Ok, so I know I am really lame at updating my blog. There are a million reasons why, but I'll fill you in on the biggest one. For a long time I thought I could only blog about the fantastic, wonderful amazing things that me and my perfectly normal, we don't need any sympathy for our life kids accomplish.
Well, that was before a little road trip that my friend and I took this summer. Somewhere in the conversation we ended up talking about control and composure... probably because I usually lack it on most days and fake it on the rest. We ended up talking about how sometimes it's annoying to get a Christmas card or an e-mail update from a friend and is all you hear about are the amazing and wonderful things their family does, the miraculous feats that she has accomplished, the 14 kids they home school who are all gifted musicians... and nothing of normalcy. The conclusion that we came to is that it's frustrating because when someone else goes to such lengths to appear so in control and so organized and so put together, it can be alienating for the rest of us who have to have a little insanity in our daily diet.
The more I thought about this the more I realized, oooohhh... That's me. I don't know if I have alienated anyone by my once yearly update, but I sure hope not. Life here in quaint little Moscow Idaho sure didn't come with Rose colored glasses.
Don't get me wrong, I am not about to dish on all the drama that sometimes swims upstream and dies on the bank of our creek. Who needs that? And I certainly am not about to start publicly bad mouthing anyone. That's what I have a facebook page for.
I will however, tell it a little more like it is. We all need a healthy dose of that, no one more than myself.

So, I have a child sleeping in my car tonight. It's not for fun if that was your first thought. I used to sleep on the trampoline when I was a kid. That was fun. Sleeping in Mom's Mazda in the garage is not fun, as Zack is discovering tonight.

It started with my couch in the basement, an exacto knife and a 13" gash. I don't love the couch in my basement, but I was completely flabbergasted as to why a child would do that. Boredom? Creative tendencies? Anger?

He wasn't home when I found it and it's probably a good thing. I have been reading "Parenting with Love and Logic" lately and my former Momzilla voice wanted to ground him for an eternity, take away every privelege he owned and scream until I felt better.. possibly even punch a pillow, or maybe cut it with an exacto knife...

So when I say it was a good thing he wasn't home, I do so because it allowed my Moderate mom voice to take over. "What can he learn from his mistake?" She calmly said while wearing her starched apron, a line skirt, perfectly coiffed hair, pearls and heals.
"He can learn that he gets his butt whooped when he does that!" Momzilla yelled from her berk o- lounger and sweats.
"Or he can learn to sew, and by an alternative, uncomfortable sleeping arrangement tonight, he can learn to appreciate his home", Moderate Mom explained.

I got in the car, still fuming mad, and went to pick him up. Time heals all things and long drives do too. By the time I got to his friend's house to pick him up, I was actually excited to see him and happy that we were going to have an adventure in parenting together.
Zack wasn't as excited about it as I was; but I honestly think he was confused. He expected the yelling, grounding until you're 30 and loss of all privileges- which usually means things are slightly uncomfortable until Momzilla forgets that we're grounded.

When we got home, I sat him down and calmly said, you will be sewing that couch back up and then there is something else you're going to have to do to make it right. I've thought about it and I would be a bad parent if I didn't help you learn that you can't destroy your house. You're going to be sleeping in the car tonight to help you appreciate what a blessing our home and possessions are and that if we abuse them or neglect them, we end up without them.

He got upset but didn't scream. I asked him what he would do if he were a dad and his son kept ruining things. He said," probably the same thing, but it's going to be cold". And I said "then by morning you should have a better appreciation for how you need to behave in the house."

I showed him how to sew the couch up, asked him if he thought he had done a good job, thanked him when he felt like he was done and showed him to his bed in the car that I had made with a sleeping bag.

That's the part where the uncomfortable feeling set in. It's not terribly cold out tonight, but seeing his huge sad brown eyes killed me. I was SO close to saying,"Alright, if you promise not to do that again, I will let you come inside." That's the guilty side of Momzilla, the one who always gives in and doesn't get what consistency really is.

Moderate Mom took over at that point and said, "How is Zack ever going to learn from his mistakes if you let your guilt for past parenting mistakes get in the way and stop him from learning?"
Love and Logic said that if I am feeling uncomfortable, then it's probably the right thing. This is as uncomfortable as it gets. My garage is locked, he is safe. It's as warm in there as it is in my basement where my 13 year old sleeps.

