted.

Nothing.

I sat there in complete silence - just listening. There was no sound coming from the other end. I thought perhaps Amanda was teasing me, so I decided to say her name aloud, but right before I could get it out, I heard "H - hello?"

My eyes bugged out of my head again. I slapped my hand over my mouth to hold back the horrific sound that wanted to escape my mouth. It was my attorney - AGAIN!

I sucked in a quick breath, which immediately froze in the back of my throat. I sat there paralyzed, holding my breath, trying to think quick "Should I just say hello and explain that I meow into the phone when my friend calls and I thought it was my friend calling? Oh, no. I can't do that. He'll think I'm insane and he won't want to represent us anymore."

I hit "END" on the phone and slammed it down on my desk, then buried my head in my hands and groaned. "Oh my gosh. I'm an IDIOT!" As I sat there reprimanding myself under my breath, the phone began to ring again.

My head shot up and I hesitated before glancing over at the phone. PRIVATE NAME/PRIVATE NUMBER showed on the caller ID again.

I heaved a sigh and muttered, "Oh my gosh. OK, stay calm. Stay calm." I took a couple of deep breaths and then proceeded to answer with a normal "Hello?"

"Hey!" My friend Amanda answered in a cheery tone.

"Oh my gosh!" I breathed into the phone.

"Oh my gosh" she responded. "What's going on? Are you OK over there?"

"I did it again!" I cried.

"Did what?" She asked.

"I meowed into the phone when my attorney called." I groaned.

Dead silence.

"Amanda?" I asked; my voice cracking.

Dead silence.

"AMANDA?!" I called out.

Suddenly she made a noise like the dam just broke and the fits of laughter came flooding out.

I heaved a frustrated sigh. "It's not FUNNY!"

"Sorry. I'm trying so hard not to laugh because I can tell you're upset, but..." She burst yet another giggling fit.

"I'm seriously an idiot and I should not be allowed to use the phone anymore", I moaned.

"So, what are you gonna' do?" She asked, still laughing.

"Nothing." I replied tonelessly.

"Just call him back and tell him you didn't realize it was him." She advised, as though it was no big deal.

"Are you CRAZY?!?! I am NOT admitting to meowing like a cat into the phone! Not to HIM, anyway!"

After she got a few good laughs out and I groaned in agony a few more times, we ended our conversation and I attempted to return to my normal activity.

A little later in the afternoon, I received another PRIVATE NAME/PRIVATE NUMBER call.

As soon as I saw it on the caller ID I smiled with slight satisfaction. "Oh, I'm not falling for that again", I said aloud, then proceeded to answer.

"Hello, is Kristin Coppee there?" It was the attorney.

"Yes. This is she." I responded.

"H-hello. I, uh....I've been trying to reach you. I don't know what happened." He sounded completely flustered and disturbed, as though perhaps he feared he was going senile. "I've called your number here several times and....well....I'm really not sure what's happening."

"Oh?" I asked, as though I were completely clueless.

"Yes, well....I....I tried to dial you and it....uh....it sounded like a....well, I think it was a cat of some sort on the other end. I - I'm not sure...." He continued, sounding very concerned.

I curled my hand into a fist and shoved it in my mouth, biting down to suppress the giggling fit that was fighting to escape. The tears started to stream down my face, as the pressure built.

"H - h - hello?" The attorney asked after several seconds of silence had passed.

I removed my fist from my mouth, pulled the receiver away from my head and ground my teeth hard, shaking my head and fighting to think of something serious - ANYTHING - to not laugh. I COULD NOT LAUGH! I couldn't have him discovering my horrible secret - not NOW!

"Hello?" He repeated in a louder, more agitated tone. "Ms. Coppee, are you there? "

"Yes." I said in a very controlled tone, barely regaining my composure. "Sorry. I think my phone cut out."

He cleared his throat. "Yes, well, anyway....I must have dialed the wrong number and thought I was calling you."

"Oh," I responded, suddenly feeling a rush of relief. "Yes, that must have been what happened. How strange. I'm so sorry."

He remained silent a few seconds. "Yes....well....I'll have to double check my dialing. It was....very...very strange to hear a cat on the other end. I....can't imagine what I must have dialed."

I contorted my face and began tapping my fingers very aggressively into my forehead, trying to clear my mind and think of something serious, as the dam again threatened to burst and release a rush of laughter.

"Anyway", he continued. "Did you receive the latest packet I sent you with the questionnaire?"

"Yes!" I nearly shouted into the phone. "Yes, I got it and...." the words came rushing out in an effort to end this phone call as quickly as possible. The dam wasn't going to hold up much longer. ",..we will get that filled out and mailed back right away. In fact, we'll send it tomorrow."

I held my breath and waited for his response, silently praying that this phone call would end NOW!

"Very good. I will await the packet." He said in a very formal tone.

"Great. Thanks." I spit out.

"Ok, then. Have a nice day, Ms. Coppee."

"Ok, thanks. Bye."

I hung up the phone and the dam burst. I laughed so hard, I cried. After several minutes, the laughter calmed down and I began to regain my composure, only to recall the entire conversation and burst into a giggling fit again, this time falling to the floor, I was laughing so hard. Several minutes later I dialed Amanda as I gasped for air, trying to catch my breath back.

Needless to say, she had yet another good laugh at my expense.

I did finally learn my lesson, though. I have NEVER answered with a meow when the called ID says PRIVATE NAME/PRIVATE NUMBER since that day.

A Little Surprise

2010-07-20T13:42:00.002-07:00

It had been a long week. Bertrand had been working long hours at his pool job and had spent long evenings in the studio finishing up his drums. This left me alone with the kids ALL day and ALL night. In a word, we were exhausted!

Bertrand crashed into bed and reached for the remote.

"What are you gonna' watch, babe?" I asked and hopped onto the bed excitedly.

"Uhhhh....I don't know..." He heaved a tired sigh. "I was thinking of watching that new movie that came in the mail today through Netflix. I don't think you're gonna' like it."

I playfully frowned and slinked off the bed, grabbing the paper sleeve so I could read the info. "Ugh. You're right. I'm not interested." I decided to go slip into the tub and read a bit.

A while later I heard the noise from the TV die. I really wanted to spend some time with my husband, but I also wanted to finish the chapter I was on, so I decided to finish my reading and then join him.

By the time I emerged from the bathroom, I noticed the bedroom light was off. As I gently pushed the door open, I could hear him breathing methodically. I let out a disappointed sigh and readied myself for bed.

As I slipped in between the covers, I felt something touching me and I noticed my husband was facing me, though his eyes were still closed. "Oh, how sweet", I thought. "He's reaching his hand out to me." I turned on my side to face him and got comfortable, then slowly pushed my hand through the sheets in search of his. I smiled as I curled my fingers around his.

Then suddenly I froze; my eyes widening in horror. "Ok, THAT is not a hand," I thought. Holding my breath, I slowly lifted the blanket and squinted in the dark. The little bit of light from outside shone through the gap in the curtains. I reached my hand out and felt it again, then lifted it up.

It was the TV remote.

Heaving a relieved and comical sigh, I laid my head back against the pillow and leaned over to the nightstand to set it down. Then I turned back to my husband, hoping to try again.

Just as I turned back to him, he turned over in bed and his heavy, methodical breathing commenced.

"I'll let you off the hook tonight," I whispered. "But tomorrow night it's ME, not the TV!"

Kaboom!

2010-06-30T09:09:00.004-07:00

For reason #6,547 why I should be stripped of my title of housewife, please refer to Exhibit A.

Exhibit A

See, it all started with me wanting to take a nice, hot bath so I could be inspired to finish up my songs for my upcoming album. As I ran my bathwater, I looked over and noticed the toilet was in need of a cleaning, so I decided to get that taken care of while my bath was filling.

The toilet was looking rather nasty, as I don't care for cleaning toilets and so rarely perform the task. I remembered I had some old stuff called Kaboom.

See, what you do is fill the cap with some of the powder, dump it in the toilet and then it foams up and then you wait a few minutes and scrub and it helps take the disgusting ring right off your toilet with minimal effort.

And so, being the incapable person that I am (incapable of reading instructions, that is), I tipped the container to the side and tried to lightly sprinkle some powder in.

The problem is that this stuff is old and therefore kind of clumped inside. This annoyed me and so I began hitting the container against my other open hand, trying to loosen up the powder.

Oh, I loosened it up all right. I loosened up HALF the container and it went KABOOM!

As the foam went wild and began rising at an incredible speed, I stood there frozen - mouth gaping open, trying to think fast.

I reached over to the flusher and pushed it down hard.

The foam began gurgling and rising faster. My eyes just about popped out of my head. It only exacerbated the problem, inducing a volcanic-like effect.

Oopsie.

Perhaps I should stick to writing music. Darn. I will miss cleaning toilets.

Album Photo Shoot

2010-06-14T22:50:00.002-07:00

Our album is about to be released - hopefully July! Maybe August. I don't know. We're perfectionists, so it's getting stretched out longer than we had anticipated. Plus, our new lead guitarist had to go and write this amazingly beautiful song that I just HAVE to have on the album, so now that's holding things up. (I have to blame SOMEONE and it certainly won't be myself!)

Anyway, a friend of mine took our pics and she did an amazing job. These are some of my favorites. Now, to pick the album cover....(sigh) This is gonna' be tougher than I thought.

Of course, I had to get one of me cuddling up to my hot drummer/husband.

This One's For The Lazy People

2010-05-23T21:19:00.003-07:00

A long time ago, back when I was desperate to lose weight, but not desperate enough to actually have to work at it, I purchased the Seven Shapely Secrets workout. The draw was that you could exercise without moving! Yeah! So, of course, being the lazy person that I am, I was all over that!

Tonight at dinner somehow this topic came up in the conversation and I was explaining to Bertrand that there was a face exercise that helped lift the face.

I then proceeded to demonstrate and, throwing all vanity (one of my many character flaws) aside, I allowed this picture with zero make-up, greasy hair and face, zits and all, to be taken. This is me demonstrating the facial muscle exercise, which I have never revealed to my own husband until now.

And I've known about this for like 3 1/2 years now.

And then he tried to mimic me and this was the result.

Hey honey, does your face hurt? 'Cause it's hurting me.

And finally, we bribed John by telling him that if he let us snap a photo of him doing the face exercise and post it, we would let him continue to grow his hair long. He agreed, we snapped the picture and then he asked, "Ok, so I get to keep growing my hair long, right?" to which I responded, "Yes, for one more day." HAHA! SUCKA!

So, if you're like me - looking for ways to get in shape without much effort, try this facial exercise for one minute three times a day. And also I dare you to post pictures of yourself doing it.

Formalities

2010-05-22T13:33:00.002-07:00

We live in a 1500 sq. ft. 1970's red brick home with very little updating.

I drive a 1999 dull brown minivan.

I sleep on two mattresses on the floor.

Our front entry table is an old weather-beaten brown desk covered in a satiny green tablecloth with a $5 knock-off Tiffany lamp and a 7-year-old, $7 silk flower bouquet.

Dinner is served anywhere between 5:30 and 8:00 PM, depending on the day, and is usually some cheap, easy recipe or fast food.

And yet, my 4 1/2-year-old conducts her business as though we lived in a palace.

Just this afternoon as I fed a Beech-Nut 3rd stage fruit medley lunch to Zander in his old plastic high chair that's been through two other children and is missing all buckle straps and the detachable tray, Sylvie-Faye approached me with her hands clasped behind her back and cleared her throat to get my attention.

I glanced at her and said, "Hi, Sylvie. What's up?"

SYLVIE: (Sighing) Mother, I came to tell you something very important.

ME: Okaaay.

SYLVIE: I was in my room and I was cleaning it and Chloe did something and I was very mad and I said, "I'm going to go tell mommy on you right now" and so I walked out of my room and I came down the hall and I found you in the kitchen feeding Zander and I came to tell on Chloe to you.

Just then Zander sneezed and a glob of food fell out of his mouth and onto his leg. He began poking it with his finger and playing with it. I wrinkled my nose and looked back at Sylvie.

ME: Okaaay.

SYLVIE: So now I'm coming to tell you that Chloe is doing something that is making me VERY mad.

ME: Uh huh....

SYLVIE: She is NOT cleaning her room. Just me. And so I told her that I was going to come and tell on her to you and so I got up and I came down the hall....wait...I - first I got up from the floor and then I walked (she performs a walking motion) down the hall and I was looking for you and I heard you in the kitchen talking to Zander and I came in here and I saw you feeding Zander and now I'm telling you about Chloe.

My jaw fell open slightly and I just sat there, dumb-struck.

I think that girl was meant to be royalty or something.

What We Have Here Is A Failure To Communicate.

2010-05-21T19:55:00.002-07:00

True story.

This afternoon I jumped into my minivan for a quick run to the grocery store. I threw the gear into reverse, stepped on the gas and proceeded to screech out of the driveway when I suddenly caught sight of an older woman who exercises every night right after dinner by walking our street with hand weights. I stomped on the brake and the woman froze in her tracks, her eyes wide as saucers.

I gasped and apologized through my window, motioning for her to go ahead.

She motioned back for ME to go ahead.

I motioned again and mouthed, "No YOU go ahead."

Again, she motioned back and mouthed, "No YOU go ahead."

So I shrugged and said, "OK" and proceeded to back out. However, the woman apparently gave the same response and proceeded to continue walking.

Fortunately, I caught sight of her walking behind me and stomped on the brake pedal again.

This time, shaking my head, I rolled my window down and called out, "Oh my gosh! I'm SO SORRY! Please, go ahead! I'll wait!"

"No. No." She chuckled. "You go ahead. I'LL wait!"

"No, really. I feel terrible. You go ahead." I called back.

"It's ok, dear. You go on ahead." She insisted.

"No, really..." I began, but she motioned again with her arms for me to proceed.

And so I released my foot from the brake and proceeded to roll backwards again and caught sight of her AGAIN walking behind my minivan. I nearly hit her a THIRD TIME!!!

"Oh my gosh!" I called out, completely exasperated.

She froze again and stared back in horror. I just lost it right there. I dropped my head onto my steering wheel and laughed hysterically. Then I threw it into park and GOT OUT and stood next to my minivan and said, "Please. Go ahead. I have it in park now. I will NOT be running over you tonight!"

Luckily, she has a sense of humor so we could both laugh about this and she proceeded on her way. Then I released a sigh and got back into my minivan, rolled up the window, waited until she was well out of ear shot and shouted, "OH MY GOSH! SERIOUSLY! WHAT WAS THAT!"

The Truth Is...

2010-05-19T23:39:00.003-07:00

My girls refused to take a nap. They swore up and down that they were NOT tired. So I finally agreed to take them on an errand with me.

Upon entering the grocery store parking lot, I immediately turned the minivan around and headed home without going in the store.

But it's NOT because the girls were tired.

They did NOT fall asleep.

Sylvie was just...lost in a deep thought or tanning her face or something.

Something like that.

Definitely not sleeping, though.

At least that's what she stated upon realizing we had suddenly returned home empty-handed.

FINALLY!!!

2010-05-18T13:11:00.003-07:00

I am happy to announce that after EIGHT LONG YEARS my band, The Mending Seed is finally putting out an actual album called "Broken Souls". It won't be available until July/August 2010, so we have agreed to release four singles for your listening pleasure.

That in itself seems to be taking forever, but finally one new single "Before You Came Along" was released on CDBaby.com this morning, so if you care to listen and support our efforts, click on the link below and for 99 cents, you too can behold our hard work and hopefully appreciate it.

To describe our sound, it's like The Cranberries, Sarah McLachlan, Enya, Jewel, Alanis Morissette, and Natalie Merchant were all thrown into a blender, mixed at the highest speed for ten seconds and then some classic, progressive and alternative rock spice was sprinkled on top, with a little sprig of ethereal vocal layering as a garnish.

DRINK UP!

http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/MendingSeed

New Information!

2010-05-17T11:02:00.003-07:00

I know Superman has been around a long time and we all pretty much know everything there is to know about him. Well....maybe not everything....unless you're a total comic book geek. I'm not gonna' mention any names, but...you know who you are - Florida boy. ANYWAY...

So, last night I was supervising my 4-year-old brushing her teeth for bed when I heard singing. And these were the lyrics:

La La La La La La
I'm Superman the elf
La La La La
I'm Superman the elf

Of course this piqued my curiosity because the information in the lyrics was very confusing to me. I mean, I've seen the Superman movies. I was totally in LOVE with Christopher Reeve when I was like 7 and I know that was a long time ago, but I think I would remember whether or not he was an elf.

I do realize the man wore tights and elves also wear tights, but I do not recall pointy ears, pointy shoes, and also him being small enough to fit in my hand (although I won't deny that that does appeal to me on some levels). ANYWAY....

When I rounded the corner, this is the scene I beheld:

This blond, caped creature standing over my baby boy, ordering him to move because she needed room to take off in flight.

"What's going on in here?" I asked, my hands on my hips.

The creature whipped around and stated, "Wellw..I'm Supoman da elf and dat baby is in my way 'cause I need to fwy now."

"Superman is an elf?" I asked in surprise.

"Wellllw....." it began and then sheepishly smiled and hung it's head, rubbing it's foot against the carpet with a nervous giggle. "Yeeeaah."

So, there you go. You've just learned something new today. Superman can also take the form of an elf. But don't worry - it apparently specifies when it's in elf form by calling itself Superman the elf, so as not to cause any confusion.

Slight Misinterpretation

2010-05-08T10:33:00.003-07:00

On Monday nights we try (try being the key word) to sit down with our children and read scripture and have a little religious lesson. It's what we call "Family Home Evening". Because most of our children are so young, the lessons are very short and usually involve pictures or objects to keep their attention.

Recently I found this great resource at our church bookstore - a small booklet with CD to print out lessons with pictures and activities. Of course, I snatched that right up (I'll take all the help I can get) and brought it home in a rush of excitement where I whipped it out of the bag, showed it my husband with a huge grin on my face and then put it on the shelf...where it sat for weeks.

One Monday night I thought, "We haven't had a Family Home Evening in a few weeks. I should try to put something together for tonight." So I paced about, opening a couple of closets, looking on shelves, trying to get an idea. Then it dawned on me, "Oh yeah! I bought a book to help me with this."

I found the book, chose a lesson that looked easy to put together at the last second, printed out the picture puzzle activity and let my anxious little helpers (my 3 and 4-year-old daughters) help me color them quick.

Then I told my husband I had something ready, we gathered the family together at our kitchen table and I proceeded to give a quick little lesson and then laid out the puzzle pieces. "OK kids. I have puzzles here with two pieces. One piece is over here on THIS side of the table", I said, pointing to my left. "And these are the matching pieces over HERE." I pointed to my right.

We proceeded to go around the table and let each person pick an action piece and then try to find the consequence piece that matched. My girls struggled a little bit with matching up the pieces since they can't read and, as we soon discovered, they struggled to interpret the meaning behind the pictures.

Here's how it went:

ME: OK, Chloe. Yours says "Obey the Word of Wisdom."

With some help I pushed the matching piece over and asked, "What happens when we don't smoke and drink and we don't do drugs and we eat good food and take care of our bodies?"

CHLOE: Ummmm......uhhhhhhh.....well, we could put our fingos (fingers) in our eaws (ears) (she grinned a toothy grin of satisfaction).

Immediately the table erupted into laughter and her look became confused.

CHLOE: Well, dat boy is putting his fingos in his eaws, mommy.

ME: I know it looks like that, honey. But look at those big muscles. He's flexing his muscles. See? He's strong and healthy.

CHLOE: Yeah. Stong and Helfy. (She giggled in delight).

ME: OK. Sylvie's turn. What happens when we say our prayers?

SYLVIE: Ummm....it's gonna rain out of a cloud.

Bertrand and I chuckled. John rolled his eyes and mumbled something under his breath.

ME: Well, honey, if we pray for rain maybe Heavenly Father will make it rain. But...

SYLVIE: (Interrupting) Mommy, why did you make the rain look like a fire? Why did you do that, mommy?

ME: Well, that's the sun poking through the clouds.

SYLVIE: Well, that's supposed to be rain, mommy. You did it wrong.

ME: OK. I'm sorry. But you know what it says? It says Heavenly Father will help us. If we say our prayers He listens to us and He can help us.

SYLVIE: (Bored) OK, mommy. That's enough. That's enough talking now. I want it to be somebody else's turn.

ME: (Heaving a sigh) OK. John. It's your turn.

Finally we got to Chloe's turn again.

ME: Chloe, what happens when we're happy at home? If we smile and give each other hugs and treat each other nice - what do you think happens?

CHLOE: Well....pokey fings (things) come out of a boy's head.

The table erupts into laughter again.

JOHN: Well, it's true. These pictures are gay, mom. How are they supposed to know what's happening?

ME: John, don't say that, please. That's not nice. Let's just help them try to understand, OK?

John rolls his eyes and mutters under his breath again.

SYLVIE: But mom, what ARE those things? Those things coming out of that boy's head - what are those? Is he shooting bullets from his head?

ME: (Giggling) No. Oh my gosh. OK. This isn't working.

I look at Bertrand helplessly. He shrugs in response. I return a slight glare. Bertrand leans forward and proceeds to explain the picture.

Then it was Sylvie's turn again.

ME: Oh, this is a good one too. When we're reverent in church, do you know what happens? Look at those kids.

SYLVIE: (Scratching her head and contorting her face) Mom, why are they touching their boobies?

Chloe and Sylvie burst into a giggling fit.

I immediately dropped my head into my hands and tugged at my hair as I tried to stifle my laughter.

JOHN: (Extremely annoyed) Oh my GOSH!

He heaves a huge sigh and lays his head on the table.

I finally looked at Bertrand and said, "Honey, I give up. Can you step in here and help me out?"

He held his hands up and said, "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know", I half laughed, half whined.

Luckily, Bertrand took over and saved the day and Family Home Evening ended within a few minutes and we were onto root beer floats.

(SIGH) I'm gonna' have to look at these lessons a little more closely before I give one next time.

It's What's Meant To Be

2010-05-04T12:50:00.002-07:00

They say everything happens for a reason. It's what I've had to tell myself for a while now through everything I've been through. It's part of what gets me through (besides making light of everything and having a good laugh in lieu of driving off the nearest cliff).

And so, I have a very powerful story of faith and prayer to share with you.

Some amazing changes have just come about within the last hour and they are UN-believable!

As many of you know, I have a passion for music and together with my husband and my good friend, Brian, who are both amazing talents, I have been writing and recording music and trying to get an album released for a long time now.

But there have been many obstacles:
1. Four children (three ages 4 and under).
2. Full time job transcribing medical reports.
3. Lack of inspiration, probably most likely due to fatigue.
4. Lack of funds due to financial strain.

Since the day I turned 19 and married for the first time, I have been required to work full time. My income has been needed. And I have worked long and hard improving upon my skills, studying in my spare time to keep abreast of the latest information needed to do my job properly and make myself into the ultimate transcribing robot - an irreplaceable one.

In the eleven years that I have worked in this field, I have never been without work. I may have switched up which company I worked for or whether or not I even worked for a company, but I have NEVER had a lapse in work EVER.

A lot of difficult things have happened for myself and my little family. In spite of our many efforts to budget our money, pay our tithing (I'm Mormon - we pay 10% back to the church. I know those of you who are not of my faith may find this ludicrous, especially in my situation, but my husband and I view it as a privilege and gladly pay it, relying on our faith in God to provide for us, which He always has), etc., we are constantly late on bills, wondering where our next meal is going to come from, and lie awake many nights trying to figure out how to better our situation.

We have taken on more work, sought out work, worked longer hours, and constantly arranged and re-arranged - just trying ANYTHING to better our lives, but to no avail.

Always, this urge to work on music and produce an album has been in the back of my mind and whatever little time and energy I've had, I've written, but the process has been long and tedious and still, after all these years (since 2004), I've never really put out a solid album for sale or taken it to that next level that I would need to in order to make this my career. Part of me has always been afraid. I've never had the faith, I guess, to take that leap and make it happen. It's always been further down my list of priorities because I always had work and children calling.

