I was doing my taxes when I went for an email to show me some interest income I noticed all of these emails coming in thanking me for my order from Office Max.  Not one, not two, but seven. Seven emails thanking for my order.  What did I order you ask?  Well, it was not some mamby pamby ream of paper and some highlighters to go with.  Oh no, it was a Fujitsu ScanSnap iX500 Color Sheetfed Scanner.  On sale from $495 to $419.00.  Plus, I had paid for overnight shipping.  A total of 466.60.  Times SEVEN.  Let me do that math for you.  That's nearly $3300 in product THAT I DIDN'T ORDER! 

I started to freak out. I started to hyperventilate. Someone just stole my identity, I thought.  Then I calmed my shit self down and I logged into my Office Max account.  I saw the orders.  I saw them all in their glory.  I saw the two credit cards they used. I checked it against all of mine.  It wasn't any of my CC's that I knew of.  What if they had opened new ones just that moment and they really were mine? 

I got on the phone ASAP and talked to a gentleman on the line at OM and explained to him that these were certainly not my orders!  It had my billing address, my name on them but here's the kicker... the shipping addresses were different.  They had them shipped to different addresses. Two to be exact.  Three scanners going to Orem and four going to an apt in Magna.  The gentleman told me that he would do all that he could to try to get them canceled, and even while we were talking, two more orders had come in. He was able to cancel those right away but because the others were ordered with overnight shipping they were going through the process very fast.  He told me to call Experian, and the local police.

So I'm on the phone with Experian.  They tell me that no one had used my SS# to open any new credit lines that day and that they would put a fraud alert on my credit.  I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop and them say that they hadn't picked it up fast enough to see it go through yet.  I'm crossing every bone in my body that that doesn't happen.

I then called the local police. You've got a weird case here because nothing of mine was stolen, besides them hacking into my OM account.  They didn't steal my CC. They didn't use any points (because I didn't have any) but I am violated.  They have my information. They know where I live.  They know my phone number, email address and old password. (I changed that so fast, MY head spun.)  Now I'm thinking scanner.  That would be a really nice thing to have. Scan all my docs into my computer- shred things I don't need, pictures, the list is endless.  I would really like one. But I digress....When I said to the Officer "Why in the world would someone order seven scanners?"  "Fake ID's" She replied quicker than I blinked.  My naïve brain would have never come up with that.  She tells me she has no jurisdiction in either of those places, gives me a case number and that was that.

I was talking with my Mom about this bazaar thing that is happening to me and I told her I would like to go out to the houses in the ship to address.  She suggested that I just call the Orem and Magna police departments and go from there.  If there was nothing Riverton could do then maybe they could. 

The next day at the office the guys thought it was a good idea to call the other two precincts and I actually got somewhere. The scanners had arrived the day before in Orem, so the Officer in Orem actually went to the house and confiscated the scanners.  All three of them.  The lady that gave them over told him that she was just a shipping drop off and that she was to inspect the packages, make sure all is well and then ship them to another third party.  The officer was under the impression that it was my card that they used because the lady said it wasn't hers.  When I said no- only my name on that package and billing info he said he would talk to his Sargent to see what he needed to do.

What do you think?  Am I over reacting?? Should I have just let it go and be done with it? DON'T YOU KNOW WHO I AM??? Are there any charges that I can file against these people?

The scanners in Magna hadn't been delivered yet Friday so I don't know what happened with them over there.  I'm hoping I busted up a fake ID ring here. That would be cool.  Never mess with a Red Headed, Fire Driven, Don't Mess With Me OR my Online Accounts- Or There Will Be Hell To Pay.  I'm following up with the Magna police tomorrow to see what they were able to accomplish, but I applaud the Orem police for stepping in and getting it done! 

Just call me Nancy Drew. They guys at the office do.

Let's go back to 1999.  Jason and I were still newlyweds and were having dinner at his parents house on a Sunday night.  It was a fast Sunday so I was starving.  Something I hardly do because I have low blood sugar and get super lightheaded and HANGRY if I go something longer than an hour without something in my stomach.  But I did it this day.  It was a beautiful Summer day and Dave, my Father in Law cooked what smelled to be a delicious country spare rib dinner.  I say smell, because after we started eating, one bite and it got stuck in my throat.  I'm not saying it went down the wrong pipe, I'm saying got stuck in my esophagus. I've had this happen before.  I just go into the bathroom, self gag and up it comes. Not this time. This time it was legit stuck. I couldn't even swallow my own spit.  I had to excuse us and Jason took me up to the U of U hospital because Jason worked at ARUP and that is where our insurance took us.  They had us waiting in the lobby for a while.  I was not bleeding out, I could breathe and the only disgusting thing about me was my mug full of spit that I would go into the bathroom and rinse out every ten minutes or so.  I am STARVING.  My belly was gurgling so hard that I'm sure the 4th floor could hear me.  Long story shorter.... They put in me a room with a sheet divider, old guy next to us was making these barfing noises that was making me want to puke but couldn't. They gave me nitroglycerin and in about 5 minutes up comes a piece of rib that was the size of tip of my pinky finger.

In the next few months I go to the GI specialist and have my esophagus stretched out with a balloon by endoscopy.  They put me to sleep so I don't remember anything.  This was the last time I had addressed a doctor about my situation.

In the early 2000's my Mom read an article that people with my situation should take a daily acid blocker like Prilosec or Nexium, so I take one daily, faithfully.  This seemed to help. 