It still doesn't make sense to me that if I am uncomfortable, then it's the right thing for my children, but I am going to go with it. If I were forced to spend a night outside of my house, I would probably more fully appreciate it in the morning as well.

Two weeks ago our cat Max, disappeared. It was completely out of the blue for him because he wouldn't ever go too far away from his food dish. Let's just say he's the poster child for diet cat food.

Well, Sunday night he didn't come back in. I thought maybe he was out entertaining the cat next door and that he would be home. Eight days later he was still gone when I got a phone call from a friend from church. He had taken my kids the Sunday prior and when he dropped them off at my house, Max jumped in his van. Well, the van isn't driven very much at his house and so Max was locked in his Van for 8 days without food and water.

Max wasn't a mean cat before this experience, but he was an anti- social, bourgeois, ass. He wanted to be petted when it was convenient for him, not for anyone else. My kids jumped when he meowed and it kind of annoyed me that he knew they would. I don't like controlling men. Not even if they're cats.

Well, the post eight days in a van Max is so much more humble. He is sweet, he likes to cuddle with the kids, and he is even a little more polite to me.

Maybe, sometimes, we all need to take a time out from life and our families to make us realize how much we need them and love them. It worked for Max, maybe one night in the car will not hurt Zack at all. Maybe it will help him see that I love him infinitely more than I am capable of expressing as a completely fallible mother and human being. Maybe it will help him see that I want nothing but happiness for him and that it starts with being kind to your family and ends with not shredding things with an exact-o knife when you're pissed.

I don't know. Right now, I just want to make some hot chocolate, pull down my sleeping bag and go sleep in the car with him. Maybe Momzilla needs some van- style redemption too.

A few weeks ago I went on a pretty long bike ride with a good friend of mine. We had a few mishaps (not meeting up with the group we were supposed to meet, flat tire... and so on) but it was still a great ride.

While we were there, I did something that I have always done and didn't even think about it as offensive or rude. She totally called me out on it and I am so grateful for friends who are brave enough to do that to me. Sometimes I need to gently be put back in my place.

This friend of mine is wicked smart, sharp as a whip and has a sense of humor that can just kill you. Somewhat like me, she has three children, a not so cool divorce, and not at all like me, a way awesome new husband. I adore her and would love to be a little more like her.

Well, in my infinite wisdom, instead of articulating the above paragraph as what I was thinking about her, I made some stupid comment about her being so awesome and skinny. Not so bad right? Well, I also did it in conjunction with putting myself down. She smiled a curt little smile and I took the hint "not impressed"

I thought about it a little during the day and it never even occurred to me that what I has said was insensitive or rude. Skinny women like being told they're thin, right? Certainly they want to hear it all the time, right? How could it possibly be offensive?

Well, as she pointed out later that night on our long drive home, that the offense comes in when people use another person's body type as an excuse to demean themselves. As she put it, "Don't put yourself down at my expense. " She also reminded me that I will never know every one's health issues or concerns and that it is very unfair to project my own insecurities on to them. Why should I make someone else feel guilty for the way I feel about myself?

Ooh. Well said.

This conversation I had with her brought to mind a post that a girl I go to school with made on my space about being a size 2. Her sentiments were the same as my friends. It's ridiculously rude to comment on how thin someone is, and yet it is done all the time. That it shoves them into a category where people are always worried that they're too thin, or anorexic, or bulimic. She also said that she feels that the majority of the people making these comments are not very confident about their own bodies.

Again, well said and so true.

I have never been what I would call "Thin". I am curvy, I probably always will be. I have a butt that does not stop, flabby arms and a tummy that certainly needs a tuck. Let's not talk about my boobs, they're shy and they might sink even lower.

My conversation with my friend made me realize however, that I have spent a lot of my life thinking of myself in terms of what everyone else looks like, and what I wished I looked like. Even when I was younger and probably was too thin, I didn't see it because I was so focused on what I wanted to see. A flatter tummy, a smaller waist... the list goes on. I have my reasons, but I'll let my therapist sort through them all.