My recent effort to better our situation included putting my children into full time daycare. I felt this would enable me to "crank" out the work and make at least double what I've been making, which would in turn help us climb up out of our hole. In the last couple of weeks, despite my efforts, I've always been exhausted, distracted, and just couldn't quite produce the amount of work I wanted to. I felt a depression over my family issues and our financial issues, and my baby boy hasn't been sleeping much, and basically my whole world has been falling apart.

My husband is always telling me to work on the music. "That is what we need to be focusing on. " I've always snapped back at him that that is ridiculous and we need money and the music will have to wait.

During this last week, I noticed my infant son acting strangely. He seemed to focus on something in a room and would smile and babble in his baby talk. He even lifted his hand and waved several times. I would turn and try to look and he would squirm around, trying to keep his gaze on whatever it was.

One morning, around 2:00 AM, he awoke and, completely exhausted, I stumbled out of bed, picked him up and staggered down the hall. I prepared him a bottle and fed him, but he kept pulling away, staring at a spot in the room and smiling and babbling. I would roll my eyes and sigh and say, "Come on, Mr. Z. Drink your bottle, baby." When he finished, he fought to sit up on my lap, so I held him up and he raised his hand and waved and said, "Hi." He's ONLY 8 1/2 months. My eyes practically bugged out of my head and I said, "Did you just say hi?" He smiled at me and then turned back to the spot in the room, waved his hand again and said, "Gampa." My mouth DROPPED open.

Bertrand's father passed away many years ago from cancer. I never had the opportunity to meet him, but often Bertrand has expressed that he can feel his presence and that he feels his father, a once famous musician in France, is guiding him as he plays the drums. And now, here he seemed to be - in the room with us - and my baby was excitedly waving and trying to speak to him. I felt goosebumps all over my body. I didn't feel fear, just calm and wonderment.

And t hen this last weekend I finally fell into it - a huge depression. I mean HUGE! I've been so down, I didn't want to be around anyone, didn't want to see anyone, didn't want to do anything, didn't want to eat or sleep, just plain didn't care. I would sit in front of my computer and just stare blankly.

Finally, my husband offered to give me a priesthood blessing - a blessing of comfort and peace. ANYTHING to help me out of my emotional abyss. I was so numb and empty, I thanked him, but declined stating that I didn't think anything could help me and I just wanted to be left alone. I told him, "I can figure this out. I always do. I just need to be left alone and I will do my crying and feeling sorry for myself and then I will get up and take action and fix this." And so, knowing full well my stubborn nature, he helplessly walked away and let me be.

On Sunday I didn't attend church. I was so exhausted I could barely move. I knew it was emotional exhaustion causing an overwhelming physical exhaustion. I just laid there and let my husband take care of the children and ready himself for church as he had a lesson to give. I felt terrible inside. I watched my dear, sweet husband just patiently deal with all of this and I knew it wasn't fair what I was doing to him...and to my children.

Finally, Sunday afternoon, I approached my husband and said, "Can you give me a blessing now?"

He said nothing.

I said, "Honey? Did you hear me?"

He said, "Yeah. Are you sure?"

I sighed deeply and said, "Yeah. I need help. I've finally realized I can't do this alone and I need a blessing to get me through this."

And so he followed me into our bedroom where he laid his hands on my head and after a few moments began to give me a blessing of comfort and peace through his priesthood power. I sat there very numb. I tried to feel something, but I couldn't. In fact, I started feeling a slight annoyance over his blessing. A lot of the things he said I felt were just him giving me a lecture - telling me to stay close to the Lord, read my scriptures, appreciate and draw closer to my children, remember the talents I was blessed with and focus my attention on those. One thing he said a couple of times was, "You know what you have to do."

As soon as he was done, I sat there a few moments silently. He stepped back and looked at me and asked, "Do you feel better?" I sighed and glanced over at him and replied, tonelessly, "Yeah. Thanks, honey." Then I proceeded to walk away.

"What part of the blessing made you feel better?" He asked.

I stopped dead in my tracks and slowly turned around and shrugged and said, "I don't know. I guess all of it. I know - I need to read my scriptures and pray and....yeah."

Later that evening, the tension between us grew and I finally spilled it to him later in our room.
"I'm sorry, hon, but it just felt like you were giving me a lecture or something. I worry that those words were your own and not coming from the Lord."

I saw the expression on his face instantly turn to anger, but he tried to suppress it. "Fine", he calmly replied. "Let me call another man from the ward and have HIM come give you a blessing. Who do you trust to give you a better blessing? Tell me and I'll call him."

I released a huge sigh and looked down and said, "No, hon. I don't want that. I'm sorry. I just....I don't know what's wrong with me. I just feel so numb right now. And lost. Thank you for the blessing. I'm so sorry I said those things. That was terrible. Thank you for bringing the priesthood into our home and blessing our lives with it. And thank you for being so willing to give me and our children a blessing whenever we need it." I hugged him, but I could feel the tension and hurt in him, so I let him be.

Monday evening I reluctantly agreed to jam with Bertrand. I had written a new song and he was trying to solidify his drumming on it. We ran through the song a few times and I perked up a bit. He was solid. It sounded so good. It renewed my hope that we could do this and it would be good.

I expressed my excitement to him and said, "Let's make a point to jam every night and then try to get into the studio next week if we get some more money in and get this song laid down properly." He agreed and we went about our evening, getting kids into bed, etc. Later that night I felt inspired to work on music and so I worked until midnight. By that point I was literally nodding off as I composed. I think the fact that I was working on "Forbidden Love Lullaby", key word being "lullaby" didn't help my situation.

And then TODAY happened. And the turn of events was CRAZY! ABSOLUTELY CRAZY!!!!

It all started with me dropping my kids off at daycare, returning home and just staring at my keyboard. I couldn't bring myself to work. I didn't want to. I felt so much inspiration and I just wanted to work on music. I decided to put off my work for a little while longer and just sit down at my keyboard for a moment. After working on music for about an hour I stared out the window and thought, "I wish I'd just lose my job so I could work on music all day."

Then, realizing that my kids were in daycare, I was paying for their time to be there and I needed to make money to be able to pay for that and our bills, I arose from my keyboard, sat at my computer, downloaded some files and slowly began to type, heaving several sighs as I went along, occasionally glancing at my keyboard.

My good friend, Jenn, called me and we visited for a few minutes and then I heard another call coming through. I pulled the phone back, saw that it was my manager from the transcription company I worked for, and told Jenn I had to go.

I clicked over and the conversation went like this:

PSI: Hi Kristin. How are you?
ME: Fine, thanks.
PSI: You sure?
ME: Yeees. (chuckling)
PSI: I have really bad news. (heaving a big sigh)
ME: Ok.
PSI: We've just lost half of our accounts and there's no way we can keep everyone busy enough, so we have to lay off 50 transcriptionists. This decision has been very difficult and it has nothing to do with your quality of work or anything. It's just that you haven't been with us as long as some of the others and so....we have to let you go.
ME: (Very matter-of-fact). Ok. That's Ok.

I felt so much peace, it was insane! It was SO unlike me! I typically remain calm, but inside it's like the lions have escaped at the zoo and they're ravenously hungry and the overcrowded zoo is running for the gate all at the same time and people are getting trampled and....you get the idea.

But this time was different. I felt totally calm. It was almost like I had expected this phone call and it was all very matter-of-fact and no big deal.

My manager proceeded to tell me that she couldn't even give me any notice - that I needed to stop working right then and there and call the computer guy for the company to help talk me through erasing everything from my system. I agreed and thanked her and said, "It's Ok. I'll call him right now. Thanks."

She gave me the name and number of the company that had taken over the accounts and informed me that they were short-staffed and hiring. She urged me to call them and see if I could get on. Then she promised that if they received any new accounts, I'd be one of the first hired back. I thanked her and hung up.

I called the company in Utah and spoke to the manager. She warned me that many transcriptionists from PSI had already called and that when they heard about the terms with this new company, they ran away screaming. I chuckled and said, "It's OK. I've worked in many different types of situations, so I'm sure it won't be foreign to me." She agreed to send me the information and told me to call her if I was still interested.

During that conversation, Bertrand stopped in briefly. As I spoke on the phone, I scribbled out the words, "I just got laid off" on a piece of paper. His eyes bugged out of his head and he gasped, "Are you SERIOUS? Oh my gosh. You're joking, right?" I smiled and shook my head "no." Then I held up a finger to signal I needed just a minute and mouthed the words, "It's OK."

After getting off the phone with the manager and assuring my husband that all would be well and that I felt peace over this. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes as it hit me - I need to pray. I need the Lord to guide me. This is all happening for a reason and I know He'll direct me and watch over us like He always has. I explained this to my husband with tear-filled eyes and he asked, "Then why are you crying - if you feel so much peace?" I responded, "Because. I know that everything will be Ok. I feel so much peace right now and I actually I'm excited to discover what's in store for me now."

I then prodded him along to go back to work and told him I needed to be alone to pray and think about this and figure out what to do next. He left and I immediately proceeded to check out the latest transcription job postings on line.

They were grim. Bad hours. Bad pay. Bad conditions over all. I realized quickly that I had been spoiled by PSI and that I wasn't about to find anything like it with any other company. The only jobs available right now require me to work weekends, Saturday AND Sunday - ALL DAY or work midnight to 5:00 AM.

I decided to stick with my original plan and retreat to my room to kneel and pray and ask for the Lord's guidance. As I knelt, I pondered for a few minutes what was happening and the words of the blessing I had received entered my mind again. I thought for a moment about what I wanted to ask the Lord and then I began my prayer.

I started out asking, "Please help me to be able to know if transcription is the right avenue for me to continue in. I feel like I should try to apply for jobs and find another job quickly in that field to help us through while I continue to work on my album and...."

My mind went blank. Absolutely blank. I had ZERO thoughts. It was like a room with four white walls and there was nothing in it. NOTHING! I knelt there completely dumb-founded. I finally opened my eyes and looked heavenward and thought, "This is weird." Then I remembered what I had learned - if you have a stupor of thought, that's the answer that something isn't right. I thought for a minute and then decided to change what I was asking for. I closed my eyes and began again - "Please help me to know if this is right to concentrate on the music now. I have my children in daycare the rest of this week and it's already paid for, so if it's right for me to take this time to finish my album, please help me to know that this is right. I feel like I should take advantage of this time and..."

And that's when the ideas came flooding to my head like a dam breaking and the waters overtaking.

Finish the album.
Don't look for another job.
Take full advantage of this week your kids are in daycare.
Call Brian right now.
Tell him you need to get into the studio and finish the album this week.
Tell him you don't have money to pay him right now. He'll be OK to wait for the money.
Tell him you need as much time as he has to give you.
Work on music every night with Bertrand.
He's ready with the drums. There's no need to wait.
He can do this.
You can do this.
You're ready.
Now is the time.
Put whatever music you get done this week on I-tunes.
The money will come in from that and get you by until the album is completely finished and ready to put out.

I just knelt there, my mouth gaping open, the thoughts flowing through my mind like a waterfall. And then they stopped. And I suddenly felt a warmth and peace. I slowly stood up and stared out the window for a second.

Then I grabbed the phone and called Brian. I got his voicemail, so I left a message for him to call me back as SOON as he got a chance.

Then I called and explained to Bertrand what had just happened. I could hear him sniffling on the other end.

"Are you OK, honey?" I asked.

"Yep. I know this is the right thing too." He replied. "Those words in the blessing I gave you were NOT MINE! I promise you that. I've been waiting for you to figure that out."

I began to sniffle with him over the phone.

Just then the other line rang. It was Brian. I told Bertrand I had to go and clicked over.

"Kristin's transcription", Brian said with a laugh. He always greets me this way.

"Not anymore", I stated proudly.

"WHAT? What's going on?" He nearly shouted into the phone.

"I've been laid off."

"Are you kidding me? What's happening?"

"Brian. I don't mean to get all religious fanatic on you, but..."

"Oh no", he grumbled and then chuckled. "OK. Let's have it."

I then proceeded to tell Brian the nutshell version of this extremely long story. And, just as my answer from the Lord had come to me, he was completely on board AND, amazingly, the rest of his week was completely open.

"Bring Bertrand's drums in Wednesday night. We'll get everything set up, tuned and ready to go. Thursday he can come in and lay down the drums. Then we'll spend the rest of the week getting all of your stuff down."

I was overjoyed. Then came the important part - "Brian", I started in. "I can't pay you right now."

"That's Ok." He responded. "I can wait."

"Brian. As soon as my tax return arrives, I will pay you for all of the hours you've spent with me in the studio."

"Sounds good to me. I'm fine." He replied again.

This is Brian's livelihood. It's how he makes his money. Things haven't exactly been easy for him either and yet here he was agreeing to just let me come spend hours and hours, day after day in his studio without paying right now.

And so, this is the plan. I will continue to pray and seek guidance and I will stay on the course and keep the faith. I have NO idea what happens after that, but I have to focus on the task at hand - get as many songs completed and mixed this week and get them on I-tunes and my strong impression is that all of these people from all over the world who have been begging for us to put our music out there for them to buy will come through and buy it.

This has just been an amazing experience and I know that there will still be obstacles. My faith will still be tested, possibly even very severely. But I know that through all of this, the Lord will guide me if I just stay close to Him. If I just do exactly what I feel impressed to do - no matter how grim things may look. I know this is what I'm supposed to be doing and I know somehow we will make it through.

I Don't Know What To Say

2010-04-30T07:22:00.006-07:00

I always knew this day would come.

I always knew someday I would hear these words.

I just didn't know it would be this soon.

But last night I just received word that I'm going to be a grandmother.

My first reaction was "I'm too YOUNG! I'm only 34! This isn't supposed to be happening to me right now!"

But then I realized it's not about me.

Even more surprising is that it's not just ONE, but TWO babies!

And apparently this news has been kept a secret for quite some time because we already know what the babies are.

But I haven't even told you the most disturbing part about all this.

BOTH of my daughters are pregnant! At the same time!

Oh, no - it gets even better:

Sylvie is carrying a CAT! Yes, you're reading that right! There's a cat in there!

Chloe is carrying a MONKEY!

I don't even wanna' know. All I have to say is - "Bertrand! I TOLD you it was a bad idea to let them take their stuffed animals to bed with them every night!"

Toward the end of this photo shoot, Sylvie informed me that she was having "conTRAPtions" and then both of my daughters grabbed their bellies, hunched over, moaned and waddled to the family room couches, laid on their backs and wailed and squirmed about and then proceeded to deliver their own babies within seconds of each other.

Let me tell ya' - never before in the history of this earth has a more disturbing sight been beheld.

But there you have it. I am now a grandmother to a baby cat and baby monkey. This is NOT going to look good on the family tree, but you know, worse things have happened to families like....I don't know.....ummm.....like.....oh, come on! Help me out here! Name some worse things that have happened besides 3 and 4-year-old girls birthing animals!

OK, I don't know why, but I'm drawing a blank here. I'll think of some things, though. I mean, this can't be the worst thing that has ever happened! I refuse to believe it! I will find something more disturbing and post it ASAP!

The Mall Game

2010-04-15T15:21:00.006-07:00

I hate those kiosks at the mall. I hate them because the sales people are aggressive....and rude. One time I walked past a T-Mobile stand and the sales guy winked at me and said, "Hey, how are you today, ma'am?" I immediately raised my hand to signal STOP and said, "I already have T-Mobile service, thank you." And then scurried on my way. Of course, this ticked the guy off so he came back at me with,"Wow. I wasn't trying to sell you anything. I was just saying hi. Excuuuuse ME!" And then I retaliated by tossing a "Whatever, jerk" look over my shoulder as I continued on.

This just plain makes me hate the mall - period! Trying to get to the store I want is like trying to sneak across the Mexican/U.S. border without getting shot. Good luck with THAT!

You have to have a strategy. This is where having young children comes in handy. If the enemy attempts to engage me, I simply point at my secret little weapons and shrug like, "Sorry. I would TOTALLY stand there and let you waste my time, but these little people won't let me. DANG them."

Of course, once I reach my destination, I'm not so grateful for my little "helpers"

But seriously! WHY do they have to be all Chester? If I wanted to buy something from them, I'd stop there - a concept their kind have apparently never heard of.

ANYWAY...there's one particular kiosk, which is really tricky to get past and that's the Seacret one. You know which one I'm talking about? There are typically foreign women running it. Tiny little things with black hair and heavy accents. There's no way around it. Believe me, I've tried getting at my favorite store from every angle, but when the dang kiosk is located RIGHT OUT FRONT of it, there's no hope. They call it Seacret because all of their products contain mud from the Dead Sea and it's like a secret formula...from the sea...like a secret potion from the sea. Get it? SEAcret?

Thankfully, their associates are always women so the whole shrug and exaggerated pointing-out-my-young-snot-nosed-children maneuver always works. Women get that. Whether or not they have children of their own, they see those kids and they throw their hands up in surrender and back away. It's a beautiful thing, and one of those rare situations where I welcome rejection.

But, recently I discovered they've got a new "Seacret" weapon of their own:

A MANBOT!

DUN! DUN! DUNNN!

I call it a manbot because there is NO WAY this thing is human. They pulled out ALL the stops when they created this thing. I mean it's got the foreign accent, attractive features, SOFT HANDS! And it's programmed to not take "NO" for an answer.

So, the other day I took my girls to the mall on a little "date". And here I thought I was being smart with the air-conditioned building, the cute little doggies to look at, a play area AND it's free. It's almost PARADISE!

And I'm walking along, walking along, minding my own business, pretending to discipline my girls so the kiosk people won't target me, and BAM! Out of nowhere - something soft and supple grabs my hand. I'm thinking, "Dang! These little ladies at the kiosk are getting aggressive!" But as I glance over at the hand encompassing mine, I notice it's larger than normal and the arm - a little hairier. My eyes slowly navigate their way up the biceps, over the shoulder and stop dead in their tracks on the hairy chin. "What's this?" I ask myself.

"Hello there. Oooh, you've got nice skin. Yes. Very nice" it coos as it caresses my arm in long, gentle strokes.

I let out a nervous chuckle and respond with "I've got little ones with me. Sorry. I have to..."

"Hello beautiful little ladies." It reaches out and strokes an arm of each of my girls. "So lovely. How old?"

"3 and 4", I respond very curtly and slightly agitated. "OK. We have to go now. Thanks anyway."

The manbot steps RIGHT in front of me. "Tell me. What products are you using on your face?" And then it strokes my face with the back of it's silky soft hand.

I draw in a breath to answer and then hesitate. It continues stroking my face and my mind just goes blank.

"It no matter. Come. Let me show you something Vunderful. Please." And it pulls me back in - closer to the kiosk.

"I..." I try to fight back, but the manbot's mind control powers quickly take over as it focuses its attention on my forearm, stroking again in long, gentle strokes.

"Now just relax and let me show you something you will not believe."

And I'm thinking, "I'm already seeing something I don't believe - I'm still here - at your stupid kiosk!"

It begins rubbing a concoction onto my arm. It's cool and soothing and my mind immediately starts drifting to a white, sandy beach, the waves rhythmically drifting in, water lapping at my toes, seagulls gliding along on air currents...

"Yes. Very nice." The bot continues in its specially programmed, soft-spoken voice. It goes through the motions of applying product, rubbing it in, then gently running cool water over my arm as I fade in and out of consciousness.

And then it's over. Just like that. The manbot releases its grip and slides over to the product, hand-picking a certain jar. I slowly begin to regain my senses.

"Now" it begins, its voice becoming more stern. "This product is a very special. You know that, right?" It caresses my arm for reinforcement.

I politely smile. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the manbot, I'm plotting my escape.

The bot is going on about the product and why it's amazing and why I need it and all of the ingredients that are in it, but I have no idea what it's saying, as I'm positioning my feet for a mad dash.

THEN, as if the manbot can read my mind, it grabs my arm in a slightly tighter grip and pulls me in so close, our noses are practically touching. "I'm going to make you a deal because I know - these products are a very espensive. But you will be so happy. And I want you to be happy."

"You do?" I reply sarcastically, a smirk on my face.

"This I give you half price." The bot turns the jar around, exposing an $89 dollar price tag.

"WHA....?" I practically shout.

"No no no no. No no. Come. Wait. Please." It begins to beg.

"Sorry" I respond, holding up my hand. "That's too much. I'm sure it's great, but I don't have money for that kind of thing right now. Thanks anyway." I quickly reach out to grab my girls' hands.

The manbot proceeds to step in front of me YET AGAIN! "Look into my eyes."

Reflexively, I glance up at his face and our eyes lock.

"I really want you to have this product." It begins its pre-programmed dialogue again. "It will make you so happy. I want you to be happy."

"I know." I reply sincerely. "And I appreciate that. I really do."

"Tell you what. Let's talk about different product. Come. I show you."

"Look I have no money." I begin to back away, holding up BOTH hands this time.

But the expression on the manbot doesn't change. It simply internally switches to a different program. "How are your nails? We have nail boards. Not espensive."

"I really have no money." I repeat, a desperate tone in my voice.

"You have no money." The manbot repeats.

"None. None at all. Zero." I hold up my fingers in the shape of a zero so it can get a visual. "I literally have no money in my bank account right now. I couldn't buy these products if I wanted to."

And then, as if I had flipped the off switch, his head drops, his shoulders droop, and it slowly slides back into its corner. Completely shut down. Completely!

I just stand there, gawking in disbelief. I shut him down.

I had unlocked the secret code to winning the mall game. "I have no money." That's it!

"That's IT?" I'm thinking. "That's all I have to say? WOW!"

I'm so excited I just want to shout it at the top of my lungs. "I HAVE NO MONEY!"

I want to run up and down the corridors and announce my victory. "I HAVE NO MONEY! Did you hear that? I! HAVE! NO! MONEY! HAHA! I am AWESOME!"

"I have no money". It's that simple, folks. And now you know the secret to winning the mall game.

The Accident

2010-04-01T15:06:00.004-07:00

Before you read this, I just want to warn you that it's pretty graphic. I posted one picture - the only one I got. I tried to take a full shot of Bertrand, but he's so upset he won't let me. However, if you have a weak stomach, I'm warning you - this is really bad.

I received a phone call this afternoon from Bertrand and all I could hear was panting into the phone. I rolled my eyes and just sat there waiting for him to knock it off. You see, today is April Fool's day and he had already stopped by home at one point and told me his truck was breaking down and he was negative in his bank account - just to scare me and get a reaction for April Fool's. I didn't react and he was very disappointed, but he went on his way and I figured that would be the end of it.

So here he was now panting into the phone and I'm like, "Oh give it UP!" Finally, in an annoyed voice, I said, "Babe, I'm busy right now. What?"

He continued panting. Then he spoke in a weak mumble, "I had an accident."

I cackled into the phone. "WHATEVER! You'll NEVER get me!"

He continued panting and then crying. At this point I paused and thought, "Either he's really hurt or he's insisting on taking this as far as he can until I fall for it."

"Seriously, hon. I'm busy with work. What's going on?" I sighed.

"I hurt myself bad. Really bad. I need you to come right now." He began crying into the phone.

I perked up in my seat. "What happened? What kind of accident?"

"Just get over here right now. I don't know what to do." He moaned.

He told me which pool he was at and I jumped in my minivan full of fussy little kids and drove to the site, my heart pounding thinking "Okay, something IS wrong. There's no way he'd take a prank this far."

When I arrived at the scene, I grabbed Zander, rolled down windows and told the girls to stay in the minivan. They started fussing and I said, "Hey! You just wait here a second. I'm going right over there where you can still see me. Just let me see what's wrong with Papa." With that, I made a mad dash over to him. He was on his knees, doubled over, holding his arm and crying. I saw something lying on the deck next to him, but without my glasses, I couldn't really tell what it was. As I got closer, it looked like...his arm. His forearm and hand. There was a lot of red stuff around him. It looked like blood. My stomach turned. I gasped and smacked my hand over my mouth.

"What the....?" I gulped hard. When I got close enough I realized it WAS HIS ARM! His arm just about halfway up the forearm was completely OFF! Just lying there on the deck! I screamed and dropped to my knees. Zander jumped and immediately started crying hysterically. I set him down next to me and, clasped both hands over my mouth and just screamed and screamed. Bertrand looked up at me, tears just running down his face. I started bawling.

"WHAT HAPPENED?!?!" I screamed. "WHAT HAPPENED?!?!"

I ran back to the van with Zander and grabbed my cell phone and called 911.

Anyway, long story short - the paramedics came and took Bertrand and his arm to the hospital. They had a cooler with ice ready and packed it in there, but we really had no idea at this point if they'd even be able to save it.

Apparently Bertrand was fixing a pool heater and he lifted a really sharp, heavy part out by himself, which is a job that NO MAN should be doing by himself! He should have had someone there with him, but he was too impatient and just wanted to get the job done, so he tried to do it himself, lost his grip on the heavy part and it just fell and took his arm clean off. Just took the whole thing right in the middle of his forearm!

At the hospital I took a picture with the camera Bertrand had in his truck.

So, I went to the hospital with all of the kids and sat and waited a while. The kids started fussing, so I took them home. I got them all taken care of and just collapsed on the couch in shock. And just sat and waited for the call from the hospital.

They were NOT able to save his arm. There's nothing they can do. The best they offered up was to clean the wound, bandage it up, keep him on antibiotics in the hospital and later on down the road we can try to get him a prosthetic arm.

To answer any questions that might come up:

1. He will definitely be out of work for a long time, possibly indefinitely. We have actually already worked out a plan. I tried to get him to quit his job a while back. I can totally support us with my work, so we're just letting his truck go and I'll just work around the clock - Hey, at least we'll have medical benefits for all of us now.

2. He will NEVER give up drumming. There have been one-armed drummers before him. He'll have to figure out a whole new way of drumming. This does put a damper on our album, but we'll find another drummer in the meantime until Bertrand is healed up and has had time to learn a new way to play.

Anyway, we really appreciate the phone calls and support and the help everyone has offered. Many have offered to go visit him in the hospital, but he's really out of it right now. I'll be going back over there tonight to sit with him, but this is really shocking and upsetting and we kind of just want to be alone right now. Sorry if you've called and the phone just rang and rang. We don't have an answering machine. You can reach me on my cell phone. Don't call his. His is turned off right now.

We'll get through this. Bertrand is the KING of freak accidents and health problems, so this is just really no surprise. Crazy that it happened on April Fool's Day and I just feel so bad that I didn't believe him at first.

All I have to say right now is....

APRIL FOOL'S SUCKAS!

If you are a face booker, please do NOT say anything about this being a joke on my FB page. I want to fool as many people as possible! MUHAHA! Please help me in my evil plight. Admit it - you liked it! Who doesn't love a good fake out?

My Husband Complained

2010-03-26T15:55:00.008-07:00

Oh yes, he did. Oh YES! He DID! It was in the middle of a big fight and he said something along the lines of "You never make yourself look nice for me anymore." He's not talking about weekends when he actually takes me out on a date. Or weekdays when there's something going on I need to be dressed for.

He's talking about every single night when he comes home, I need to look and smell good.

And, call me crazy, but I don't understand what the problem is!

What's the matter, honey?

You don't like this look?

You don't appreciate the smell of sour milk? It's just like cottage cheese, honey. I thought you LIKED cottage cheese!

PAJAMAS?!?! In the MIDDLE OF THE DAY?!?! You no LIKEE?!

Michael Jackson did it ALL THE TIME!!!!

I KNOW he's dead, you...

FINE!

HERE! HAPPY NOW?!?!

Oh, don't EVEN start with my hair!

If you knew ANYTHING about high fashion, you'd appreciate the "My infant son pulls on, sucks on, bites, rubs his booger nose and baby food face into" hairdo I've been sporting lately!

You don't APPRECIATE the way I LOOK when you come home every night?! Well, THEY did this to me! YOUR children! They've ruined me! RUINED ME!!!!!

(Regaining composure)

(Somewhat)

(Through gritted teeth) Well, I'm sorry, but I'm stuck at home with three fussy, demanding, messy, snot-nosed kids who fight and whine and destroy and tattle-tale to me ALL DAY LONG! And I deal with that WHILE I try to do my medical transcription job full time AND I'm trying to keep the house somewhat clean AND I cook dinner almost every night!

Oh, and let's not forget the part where I'm trying to finish editing your book and write the rest of the music for our upcoming album release.

So YOU, my dearest husband, are going to learn to like this look for the next DECADE!

NOW!

Does anyone else have any complaints?

Betcha' Didn't Know!

2010-03-10T17:13:00.002-07:00

You only THINK you know how to spell the word "mom". But you're wrong. See, we were all taught in school that the word "mom" has one "O" in it, but we've been lied to and I'm reminded of this on a daily basis.

Every time that dang TV shows a toy commercial or anything directed toward children, for that matter, which is 90% of what daytime television is directed towards, this is what I hear:

SYLVIE: Mom, can I get that toy on the TV for my birthday?

ME: (Glancing quickly in direction of TV) Sure.

CHLOE: Mom, I want that too. Can I get it for my birthday?

ME: Uh huh.

SYLVIE: But mom, she already had a birthday. It's MY turn!

CHLOE: Sylvie, I can have it for my birthday too!

SYLVIE: No, you can't!

CHLOE: Yes, I can!

SYLVIE: Mom said it's my turn.

CHLOE: No she didn't Sylvie.

SYLVIE: Yes, she DID CHLO-E!

CHLOE: Well, I'm having that toy too!

SYLVIE: NO!

CHLOE: YES!

SYLVIE: NOOOO!

CHLOE: YESSSSS!

UNISON: MOOOOOOOOOOM!

See what I mean? There's definitely more than one "O" in there. (SIGH) Dang TV! I'm ready to ban it from my home. I thought my friend was crazy when she told me they don't get TV channels in their home (on purpose). Turns out I'M the crazy one! I allow myself to be tortured by this crap on a daily basis! Just call me a masochist.

A Birthday Tribute

2010-02-01T22:46:00.010-07:00

If ever a person was born to star in scream-filled horror flicks, it would be my lovely daughter,

Chloe Lorraine.

She was BORN screaming.

Those who have been unfortunate enough to experience "the scream" know exactly what I'm talking about. The lady's got a set of lungs like no other. Her scream has been rumored to penetrate the brick walls of neighboring homes at its highest pitch.

Not even her father's monster drum set can outdo "The Chloe Scream."

On a busy day at the park, all mothers of young children will perk up at the sound of a child screaming.

But not me. Oh no. The sound of a screaming child is not coming from my child. My Chloe's scream resembles that of the sharp whistle of a locomotive.

It's very distinct.

Sometimes people come into my home and see things like

THIS!

Which then sparks the question, "Do you have a dog?"

To which I always respond, "No. We have a Chloe."
Unlike my daughter Sylvie who is very much into shoes and fashion,

these things are of no concern to Chloe. In fact, clothing in general is of no consequence.

Now, I know that my daughter looks like she's half starved and though nobody's had the guts to ask yet, I'm sure many are wondering - does this kid ever eat?

The answer is - YES!

...as long as it involves sugar.

Especially chocolate.

Unless, of course...

...we're in the mood for a Mexican stand off.

Don't be fooled by the fact that she's a preschool drop out.

This little monkey knows what she wants.

And she knows EXACTLY how to get it.

I apologize in advance if you were hoping to set your son/nephew/brother, etc. up with her.

She's already been spoken for by this little dude.

Told ya'.

I know it's a little late, but Happy Birthday, my sweet (when she wants to be), snuggly (when she wants to be), happy-go-lucky (when the stars are aligned), thumb-sucking little lady.

Life would not be as exciting/unpredictable without you.

The Year In Review

2010-01-06T20:10:00.019-07:00

Now that 2010 has begun, let's take a look back at the highlights of 2009, shall we?

The year began with the discovery that the tumor in my belly was actually a baby/new future slave.

I submitted a couple of songs to Summit Entertainment in hopes of landing a spot on the New Moon soundtrack.

I never heard back. Yep, got totally ignored. But I've always been a stubborn little brat, so I continue to write and submit.

Then summer arrived!

And this is what it looked like. No, we do not live in the Arctic. We live in Arizona. But when I'm pregnant and it's summer, the temperature in the house is set to a cool 30 degrees...below and Bertrand retreats to the couch.

During these oh-so-pleasant summer months of sweltering heat and momma's frequent mood swings and emotional outbursts...

John became an official evil teenager.

Papa got...pretty. Makeover compliments of Sylvie and Chloe. (They'll do anything to avoid bedtime)

And the girls began their future slave training...

...and continued sucking their thumbs.

Finally, our fourth future slave arrived and his pediatrician deemed him "delicious" and continually referred to him as such.

So we ate him.

I'm JOKING! Calm down!

We did dress him as a giraffe once, though.

And then sent him off on his first slave assignment:

Begging in the streets for candy with Stinkerbell and her naughty pet monkey.

Finally, we tortured them one last time by forcing them to dress in costumes and pose for pictures in the freezing cold.

Don't worry. We rewarded them......with cars...

...and weapons.

We didn't want them to think we actually had a heart, so we lied and told them the gifts came from some fat dude named Santa.

P.S. They bought it. HAHA! SUCKAS!

And finally, a very special moment in the Coppee family:

Zander took his first "Ugly Troll" picture and was officially initiated into our family.

It was truly special. Still brings tears to my eyes *sniffle*.

(Just for fun, I pulled Sylvie and Chloe's family initiation photos from the 2008 vault. You're welcome)

Ah yes...

These are truly precious moments.

And so 2009 has come to an end.
And I have officially laid it to rest.

We have high hopes for 2010. According to my "horror"scope, it will bring much success and financial gain.

So I say BRING IT!

Meeting Bono

2009-11-23T12:07:00.004-07:00

I've been talking about doing a duet with Bono for years. It's been my dream. I've just always been a big fan and I love the sensuality and emotion in his music and the way he sings it and I would LOVE to stand next to him on a stage and belt out his tunes right along with him...or do a new song with him. I don't care who writes it. Okay, we can write it together in a studio. I won't complain.

Aw. Look at that. Someone got a tattoo of Bono on his arm.

Creepy.

Anyway, one night an old friend of mine informed me that he had a connection that could get me introduced to Bono. U2 just happened to be in town giving a concert and, though I didn't have tickets to the concert, there was an opportunity for me to meet him. OF COURSE I took it! HELLO!

I was so excited it took me like three hours to find the outfit I was going to wear. And I think I did my makeup twice before I was satisfied. It was so surreal - like a dream. Even though I was so stinkin' excited, I was panting all evening getting ready, part of me felt like it was too good to be true.

Finally, the hour arrived. I had to have my husband drive me because I was shaking. We arrived at the hotel in Phoenix and my eyes darted about in the lobby, looking for my friend...or Bono, preferably Bono. I didn't see anyone I knew and I could feel my heart start to sink. I thought, "Yeah, there's no way it would be this easy." I turned to my husband and pulled a sad face. "Are you sure your friend is really going to meet you here?" He asked.

"Yeah. Well...I don't know. He said he would. Why would he lie?" I replied, looking about the lobby anxiously, gritting my teeth.

I eventually grabbed my husband's arm and pulled him toward a sofa in the lobby.

"Where are we going?" He asked.

"Let's just sit down for a minute. I'll try to call him on my cell." I replied, a hint of disappointment in my tone.

As I was taking my seat, I heard a voice calling out, "Hey, Kristin! You made it!" My heart immediately resumed pounding out of my chest and I jumped up. It was my friend.

"HEY!" I called out, a little TOO excitedly. "Of course! I wouldn't miss this opportunity for anything! I'd give birth in the lobby if I had to!"

Dead silence. My friend pulled a face. I glanced up at my husband. "What?" I asked. I was just being funny. I was nervous!

"That's a bit much, hon", my husband replied.

ANYWAY! So, my friend tells me Bono is up in his penthouse suite on the top floor and I followed him to the elevators. The ride up seemed to take forever. I could feel my knees starting to shake at this point. I was worried they might give out and I hadn't even laid eyes on the man yet.

"So, what are you planning to say to him?" My husband asked me.

I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head.

"You don't KNOW?!" He asked, exasperated. "Are you serious?"

"HON!" I shouted. "I've given it TOO much thought already, okay? We'll just see when I meet him. Don't worry about it!"

FINALLY, I heard the ding of the elevator. We had arrived. The doors slowly opened. My stomach back flipped and I felt like I was going to throw up. My body felt stiff. I took one step and my leg wobbled a bit. My husband reached out quick to steady me.

"You okay?" He asked, concerned.

All I could do was nod. There was only one door on the top floor. The entire top floor was a suite. Bigger than my house. My friend knocked. I began panting. "Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! This is insane!" I panted.

"You okay?" My friend and husband both asked at the same time.

I shook my head and folded my arms tight across my chest, doing everything I could to not pass out. Suddenly the door opened. I glanced up quickly. It wasn't Bono. It was some other guy in a suit.

"Hey, I've got someone here who wants to meet Bono. He knows we're coming", My friend stated.

The guy opened the door completely and stood back. My friend entered first, then my husband, then me. I was kind of hiding. I was so nervous. We walked down a very short hallway and the room opened up, full length windows around the entire perimeter of the room. There was a black grand piano off to the left, all white carpet, white sofas. And there he stood at the wet bar, holding a glass, then taking a swig. He called out to my friend.

"Heeeyyy", my friend responded.

I grabbed the back of my husband's jacket and peeked out like a shy little child. I just stared him up and down. He was beautiful. I felt like such an idiot, but I couldn't help myself. I couldn't think of anything to say. I couldn't get my wits about me. It was all I could do to not melt into a puddle on the floor.

"Where are you?" I could hear my friend laughing.

"She's hiding behind me", I could hear the embarrassment in my husband's voice.

I swallowed hard and released my tight grip on my husband and slowly walked out from behind him.

"Hello", Bono responded.

I released the breath I didn't even realize I was holding. His voice was beautiful. That accent! I just wanted him to say "hello" a few more times. The room fell silent and I just stared at Bono who locked eyes with me and just stared back for a moment. "Hi", I released in an almost whispering tone.

Bono looked away and took another swig from his glass. He set it down hard on the counter. "Ahhh", he sighed over his drink. "So, did you have somethin' you wanted me to sign?" He looked at my friend since I seemed to have trouble speaking for myself.

Suddenly my husband stepped forward and offered his hand. "Hi, I'm Bertrand. I'm her husband." Bono walked over, his hand outstretched and shook my husband's. I was so jealous. "Hello. Nice to meet you. Where are you all from?" He asked.

"France", my husband replied.

"France!" Bono exclaimed. "I've been there a few times", he said. Everyone laughed.

Just then Bono offered his hand to me. It caught me off guard. I jumped slightly and exclaimed, "Oh." I could feel my face burning.

"I'm not goin' to hurt you", he laughed in response. I chuckled nervously, my face burning hotter. Everyone laughed then and I just wanted so badly to rewind and start over. What a disaster!

I grabbed his hand. Mine was ice cold. I could feel that it was, but this was my big chance to touch Bono and I wasn't about to pass it up. I gripped his hand tightly and shook it hard. "Hi", I said as I shook it nervously.

"Hello there", he replied.

"You're Bono", I immediately responded, almost cutting him off.

"Duh!" My husband laughed.

"Actually, your real name is Paul Hewson", I continued idiotically.

"That's right", he responded very calmly, locking eyes with me. I stared into his eyes and could feel myself getting lost.

"Can I call you Paul?" I asked in a soft, dreamy voice.

"Sure", he responded, still staring into my eyes, our hands still clutched tightly together.

"Can I call you Paulie?" I pushed further.

"No", he replied very curtly.

I hung my head sheepishly. "I understand".

"Come here", he cooed and grabbed me in an embrace. "Give us a hug then. It's nice to meet you, darlin'."

I melted instantly. He called me DARLING! AAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!

Okay, I know. He probably calls everyone that. Well, all WOMEN, that is.

Then he pulled me back and kissed me on each cheek. I swallowed hard and my face burned again. Though I've always felt that people who stated, "I'll never wash my cheek again" after a celebrity kissed them were complete whack job fanatics, I thought that very thought to myself at that very moment.

"My friend here writes music. She's a singer/songwriter", my friend piped in.

"That's nice", Bono said, staring intently into my eyes.

"Thanks", I gushed. "I-I" I gulped hard again. "I was thinking we should do a duet sometime", I blurted out maniacally.

"Oh really", Bono chuckled.

"She's a good singer", my husband offered up.

Bono walked back over to the wet bar and poured himself another glass of whatever he was drinking. "You have an agent?" He called across the room.

I hung my head and shook it, disappointed. "I don't know how to get one. Do I need an agent to write music with you?" The words sounded so desperate and stupid the instant I finished speaking them.

"It would help. I mean, I don't know you. I've got a lot goin' on right now. It's not that easy, darlin'. But you should just keep doin' what yer' doin', you know? Just keep workin' hard at it. Get out there. Perform. Maybe someday we'll hook up and work on a song together. All right?"

"Yeah", I whispered, disappointed, and stared at the ground, pushing the carpet around with my shoe.

I heard my husband release a big sigh and felt his arm around me then. "You should hear her sing. You should hear her music. It's really good. She just wrote a song for a movie and...well...they didn't take it, but it's dang good. You should hear it", my husband persisted on my behalf. I wrapped my arms around him and laid my head on his chest.

"Do you have somethin' for me to hear?" Bono asked.

My hopes shot up just then. "Yeah!" I practically shouted. "I've got a CD here in my purse!" I pulled it out and walked across the room to Bono, tripping up on the carpet and stumbling forward.

"Whoa. Whoa. Easy!" Bono called out, reaching his hands out and catching me. My cheeks burned once more. At that moment, I felt so emotionally exhausted, I just wanted to go collapse on a bed and sleep and pretend this never happened so I could have a second chance.

Bono took the CD then and handed it to the guy in the suit. "Can you put this on, man?" He asked. My eyes followed the CD over to the stereo system. My breathing became shallow. My heart fluttering in anticipation. That sick feeling returned to my stomach. I instantly worried that he might not like it and then I'd REALLY feel stupid. He popped it in and pushed play. The room fell silent. You could feel the tension so strong. We waited. "Where was that first note?" I thought. The anticipation was killing me.

Then it started in. "BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP."

"WHAT?!" I shouted. "This isn't my song!"

"What IS this?" Bono shouted. His hands clasped over his ears.

"This isn't my song! I swear! It's not my song!"

Just then I sat up in bed, a cold sweat across my face, my heart pounding, my breath panting.

(SIGH) "Oh, thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

It was just a dream! WHEW!

Okay, now that I have your attention, let's get serious. I did find a way to directly contact Bono. We'll see if he responds. THAT is the truth. I'll let you know.

What's The Bladder With You!

2009-11-07T16:17:00.002-07:00

So, if you thought my delivery story was an experience, how about my gallbladder story? Now THAT was good times. Let me tell ya'. I don't know why, but I have THE MOST bizarre experiences of anyone I know. There is absolutely no embellishing going on here. No fabrications. Just straight, ridiculous truth.

After my nightmare delivery experience, I returned home and settled in. I had a plan. The same plan I always had after delivering a baby. Dry up my milk ASAP! I don't breast feed. I just can't do it. It's too hard for me. Many have deemed me strong and courageous, but those people have never seen me attempt breast feeding. I bound myself up really tight - almost to the point where I couldn't really breathe, and barely ate anything. The weight was just falling off of me in large chunks. Things were going along great. Then, almost one week later, I began to notice trouble breathing. I mean REAL trouble breathing. My chest felt really tight. I thought, "Oh great. I've got my binding on too tight. I'll let it out a little", and I did. And that didn't help. The pain continued. In fact, it great in intensity. So, I let it out a little more - no relief. Finally I gave in and took the whole dang thing off. The pain was so bad, I could barely breathe. I felt shooting pains down my left arm. I thought, "Oh my gosh! Am I having a heart attack?" I've never had one, but I imagine that was what it felt like. It was intense. I was scared. I couldn't lay flat in bed. I couldn't sleep. I gasped for air and stopped breathing several times in my sleep. One night my husband rolled over and said, "Are you having a heart attack or what?"

The next morning was my birthday. I sat up in bed and instantly felt pain like someone had just stabbed me. I gasped for air. I couldn't speak. I was just gasping and wailing. Bertrand tried to lift me up and help me, but I became hysterical. I didn't know what was happening to me, but the pain was more than I could bear. I felt like I was going to pass out. Bertrand called my mom and she came running over to watch the kids so I could go to the emergency room.

The emergency room was packed. Bertrand dragged me in as I clung to his side. A nurse ran up behind me with a wheelchair and I sat down and took small, shallow breaths, trying to answer the questions as best as I could. Then they wheeled me into a waiting room and there I sat...with all of the other emergency patients. I closed my eyes and prayed in my head, "Please. Please, don't make me wait long. I can't stand it. I feel like I'm going to pass out. I don't know how much more of this I can take." After a while, I was wheeled behind a little curtain and asked some questions. I explained that I was having chest pain, but when I pointed out where my pain was originating from, the doctor said, "That's not your chest." Whoops. He decided I needed an ultrasound to see what was going on in there.

And so I was wheeled back out into the waiting room.

Several minutes later I was called back again and wheeled behind another curtain where my blood was drawn and an IV was started...well...attempted, in my left arm. She couldn't get it in and it was hurting so bad, I was crying out. "I just have to get it past this one point. Hang in there, honey", the nurse kept saying. I was panting and moaning. I was already in terrible pain and now she was trying to force this huge needle into my arm and it was NOT going. She finally gave up and pulled it out. "Okay, let's do the other side, then."

"Noooo. Please." I moaned. "That hurt so bad. I hate IV's. Please don't do another one."

"Sorry, hon. I have to." And so she put it through the other arm and I panted and moaned like a huge baby.

The IV was situated in my right arm, right in the part where you're supposed to bend your arm. I don't know what that's called, but I had to keep my arm straight. My right arm. My dominant arm. The nurse then asked me to go into the bathroom and leave a urine sample. HA! RIGHT! "I can't bend my arm. I don't know how I'm going to hold the cup and wipe myself," I said, a little anxiety in my voice.

"Just do your best. If you need me, I'll be right outside." Needless to say, I made it work. No WAY was I going to have a nurse holding a cup underneath me, trying to catch my pee.

And then I was wheeled back out into the waiting area. Where I sat and waited. For a long time. About an hour. A nurse came out and put warm blankets around me. It felt nice and I buried my face in them and tried to sleep.

A while later I was called back again and this time had an ultrasound done. When the tech ran the ultrasound wand over my right side just below my chest, I yelped in pain. "Yep, just as I thought," she said.

"What? What is it?" I frantically inquired.

"The doctor will go over the results with you later", the nurse replied.

I closed my eyes and sighed, laying my head back. "Oh great," I thought. "This doesn't sound good."

And then I was wheeled back out into the waiting room where I sat and waited. For another hour. It was still difficult to breath. I felt nauseated. I just wanted to lie down and sleep. Finally, a nurse came out and said, "Okay, you're going back to the ER."

"I am?" I asked. "I thought I already WAS in the ER." Apparently I wasn't. The nurse pushed me through some double doors into absolute chaos. There were so many people in the actual ER, there weren't enough beds. The walls were lined with moaning, coughing people, some lying very still with their eyes closed. They almost looked dead. This was a scary sight. "Oh no," I thought. "This does NOT look good at all." I was wheeled around a corner where an empty bed was lying.

"Okay, hop up on there," the nurse said in a chipper voice. I looked down at my IV in my arm, thought about the pain in my chest, realized I was still leaking milk and other fluids down below from having a baby and said, "Umm. I don't know how I'm going to climb all the way up there." The bed was high. She lowered the bed quickly and I sat on the edge. Then the nurse grabbed both of my shoulders and tried to force me into a lying position. I started panting and gasping for air. "Ow!" I yelled. "No. Please. I can't lie flat. I can't breathe."

"What?" she asked. "What do you mean you can't breathe?"

I then proceeded to explain my symptoms to her. Then I burst into tears. "I just had a baby a week ago. I'm bleeding and leaking milk and I can't breathe and..."

"Oh my gosh!" She shouted. "We've gotta' get this poor lady into her own room. She can't be lying here in the hallway!"

The tears flowed freely now. I was so exhausted and in so much pain. It was now 2:00 PM and I hadn't eaten all day either. Not that food was particularly on my mind, but I was experiencing some intense hunger pains on top of everything else.