The more I have thought about this though, the more I realized that my relationships with my female friends and family members could probably be a little stronger if I could just start seeing them for who they are, not what size they are. I know it probably hurt my relationship with my former sisters in law, they were gorgeous Latina women and I was a short, chubby white chick. I unfairly reminded them often of how insignificant their beauty and graceful bodies made me feel.

Since I have been divorced, and started the infamous Internet dating site madness... I have noticed something. It's all based on looks (and the Einstein award for sheer brilliance goes to me). Granted, I have lost a lot of weight since my marriage and good thing 90% of my pictures are from the shoulders up, but I honestly get sick of getting e-mails from men who comment nothing about my personality, my goals that I have listed, or my kids that I talk about and can utter few more words than " HEY SEXY!" "WHOA! YOU'RE SMOKIN'" and my all time favorite "WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULD LEAVE YOU?"

Well, Pretty doesn't always get the guy as my friend Kate would say. I honestly get so sick of hearing insincere flattery that it begins to annoy me more than anything and makes me wonder why I am paying $35 bucks a month to get pissed off and only occasionally meet someone interesting. Their views of me capture the most minute part of who I am and I feel like I am being shoved in a box that would never accommodate my hips. (I'm not agreeing with these men for the record, it's just what I hear over and over). It also implies that being attractive would solve all of life's problems for me and that if I ever did get sad, or lonely or make a mistake that there must be something fundamentally wrong with me because someone so pretty would never have emotions like that, right?

I never thought that being told so often that "You're so thin" Would ever wear old on someone and have the same effect. It is just Insincere flattery that pigeonholes someone into an identity where they may not be comfortable, and also implies that all their problems should be solved by being so thin.

We all have our demons. Mine just happen to call to me from the center of a Twinkie.

All in all, I am happier with my life than I have ever been before. I am running or biking almost daily and I am smiling a little easier at myself. It is still not enough though. I realize that if I don't learn to rethink my self into a better sized frame of mind, I will be passing those demons on to my daughter. I wanted to cry the other day when I heard her ask her big brother Aaron if milk had carbs in it.

It had not bothered to cross my mind, until a brave woman had the courage to tell me, that thin women just want to hear that they are beautifully normal too. So my gorgeous friend, you will never be a stick in my eyes again and I hope that more often when my insecurities start to rise, I will keep my fat mouth shut and just stick to what I know is true. You are a smart and witty friend for whom I'm thankful.

With just about a year to go until I graduate, it's probably time for me to start thinking about the next step. Honestly, I didn't think I would ever see the day when the next step would even be visible. It has been such a long hard process, and here's a little secret: I never started school with the intentions of finishing. I did, but it was all dreams and nothing concrete. To be completely honest, I started school to have something to do until I got married again. Well, that hasn't happened and regardless of my motives, I am so glad that I did. Big dreams turned into something that slowly made sense and made me see life in a better way. I know more about myself now than I did before. I have an idea of who I am, what I am not and who I hope to be some day. For so many years I allowed myself to be defined by who I was in love with, who I wanted to be like or who I thought everyone else wanted me to be. For me, college has been more about self discovery than it has been about learning architecture and design.
So, here I am. With a big plan, and a scary two years a head of me. I can't honestly say that I know where we will be living in two years. I can plan and I can dream, but I know better now. My best laid plans have been the worst ones and the hardest to let go of. The times when I have been the most blessed have been the times when I have been able to step outside of my comfort zone and do something that made little sense at all. Moving 10 hours away from my friends and family to come to Moscow made NO sense to anyone. Not even me. It was something that I just felt I had to do, and we are so much better off for it.
I will fly with whatever comes next, be proud of where we have come from and how far we've gone. I didn't do this much alone, and I won't do the next part alone either. Words will never come close to expressing the gratitude in my heart for those who have stood beside me, cheered me on, refused to baby me and pushed me harder.
As I begin to "plan" and prepare the next part of the life of my family, throw a prayer out there for me and my kids if you get the chance. I am notoriously stubborn, sometimes selfish and blind sighted. This time however, I cannot afford to be.
I have asked so much from my children. They have given up so much so that I could do this. I owe them so much and I have no idea if it's going to pay off or not. I am guessing that this is where faith comes in and I hope and pray that wherever we go from here is exactly where we were meant to be.

This last year Christmas was spent in Idaho Falls with my family again. This was the first time I had seen my parents for two years and it was nice to have them home.