A few nurses got together in a huddle, trying to figure out where to put me. All of the private ER rooms were occupied. They all suddenly turned and faced a particular room in the corner. There was a police officer standing in front of the door, acting as a guard. "Let's move him and put her in there."

"Oh no," I interrupted. "I feel bad making someone leave a private room just for me. I'll be okay."

"No, it's fine, honey," one of the nurses replied. "We just have a homicidal maniac in there, so we need to move him to a more secure location."

"A homicidal maniac?" I thought. "No. No. No need to move him. Put me in there with him. Let him kill me. Let him take me out of my misery."

But alas, the homicidal maniac was moved. I looked away. I didn't want to make eye contact. I was afraid he'd come find me later and my suicidal thoughts were only fleeting. And so I was placed in the room and told to undress and change into a hospital gown.

A nurse came in and introduced herself as MY nurse. She explained to me that the first doctor who saw me doesn't normally come back into the main ER, but he wanted to stay with me through the case, so he was coming back to see me. The guy looked like he was about my age or younger. He came in and confirmed my worst fears. "You're gallbladder is bad. Really bad. It definitely needs to come out."

"Oh no," I moaned. "Does it HAVE to?"

"Well, of course you can refuse. But you'll most likely be back in here again soon, so...you can either take care of it now or later," he replied very matter-of-factly.

He explained that I would also need a blood transfusion, as I was severely anemic. I looked at my husband in horror and he grabbed my hand and held it tight. "Well, hon. What do you want to do."

I started to cry. "Why is this happening? Why? I don't have time for this. I just had a baby. I have a bunch of other little kids at home. I need to go home to my babies. I need to get back to work."

My husband looked at the doctor. "See how she is?"

"You've got to take care of yourself first if you're going to take care of all of those other things," he explained.

I gritted my teeth and shook my head, more tears running down my cheeks. I was afraid and angry and stressed all at the same time. "Fine," I said. "Go ahead. Do what needs to be done with me."

And so Bertrand went off to work. There was nothing more he could do for me anyway, so I sent him on his way. And my nurse returned and explained that she would need to start another IV in my other arm, same location.

"WHAT!?! WHY?!" I nearly shouted, starting to sob again. "Is that REALLY necessary?"

"I'm sorry, hon. It is. You need one IV for the blood transfusion and one for all of your other medications." And so she started one as I looked the other way and sobbed and moaned....like a huge, blubbering baby.

When she was finished, both arms were outstretched with IVs. I couldn't bend either one. She placed a call button and phone by my right shoulder and said I could call someone if I needed to and just to push the buzzer if I needed anything. And then she walked out. I looked down at both of my arms and looked over at my right shoulder. "Ummm....how would I even reach either one of those?" I thought to myself. "Oh well," I sighed and laid my head back.

Then it started. An itch on my nose. I lifted my arm to scratch it, only to be reminded I could not bend my arm. I lifted my other arm and tried to cross it over my face to scratch the itch with my arm. It didn't work. I panicked. "Oh no!" I said aloud. "What do I do?" I looked about the room frantically. Searching for an answer to my dilemma. I tried to turn my head and scratch my nose against my pillow, but I couldn't crank my head around far enough. I raised my right arm again and tried rubbing my nose on my arm. It still itched like crazy. I grunted and panted and rubbed my face into my arm feverishly, trying to scratch the itch. Thank goodness no one came in during that. I must have looked insane.

Alas, I accepted defeat and threw my head back against my pillow and moaned and started fussing again. "This sucks. I hate my life right now. Why? Why? Why?" I moaned, as I thrashed my head back and forth on my pillow.

Now, let me just say - I will never be one of those inspirational stories. I will never be that person who suffers tremendously, but stays positive and inspires others. No. Not me. I'm the one who sits in the wheelchair in the corner, bitter, hating the world and everything in it, throwing curses at whoever sets foot near me. THAT would be my story. Thank goodness it wasn't anything permanently debilitating or life-threatening!

After what felt like an eternity, my nurse returned with medications. "Okay. I'm giving you some morphine and..." I don't know what else she said. Morphine sounded great to me. That was all that mattered in life at that moment.

"Okay," I sighed in relief and laid my head back, shutting my eyes and waiting for the high to hit.

"Someone will be here in a minute to take you up to your room, okay?" She said and then smiled at me and rubbed my shoulder. "You're going to be feeling a lot better tomorrow, dear. Good luck." Then she left.

I laid there, eyes closed, enjoying my little trip to the moon. Suddenly the doors opened and I saw two blond girls in scrubs standing before me.

"Hi," I mumbled, drool spilling from the side of my mouth. "You guys look like twins." I noticed they both looked at me funny, but I didn't care. I was feeling groovy and I was ready to go for a ride. (I saw those two later. One was tall and thin. One was short and fat. They looked NOTHING alike.)

They wheeled me out of the room, accidentally hitting the bed against the door. I jolted and my head fell to the right. I saw an old man lying in a bed outside my room. "Bye. See you later," I mumbled in a dopey voice. The old man didn't respond. They wheeled me down a long hallway. I felt like I was in space. "Take me to your leader," I slurred, more drool hanging out the side of my mouth.

"What? Did you say something?" One of the girls asked.

I heard the other one respond, "She's on one. She just said 'take me to your leader'."

"Ohhhh," she drawled. "Okay. You're gonna' be fine. Don't worry."

I was coherent enough to understand, but apparently not enough to control my speech. I felt instantly stupid.

When I arrived at my room, I was transferred to a new bed and situated. My new nurse introduced herself, took my vitals, and told me to buzz her if I needed anything. Then she asked if there was anything she could do for me before she left. I requested that she turn off all lights, turn the TV on to the spa music channel, and shut the door. I just wanted to sleep until it was over. And that's what I did. I was given a shot of morphine as often as I wanted. And I just laid there...rotting.

At 9:00 that night, a surgeon entered my room, introduced herself and told me my surgery would be at 1:00.

"1 AM?" I asked.

"No, 1 PM tomorrow afternoon", she said.

I shut my eyes and moaned. "I'm starving. Can I have something?" I asked.

"You can have all the ice chips you want," she replied. "Now try to get some sleep."

That night a nurse came in with two units of packed red blood cells to transfuse me with. She explained that I might feel dizzy, nauseous, and my entire body might become terribly itchy. She told me to notify her if I felt any of those symptoms. GREAT! I was NOT looking forward to any of that. Fortunately, I experienced none of those, but I did experience a strange taste in my mouth during the process and I just felt icky, especially when I looked over and saw blood dripping into me. Goobers.

That night I also heard a lady next door to me retching violently all throughout the night. The next morning when my nurse came in and asked me if I was ready for my surgery, I replied with "Yes. I can't wait to be out of pain."

"Oh yes. You'll feel so much better. Gosh. There's a lot of you in here right now for gallbladder surgery. The lady next door to you just had it done last night."

My eyes popped out in horror. "Oh no. Are you serious?" I said.

"Why? What's wrong?" She chuckled.

"Umm...that lady was throwing up all night and it sounded violent over there", I moaned.

The nurse pulled a funny face and said nothing.

"That's not gonna' be me, is it?" I asked.

"Well, that lady is a lot older than you, so hopefully not," the nurse replied.

Skipping ahead, my surgery occurred the next day, as scheduled. It was a long night and long next day in that hospital bed, waiting for my surgery. The doctor had explained that I would have mad diarrhea even after just drinking water, once my surgery was complete, and this would last quite a while, possibly for the rest of my life. She also explained that I would be in a lot of pain and it would take weeks to recover. She also said it would hurt to breathe for a while too. This did not sound good to me and I cried all night long amid shots of morphine and SOME sleep, but very little.

Once my surgery was complete, I was taken back to my room. My nurses were all wonderful and took great care of me, but one in particular who amused me was from Russia. Her name was Elizabet. She was so sweet, but had a heavy accent and spoke in broken English. One concern from my nurses was that I was urinating enough after my surgery, so they would always ask me the same questions over and over - "When did you last pee? Do you need to pee now? How much did you pee the last time you went?"

But Elizabet was different. She would get right in my face (hello - ever heard of personal space?) and say, "Did a you make a pee pee?" and she'd actually take her index finger and thumb and make the sign for small, accenting the word pee pee in a staccato tone. This always cracked me up and it was all I could do to not laugh my head off every time. I wanted so bad to respond with (in her same accent) "Oh yes. And I a make a nice poo poo for you too. I make it a so nice."

Ah....anyway.

I started to feel so much better after my surgery. My first meal in 48 hours was dinner that night and it consisted of vegetable broth and a popsicle and juice. The morphine kept coming, which was great. I made sure I took full advantage of that. That night I laid my head back and decided to get some good sleep for once. I turned off all lights, turned on the spa music and laid my head back, drifting off to the moon again.

"Hello! HEY! HEY!" I heard a crotchety old voice calling out. I squinted my eyes shut tighter and moaned.

"HEY! HEY!" The shouting continued.

I released a frustrated sigh and opened my eyes, blinking against the bit of light coming through my doorway.

"Hello! Hello out there! Hey!" The shouting persisted.

"What's the matter?" I called back.

"Get in here right now. I need help!" The voice shouted back.

"I can't! I've got IVs in my arms and I'm strapped into my bed. Call the nurse." I groaned back.

"That's what I did! HEY! HEY! HEY!" She continued calling out.

"PUSH THE CALL BUTTON!" I shouted back.

But the shouting persisted. "Oh my gosh. Stupid lady." I moaned quietly to myself. I squirmed about in my bed, flailing my arms at the call button, trying to hit it, but to no avail. I still couldn't bend my arms very well and it was situated up by my head. I tried hitting it with my nose, but my nose couldn't withstand the pressure required to push the button in, so I stuck my tongue out to try and reach it. It was truly ridiculous! Just before my tongue touched the button, I heard footsteps running in the hall, coming in our direction, so I backed away and listened intently.

"What's the matter?" the nurse called out, running into the old lady's room.

"I want more juice!" The old lady shouted.

I could hear the nurse opening another juice box for her and then she shut off the old lady's light and walked away. I rolled my eyes in the dark and laid my head back, attempting to drift away with my morphine again.

"HEY! HEY!" The shouting started up again. Only a couple of hours had passed.

"OH MY GOSH!" I groaned aloud through gritted teeth. "Use your buzzer, you idiot! I'm trying to sleep over here!" Of course, I said this to myself. She couldn't hear me. This continued on all night long. It was terrible!

FINALLY, the next evening, around 5:00 PM, I got to go home! HALLELUJAH!

In spite of all of the craziness, the staff at the hospital were wonderful and took excellent care of me and I went home feeling 90% better and recovered quickly and painlessly.

Who's On First?

2009-10-28T14:05:00.002-07:00

We've all been sick around here. We've all been cooped up in the house. The kids are going nuts, as am I. So, I decided to give my ladies a break and take them for a Sonic run and get them a little treat. I also decided to treat myself to a little cherry limeade even though the fizz hurts my palate and esophagus. I decided to just let it burn since I was already in pain with a sore throat anyway. My girls asked for a white coconut slush.

(SIGH) Ever have one of THESE conversations with your kid?

SYLVIE: Hey mom.
ME: Yes?
S: Did you get a cherry limeade?
ME: Yep.
S: Did I get a cherry in my drink?
ME: No, honey. Yours won't have one. You ordered a coconut slush, so there's no cherry.
S: Well, I just want a cherry in mine.
ME: I'm sorry, honey. There's no cherry in yours.
S: There's no cherry in yours?
ME: No. There's no cherry in YOURS.
S: Oh. There's no cherry in yours.
ME: NO! YOURS!
S: Yours?
ME: (SIGH) Mine has the cherry, honey.
S: Oh. Mine has the cherry?
ME: No MINE does.
S: MINE does?
ME: NO! MINE! MINE! MY DRINK! NOT YOURS! MINE!
S: Okay, mine does. Not yours, okay mommy? Just mine.

I fell completely silent. I was baffled. She was just not getting it and I didn't know how to explain it. At this point we had our drinks and I was driving toward home.

S: Hey mom?
ME: (SIGH) Yes, honey?
S: Did mine get a cherry in it?
ME: No, honey! NO! There's no cherry!
S: There's no cherry?
ME: No. Sorry, sweetie.
S: So, you didn't get a cherry too, mommy?
ME: Nope. Nobody got a cherry.
S: Nobody?
ME: Nope.
S: Mom, did you get a cherry limeade?
ME: Yep.
S: So, how'd you get a cherry? You got a cherry mom.
ME: I did?
S: Yeah mom! You did. You really, really did!
ME: Oh. Okay.
S: And I got a cherry too.
ME: Mm hm. (I decided just to agree for the sake of avoiding another argument)
S: I did, mom? I got a cherry?
ME: (HUGE SIGH) Sweetheart! Listen to me! My drink has a cherry and yours does not!
S: Yeah. My drink has a cherry and mommy's drink didn't have a cherry.

ME: OH MY GOSH! Listen! You got the cherry! Okay? You got it! It's in my drink, but I'm just gonna' give it to you when we get home, okay?

S: Okay, mommy. Hey Chloe, I get a cherry in my drink. Mommy said.

AAAAHHHHHHHH!!! She wins again!

The Stage Name...

2009-10-24T21:17:00.002-07:00

...this is one of THE most important aspects of being a performer. You have GOT to have a cool name. Ever heard of Carey Grant? His real name was Archie Leach. No joke.

Tonight, as my husband and I were driving home from an evening out with the kids, we were listening to the radio (because that's all we've got going on right now in this '99 minivan), and I noticed that all of the songs were about "rock stars". First Pink with "So What I'm Still A Rock Star" played followed by Nickelback's "I Wanna Be a Rock Star". So I commented on that little observation and said, "Watch. They'll play that other rock star song by that one guy....oh, what's his name? Dang it."

BERT: Who?
ME: You know, that guy with the long, blond hair? He always wears the wife beaters. I can't stand that guy. Oh man! WHAT is his NAME!?
BERT: I don't know who you're talking about.
ME: You know? Pam Anderson dated him. They almost got married.
BERT: That doesn't help me. What are some of his songs?
ME: Oh! I can't think right now. The radio is distracting me. He wears hats like yours sometimes, honey. You know who I'm talking about? (Bert was wearing a fedora during this conversation, by the way)
BERT: Is his name Chris something?
ME: NO! No, it's not Chris.
BERT: Ummm.....(mumbling to self) Chris....Chris.....man!
ME: It's not Chris, Honey. It's not. I know it's not.
BERT: Hmm. Let me think. (Mumbling to self again) Chris....Chris....
ME: It's not CHRIS! (Laughing) It's not Chris at all. Not even close, Honey.

So? Are any of you readers figuring out yet who I'm talking about? I was going NUTS trying to remember this guy's name. I was ready to have Bert pull over to the side of the road just to ask some random person walking down the street because I was SURE they would know the answer.

Finally! Four streets away from home it hit me - the name.

ME: KID ROCK! It's Kid Rock!
BERT: Yeah! Okay. I knew it started with the K-sound.
ME: MAN! I'm so glad I finally figured that out! That was driving me NUTS!
BERT: I need a cool name.
ME: You mean like a stage name?
BERT: Yeah. What should I be called?
ME: How 'bout Frenchie?
BERT: Nah. Not that.
ME: Okay, how about....?
BERT: Something like Kid Rock, but not that.
ME: What's rock in French? Isn't it caillou? You should call yourself Kid Caillou! HAHA!
BERT: NO! (Getting agitated) That's not cool.
ME: Hmmm...you need something edgy. (Mumbling to self) Something edgy...

Suddenly we got a suggestion from the very back of the van.

SYLVIE: How 'bout Wedgie?
ME: YEAH! That's it! We'll call you Wedgie! Thank you, Sylvie.
SYLVIE: You're welcome.

Bertrand was not amused.

Ah, He Kills Me!

2009-10-19T16:52:00.004-07:00

The following are ACTUAL conversations between my husband and I:

B stands for Bert, K stands for Kristin. Ready? Set. Go!

B: Hey, honey. How many of these pills should I take?
K: I don't know. Read the side. It'll tell you. I can't remember the dose for that medication.
B: Should I take one or two?
K: What does it say on the side, honey?
B: It says two for adults.
K: Okay.
B: So, how many should I take?
K: Well, you're an adult, so two would be the correct answer.

SERIOUSLY!?!?! Yes. This conversation actually happened. And it WASN'T for headache medication either. GEE WHIZ!

B: So, how was it?

K: Awkward.

B: Why?

K: There was this lesbian who kept staring at me. It was just uncomfortable.

B: How do you know she was a lesbian?

K: Well, somebody else there told me and I could tell anyway. She wouldn't stop staring at me and it was one of those, "I like you" stares and I mean "like" in a non-friend sort of way. You know what I mean?

B: Well, if I was a lesbian I'd stare at you too, 'cause you're hot!

K: (Jumping on him and kissing his face all over) Oh honey! You're so romantic!

A New Form Of Capital Punishment

2009-10-15T11:10:00.005-07:00

So, I'm all for capital punishment. I know, I totally shouldn't get political on my blog. That's when opinions start flying and razor tongues start cutting.

But, seriously, the punishment should fit the crime. Somebody kills, they should be killed. It's just my personal opinion and this happens to be...oh, look at that - it's my blog. I can say whatever I want! YAY!

Now, I don't know what these people did (the dancers), but this appears to be some show where they actually AIR the criminals being punished right there on TV. I think Germany is onto something...

By the looks on their faces, I don't think they'll be committing any more crimes. I don't know that I necessarily agree with allowing children to view this harsh form of punishment, but perhaps they're simply instilling in their minds the consequences of committing crime. Ten years from now that country will be crime-free. I'm sure of it. Time for America to adopt some German policy, hmmmm?

On a side note, I must say - good thing they're not on So You Think You Can Dance. Their personalities really aren't showing through in their dancing. Mary Murphy and Mia Michaels would pick them apart for sure!

I Know Cool People

2009-10-14T16:52:00.009-07:00

It's true. I do. You probably do too, but they're probably not as cool as the people I know:

1. Maurice Dew. He's a rapper. (Pretty fly for a white guy). He just dropped a new album called "For The People". Check it out.
Order it at: mauricescrapbook.blogspot.com

2. Dan (The Man) Poulsen. He's an entrepreneur (and my l'il brutha). He designed a line of watches called Mica. I love them so much I steal my mom's occasionally and wear it about town. I get compliments on it every time...because it's awesome. I want one for Christmas. You got that, Santa? (Santa reads my blog.)

Here's one of my favorites. It's called The Baron (Munchausen).

And this is The Plank. I dare you to walk it/I mean wear it!

These are just TWO of the styles he's designed. All of his designs come with different wood and face options. You're not cool until you're wearing one of these. Don't worry, I'm not cool either...yet!

Check out and order watches at: micamove.com

3. Laurel Amenta. She's also an entrepreneur (and my cousin). She designs decorative tiles. I was lucky enough to be bestowed one for my birthday, but I'll be ordering another. Everyone who came over and saw it lying on my counter LOVED it and wanted to know where I got it from, so I'm posting it here. She has several different options and takes custom orders.

You can contact her at: 480-430-9705.

4. Kylee Palmer. She's a seamstress (I'm super jealous). She designs ADORABLE little girl and now boy clothing.

I totally want two of these for my ladies.

You can see her designs and order them at: ragdollclothing.com.

5. Ravi Sinha. A published author. This man is an immigrant from India, an extremely talented and tender-hearted man. I had the honor of typing two of his books, which I thoroughly enjoyed, but this particular one reduced me to tears as I typed it for him. It's a very touching and inspiring story. It's called "In Pursuit of America: My Dreamland."

You can order it here:

http://www.amazon.com/Pursuit-America-Dreamland-Story-Immigrant/dp/1434303985/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1255564207&sr=1-1

The Delivery Story/Nightmare

2009-10-12T22:35:00.002-07:00

Well, it's been a long time coming, but here goes - a story that's been tough for me to tell. It was so traumatic that it took me several days to stop crying over it.

Now, some of you may be able to top this story, maybe even by a long shot, but when you have certain expectations and NOTHING goes according to plan, it's pretty upsetting - especially for someone like me who always has plan A, B and C in place before I do anything.

It all started with a random e-mail. The end of July I received an e-mail from an unknown sender. I know you're not supposed to open unknown e-mails. They could be dangerous. But this one had a very intriguing subject line. It read, "Kristin Coppee. A miracle will happen for you on August 13th". A miracle? I thought. Interesting. After a few days I told my husband about it. I even posted something about it on my facebook. I was making a joke of it. I don't believe in random e-mails like that.

Now, let's go back in time to the morning of Sunday, August 9th. I had been suffering Braxton-Hicks contractions throughout my last trimester, which was typical for me. However, with each week, they became increasingly aggressive and uncomfortable and began to feel more and more like labor. On Sunday morning, I was SURE I was in labor due to the fact that despite my efforts to stop the contractions, they would not let up and were coming closer and closer and harder and harder. Finally, I gave in and we called my mom who ran right over and took my ladies to her house so Bertrand could take me to the hospital. I gripped the door handle and breathed through my contractions as Bertrand squealed out of our cul-de-sac, flew over a couple of speed bumps and drove to the hospital like a maniac. Each of my children came with a quicker labor so we were pretty certain this one would pop out in the car if we didn't arrive at the hospital fast enough.

Upon arriving to the hospital, I was whisked into a room, placed in a hospital gown, and checked. I was dilated to a 1. That was it. A lousy 1! I felt so discouraged (with Chloe I was sent home from the hospital three times and I was NOT too thrilled about the possibility of being sent home even ONCE with this child). The nurse watched my contractions and said, "They're coming close together and pretty hard, so I'm sure your cervix will change. I'll leave you alone for about an hour and we'll check again later. Just let me know if anything changes before then, okay?"

"Okay", I grumbled and heaved a sigh. This was already shaping up to be a replay of my former nightmare - The Chloe Delivery!

Just then I turned to talk to Bertrand and noticed his head was in his hands and he was slumped over in his chair.

"Honey? Are you okay?" I asked, a little concerned.

"No", he mumbled. "I feel terrible. My head hurts so bad and my throat is really sore."

"What? Really? You feel that bad? You seemed fine at home." I couldn't believe it. I thought surely he was exaggerating. And how dare he take the attention away from me. I was in labor and suffering! I needed him to dote on me. I needed him to help me breathe through contractions. For those of you who don't know The Chloe Delivery story, he was suffering with terribly painful abscesses due to MRSA and was laid out on a stretcher right next to me as I delivered my daughter, only to hold her a few minutes and then be whisked off to an emergency surgery. NIGHTMARE! I thought, "Oh not again. Don't you dare try to die of some strange disease again! Not while I'm delivering your child!"

Several hours later the nurse apprehensively entered the room, avoiding eye contact with me.

"I know what you're going to tell me," I muttered.

"I'm so sorry. I feel so bad." The nurse responded.

I heaved a huge sigh. "This is ridiculous! My body needs help. My other doctors all induced me because I go into labor, but my body can't finish. My doctor told me he'd help me."

"I know, but the problem is your doctor is not on call and this other doctor says you're not far enough along to be induced." She stated apologetically.

"I'm a few days away from 38 weeks!" I nearly shouted.

"I'm so sorry. The doctor said I could give you a light sedative."

"Look, it's okay. It's not your fault. I'm just frustrated. I'm miserable. I have been for weeks. My body doesn't do it alone, so I'm going to have to be helped, but I don't know how much longer I can go on like this. I'm getting no sleep and I can't even function and I have three other kids at home. This is just ridiculous!" I finally stopped my rant, realizing the poor nurse felt terrible, but could do nothing.

I went home and my husband's condition worsened. The following day, Monday, he stayed home from work. His fever was relentless. He was shaking and sweating and looked just awful. He told me he wanted to go to urgent care.

"Urgent care? Come on, hon, it's just a bad cold or flu or something. We don't need to be spending money on urgent care expenses. It'll go away. Just be patient. I know just what you need. Stay there. I'm running to the grocery store."

With that, I grabbed my purse, limped to the car and drove to Fry's where I purchased Vick's Vapo Rub (Chloe used up all of our supply - see story several posts ago where she rubbed the entire jar through her hair), V8 juice and more pain killer. I came home, ran my husband a hot bath and poured him a glass of V8. "Honey, drink this, rub some Vicks on you during your bath and after and go climb into bed, cover up and sweat it out. You'll feel great by tomorrow. I promise!"

The next morning he was much worse. At this point his condition was so bad, he had lost weight (which he doesn't have to lose in the first place), was pale and sweating profusely, burning up with a fever, and literally crying and begging me to please take him to urgent care.

I left my teenage son home with my ladies and drove up the street to the urgent care. I limped in alone, contractions going like crazy, and asked what a visit cost there (we have no insurance on my husband).

"$220 to be seen," the receptionist stated, opening a booklet. I could feel my eyes popping out of my head.

"And then", she continued, "Let's see. If he has any tests done that will cost more, depending on the tests, and then..."

I held up my hand. "That's enough. Sorry. That's WAY too expensive for us. We'll go elsewhere. Thanks anyway." With that I limped back out to the car, stopping halfway to catch my breath. My body was aching and laboring and I just wanted to sit and put my feet up, but that was not an option. I drove like mad to the next nearest urgent care and ran in. Their price was $98 flat. I ran and motioned for Bertrand who slowly made his way to the building, his body so weak, he shuffled in like a 90-year-old man. His fever was so high he couldn't even think straight. I had to fill in all of the information for him.

Long story short, he had a severe case of Strep throat, running a temperature of 104. OUCH! I felt TERRIBLE!

Wednesday, August 12th was another typical day - painful, heavy contractions all day long. I continued about my business, suffering, growing increasingly tired from lack of sleep, as the contractions would continue all night long every night. My neighbor, Vickie, felt bad that Bertrand was suffering from Strep and I was so miserable, that she offered to bring dinner over and I gladly accepted. When she arrived with dinner she could see that I was in terrible pain. She called for my son to bring her a stop watch and as she served dinner to my children (Bertrand was back in bed on medication, still suffering himself), she timed my contractions.

"These are really getting closer and heavier, it seems. You really ought to go in," She advised.

"No way," I replied. "They've already sent me home once. And with Chloe they sent he home three times. I am NOT going through that again. I won't go in until my water breaks."

Vickie insisted on staying and monitoring me. Bertrand began to worry. He was still very sick and contagious, but my contractions were getting to the point where we knew delivery was near. He called the bishop in a panic and asked him to come give him a blessing to heal him. Our bishop ran right over with one of our home teachers and when they walked in on the scene, the bishop couldn't believe his eyes. Bertrand sat in one chair, pale and feverish, hunched over, and I sat completely sprawled out on the couch opposite him, moaning and groaning, breathing through heavy contractions.

"What in the world is going on around here?" He chuckled in disbelief. "This is crazy!"

After listening to my bishop, my husband and my neighbor insist for several minutes that I get to a hospital immediately, I finally gave in and agreed to let my neighbor, Vickie, drive me. Bertrand stayed behind with the kids and my mother drove over right away to stay with the kids so Bertrand could go back to bed.

On the way to the hospital I again gripped the door handle and breathed through heavy contractions - all the way to the hospital - all the way in the front doors - all the way to the observation room....where they completely stopped! COMPLETELY! And I was perfectly fine.

That was it! That was the final straw. I was so upset, I was beside myself at this point. I couldn't take it any longer. They were going to have to get that baby out or I would reach up in there and get him out myself.

Again, the nurse came in and informed me that my doctor was STILL not on call and the same doctor who had turned me away days earlier was intending to turn me away again. Tears began rolling down my cheeks. I couldn't even speak.

"Oh, you're not sending her home," Vickie insisted. "She's been in labor for weeks. You've already sent her home once. She's not going home again."

"Ma'am, I understand," the nurse began, "but we have to follow the doctor's orders. My hands are tied. Her contractions aren't happening right now, she's only 38 weeks, and this doctor won't induce unless you're 39."

"Oh, that's ridiculous. Get her admitted. She's having this baby," Vickie persisted.

The nurse left the room and returned a few minutes later. "Okay", she said. "The doctor said I can admit you as a 'sleeper'. That means you'll be given a shot of morphine and monitored over night so you can get a good sleep. The next morning your own doctor will come in and assess you and decide what to do with you, okay?"

"No. I don't want that. I don't want to be in the hospital over night only to be sent home again. I'm leaving." I began to get up from the bed.

Long story short (AGAIN - there's a lot of these), after speaking with Vickie and my mom and husband for several minutes, and upon hearing the nurse's insistence that I take this offer, I agreed. I was wheeled into a labor and delivery suite, given a very long, painful shot of morphine in my right upper arm (it left a huge, disgusting bruise that covered almost my entire upper arm), the nurse surrounded me with pillows, turned on the spa music station on the TV, turned out the lights and left me with Vickie.

Earlier, back in the observation room, I had relayed a story to Vickie of how back in my Chloe days, a friend of mine massaged my feet for an hour because she said it would help induce labor and my water had broken from that incident, which allowed me to finally deliver Chloe at exactly 38 weeks. Vickie immediately reached into her purse, pulled out lotion and said, "Would you like a foot massage? I can give you one. I'm not that great at it, but I'll give you one."

"Oh no," I replied. "You don't have to do that. I was just saying that it's supposed to bring on labor, but I'm fine. I've got my morphine. I'm going to get some rest."

But Vickie insisted and after very little persuasion, I let her. She sat at the foot of my bed and massaged my feet for quite a while. It felt really good and I started to fall asleep. Her cell phone rang. It was her family. They needed her back. I felt so bad for keeping her from her family for so long. She had saved my sanity and now she had completely relaxed me. I was drifting off into dreamland....completely relaxed - drifting....drifting...........my breathing becoming more rhythmic.........

POP!

I sat straight up in my bed. My legs suddenly felt very warm. I rubbed my eyes and squinted in the barely lit room. The clock on the wall showed 12:00 midnight exactly! It was August 13th. (Remember the random e-mail? Bum! Bum! Bummm! Spooky). It was then I realized - my water had just broken. Vickie had just finished rubbing my feet only two hours ago. Looks like the massage worked (I told her she should really start a side business).

I pushed the call button for the nurse. A voice on the other end responded, "Yes. Can I help you?"

"Ummm..." I began a little hesitantly. "I think my water broke?"

"Oh good," the voice sounded genuinely happy and excited. "We'll send your nurse in right away." I laid back in bed and smiled in relief. Suddenly I heard a faint cheering coming from outside my door. Apparently all of the nurses at the nursing station were cheering me on.

My nurse came rushing in with a big smile on her face. "Oh, I'm so happy for you. This is great. Now you REALLY won't get sent home. You're gonna' have this baby!"

"Yay!" I replied.

And so, all of the preparations were made. I let her know I wanted the epidural and that my other labors had happened fairly quickly once my water broke, so she called the anesthesiologist right in. The nurse was impressed with how well I took the epidural. "Wow!" She exclaimed. "You did great! Good girl!"

"Well, I'm totally doped up on morphine," I reminded her. "I barely felt that." (It's the way to go, ladies. Get a shot of morphine first. It's painful, but not nearly as painful as the epidural.)

After I was all settled in and resting comfortably on my anesthesia, the nurse readjusted my pillows, turned out the lights again, and turned up my spa music. "All right, hon. Let me know if you need anything."

I lay there smiling in the dark. FINALLY! This was going to happen! After all of the suffering. My sweet baby boy would be arriving very soon, I thought to myself.

Early the next morning I called Bertrand. "Honey, my water broke last night. I'm on the epidural and I'm going to be having this baby soon, so you might want to get down here."

Because Bertrand had only been on antibiotics for his Strep throat for 24 hours, the nurses hesitantly agreed to let him be present as long as he promised to wear a mask and gloves. He rushed down to the hospital, my mom not far behind him. Upon their arrival the nurse informed them that I was still at a 4 and they were getting ready to start Pitocin to help me along.

And so we all sat and visited. An hour passed.

And another.

And another.

"Wow, honey! I thought you said this baby was coming soon," Bertrand quipped.

I heaved a big sigh. I was tired of laying on my backside in the bed....waiting - something I'm not very good at, by the way, in case you don't know me well. Heck, you don't even have to know me well to know I'm not good at the waiting game. My mom and husband went to the hospital cafeteria to grab some food. They were starving.

So was I. HOWEVER, because I was now on the epidural and in labor, I was not allowed to eat. I got ice chips. Glorious, tasteless ice chips. Wonderful. Bertrand scarfed his food down and paced around my bed, checking out all of the equipment I was hooked up to, crunching away at his Doritos.

"You know, you're not being very nice right now, honey," I glared at him in frustration.

"Sorry, babe. It's just payback for making me suffer with Strep throat for days." He laughed. Alone. Not funny.

Just then a nurse came in and checked my vitals and monitors. "Hmmm..your oxygen saturation is low. I think the morphine is having a bad effect on you," the nurse said as she pulled out some oxygen. "Here. You're going to have to wear this for a while, okay?" She started to put the mask over my face and I panicked.

I batted at the mask and turned away, gasping for air.

"Honey, this is oxygen, what's wrong?" she asked, fighting against my resistance to get the mask on.

"I can't," I gasped and sputtered. "I can't just have oxygen put on me like that. I have to ease into it."

Yes, you read that right. I have to EASE into oxygen. Why? I don't know. I'm a freak of nature. It's this whole anxiety thing about something being put over my face that's blowing into it too hard. I can ride a rollercoaster just fine. I can ride on a motorcycle just fine. I can ride with the windows down in my car just fine - all activities, which produce a lot of oxygen blowing in my face. However, the mask is a different story.

ANYWAY...

My mom and husband were giving up on me and I was exhausted. I wanted my sleep. My mom went home and Bertrand fell asleep in the chair. And I lay there, my backside aching from so much pressure from all of my weight for so many hours. I tried to sleep, but the alarms kept going off signaling that my oxygen levels were low. I tried to keep the mask on, but it was uncomfortable. I wanted my dang sleep. My labor had pretty much stopped. I was not progressing at all. Hours had passed. My frustration grew more intense. I started to feel hopeless. Would this baby EVER come out?!

The nurses had to come in every hour or so and turn me in the bed. Now, these were tiny nurses and I was a whopping 198 pounds. Yeah! 5' 4", 198 pounds. NOT pretty. NOT cute in any way, shape or form. Every time the nurses came in and prepared to turn me, I'd warn them about my weight. "I hope you work out because you're about to lift 198 pounds of dead weight," I said one time. The nurse just chuckled and said, "Oh honey, don't worry about it" and then would grunt and groan as she tried to turn me in the bed. I was on an epidural and completely paralyzed. I tried to use my arms to help turn myself, but I have no upper body strength, so I was pretty much useless. I was a beached whale. Literally. Get a visual in your imagination. Google it and check out the picture of what that looks like. I don't need to post a picture, just check out the beached whale and imagine my head on it. Cut and paste one if you need extra help visualizing that. Go ahead. You have my permission.

Several more hours passed. I was reduced to tears. "This is ridiculous!" I cried. "My last two babies came so fast. This is turning out to be just like my very first delivery. It's taking forever!" It was now 4:30 PM. I had been sitting at an 8 for several hours. I had been laying in bed on an epidural NOT progressing! I was completely uncomfortable and exhausted. I just wanted it to end! I felt like I was letting everyone down - all the people waiting. My doctor kept coming in and checking me and making statements like, "Any time now. Within an hour you'll be delivering." My parents brought the kids down and kept them in the waiting room. Everyone was SURE this was going to happen at any moment.

Another hour passed.

And another.

Nothing. Still an 8. At this point they were running Pitocin through me every 10 minutes. They were just pumping it and pumping it and checking me constantly.

Nothing.

They raised the bed up so I was in a seated position. Everyone sat in chairs at the foot of the bed. Just staring. Another nurse walked in just then.

"Welcome to the freak show," I stated, motioning with my arm toward the small crowd. "Take a seat and enjoy."

"Aw, come on, honey. This will be over soon," my mom tried to reassure me.

"No. No, I've given up on ever having this baby. He's gonna' come sometime next year, I think." I heaved a big sigh.

"Oh no, dear. You have to have this baby within the next 24 hours. We'll take him by C-section if we have to," the nurse responded.

I smiled weakly. I was joking. Apparently she thought I was that stupid. I looked stupid. That's for sure. I felt ridiculous! I'm surprised no one made signs, "SAVE THE BEACHED WHALE" and posted them about the hospital. I'm surprised a news crew didn't show up and do the big story. Literally. Big. HUGE!

It was nearly 7:00 now and my doctor came in to check again. Still an 8. His wife had called and scolded him, warning him that he had better get home for dinner. Or else! He apologized and left the room. I was a hopeless cause. He gave up. Someone else's turn to deal with the mess.

Another doctor entered, shook my hand and tried to reassure me, "You'll have this baby soon. I promise." He checked me and said, "Ah, a 9 now. See? Not much longer." Everyone stood around watching. Waiting. I started to feel quite a bit of discomfort.

"I think my epidural is starting to wear off," I advised the nurse. "It's really starting to hurt."

"Are you going to be okay?" The nurse asked.

"Well, yeah - if the baby comes soon. My epidural was only half when I had Chloe and I did fine, so I should be fine."

Half an hour later I was FINALLY ready to push.

"Okay, let's do this," the doctor stated, positioning my legs (with much help from the nurses and my husband) in the stirrups. "How good are you with pushing?" The doctor asked.

"Oh, I'm really good at pushing. I had my last two babies out in 2-3 pushes, so this should go quickly," I assured him.

"Great!" he replied. "On your next contraction go ahead and push."

I felt my stomach start to harden, I felt the pain begin and increase in intensity.

"Okay, push!" the doctor and nurse both called out at the same time.

I sucked in a deep breath, grabbed my legs and beared down. That's when I felt it. The intense, burning, ripping pain of natural labor - no epidural. It was gone. Done. Over. This was 100% natural. Just the way I DIDN'T want it.

"AAAAAHHHHHH!" I screamed. "I can feel it! I feel everything! I don't want to! It hurts so bad!"

"Just push" the doctor and nurse yelled. "You can do it!"

I pushed and yelled out. "NO! I can't! I can't do it! OH MY GOSH! I wanna' die! Please! I'm gonna' DIE! AAAAHHHHH!!!"

The pain was so intense, I can't even describe. You can never know the feeling unless you actually go through it. I NEVER want to feel that again. I felt like I was ripping in half. It was intense, it was traumatic, it was frightening. I yelled and groaned and called out to God to please take me away. I looked to my husband with desperation. I could see the horror in his eyes. Tears were welling up in them. He had never seen me like this. My other labors were wonderful, quick, easy, painless....pleasant, if you can even fathom putting the words pleasant and labor together. Yes, I had experienced pleasant labors.

Not this time. This was horrific! I felt like it would never end.

Ten pushes later, the head was still stuck. I couldn't get it out.

"GET IT OUT! I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!" I screamed. "PLEASE! PLEASE!" I pleaded out loud with God again to PLEASE take me out of my misery. Please spare me.

Just then the doctor stopped, looked up into my eyes and our eyes locked for a few seconds. I could see the worry and it scared me. "What's happening?" I sobbed. "Pleeaaase. Please help me. It hurts so bad I can't stand it."

He reached over and grabbed an instrument. The light caught it and the gleam shone in my eye. It was a knife. I gasped.

"Gah" I sputtered as he cut me. I felt it. I felt my body being cut open. Everything fell silent. I couldn't hear. My ears were ringing. My teeth began chattering.

And then suddenly the silence was interrupted. "Push!" The doctor and nurse called out again. I gasped in a big gulp of air and bore down hard.

"Yay! The head is out!" Everyone called out at the same time. The doctor began moving his arms about in a strange motion, working feverishly. Again, I could see desperation on his face. I wanted to push again. I wanted the pain to stop. I couldn't stand it. Why was he making me wait? What was he doing?

Finally he called out again, "Push. This is it. Let's get the shoulders and out!" I pushed hard a few more times and FINALLY! I felt instant relief. Somewhat. The intense burning was still very present. I still get twinges of that pain from time to time. I fell back against the bed and gasped for air, sobbing in between breaths.

But there was no sound. No crying baby. The doctor didn't hold him up for me to see. The room fell silent and the doctor continued to work feverishly at the bottom of the bed. My baby out of my sight.

"What's happening?" I managed in a weak voice.

"Just cleaning the baby up," the nurse assured me.

"Oh," I replied and fell back against the bed again, still trying to catch my breath.

Just then the doctor turned abruptly, my baby in his arms, and walked briskly to the warmer. The nurses followed and gathered around, blocking my view. Nobody said a word. The doctor continued to work feverishly. Still, no sound coming from my baby. I could feel fresh tears welling up in my eyes. I had no idea what was happening, but the feeling in the room was not a good one.

"Why isn't he crying?" I called out. "Is he okay?"

I don't know who said it, but somebody tried to reassure me that he was still "getting cleaned up."

FINALLY, I heard a cry. A huge sigh of relief washed over the room. Everyone suddenly looked more relaxed. My son was wrapped in a blanket and brought to me. It was then that I was informed that the reason I couldn't get him out was because the umbilical cord had been wrapped around his neck twice and he was blue and not breathing. It took the doctor a few minutes to get him going. Very scary. I'm so thankful that my son and I survived that horrific ordeal.

When the nurse took me to the bathroom to clean up, she kneeled down at my feet to help me and looked up into my eyes, hers filled with tears.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I feel so terrible. We should have given you another epidural bolus. We just didn't know what to do. We didn't want you to have to sit around for four hours afterward waiting for the feeling to come back".

"It's okay," I whispered through teary eyes. "I thought I would be okay too. I am. I'm fine. I'm just glad it's over."

Eventually I was wheeled to my recovery room with my son. We made a very brief stop at the nurse's station. Apparently word had already arrived there that I had been through a traumatic delivery and needed to be drugged up and left alone. "Oh you're the one," I heard repeatedly over the next several hours. "You poor thing." All this did was induce more tears and sobbing.

Despite the beautiful drugs they gave me and the fact that they took my son to "the cottage" for the night so I could sleep, I lay awake in a dark, lonely room, reliving my delivery experience over and over and over, sobbing all throughout the night.

Unusual Car Fresheners

2009-09-23T14:26:00.003-07:00

I walked into a convenience store today to buy some gas. There was a basket with a sign that said "HOMEMADE CAR FRESHENERS $3.00 EACH. I was intrigued. They were very large Ziploc bags with an interesting substance inside. I decided to look through the basket and see what scents there were as the cashier rang me up. I picked up the first baggie. The sticker on it read SEX IN A HOT TUB. I could feel my eyebrows raise in reaction. I was curious. I didn't realize sex in a hot tub had a smell. I quickly glanced at the cashier to make sure he wasn't watching. I felt kind of naughty. He caught my glance and looked down sheepishly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

I waved the baggie in front of him and said, "Wow! This is an interesting name for a scent."

He kind of chuckled and, still staring at the floor replied, "Yeah. Sorry. My friend makes those. He asked if he could sell them here. Sorry about the names."

I grinned and slid it back in the basket. "A man made these, huh?" I said. That made sense. "Well, now I'm curious about the other scents in here." I rummaged through the basket and pulled out another. The sticker read SEX POISON UNDER MY TONGUE. I nodded as I read it, "Yummy."

The cashier leaned forward, trying to read the sticker. I turned it around so he could see. He scratched his head, nervously shifting on his feet, "Oh man! These are bad. I gotta' put these behind the counter. I'm really sorry, Ma'am. I didn't realize..."

"No. No. It's okay. Look. Here's cherry", I said as I pulled out another, trying to reassure him that they weren't all bad.

"Yeah, I think my friend's a little crazy", he said sheepishly, his face turning a deep purple at this point.

I sniffed a couple more. I'll spare you the names. They were pretty raunchy. The smell was actually really pleasant. Unusual, but pleasant. I liked them - the scents, not the names. I decided to buy one. I placed it on the counter and said, "I'll take this one. It smells good."

The cashier read the sticker name. It read ORGASMIC. Now, before you judge, I bought it because it smelled good, not because of the name. The cashier giggled and I grinned and chuckled.

"Yeah, well...you see that little white car out there?" I pointed to my sad little car sitting at the gas pump.

"Yeah", the cashier replied.

"That's mine. It's a Hyundai Elantra. It's not a bad car, but you get more than 2-3 people in there and it starts to feel like sardines packed in a can."

The cashier nodded in response.

I continued, "You see, I've got four kids that I jam pack in there with me. So, if your friend's homemade scent here is going to make riding in a Hyundai Elantra with a screaming infant and two whiny toddlers in the back seat an orgasmic experience, then he's gonna' end up a billionaire!"

And with that, I took my car freshener, tromped out to my little tin can on wheels, opened it up and placed it under my seat. It smells good...

Good For A Laugh

2009-08-08T09:25:00.002-07:00

I'm a Rob Pattinson fan. I'm not gonna' lie. It's too late for that anyway. I've posted enough nonsense about my drool fests. Can't take it back now. It's on the world wide web.

HOWEVER! This is too funny to not post. We can all laugh about it, right Robby?

Heads Will Roll!

2009-08-06T22:08:00.013-07:00

Aw, look at my little angel sleeping. Isn't that so sweet?

NO!

No, it's not! There's nothing sweet about that! Let me explain:

She just got through doing...

THIS!

Oh, here's a nice little close up shot for ya'.

That's right! She completely cleared all clothing from the rack of her closet, threw down several books from the top shelf (approximately 20-30) and proceeded to try everything on and strew it about the room.

I was ready to KILL! Apparently Chloe was her accomplice. No surprises there. This was their little "project" while I cranked out some transcription work today.Oh, now this is a cute picture. Aww. I love when they snuggle up and read together. Sweet little girls....

Wait a minute! Focus!

These children are not sweet! They're evil!

Just look at this mess! She actually said she was making pictures for me. Yeah! Can you believe the nerve - trying to pass this off as ART?!?! HA! You know how long it took me to clean that mess up?

Aw, now I remember that. They wanted to wash my car to help me because baby Zander was hurting my belly and they heard me complaining to their papa about how dirty my car was. (Sigh). Those little ladies...so swee....

Wait a minute! You're doing it again! Trying to throw cute pictures at me to make me forget how super naughty you are! Well, I haven't forgotten about...

THIS! Do you realize we had to throw out half of our game closet because of you two? Well...we did and I am NOT happy about that!

Stop it! These cute pictures aren't working on me anymore!

I said STOP it!THAT'S ENOUGH!!!

(SIGH) Oh, I give up! YOU WIN! Okay!?!?! Happy now?!

Terror In The Night!

2009-08-02T09:19:00.002-07:00

"Mommy! Mommy!"

My eyelids fluttered. The high pitch of the faint screams slightly roused me from sleep. Though only a narrow hallway separates the master bedroom from the girls' room, the loud hum of the floor fan in my room drowns out almost all sound.

"Mommy! Mommy! Aaahhhhh!" The screams came again. This time my eyes shot open and were immediately drawn to the light of my alarm clock. 3:10 AM.

"Mmmm" I groaned and shut my eyes again.

"Mommeeeeeeee!" I could tell by the screams it was my 2-year-old. She had never awoken in the night like this. The sound of her shrill screams, growing louder by the second, frightened me and I thought something must be seriously wrong for her to be screaming this way.

I attempted to shoot up into a seated position, but my large, rock-hard belly forced me back against the bed. My head hit my pillow with a thud.

"Mommy! Mommy!" The wailing continued, growing even louder. My heart was pounding with fury and my breaths became pants. I attempted to sit up again, but failed miserably. Suddenly I felt a stabbing cramp in my side.

Knowing I wouldn't be able to reach her in time, I threw my arm behind me, frantically smacking at the space behind me, searching for the warm body of my husband.

"Honey. Honey. HONEY!" I finally shouted, continuing to bat at him, awkwardly attempting to awaken him.

"Huh? What? What's going on?" He mumbled deliriously.

"Babe, something's wrong with Chloe. She's screaming and I'm stuck. I can't get up. She's screaming louder and louder. Something's wrong. Please! Hurry! Run!" I pleaded desperately.

He rolled out of bed and clumsily stumbled across the room, nearly tripping over the laundry basket at the foot of the bed. I heard the thuds as he slightly fell against the door and felt around for the handle. As he threw our door open and then the girls' room door, I heard the screams grow louder.

"What's the matter, Chloe?" I heard him mumble.

Her screams and cries continued.

"Chloe! What's wrong?" He tried again, this time a little more coherent-sounding.

"My monkey's on the floor", she sobbed pathetically.

"What?" He mumbled.

"My monkey is on the floor", she enunciated each word deliberately through her sobs.

I heard him grunt as he stooped to pick it up and place it in her arms. Instantly the crying stopped and my poor husband stumbled back to our room and collapsed in the bed.

"What in the world? Is she screaming about her monkey?" I asked in a frustrated tone.

"I don't know. I don't know what she wants." And that was it. He was out. Poor guy.

Just to let you know how ridiculous this whole thing was - Chloe's bed is like 5 inches from the floor. All she had to do was reach her hand down and pick up the dang monkey! Instead she threw a screaming fit, which disturbed our sleep and caused me to have some pretty good, painful contractions for the next hour.

THANK YOU CHLOE!!!!!

Sherrif Joe's Got Nothing On Me!

2009-07-28T10:54:00.004-07:00

Welcome to Tent City. I decided these ladies had committed one too many offenses and it was time for some prison camp to teach them a lesson.

Let's see what the little inmates are up to right now, shall we?

What's this? WHAT is THIS?! Are you two making moonshine in your bunk?

Yeah. Busted! AGAIN!

Biggest Dilemma Of All Time!

2009-07-28T10:52:00.000-07:00

So, I'm gonna' need your help on this one. What do I throw away? The games...or the children?

What Does The Future Hold?

2009-07-26T23:16:00.002-07:00

SO! It has come to my attention that the New Moon soundtrack will be released in early October and more and more bands who will be featured on it are being announced each week. I have not heard from Summit or Chop Shop and therefore am safely assuming I am not going to be included on this soundtrack. In all honestly, I'm actually not that disappointed. I really love the bands who are included on the soundtrack. Well, not all of them, but MOST of them. Also, I did feel extremely stressed about all of the expectations that would come with being featured on this soundtrack, i.e. photo shoots, interviews, music video, etc. and with Zander due to arrive within the next few weeks, I did NOT know how I was going to pull this off. I'm not saying I'm glad I didn't make it on - just surprisingly not as disappointed as I thought I would be.

Now a lot of questions are being raised by friends, fans, my husband and I and, I'm sure very soon - band mates. I have spent several weeks contemplating my next move with the thought in mind that there was a possibility we would not make it on. The competition was stiff and not only are we only really known by a couple of thousand people worldwide, but we have no representation at this time. SO...it's just one of those things. The music business is tough. You have to really want it bad. You have to be willing to fight for what you want with everything you've got and, most importantly, you have to decide how far you're willing to go and what you're willing to sacrifice.

Keeping that in mind and knowing that the future holds many possibilities and nothing is certain, here's what I plan to do:

1. Put the two songs I wrote for New Moon up on Itunes (maybe I can make back enough money to at least cover what I paid in recording fees).

2. Go ahead and lay down the song I wrote for Eclipse and put it out there on youtube and myspace, etc. and go ahead and submit the press kit (there's a new director for Eclipse, so you never know) and probably just put it up on Itunes right now, as well.

3. Focus on recording and finishing up the writing on a full length album, which will be entitled "The Beginning Of The End", which will feature songs about relationships, the state of the world, etc. At least one track will feature a rapper, which is something new I'm trying, but I'm really excited about the outcome of it. And I can't WAIT to hear the drums Bertrand will put with this (his background is progressive hard rock, so that with my sound should be interesting - in a good way).

4. Promote myself and my band as best as I can without sacrificing my family.

I love my kids and they along with my marriage are my priority, so as long as none of them are being jeopardized and I can find the balance, I will get out and play publicly and promote as best as I can. I have often discussed with my husband whether or not I would ever stop writing music and really, I don't think I could if I wanted to. I will always write music and I will always share it with whoever wants to hear it. Whether or not I'll achieve big name status in the music business is yet to be determined, but music is my passion and it's a passion I share with my husband and we will always pursue it in some way.

In the meantime, Bertrand is very seriously considering going back to school for an eventual masters in criminal justice and hoping for a career in crime scene investigation and I am feeling compelled to keep moving the direction I am - transcribing as much as I can while raising four beautiful children and, of course, writing in my spare time - music and books.

I am so grateful to family, friends, and people I don't know from all around the United States and even the world who have supported and encouraged me and continue to do so. That's a big part of what keeps me going - especially when I have my down times, which do happen. Just knowing that people out there appreciate what I've produced so far is very fulfilling and I hope to continue writing music and stories that entertain for years to come.

My Baby Boy!

2009-07-26T16:13:00.004-07:00

I know, I totally threw you off there. You thought I was talking about Zander. But, today is my firstborn baby boy's birthday - John.

I've decided today I want to take a look back on some funny and some sweet moments about John's life so far.

What's In A Name?

Before John was born, I knew I was going to have a boy. I wanted a boy first because I never had an older brother, but a lot of my friends did and I was so envious. I wanted a boy to lead by example for my younger children. I was thrilled to death when the ultrasound confirmed it.

Name intended for him: Wesley Owen Done (Yes, I tried to name him after Wesley on "The Princess Bride")

Name actually given: John Ammon Done, Jr. (His daddy wanted a junior so bad, he begged for it as I was pushing him out in delivery)

Name he wanted at the age of 6: Jackie Chan (John idolized this man as a young boy. He watched his cartoon, his movies and just really wanted to be named after him)

Names he wishes for now: Zoran or Tormund (He thinks they sound like good, strong military combat names)

My Favorite Phases

John has been through a lot of phases, but two hilarious ones that stand out to me are:

1. The Chinese phase - John used to lament that he wished he was born in China. He just wanted to be Chinese so bad (mostly because he idolized Jackie Chan). He wanted his room decorated in Chinese characters and pictures and he dreamed of being a Ninja. It was so hilarious to me, but I felt bad for him at the same time. I totally understood his dilemma. After all, I always wished I was born an Indian Princess who was then kidnapped. (Don't ask, I don't have an answer for that one.)

2. The spaceship phase - John was obsessed with aliens and spaceships and rocket ships for a while. I'll never forget the time he came home from kindergarten with a little booklet about shapes. Each page had a shape and it said, "It was a circle. Now it's a..." and each student had to think of something they could turn the shape into. John's book went like this:

It was a circle. Now it's a.... face.
It was a square. Now it's a....spaceship.
It was a triangle. Now it's a....spaceship.
It was a diamond. Now it's a...spaceship.
It was a square. Now it's a...spaceship.
It was an oval. Now it's a....(take a wild guess).

I started laughing and John was immediately offended. I felt so bad, but it was so hilarious to me. I laughed so hard, I cried. I really wish I would have kept that booklet. It was too cute!

The Chosen Path

Some of us have dreams for our kids - dreams of what they'll be someday. I've often wondered this about each one of my kids and tried to guess what they might become. John has always pondered on this subject and voiced his desires since the age of about 5. Here's how his career choices have evolved.

Age 5:
John - Mom, when I grow up can I be a garbage man?
Me - A garbage man? Really?
John - Yeah!
Me- Why, honey?
John - Because I like garbage trucks. They're fun to drive.
Me - Have you ever driven one?
John - Not, but I really want to.
Me - Okay, honey. If you really want to be a garbage man, you can.

Age 6: Ninja.

Age 8:
John - Mom, I really know what I want to be now when I grow up.
Me - Okay. What is it?
John - An Army field medic.
Me - A what?
John - An Army field medic.
Me - What is that? I've never heard of that.
John - It's someone who goes out in the field and helps wounded soldiers and takes them back to base to do surgeries on them and get them better.
Me - How do you even know about this stuff?
John - I read about it and see it on TV.
Me - Wow! Okay. But that's really dangerous. You could get killed on the battlefield while trying to rescue someone.
John - (Shrugging) Well, I just want to help people, so I've gotta' take that risk sometimes.
Me - (Speechless).

Age 9: Detective/Spy. He begged me to subscribe him to a Junior Detective magazine (and I did) that came with spy gear and he loved playing spy and detective.

Age 10: History professor. He's a HUGE history buff. He loves to read about history and he watches The History Channel on a regular basis.

Age 11:
John - Mom. I know I've changed my mind about stuff a lot, but I really, really know what I want to be now.
Me - You don't want to be a history professor anymore?
John - No.
Me - (Whining) But why? Honey, you're so smart and you know so much about history and when you tell me about it, it's very interesting and I want to hear more and I HATED history in school. You should really be a history professor. I think you would be great!
John - Mom. Listen, I know I love history and stuff, but I don't want to be a history professor.
Me - (Sighing) Okay. What do you want to do then?
John - I want to be in the Marines.
Me - WHAT?!?!?!
John - I want to go to Westpoint.
Me - WESTPOINT?!?!
John - It's a military academy.
Me - I KNOW what it IS! But WHY!?!?!
John - Because, mom. I just really want to.
Me - You have to work really hard in school and be an excellent student at the top of your class to get in there.
John - You think I can't do it?
Me - No. I KNOW you can do it, but...really?
John - (Annoyed) Yes!
Me - Okay, well it's gonna' be tough! I mean, they're gonna' work you over! Some nights you might be lying in bed crying for me and wishing you were back home.
John - (Rolling his eyes) Mom. Whatever. I'm not a baby.
Me - Grown men cry, John. The military is TOUGH!
John - I know, but it's what I want to do.
Me - WOW! Okay then! Go for it! You can do it!

He's stuck by this now for two years. Today he is 13. He approached me a couple of weeks ago and requested that I sign him up for Krav Maga classes. I had never heard of it. It's Israeli Defense Military Training. Again I asked him how in the WORLD he even knew about that. He does a lot of reading and research and watches a lot of military and history shows. So, we found the best Krav Maga studio with the #1 expert in the country, which fortunately happens to be right here in Arizona and we've spoken with them and they are going to give him a complimentary training course in six weeks and if it's what he really wants, we're signing him up.

He's still adamant about wanting to attend Westpoint someday. And he's still adamant about joining the military and working his way up through the ranks. According to the Krav Maga expert, having four years of extensive training in Krav Maga will look amazing on his resume and open up many opportunities for him. Apparently it's used in military and law enforcement, which is right up his alley.

Honestly, it's scary to think about my son out there involved in battle. I'd much rather see him in a nice, safe classroom teaching history to college students. But, if this is what he wants, and he seems awfully determined (he takes after me), then I have to support him in it.

Favorite Sweet Moment:

When John was about 6 years old, I was a single mom and the two of us lived alone in a new condo I had just purchased. I told John he was the man of the house - not to put pressure on him, but to try and make him feel important. He took this role very seriously. One weekend I became very ill. I think it was the flu, but it was an extreme case. I couldn't get out of bed - AT ALL! I couldn't move. I couldn't take care of my son.

John came into my room and said, "Mom. You sleep and I'll take care of everything, okay?"

I said, "Honey, it's okay. Just play with your toys and watch some cartoons and I promise I'll feel better really soon and come out and take care of you, okay? You let me know if you need anything."

He said, "No, mom. You let ME know if YOU need anything." Then, with that, he shut my bedroom door and I fell into a deep sleep.

I awoke a couple of hours later to John entering my room. He had a big tray in his arms with some cold cereal and some other food items on it. I can't remember what they were, but he said,
"Mom. Don't worry. I cleaned the whole house and I made you some dinner."

It still brings tears to my eyes to think about that day. My sweet boy has always been very thoughtful and caring like that. He's always concerned about everyone else and how they feel and what they need. I'm thankful for such a sweet, loving son.

I can't believe he's 13 already. These 13 years have been full of laughter and tears, joy and fear. I look forward to the next 13 and I am excited to watch this young man continue to evolve. Happy Birthday, John!

Sense of Humor Required!

2009-07-25T08:44:00.002-07:00

I'm 35 weeks and 2 days along today. I have been dealing with extreme sciatic and ligament pain, as well as false, but very painful and debilitating contractions for about two months now. I swear with every baby the pregnancy becomes more and more difficult and the contractions and major end-of-pregnancy discomfort starts in earlier each time. (That's why this is my last).

Friday afternoon I was having a particularly difficult time. It was really painful to walk, the contractions were constant and I was desperate to find some sort of remedy because I just had a feeling this was not real labor. I struck a deal with my husband - I'll take the girls on a drive to the bank (40 minutes round trip) so you can unwind and play drums, and then I'll bring them back, you serve them dinner and bathe them while I go to my parents' house and relax in their pool to get some pressure off, and then you put the girls to bed, I'll pick up a nice dinner for us and we can eat in peace and relax and enjoy the evening. Deal? Deal.

Upon arrival at my parents' house, I dipped in the pool, floated around a bit, heaved big sighs of relief, started feeling REALLY good and decided "I need to exercise. I am just so huge and I haven't come here and exercised in a while." Feeling invincible, I proceeded to do some light water aerobics in the pool. I was feeling good. It felt good to be able to move around any way I wanted with no pain. I started working up to a rigorous pace and before I knew it, an hour had passed and I had performed a pretty good workout routine. Satisfied, I glided over to the pool steps, closed my eyes, and breathed in the peaceful night air. The darkness began to close in around me and there weren't any lights on outside (and I was completely alone), so I decided to get out and head home with that nice dinner I had promised my husband.

I stood up in the pool and began to make my ascent. The first step up was fine, the second one felt a bit heavy and my stomach started to cramp, I took the final step up out and fell to my knees in pain. Extreme pain! The cramping and contractions were heavy and I could barely breathe. "Oh no", I thought. "What have I done?" I proceeded to crawl along the pool deck, each movement agonizing, but there was nobody around and I had to get to a chair at least. I finally made it after several excruciating minutes and pulled myself up into a deck chair. Eventually I felt good enough to get up and try to walk. I stood up and the cramping and contractions were there, but had definitely eased enough to the point where I could at least hobble.

I let myself into my parents' house and placed an order from their phone to Applebee's for take out - a nice steak and potatoes for my husband, a light chicken and salad for myself. Finally, I arrived home about a half hour later, having suffered some pretty good, hard contractions on the drive there, but luckily this is my fourth and I know how to breathe through them so I didn't have a wreck.

I hobbled into the house, grunting and groaning and Bertrand helped me set up for dinner. Several minutes later, I had to stop. I couldn't eat anymore. The contractions were regular and seemed to be coming on harder. Bertrand asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital, but I knew from my past nightmare experience with Chloe's delivery that I didn't even want to go NEAR a hospital until I was 100% sure this was real labor and at 35 weeks I felt there was a chance this was just the horrid false labor pains that put me out of commission and I could probably stop them. I requested a big glass of water and put my feet up on the couch for an evening of TV to try to relax and get the contractions to stop.

Three hours passed. With each passing hour the contractions began to come on harder and more painful. Then the back labor started in. I was exhausted from the constant laboring and sick of lying in front of the TV. There were so many things I wanted to accomplish that night - three hours of reality TV was not one of them.

It was nearly midnight and my poor, exhausted husband, facing a day of work in the heat the following morning, just wanted his bed.

"Let's go to bed, Babe." He suggested.

"Oh, honey," I replied. "There's no way I can sleep like this. I'm in so much pain and I'll just keep you awake. Why don't you go to bed and I'll get some transcription work done."

"How are you going to work with contractions?" He asked with concern.

"Oh, I'll be fine. Really. I'll just breathe through them. Work will keep me occupied at least, but I know I can't sleep like this."

He shrugged his shoulders and reluctantly agreed and headed off to bed. I pushed myself up into a seated position on the couch and began to rise onto my feet. I had to stop midway because of a heavy contraction, but breathed through it and stood straight up. Then I took a step forward and nearly fell to the ground. The pain that shot down the front and back of my left leg was so excruciating, I could barely stand it. I cried out and Bertrand came running.

"Are you okay? What's going on?" He called as he ran back out to me.

"Honey, I can't walk." I moaned in pain.

He stood there looking me up and down. "Well, what are you gonna' do?"

"I don't know, but I seriously cannot walk." I started to sob in frustration. "I hate this! Why does this have to be so awful?"

"Well, it's the last one, Babe. You're almost done. Maybe the baby will come this weekend." He tried to reassure me, but the tears flowed harder.

He asked me where I wanted to go in the house and, worried that I might not be able to make it back there later on, I requested the bedroom. Bertrand began to turn around in circles and look about the house - trying to form an idea of how to get me there. There was no possible way he could carry me, so he mustered up his creativity to find another way.

His eye suddenly caught our overstuffed chair full of fresh, hot towels he had recently pulled from the dryer. He picked one up, eyed the tile floor and began to lay it out before me.

"What are you doing?" I furrowed my brow and thought, "Oh no. This isn't what I think it is, is it?"

"Hop on. I'll pull you." He offered.

I contorted my face and then burst out laughing. "Are you serious?" I giggled.

"Yeah."

"Oh my gosh! You're gonna' break your back, Babe. You can't pull my weight on that thing." Now the tears flowing from my eyes were from my hysterical laughter.

"What? You think I'm weak?" He teased.

"No, I think I'm fat."

He tossed the towel back onto the chair and began scratching his chin, looking around for another idea.

I had one. "Honey, how about I just hold onto your arm and use you for support?"

He instantly offered up his arm and I began to take a step. I cried out in agony again and froze. Heaving a defeated sigh I moaned, "Oh my gosh! This is really bad. I really cannot take one more step."

"I've got it!" He said with excitement. "John has a big walking stick in his room. I'll grab that."

"No, honey. I would have to walk. Remember? I can't walk. I need to find a way to get to the room without taking another step because my left leg just isn't going to work right now. I really wish we had a wheelchair or something."

Then it hit me. We have two office chairs on wheels. "Babe!" I called out excitedly. "That's it! One of our office chairs. You could push me down the hall on that!"

His eyes widened, "Perfect. Hold on." He grabbed my office chair and wheeled it to me. I sat down and he proceeded to push me down the hall, both of us laughing at how pathetic this whole situation was. I felt so stupid. I buried my face in my hands and moaned in embarrassment. "This is just ridiculous!"

Finally! 12:30 AM. After a glass of water and some pain pills, I situated myself in bed, trying to find a comfortable spot, breathed through a few more contractions and before I knew it, I was out...and so was Bertrand. I slept really well until 8:00 AM when my girls came bursting through the door demanding chocolate milk. I sat up and then stood up from the bed feeling no pain. "Wow!" I exclaimed. Then I proceeded to walk down the hall at a brisk pace, my girls in tow - NO pain. NO problems. AMAZING! It's so interesting to me that I go from a night of heavy contractions and unbearable nerve and ligament pain to being perfectly fine! (SIGH) Ah, the joys of pregnancy!

All I have to say is - thank GOODNESS we have a sense of humor around here!

Oh Yes, They Did!

2009-07-13T15:32:00.002-07:00

Mmmm hm. This is gonna' be my next career - betting all my money on this game - me against you. I win. You lose! Happy Birthday to me.

I'm Not Really Sure What To Make Of This!

2009-07-12T23:49:00.005-07:00

I just walked around the corner one morning and this was the bold fashion statement I beheld. I'm not really sure what she's trying to say with the naked, one-sock look, which, by the way, belongs to her 12-year-old brother...(the sock, not the look)

but when you're trying to outdo your former high-heeled boot, no pants look, you've got to get REALLY creative!
Or perhaps it was a tribute to Michael Jackson and his one-glove look, but she couldn't find a glove, so she went for the sock. Not really sure. Anyway, it's the gutsiest fashion statement I've seen so far and I wish her lots of luck.

So Helpful....sometimes.

2009-07-12T23:36:00.006-07:00

Sylvie is my little momma in the making. She just wants to do all of the things that I do and, believe me - I want her to do all of those things right now too. Wouldn't that be fabulous?

Yes.

Yes, it would.

HOWEVER...
There are times I just have to smile and say, "Oh, wow! Thank you, ladies!" even though there's water all over the floor and they're not REALLY cleaning these dishes. (SIGH) if only this illusion were a reality.

And now - the big brag! My 3-year-old did this herself. I had no hand in this. I'm not kidding. She folded ALL of this laundry AND separated it into the piles. I taught her how to do this several months ago because she's always begging to "help" me and it's not really help at all. In fact, it usually just creates more work for me or prolongs the housework, which I hate with a passion and just want to get over and done with, so I'm begging her to "PLEASE not help mommy" all the time (If she were smart she'd videotape this now and use it against me when she's a teen and I ask her to help).

ANYWAY, she had a complete breakdown one day several months ago. She was just devastated that I would not let her help me, so I heaved a big sigh and called her back into my room and held her in my arms and said, "Okay, baby girl. I'll teach you how to fold." Her eyes just lit up and boy did she learn fast. She now folds the laundry for herself and Chloe, as well as folding papa's handkerchiefs, towels and washcloths.

Oh, and just to top it off - she hugged me and kissed me and THANKED me for letting her fold the laundry! HA! I should videotape THAT and show it to her when she's a teen!

Make It Yourself!

2009-07-12T23:24:00.006-07:00

I've been trying to find fun summer activities that don't cost too much. The other day I found this bouncy ball kit at Fry's for $4.00. It has enough materials to make several small or a few large bouncy balls. You simply pour the colored crystals into the mold (either solid or mix it up a bit) and then hold the mold in cold water for a few minutes, let it dry, then pop your ball out and bounce away.

(This is Sylvie counting to 60. She counts to 10 six times and holds up a finger each time. As you can see, she's reached 10 so far...it's gonna' be a while...)

Now, they don't bounce as well as a regular bouncy ball, but they're pretty bouncy and just the fact that they made it themselves made it all the more fun. It kept my ladies occupied for a couple of hours and amazingly they didn't break anything in the house.

Well...that's actually because there's nothing left to break in the house. They've already broken everything. Anyway...

Chloe with her small ball.

Sylvie with her small ball.

Here's a shot of the larger one Chloe made.

Now THIS Is Creepy!

2009-07-07T08:50:00.002-07:00

This is another ghost story, so if you don't like it, click away from this site immediately.

Last night I went to bed at midnight. Everyone else was in bed at this point and I walked into the kitchen for my usual glass of ice water and dose of pain pills before bed. The kitchen was clean. There was nothing on the floor. I took my pills, shut off the light, and went to bed.

Amazingly, I slept like a baby last night, perhaps due to the fact that I haven't slept AT ALL the past two nights.

This morning I awoke at 7:00 AM- the first one up, as is usually the case. I entered the kitchen and grabbed a glass for my morning glass of ice water. I opened the fridge to look for something quick to grab for my breakfast as I began my morning typing ritual (trying to crank out as many reports as possible before my children awake only to interrupt me every 5 minutes).

I found some already sliced cantaloupe, dumped it into a bowl, grabbed my glass of ice and turned to exit the kitchen. That's when I noticed something small and dark in the middle of the kitchen floor. I squinted my eyes and leaned in for a closer look. It was a cockroach. A smashed cockroach, right in the middle of my kitchen floor. I furrowed my brow. "Who would leave a smashed cockroach right there in the middle of the kitchen floor?" I thought to myself.

I set my bowl of fruit and glass of ice down on the counter and grabbed a paper towel, then scooped the cockroach and his guts up and threw him in the trash. Then I scratched my head and thought, "Oh well, I'll ask Bertrand and John when they wake up. Must have been one of them and they decided just to leave it there this time."

I then went back to work.

7:45 Bertrand arose. I asked him if he had gotten up in the night. He responded with "No, why?" I asked again, "Are you sure? You didn't get up and go into the kitchen at all last night?" Again he responded with, "No! Why?" I then explained about the smashed cockroach. He shrugged his shoulders and walked on.

8:30 John arose. I asked HIM if he had risen in the night and gone to the kitchen for anything. "No," he responded. "Are you sure, John?" I pressed. "You're not in trouble or anything. I'm just wondering about something. I'm just curious."

"Mom!" he insisted. "I didn't get up. I'm telling the truth. What's going on?"

I told him about the cockroach smashed in the middle of the kitchen floor this morning. His eyes got a little big and he said, "Told you, mom. I knew there was something in this house."

We have no pets and there is NO WAY my 2 or 3-year-old would have gotten up in the night, smashed a cockroach to that degree and not screamed. My girls don't get up in the night and leave their bedroom at all. I'm sure of this.

So, that leaves only one explanation, really - unless you can think of another reason why this cockroach would be smashed in the middle of my floor.

I do know that this presence we've all felt does tend to hang out in the kitchen a lot at night because that's where we hear most of the noise coming from. And I have spent a few nights on the couch in this house - the couch right by the kitchen - and have heard shuffling footsteps and things moving around on the counter.

I guess I should be grateful if it is in fact the ghost man we all sense around here. At least he's helpful.

I'll Make You Sorry!

2009-07-02T17:08:00.002-07:00

This is truly a tale of horror!

Now don't go frantically grabbing at your mouse, trying to click out of here quick because you don't want to read another ghost story. This is definitely not a ghost story. It's a horror story of another dimension.

Let's just say, you definitely do NOT want to interrupt my shower. That is my ME time. My 5-10 minutes of peace...okay and singing practice time (I sound amazing in there, but I guess you'll never know as I won't be giving any concerts from that location).

ANYWAY, not a minute passed from the time I closed the bathroom door before I re-emerged, naked, pregnant body covered in soap with a pile of soapy hair on my head. Despite my pleas with my screaming ladies to PLEASE stop screaming and fighting because "mommy is trying to shower right now. I'll take care of your issue as soon as I get out. Give me two minutes PLEASE!", they insisted on screaming louder and I had Sylvie shouting my name incessantly at the bathroom door and pounding, accompanied by Chloe screaming.

"Oh that is IT!" I shouted. I smacked the faucet off, threw the shower door open, unlocked the bathroom door and whipped it open - revealing my pregnant belly in its naked glory. The look of terror on my girls' faces was PRICELESS!

Now, I'm not really sure how to define it. I couldn't tell if they were thinking:

1. Oh my gosh! We are in SO much trouble now!

OR

2. Oh my gosh! Is THAT what I'm gonna' look like when I'm a mommy because if so, I don't think I want to be a mommy anymore!

Either way, soaking the carpet in soapy water, I grabbed both girls by the arm and tromped across the hall to their room, set them on their beds and yelled, "Now you will sit there until I am done showering. THAT was RIDICULOUS! You can wait just a minute for mommy to shower! You stay on your beds until I get out!"

They've been laying low ever since. Good choice, my ladies. Good choice.

Watch What You Say!

2009-06-29T12:28:00.003-07:00

Oh boy! Here we go again. Kristin said something REALLY stupid in front of her little ladies and it came back to haunt her. Are you surprised? Probably not. So here's the story:

I decided to go to McDonald's today for lunch with my ladies. Now, Bertrand, I know you're reading this and I know what you're gonna' say at this point.

Yes, I remember the conversation we once had about how me taking the girls to McDonald's to eat was grounds for divorce because you will not sit back and watch me slowly kill our children by feeding them propane-dipped chicken nuggets, etc., etc.

HOWEVER, when you grilled us steaks the other night, you got lighter fluid all over them and you were expecting us to actually EAT them like that, so what's the difference?

ANYWAY, we can discuss this later. I have a story to tell and I'm sure you'll be pleased to discover this does NOT have a happy ending. Oh, wipe that smug look off your face!

SO, where were we? Ah yes - McDonald's. Drive-thru to be exact. I don't like to actually go into those places unless I feel the need to punish my children for being particularly unruly. Just because they don't see me throwing them into the greasy, germ-infested plastic tunnels (which, by the way, are becoming unhinged at one particular McDonald's) as punishment, doesn't mean it isn't.

A truck came around the corner from a different direction, cut me off and dashed ahead of me into the drive-thru line. I thought, "Okay, whatever" and continued to pull forward when just then ANOTHER small truck comes around that same corner and cuts me off even worse than the first truck. I'm thinking, "Okay, it's OBVIOUS I was next in line. Clearly this person is just plain rude!" So I slammed on my brakes very deliberately and dropped my jaw and said aloud, "WOW! That's INCREDIBLE!"

I heard two little voices behind me inquiring, "What mommy? What's indec-a-lubble?"

"Nothing," I replied.

"MOMMY!" the little voices persisted. "What's indec-a-lubble?"

I heaved a big sigh and decided to explain since the truck two spaces ahead who had initially cut me off was taking FOREVER to order. "Well," I started in. "There's a disgusting old lady with missing teeth in front of us who just cut us off and mommy is NOT happy."

"A ugly old lady, mommy? I wanna' see her!" My daughter said with excitement and started trying to wriggle in her carseat to get a better look. "I wanna see missing teef!"

I know! I know! NOT a nice thing to say and so out of character for me...well, in front of my impressionable children at least. Look, I know this is not an excuse, but:

1. I'm big and pregnant and miserable (And no, I will not stop complaining about that until this baby finally gets out of my belly).

2. It's stinkin' hot out!

3. It was a particularly horrid morning with my girls fighting constantly, I had accomplished next to nothing and I was dead tired.

Besides, she did look like this:

I'm not kidding! No, she was definitely a woman. I could tell. Barely, but I could still tell. But she seriously looked like this guy. It's the first thing I thought of when I saw her.

ANYWAY!

So, the girls kept straining to see this "ugly old lady with missing teef" and never could get a good look. I tried to change the subject and convince them to drop it, which eventually ended in success...or so I thought.

After lunch I decided to take the girls to the Fry's by our house. They LOVE going there because the carts have mini cars attached to the front, so they can pretend they're driving me around the store to where the good food is....or both try climbing out the front windshield space, hitting each other, screaming, sometimes falling out the front or sides, etc. It was fun the first few times, but now they've just taken it for granted and drive me NUTS! Anyway, we only needed a few things, so I decided to just tough it out.

So, we're standing in the checkout line finally and I'm spacing out, skimming the magazine headlines, trying to decide if I'm so desperate for an escape, that I'd be willing to drop $3-4 on a magazine about the Desperate Housewives of...I don't remember. Name a city where there AREN'T a bunch of desperate housewives.

Suddenly, I hear a little voice, repeating something over and over, bringing me out of my temporary lobotomy.

"Mommy, is dat da ugly old lady wif missing teef?"

It was my 2-year-old. Suddenly my 3-year-old started chiming in. They continued to ask over and over. I furrowed my brow in confusion and started glancing around, very slowly coming out of my retarded condition, trying to figure out what they were talking about. Suddenly, my eyes fell upon an old, puffy set of ankles riddled with varicose veins. I could feel my eyes widen in their sockets. My breathing became slightly labored, my heart pounding furiously. My eyes slowly moved their way up the body of this person in front of us until they reached the face. It was indeed a much older woman. One who could easily be classified as "old lady". The panic set in. She did NOT look amused.

"Uhhh....." I panted. Their interrogation continued. "That's enough, ladies!" I shouted. But it didn't stop.

"MOM! E! I saaaid...is that a ugly old lady?" My 3-year-old enunciated each word in defiance. I could have choked her.

"SYLVIE-FAYE! I said that's ENOUGH!" I snarled. "That is NOT an ugly old lady! Don't you EVER talk like that AGAIN!"

"Yes she IS a ugly old lady, mommy!" Sylvie insisted. If I could have shot laser beams out of my eyes at that moment and reduced my child to a mere puff of smoke, I just might have. I was shocked and humiliated and completely thrown off guard at my daughter's beligerence. This could only have come from one source. I couldn't bear the thought of it. I knew very well where this behavior came from - ME!

I wanted to die a thousand deaths. I've drawn this story out long enough, so let me just end by saying that I apologized profusely to this old lady, begged her forgiveness on my daughter's behalf and insisted I had no idea why she was saying these things (I'm a terrible liar, I know - even to strangers). The lady was not so forgiving and I can't say that I blame her. She paid for her groceries and stormed out of there completely miffed!

I wish I could say it ended there.

(SIGH)

I pushed forward, my face a deep purple at this point, fighting back tears of humiliation welling in my eyes. "Oh my gosh! I'm so embarrassed right now." I unloaded on the poor cashier.

"That's okay," she replied, then bent down to my daughter's level and said, "She WAS an ugly old lady, wasn't she? And mean too."

I clenched my jaw and grimaced. My daughter nodded her head and said, "Yeah. She's a mean, ugly, old lady!"

"Yeah," my 2-year-old chimed in. "She a mean, ugly....(hesitating, trying to remember the rest of the adjectives)..."

My 3-year-old decided to help, "Stupid, old lady!"

"Sylvie! No! No!" I scolded firmly.

My panting returned. I was completely emotionally exhausted at this point. I just wanted to get back to the safety of my own home. Obviously my children are not completely fit for social interraction. Time to return to the cave and start over.

The End

HA! I WISH!

We got outside the store and made our way through the parking lot. Moving down the aisle at a somewhat moderate speed, my eyes caught sight of the woman from the store. I felt that pins and needles sensation of instant fear set into my skin. At this point I'm already sweating and panting.

"Mommy, look! That's the stupid, ugly, old lady!" Sylvie just wasn't gonna' let it go.

"Yeah stupid lady!" Chloe added.

They both started giggling. I glanced over in horror at the old lady. I could see her attempting to shoot laser beams out of her eyes at this point, but luckily they short circuited and I made a successful dash to my car, narrowly avoiding an early death.

AAAAHHHHHH!!! Let me tell ya' - my girls got the lecture of a LIFETIME on the way home from the grocery store and they were sent immediately to bed for a nap!

I've Gone International

2009-06-28T22:57:00.003-07:00

Gotta love Youtube. I've been able to reach a lot more people, most from other countries. I would say more than 50% of my subscribers and fans are from the UK and now joining the ranks are Bahrain and Panama City.

Recently a young girl from Bahrain wrote me and asked permission to make a music video for my song "Don't Walk Away". In her e-mail she wrote, "I'm sure you get this request all the time" (I don't. She's the first) and "I know you have millions of fans" (That's my fantasy, but I can only claim a very small fraction of that number). Anyway, I was completely flattered, of course, that this young girl was such a big fan and wanted to help promote me, so I granted her permission to use my song to make a video and this is what she came up with.

I think it's really sweet and she wrote me again asking me to please comment and rate it. So, to show my appreciation, I'm promoting her video. Please go watch it and leave her a nice comment if you can. She's just a young girl and I think this is all really cute. She's just helping me live the fantasy that I'm some big rock star from the US.

This is a joke, right?

2009-06-28T22:25:00.003-07:00

Is it just me or is this latest advertisement on TV extremely disturbing?

It's for Latisse. It's a prescription you need from your doctor. It makes your eyelashes grow and thicken and darken. Sounds fabulous - especially for someone like me who has practically non-existent eyelashes and lately they seem to have shrunken. I'm not kidding. It's very sad. I have to pack on the mascara and buy the kind that supposedly extends your lashes, but that doesn't even seem to work anymore, so I see this commercial and I think, "Oooh. Sounds awesome. I wanna' try it..."

Until they list the SIDE EFFECTS! HELLO!

First of all, EVERYONE who uses the product should expect red, itchy, irritated eyes. Okay, maybe not TOO bad. Hopefully after the treatment, all of that will stop and it will have been worth it. However, it is recommended you use this product for something like 18 weeks.

And the side effects are:

1. Discoloration of eyelids, which MAY be reversible. "MAY" being the keyword here.

2. Discoloration of your IRIS! May cause them to turn brown - permanently! ARE YOU SERIOUS, PEOPLE?

I read the review on-line from people who have used this product. They say they wake up the morning after applying and they look and feel like they have conjunctivitis. One woman said her eyelashes were falling out!

What is this world coming to? What are we doing to ourselves? It's all about looks, apparently. Inner beauty? Pff. Who cares. Give me some Botox and collagen lip injections, a spray on tan and now LATISSE! No pain, no gain, right?

I heard a sad prediction a few years ago that eventually the USA would reach a point where such a large percentage of the population would be indulging in plastic surgery and aesthetic procedures that those who decided to age naturally would look plain and hideous. That's pretty sad.

I imagine if I used Latisse, my result would turn out something like this:

It's Baaaack!

2009-06-25T23:00:00.002-07:00

I know I'm totally posting this to the wrong blog, but I think most have forgotten about my other blogs since I haven't posted there in ages, so here goes:

There was a man here. He disappeared. And now he's back.

It was mid afternoon. A weekend. Bertrand was away. I expected him home in about an hour. The girls were asleep. I fell asleep. No one else was around....or so I thought. I eventually stirred out of my sleep and stretched. I rolled over and checked the clock. It was 5 minutes past the hour I expected my husband home. Then I heard something - the clicking of keys. Keyboard keys. To a computer. Bertrand's computer, to be exact - in the room right across the hall.

"Hmmm. He's home already," I thought. Then I drew in a deep, cleansing breath and closed my eyes, nestling into my pillow to catch a few more Zs. The intermittent clicking of the keys followed by clicking of the mouse, along with the occasional squeak of movement in the chair continued. Not to mention, there were a few sniffs in there, as if he was clearing his nose.

After a few moments I heard the carport door unlocking and opening. I opened my eyes and listened intently. "Where's he going?" I thought to myself. Then I heard the footsteps moving down the hall - moving in my direction. I laid very still and listened. Then Bertrand appeared in the doorway of our bedroom.

"Hey, hon. Have you been sleeping?"

I furrowed my brow and studied him - thinking. Bertrand continued into the room and began changing his clothes. "Hmmm?" He inquired after my unresponsiveness.

"Honey? Did you JUST come home? As in just now?" I asked.

"Yeah. Didn't you hear me come in?" He responded casually.

"Ummm....yeah." I glanced toward the doorway, thinking, worrying. Was he back?

"What's up, hon?" Bertrand asked. He could tell something was going on in my head and my responses weren't the norm.

I drew in a long breath and sighed. "I swear you've been at your computer, typing, clicking the mouse, moving around in the chair, and....sniffing for the last little while."

"Sniffing?" He asked, chuckling slightly.

"Well, you know - that noise you make when you're clearing your nose. Everyone does it. But, yeah - definitely a sniffing sound."

"Well, I just got in", he reminded me.

"Yeah. I know, but then....who's been on your computer?"

He shrugged nonchalantly and went about his business.

Creeeeepy.

So, here we are several days later. My sister came over with her toddler son and something was clearly bothering him. He kept staring at a certain part of the room and fussing and clinging to my sister. My sister turned to me and said, "That's so weird. It's like there's something over there that he sees and it's bothering him." Could it have been....'The Man'?

Time to move.

A Disturbing Discovery

2009-06-21T18:23:00.003-07:00

Today my daughter Sylvie, at the tender age of almost 4 had to learn a very scary truth. I don't know if she'll ever be the same after this. She may require therapy later on. Only time will tell...

Now, I've written before of the many spirits that seem to haunt this place we currently inhabit. We've all witnessed them. But now it seems there is yet another sort of creature that inhabits this place and my poor, sweet daughter was the first to catch sight of it. This one makes a snarling, grunting sort of noise. It's positively frightening when you hear it - especially the first time. It totally catches you off guard. It comes from behind a certain doorway down the hall. Here's how it was first discovered:

This afternoon I had to come home early from church. The pregnancy is wearing on me and I had an episode where I felt really dizzy and shaky and short of breath and had to just come home and lie down for a bit. My husband was left with the two girls and of course they wanted to stay with me, so he left us three in the master bed with a movie so we could relax and hopefully doze off.

Fifteen minutes later the girls were restless and I was exhausted. I could tell we all needed a nap, so I directed the girls to their own room and followed close behind to tuck them in for a nice afternoon nap. All was quiet and we all fell into a deep sleep.

The rest of this story is according to my husband who witnessed this horrific occurrence with my daughter. He told me later that when he returned home from church he was on his computer and suddenly he saw Sylvie in the hallway. She slowly crept out of her room and tiptoed cautiously onto the tile floor of the hall, particularly interested in the sound coming from behind the doorway across the hall. She didn't see her daddy behind her on the computer. She was so engrossed in discovering what the noise was behind the door. Bertrand, hearing the noise and seeing Sylvie creep closer to it, got up quickly from his chair and followed close behind.

Bertrand claims at this point Sylvie turned and saw her daddy behind her. Her eyes were wide as saucers and she whispered loudly, "Papa! There's a monster in your room!"

He explained to her that it was just mommy - SNORING!

"No, Papa. It's a monster!" She insisted very adamantly.

"No Sylvie", he replied. "It's just mommy snoring. Come with me. I'll show you."

He took her into our room and she peered around the corner, still cautious, and saw me lying in the bed, and heard the horrible, loud, snorting noise.

She then turned to him and said, "Wow, mommy makes a lot of noise."

When I awoke later, Bertrand relayed the story to me. I was so mortified and it sounded so funny, I laughed until I cried. I called out to Sylvie, "Hey, did you hear mommy snoring today?" Sylvie nodded her head with big eyes and said, "Yeah, mommy. You gotta' stop doing that."

THAT is what poor Bertrand has to sleep next to every night. Apparently the more pregnant I am, the louder and more obnoxiously I snore. It's so mortifying, but this story was too funny not to tell. So there you have it - there's a ferocious beast that lurks in the master bedroom and it's called MOMMY SLEEPING!

Record Contract Competition

2009-05-23T03:11:00.003-07:00

I've just recently entered the MySpace Rock The Space record contract competition. If you like my song, please help promote me by going to this link and placing this widget on any of your sites or emailing the link to it to people you know. I need all the help I can get!

And thanks to everyone who has supported and encouraged me thus far!

http://adsupport.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=rockthespace.fan&sproutid=EQAD08YeBZ83cDtQ

Don't forget to vote!

This Is Why I Can't Sleep At Night!

2009-05-03T23:26:00.002-07:00

Because I have stuff like this buzzing around in my head. I seriously was not trying to write another song for "New Moon". It just happened...in my sleep...literally. So, I got up, laid it down on my Korg and went back to bed. Over the next couple of days I played around with effects and sounds and tweaked it a bit. Finally, on the third day I saved it to disk and called Brian, my bass player, because he has a recording studio in his house and he's the only one who's recorded me so far.

So, I'm all excited to finally get this one down because the second I record it, I can actually relax again. It's weird, but it's like my music hounds at me until it's recorded and then I can move on with my life. I get down there to his studio, we get all set up, I go to load up my song, expecting to push play, let it record, then sing along to it, and be out of there within 30 minutes.

NOT SO! Because NOTHING is allowed to be easy in my life EVER! I go to load it up - no song. Disk has an error. NO STINKIN' SONG! I'm like, "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!?!?!" I think I scared Brian. He was afraid of what I might do next like destroy all of the equipment of burn the studio down. Something drastic. I AM pregnant and emotional. I took a few deep breaths and said, "Okay, you know what? This is NOT going to stop me. I'm doing this anyway because I want to sleep again at night".

Thanks to Brian's enormous amount of patience, I was able to lay it down. Funny thing is - it sounded way better doing it track by track. I think this recording actually came out way better than what I had recorded, so we've decided this came about due to perhaps a little heavenly intervention.

ANYWAY, so I'm now also submitting this for consideration to Summit. Tomorrow I'm sending out not one, but three packages with letters, lyrics sheets and CDs.

This song is called "My Plea". It's Bella talking to Jacob - basically letting him know the fabulous news - "Even though I've totally clung to you for months on end and it seemed like you had a chance with me, you didn't. I still want Edward". It's all very depressing and in case you're wondering - no, I don't do happy songs. There are no happy songs in me. It's all depressing. Welcome to my world. I thrive on the dark side of things. My husband is one amazing man to be with me. I'm not an easy personality behind closed doors.

Crazy Mind Games

2009-04-28T19:00:00.002-07:00

It's official. I have major insomnia - that crazy/beautiful state of mind I find myself in every morning at around 3:00 AM. So, here's how it goes:

My round ligament pain starts in, piercing and throbbing and I begin to toss and turn, trying to find a comfortable position, but alas I fail. I flip over and check the time. 3:10. And here's how the conversation in my mind goes. In fact, I think sometimes I'm so delirious, I actually mumble it because sometimes my husband mumbles, "Huh, what?" half asleep and I mumble back, "Sorry, babe. Nothing."

Anyway, so here's how my half-functioning brain torments me:

3:10 - 3:10? Oh, yeah. That's in a movie. 3:10 to Yuma. I heard that's good. Maybe I should see it. Bertrand really likes it. I remember he pointed it out at the store the other night.

3:11 - 311. That's a cool band. How does that song go again? Oh yeah. (Begin singing in head) I know a drugstore cowgirl. So afraid of getting bored. She's always looking for something. So many things ignored. I try to be not like that. Some people really suck. (humming because I don't know the words at this point)...chalk it up to bad luck. (Humming the lead guitar part).

And repeat a few more times. Then turn over and fade back into sleep.

3:45 - 3:45? What can I do with that? Nothing. 20 more minutes and it will be 3:65. There are 365 days in a year....wait a minute...but the clock won't say 3:65 because there are only 60 minutes. Huh. Okay. Anyway, well soon it will be 4:00 and there are some things I know that start with 4.

I toss and turn a bit more, trying desperately to fall asleep before this psychotic mind game continues. But alas, I fail again!

4:09 - 409? (Moaning). Oh! Oh! Wait. Formula 409. Cuts grease. Yeah, that's a good cleaner. I haven't used it in a while. I used to buy that all the time. I wonder why I stopped.

4:11 - 411. Anyone got the 411? (chuckling to self) I wonder who came up with that. That's so weird. Oh, hey maybe it's because you have to dial 411 to get information, so somebody thought it would be cool to say, "Hey, give me the 411" meaning give me information (Yeah, I actually explain things out to myself - remember, I'm completely delirious!)

Moaning and groaning, I toss and turn some more.

(Whining) I don't know any more things that start with 4 right now. I'm so tired. PLEASE go to sleep. Go to sleep brain. Go to sleep. Oh, please don't let this game go until 5:00. Please.

Eventually I give up around 4:30 every morning, get up, go to the family room and watch TV until I'm so dead tired I can't stand it (about one hour). Then I go collapse in bed again for another two hours. Then I drag all day. Nice, huh?

Sorry, but I HATE pregnancy! Hate it! I love having the baby. I actually like the labor and delivery part. I'm a freak of nature! But, the nine months of torment and not being able to sleep - NO THANK YOU! Somebody just shoot me!

This Is What Pregnancy Does To Me!

2009-04-27T15:19:00.002-07:00

So, I found this video and I can totally relate to "Edward" in it. I want to control myself when it comes to fast food, but pregnancy ruins everything. I don't know that I would have the self-control to do what "Edward" did in the end, though. He is truly the master!

My First Attempt

2009-04-22T23:36:00.003-07:00

So, I've been sitting around trying to promote myself for the last month, approximately. And I feel that with this Friday being the start of the new moon (check your calendars, people. I lieth not), this is the perfect time to submit my song and letter of intent for the upcoming movie "New Moon".

Okay, seriously, I didn't plan it that way. I just happened to look at my calendar and I was like, "Well, look at that. It's the start of the new moon. What a coincidence".

Anyway, here's a pic of what I put together. Very basic, I know, but it's all I've got and I'm hoping that my passion will show through in the letter.

And now...I will hold my breath.

The Twi - LIGHT- iest Fan of ALL!

2009-04-14T15:44:00.002-07:00

This is so stinkin' hilarious! I HAD to post it! This guy is awesome! Makes me wish I lived in So. Cal right next door to him so we could be best friends forever!

My New Campaign!

2009-04-11T21:54:00.001-07:00

I wrote this song for "New Moon". It's called, "Don't Walk Away" and I (actually my younger brother who knows way more than I do) put it on youtube and garageband.com and soundclicks and myspace and...well...just trying to get it out there and heard in order to reach my goal.

The CEO of BMI in Nashville has heard it and likes it and supposedly is going to try to use his connections to get it in, but I don't expect people to make things happen for me, so I'm also campagining on my own. Here's my song! If you like it, go to youtube, rate it, pass it on to everyone you know. If you don't, just roll your eyes and ignore me. I'll never know. LOL. But, I'm HOPING you like it!

Trying To Figure This Whole Thing Out!

2009-04-10T15:26:00.002-07:00

So, I've had a problem applying makeup properly. I've never really figured it out. I remember when I was about 13 we moved back to the United States from Scotland and over there you can't wear makeup at school. OR shave your legs. It's just not allowed. Not that you would really need to shave your legs anyway because you're required to wear thick, woolly gray or black tights with your thick, woolly skirt, so you could have forests growing there and NOBODY would EVER know.

And, I mean, it's good and bad because you don't have to worry about shaving your legs like EVER, but at the same time, if you don't ever have to, then how would you ever learn? You know what I mean? ANYWAY, I'm off on a tangent already.

FOCUS!

I came back from Scotland and all of my old friends were wearing makeup and shaving their legs and I was like, "Wow! That is so cool! I need makeup!" So my mom took me down to Walgreen's with my friend, Diana, and I was looking at the wall o' makeup and I was like, "What do I do?" So my friend was all, "Just get like your favorite color and that can be your eyeshadow. And look, they have like every color of mascara. It's totally cool!" And I was like, "Do they have blue?" and she was all, "Yeah" and I was all, "Awesome!" So, I bought blue eyeshadow, blue eyeliner, and blue mascara and I was really excited.

Anyway, apparently my great aunt in Illinois who happened to own a Merle Norman cosmetics store saw a photo of me and she realized that a major intervention needed to happen ASAP, so she came down here with her trailer of makeup and showed my sister and I how to apply it properly. She even left us samples so we'd have some decent colors to wear for a while.

But it ran out and also I could never quite apply it the way she did. I've always been a bit of a slow learner.

Okay, so anyway, I did this pageant thingy in high school because everybody else was doing it and it was like the cool thing and I kind of wanted to, but I also felt stupid. Anyway, I did it. And they had to teach us how to apply stage makeup. And I'm pretty sure somewhere in the tutorial they explained that this was stage makeup, but I missed that key word. So, when the pageant was finally over (and no - I did not win - ANYTHING), I started wearing this really gaudy, bright makeup and some guy at school was all, "Why do you wear your makeup like that, Poulsen? You look weird." I was devastated! That was it! I went to browns and really neutral stuff and just didn't wear much at all because I didn't even really know how to wear it anyway.

Years went by and I just kind of barely made it through, still never wearing my makeup properly.

My husband started to complain that my makeup didn't seem right and was even "boring". I didn't know what to do. Then my little sister, Larkie, came to the rescue. She would apply my makeup like every day and my husband would come home and be all, "Wow. I like your makeup. Did Larkie do it?" And I was all, "yeah".

But then, like all good things do, the daily ritual died....like a new grapevine that you just planted and were all excited about, but then your son sprayed weed killer on it and it died. Just shriveled up and hung there dead. (Yeah, I'm still bitter about that vine).

ANYWAY! Despite my efforts to imitate my sister's work, I have not been able to pull it off. My husband no longer comments on my makeup because...well...it sucks and he knows Larkie isn't doing it anymore because he can just tell. It's not hard.

Wow! You're still with me? Cool. Okay, this is the end part. I promise.

The conclusion to my "Lack Of Makeup Skills" saga came this afternoon. I was on youtube because I was trying to find more Rob Pattinson videos. WHAT?!?! You know you do the same thing.

Anyway, by some freak accident (actually, they say all things happen for a reason) I came upon this makeup tutorial and....all I can say is WOW! WOOWWWWW! Amazing! I love it! I can't wait to try it! I had to include the video because it's just...words cannot describe. So, here you go. Check it out! And watch for my new look. (She said it's even appropriate for church - I'm so excited).

It's How You're SUPPOSED To Be!

2009-04-08T19:29:00.002-07:00

Okay, here's some more movie fun for ya'. But this time no review.

Bertrand and I settled into bed for yet another night of movie-watching until midnight when we both have to rise between 6:00 and 7:00 the next morning. I know, I know - totally irresponsible. I didn't say we were smart. We just like movies, okay?

So, this time we watched a semi-foreign indie film (we love those). It's about an American girl and she has no luck with dating. Her friends are all engaged or married or in serious relationships and she can't seem to find anyone and she's totally beautiful and intelligent - just has bad luck.

She's finally HAD it with dating. She tells her friend she's done (that's when you always find someone - the second you're done, right?), but she has this coworker guy who keeps bugging her to come to his party, so she finally gives in and gets dressed up and goes to his party...and it's totally lame, so she tries to leave, but suddenly this French guy shows up and he's all charming and romantic and forward, but in a good way. So, he's trying to get her to stay and she can't resist. I mean, who CAN resist a Frenchman? Look at me! I certainly couldn't.

ANYWAY, this guy is very forward about wanting to kiss her and telling her how he feels and he's just so romantic it'll just melt you right through the screen.

I heard Bertrand chuckling softly to himself, so I sighed and turned to him with a raised eyebrow and said, "What?!"

B: That's so ridiculous.

K: Why is that ridiculous?

B: That's not how we really are in France.

K: Really?

B: Yeah.

K: I don't believe you. I think that's EXACTLY how Frenchman are...except for you. I got cheated!

B: Nope. You're wrong. That's just how Americans THINK we are.

K: Well, you know what? That's how you're SUPPOSED to be, SO TAKE NOTES!

And with that, I got up and stormed into the bathroom to brush my teeth.

Of course, this was all in fun - sort of. I really DID want him to take notes, though.

The next morning he put it into the envelope to send back to Netflix and I was like, "What are you doing?! Is that my movie?"

B: YOU'RE movie?

K: I love that movie. You better not be sending it back right now.

B: You're gonna' watch it AGAIN?

K: YEAH! Of course! I LOVE that movie. That French guy in it is amazing! I want to watch it again and again!

Funny thing...he kind of started acting like the guy in the film.

YAY! I win! I got my stereotypical, American-movie-version Frenchman after all!

You Can't Please 'Em All

2009-04-07T20:44:00.003-07:00

We changed our family night to Tuesday night (just for this week) and I decided that I needed to come up with something fun just to kick off our return to scripture study. See, I get all ambitious and decide we're going to get back into the routine of studying - I mean really studying - and then it all falls apart very shortly thereafter.

I have this great book that's a study guide for the Book of Mormon. This book takes you through from title page to the end and breaks it all down and has ideas for activities to keep it interesting, so I sit and plan out the lesson each day and we do it at night and it really only takes about 15-30 minutes, but there's fun involved.

So, tonight I decided to kick off our return with a little game called Scripture Categories (a knock off of Scattergories). I sat down at the computer and typed up each letter of the alphabet with a line coming out from it so we could write something in each space. A through Z. Then I sat down with John and Bertrand at the dinner table this evening (the girls were in bed this time -Hallelujah - little monsters) and I told them the rules (very similar to Scattergories rules). I gave us all 15 minutes to complete the task and no scriptures were allowed. By, the way, this included ALL scriptures, any word, name, etc. found in the scriptures for each letter of the alphabet.

I thought it was fun. Bertrand thought it was fun.

John thought it was lame and moped away from the table immediately afterwards. I don't know if it had anything to do with the scores (26 pts for me, 22 pts for Bertrand, 19 points for John). Teenagers! He's not even a teenager yet and he already gives me grief. Everything is lame. EVERYTHING! Oh well...I tried. At least Bertrand and I had fun. And now we're ready to dig back in and feast on the good word! At least, Bertrand and I are...

Best Movie EVER!!!

2009-03-26T22:09:00.003-07:00

Okay, so Bertrand ordered up this movie through Netflix and we decided to pop it in and watch it a little before bed and...well...it was so amazing, I had to run to my computer quick and give a little review on it because you have GOT to see this movie like right now!

It's called "The Day The Earth Stopped". No, not "The Day The Earth Stood Still", it's when it just plain stopped. First off, it's written by C. Thomas Howell, you know that 80's has been who we haven't heard from since "The Outsiders"?

Yeah. HIM.

So, right off the bat you know this film is gonna' be good, right? He stars in it too. Even better.

Anyway, moving on. So, the movie starts out with some Star Wars looking toys floating through the air on strings and I immediately straightened up in my seat and braced myself for some real action. I mean, the description on the sleeve wasn't kidding around. It promised to be packed with LOTS of action, so I was delighted to see that was starting in right away.

So, like this thing flies through space and crashes into the earth and you see lots of smoke from all kinds of angles. It was truly suspenseful. Next thing you know there's this naked hot chick walking through the forest and all I have to say is wherever she comes from, they've definitely got collagen because those were some plumped up lips. So I turn to my husband and I'm like, "Oh, well I think YOU'RE gonna' like this movie". But then, suddenly there's a naked dude walking through the forest and I couldn't help but smile and exclaim, "Okay, a little something for BOTH of us."

Next thing you know - BAM! There's like two robots made out of recycled materials (Go C. Thomas! Recycle all the way! Glad to see you're at least into the environment!) and then there's like cars screaming around a corner and people running into a building and suddenly the whole roof of this building is covered in computers and hot scientist-looking people. I think they were scientists. I know they were definitely all hot because hot chicks is what makes a movie good. C. Thomas would know. He's been in the biz since the 70's.

Oh, and then all of the sudden these scientists - man, they are like so smart - suddenly get this feeling that there might be aliens lurking in a forest somewhere. Just by seeing these recycled garbage robots they know that! I was like so amazed! I turned to my husband and inquired, "Wow! Scientists are really that smart? I mean, they're like psychic too! I did not know that! This movie just taught me something new. I gotta' keep watching!" I mean, it was gripping, truly gripping.

So then they see naked people in the forest and they just know these have got to be aliens. They also knew to look for two of them because just by looking at the smoke rising from the ground, they could tell there had to be exactly two life forms and that they had to be alien. Just off the smoke they knew that! Incredible! Okay, okay, I know - you're dying to know. YES! They do capture the naked people/aliens. They shoot little Nerf darts at them, but these life forms are total wimps because they fell to the ground instantly.

They take them into some prison-looking building and the male alien is lying on this table just staring at the ceiling - NOT BLINKING EVER! Creeped me out! I turned to Bertrand and said, "This thing isn't even blinking. I don't know if I'm gonna' be able to get to sleep tonight. This is too creepy for me." So a doctor person goes in the room, looks at him for a few seconds and then emerges and here's where the dialog gets really good:

MAN: So? What do you think?

DOCTOR: It's hard to say.

MAN: Do you think it's human?

DOCTOR: Well, it looks human. It's got two arms and two legs.

And this film really got me thinking. The only characteristics we humans have that separate us from any other living thing out there is two arms and two legs? Well...there's a lot more creatures out there that are human then. I mean, monkeys have two arms and two legs. Somebody screwed up BIG TIME! And I'm not talking about C. Thomas Howell! I'm talking about the supposed REAL scientists who classified life forms! Idiots! All of them!

Anyway, so it flashes to a scene on the rooftop of a building again where hot scientist people are still typing on computers and I have no idea what they're typing, but I'm sure it's very scientific. And these robot thingies are just standing there. Then suddenly! Out of nowhere! A helicopter flies in and shoots at the recycled garbage heap and it swings its arm and hits the helicopter! It was crazy! I was on the edge of my seat at this point. I was like, "Wow! This is getting crazy!"

Then the dialog went like this:

MAN: Well, know we know they're hostile.

And I got a little disappointed in the film at this point.

See, that man wasn't very smart. The helicopter attacked first. That garbage heap was just standing there minding its own business and I mean we were 20 minutes into the movie at this point and it didn't do any harm. It was provoked. So, I disagree with C. Thomas Howell's idea that this garbage heap was hostile. I mean, that's just wrong.

Anyway, that's as far as I got. But, I just had to share. And now I've gotta' get back there and see some more. I won't give any more away. Just...go rent it! You'll love it!

American Idol's Got Lil Rounds...

2009-03-14T16:29:00.005-07:00

But we've got Lil Mama!

Whenever Chloe is sad or hurt, Sylvie-Faye is first on the scene.

And when Chloe gets cold during a Disney movie, Sylvie's there to keep her warm. She's such a nurturer, so we call her Lil Mama now.

An Ad From One Of Our Sponsors

2009-03-14T16:05:00.009-07:00

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Jedi Master In The Hiz-ouse!

2009-02-11T07:27:00.003-07:00

Lately Sylvie-Faye has been approaching me and saying things like:

S-F: Hey, mommy. You wanna' read me a story right now. You do.

ME: (Gasping) I do?

S-F: (Excitedly) Yeah! You really, really do!

ME: Oh my gosh! How did you know?

She just shrugs in response. It cracks me up. And, of course, I have to read her the story because that IS exactly what I wanted to do...right in the middle of typing a medical report.

Another time I was cooking dinner and she approached me with a little mischievous grin on her face and her hands behind her back.

ME: Hey Sylvie.

S-F: Hi mommy.

ME: What do you have behind your back?

S-F: (Shrugging) Oh. Nuffing.

ME: Nothing?

She slowly brought her hands forward and shot her left hand straight up at me. In her little fist I saw the pink nail polish from my bathroom.

ME: Uh oh. Did you take my nail polish from my bathroom?

S-F: (Shrugging) Well...did you want to paint my nails now?

ME: Well, honey, I'm cooking dinner right now.

S-F: Well...you wanted to paint my nails.

ME: I did?

S-F: Uh huh. So...uhhh...just stop cooking the dinner now because you wanna' paint my nails now.

I threw my head back and laughed at that one. She is hilarious! I think she's been watching too many Star Wars movies with her big brother John and she's attempting to use the Jedi Master force on me like she's Obi-Wan Kenobi or something. I'm embarrassed to say it's worked thus far. Her powers of mind control are too great for me.

How I Motivate My Husband

2009-02-04T07:39:00.002-07:00

HIM: Man, today's gonna' be awful! I have so much work and I'm gonna' be all the way out in Carefree today.

ME: I'm sorry, babe.

HIM: I wish I didn't have to go to work today.

Walking over to the carport door as he's talking, I peer out through the peep hole.

ME: (GASP!) Oh my gosh! Your truck is gone!

HIM: (Look of horror) WHAT?! What do you mean it's gone?!

He runs over to the carport door and throws it open.

HIM: (Looking at me confused) My truck is there! It's not gone!

ME: (Cheerily) Ah! Well, good. Looks like it's gonna' be a good day after all!

FINALLY!!

2009-01-21T23:07:00.001-07:00

The conclusion to my dating stories saga. The missing piece to the half a picture it all started out with. Is anyone out there still interested? No? Maybe not? Maybe?

If you are, check out my dating diaries link on the right. I will be posting it in chapters. It's a long one. I'm back. This time to finish it. I swear. Sorry I left you hanging if you were keeping up with it.

Yet Another Scary Encounter

2009-01-09T16:43:00.006-07:00

My girls are growing up fast. Sylvie has been sleeping in a toddler bed for two years now and she's officially potty trained. YAY! Chloe is now in a toddler bed and very ready to be potty trained...(whenever you get a minute, Bertrand - that's right, I've deferred it to you and I'm not ashamed in the least).

However, there is one final scary, diaper-less crib moment I must share. Now, don't worry. This does not involve pictures of poop. In fact, it doesn't involve poop at all. It's a little scarier than that. (No, not diarrhea. Just...I'm getting there - hold on a second!)

So, a couple of weeks ago I put the girls down for a nap after lunch. All was quiet and I decided to get some work done. About 15 minutes I heard Sylvie shouting. I removed my headphones and called back, "What, Sylvie? What's the matter?"

"Chloe's naked! In her bed!" Sylvie shouted back.

I heaved a huge sigh and walked briskly down the hall. I threw the bedroom door open and saw...

THIS!

I clasped my hands over my mouth and gasped. "SYLVIE-FAYE!" I shouted.

"What, mommy?" She asked very casually as she continued to unstuff the bear.

"WHAT are you DOING?" I shouted and moved in closer, surveying the damage.

"Uhhhhhh.....nuffing!" She responded, still very casual. "Uh, Chloe's naked, mommy. In her bed" she reminded me, very matter-of-factly.

Then I noticed it -
- the freshly removed diaper lying on the floor behind Sylvie. I gasped again and glared up at Chloe.

There she sat, in all her naked glory - like she was on her throne. She simply responded to my glare with a look of "Can I help you?" Luckily there were no droppings or wet spots. She simply didn't want her diaper on and somehow a chair ended up in her bed (most likely compliments of Sylvie-Faye) and she decided to sit on it in her crib...completely nude...in silence...as her older sister mercilessly unstuffed her beautiful, soft, fluffy bear.

I just never know what I'm going to find when I go in their room during naptime. It's too horrific, so I just don't - unless I get a shout out.

It's Not A Tumor

2009-01-08T08:22:00.002-07:00

I'm feeling a little embarrassed right about now. Let me explain:

I have been feeling crummy for approximately 2 1/2 weeks now. It started out with extreme nausea and weird aches and pains. I decided I had the flu. I laid on my couch a couple of days moaning and groaning and not eating a thing because the thought or smell of food made me sick.

A week later, I was still nauseated. Now I was getting constipated. I had lost eight pounds, but my stomach was bloating out funny. My pelvic area got weird stabbing cramps in it occasionally and then it would just throb in certain areas. I decided this was not the flu and something was seriously wrong with me. I decided to wait a few more days and see what happened.

A few days later my chest felt heavy. It was hard to breathe. I had ZERO energy and I just wanted to sleep all day and all night. I decided I was run down from the holidays and it was taking its toll on my body. I also attributed this to high stress. I decided to get more sleep, eat better, and try to relax.

By two weeks of pain and suffering, I decided I could potentially be dying. It seems like everyone around me is getting cancer and it runs strong on both sides of my family. I got on the Internet and looked up pancreatic cancer. I don't know why. I guess starting with the deadliest, worst form of cancer seemed like a good place. That way I could work my way down and by the time I found MY form of cancer, it wouldn't seem so bad.

The pancreatic cancer website listed the symptoms of it and I had none.

Then off to the left of the screen a little side bar said, "Try Searching Ovarian Cancer".

I looked up ovarian cancer and read down its list of 8-10 symptoms. I had them all. My heart stopped a second. I swallowed hard and read on. It's the second deadliest cancer. There is no cure. It's hard to detect. Suddenly I felt weaker. My mind began to work over time. What would Bertrand do alone with all of the kids? How would they live without me? I wouldn't get to see my babies grow up. I wouldn't get to become a rock star or a writer. This was it. Whatever I'd accomplished up to this point - done. I was through. I started trying to come to terms with the idea that I could be dying. How long would I live - I wondered.

I began to tell a few close friends about my symptoms and my discovery and my fears. Every single one of them said, "Oh, it sounds like you're just pregnant. That's all."

"No", I explained. "That's impossible" and then I proceeded to explain why, which I will spare you the explanation because it's very personal and a bit embarrassing. But in my mind there was just absolutely NO WAY I could be pregnant. It wasn't scientifically or humanly possible. In my mind it defied nature.

Tuesday night I awoke abruptly from a deep sleep. The first thought that hit my mind was "I'm pregnant". But I still didn't want to believe it.

Long story short, I gave in and took a pregnancy test Wednesday morning at around 11:00 AM. It was a very strong positive.

So, I wasn't entirely incorrect - there is a mass growing inside my belly and sucking the life out of me. But it's not a tumor. It's a baby. YAY!

This pregnancy was completely unexpected and definitely a miracle. My only explanation is that God wanted this child to come to earth soon and he found a way to make it happen even though I am still completely dumbfounded as to how I could have gotten pregnant. Unlike my last pregnancy, I welcome this one. I'm excited and now that the nausea has passed, I feel fantastic! Just like I did when I was pregnant with my first child - a son. I have a very strong impression this is a boy. Either way, I'm ecstatic. This is definitely my last child. I wanted to wait one or two more years before I considered having my last baby, but I'm thinking this is probably a better scenario. I'm 33 1/2 already. I'm not getting any younger. Best get this done now before I get into the risky maternal age category. I always felt there was one more, so....here he/she comes.

Oh! Believe it!

2009-01-07T12:34:00.001-07:00

Hey Honey, This One's For You!

2009-01-06T22:32:00.003-07:00

There are just two things I want to say to you right now:

1. No, you may not go to work today.

2. You don't need to potty train Chloe. Sylvie's taking care of it.

Love,
Your Wife

Another Side Blog

2009-01-03T20:34:00.001-07:00

I've started yet another side blog. It's about losing weight. It should be entertaining...or just pathetic. But hopefully successful and entertaining. If you wanna' follow along and cheer me on, check out mesochunky.blogspot.com. Or click on it from my side listing.

I Shouldn't Have To Say It!

2008-12-14T22:20:00.002-07:00

But, alas, at dinner time, it became necessary to say:

"Sylvie-Faye! Quit eating your toes at the dinner table!"

Why? There was a perfectly good meal in front of her. (SIGH)

It's Official!

2008-12-03T09:25:00.003-07:00

Our roles have switched around here.

Dads are supposed to potty train their daughters, right?

Hello?

Well...it happened. I have NOT been able to potty train Sylvie-Faye. I have tried on numerous occasions and failed miserably. I had reached my wit's end and decided she would have to figure it out on her own someday. Perhaps she'd realize she was the only kid wearing diapers in the 5th grade and finally be ready to DO something about it!

But Bertrand would not have that. He just decided last Saturday that enough was enough. He removed her diaper, put her in underwear, walked her to the bathroom, pointed to the toilet and said (in his booming, intimidating voice) "This is where you go pee? Do you understand me?"

Sylvie stuck her finger in her mouth and looked up at him, sheepishly nodding.

"Say OK, Sylvie-Faye!" he shouted.

"Okay papa", she muttered quietly.

"I can't hear you!" He shouted again.

"OK PAPA!" Sylvie shouted back.

And that was that. She felt the urge to pee later on and said, "Papa, can I go pee pee?" to which he responded, "Yes. Get in there right now. You go on the toilet, not the floor!" So she ran and went pee pee.

Don't worry. It wasn't THAT easy. She had about two accidents a day the first two days, which Bertrand responded to with shouting and spanking. But that was it. By day three she was having zero accidents and even going to bed with underwear and not having any accidents at night.

Bertrand has always told me that she's very smart and she knows how to go. She was just being defiant with me, but papa put the fear in her and she's doing it on her own now.

YAY! A couple of days ago Bertrand crouched down to Sylvie's level, kissed her on the cheek and said, "Now I'm going to teach you to clean and blow your nose properly".

And then I REALLY felt stupid. He's gonna' teach her EVERYTHING! What am I gonna' do?

I guess she just responds better to her papa. And she's very close with him. So I guess I'll try not to feel too bad that he's taken over the mommy duties.

Okay. This Is Gonna Be A Tough One!

2008-11-25T18:12:00.002-07:00

Michele has tagged me and this is a really tough one, but I'm gonna' challenge my brain and do it!

CRAZY 8's

8 TV SHOW I LOVE TO WATCH:

American Idol
So You Think You Can Dance
The Soup
The Tudors
Entertainment Tonight
The Daily 10
Dr. Phil (If I'm totally desperate and there's nothing else on! This is rare)
Deal Or No Deal

8 OF MY FAVORITE RESTAURANTS:

Cheesecake Factory
Cafe Rio
Joe's BBQ
Gecko Grill
Abuelo's
Joe's Crab Shack
Panda Express
Macaroni Grill

8 THING THAT HAPPENED TO ME YESTERDAY:

Worked.
Went power walking.
Did some kick boxing.
Cleaned up messes all day.
Cooked pork burritos (Cafe Rio style)
Read blogs.
Took a shower (My one shower for the week. I know - TMI. But it's my blog. I can say what I want.)
Had a HUGE fight with my hubby on the back porch for all the neighbors to hear. YAY!

8 THINGS I'M LOOKING FORWARD TO:

Thanksgiving
Getting my book finished
Twilight coming out on video
New Moon coming out in theaters
Losing 50 pounds
Getting sealed to my husband and children
Recording two new songs
The Tudors new season starting January 2009

8 THINGS ON MY WISH LIST:

To become a famous writer.
To become a rock star.
To raise good kids.
Get out of debt.
Own a home.
Get my awesome body back.
Start my charity.
A MAID (I agree with Michele)

8 PEOPLE I'M TAGGING:

I'm tagging whoever wants to do this on their blog. If you're up for the challenge (especially the TV show part. That was hard), GO FOR IT!