In the midst of my breakdown 2016 I was tested and found out that I had the MTHFR gene mutation that prohibits my body from metabolizing vitamin B12 in the cyancobalamin form.  Normal bodies use the Methylatiztion process to break it down and use it but people with MTHFR gene mutations don't use it and it sits in their livers never to be broken down, but sits there like a poison. So I have to buy a Methylated version of the B vitamins/folate that is already broken down.  I also have to be careful of other multivitamins that have this in them, health shakes, protein bars, everything. It's ridiculous.

Why am I telling you this?  Well, because in all my reading about this newly found thing, I find out that taking a daily acid blocker is prohibiting the B12 absorption in my body.  So I stopped cold turkey in taking my daily Prilosec.  Things were okay for a while.  But then it started again.   I started choking on EVERYTHING. Meat, pancakes... people, I was choking on pancakes!  It had no rhyme or reason.  My cousin teased me that I was just binging and purging.  That is what it felt like.  Only it was the first bite, not the last.  The first bite got stuck, I would go self gag, and that was that.  I could eat the rest of the meal in peace.  It is getting a lot worse so I asked friends who they recommended for a GI specialist in the area.  I have an appointment with him in MARCH.

On Jan 20th we went to dinner for a friends 40th birthday at the Market Street Grill.  I was pretty hungry.  I ordered the Prime Rib (because I'm allergic to seafood.)  The very first bite goes in and I made sure it was a small bite.  I chewed it carefully.  It gets stuck.  I quietly get up from the table and go into the bathroom.  I have a routine down.  I can feel it.  It is righthere!  It's not coming up. Five times I get up to go into the bathroom to give it a try.  Nothing.  So Jason and I excuse ourselves from the party.  I go home and lay down.  I lay upside down.  I lay there for 3 hours.  Nothing.  So I have him take me to the ER.  I figure another nitroglycerin and I'll be good. Wrong.   They gave me an IV for an esophagus relaxer plus the nitro and then in 15 minutes brought me a Coke because the bubbles can help dislodge the foreign body.  Nothing. 30 minutes... that's right, nothing.  They had to call the GI specialist on call to come and take that steak out.  It was after midnight when he came and they gave me Propofol and used an endoscopy and pinchers to tear that thing out piece by piece.  He took 2 biopsies because my esophagus looked ringed or felinization which is suggestive of eosinophilic esophagitis or EoE. (Google it)  He also dilated it again with a balloon dilation.  He told me that a normal esophagus is 15-20 mm wide.  Mine was 9.  He dilated it to a 12 and I have to go back to see the guy that I have an appointment with in March when it all heals to have it stretched again to at least a 15.  The test results came back today and indicate that it is, in fact, EoE.  I have to go get allergy tested- food and all other.  So help me if I'm allergic to chocolate.  Who knows what else I have to do.  Any advice is appreciated.




 It has been a week now and I can finally eat meat. Anything remotely crunchy felt like eating barbed wire going all the way down.  I ate a pizza last night which is a huge relief because Mac and Cheese was getting on my nerves. Even the delicious homemade kind.

Sometimes you wonder if you are ever going to wake up from that nightmare. The one where you are in a long wool skirt and shirt wearing a long wool trench coat and you are in the undercurrent of the North Shore just churning and being dragged down by the undertow.  Sometimes you get flipped right-side up and catch a breath of air, right before being pulled down under.  And then you realize you're not dreaming. This is real life.  These are the real emotions of being chemically imbalanced.  

Actress Kristen Bell spoke about this last month when in an interview she said "Here’s the thing: For me, depression is not sadness. It’s not having a bad day and needing a hug. It gave me a complete and utter sense of isolation and loneliness. Its debilitation was all-consuming, and it shut down my mental circuit board. I felt worthless, like I had nothing to offer, like I was a failure."  To read Kristen's full interview, click here. 

I know exactly what she means, and exactly how she feels.

A few months ago I was seeking help for some weight loss.  Being told that it was one of the three of my anti-depressants that was making me fat the lady convinced me that I should ween off of them all and try this new and improved drug.  The super drug that would hit all the chemical receptors in my brain that the three did together. "Welcome to the New Century Drugs!" She exclaimed.  Sounded legit to me! After all, she was the professional.  She has had a lot of clients with success with this new wonder pill.  So I took 2 1/2 weeks weening off pill #1.  I took another 2 weeks to ween off of pill #2.  She then gave me the new pill to take along with pill #3 while I ween off of that one simultaneously.   At this point I am fit to be tied. I am drowning.  I am SO depressed that I sleep.  I sleep so that I don't cry. I sleep so that I don't yell at my kids or my husband. I close my shutters so that I can't see the weeds that are grown three feet tall.  I hadn't done laundry in 2 months. I have stopped doing everything that I have loved to do.  I sleep so I quit thinking about what the neighbors would say.  I cry All.The.Time.  I sleep so that I stop thinking about ending it all. I had an exit plan out of this life.  But I held on to the hope that she had this master plan and that it was going to work.  The hope that if all else fails, that I can at least go back to the old meds that actually worked.

Well, it didn't work.  And she kept upping the dose knowing that I wasn't correctly adjusted yet.  Knowing that it can take up to two weeks for anti-depressants to work.  Thinking all along that it will eventually work.   I even spent big money to take a Neuro-Chemical test that would tell me my Serotonin, Dopamine and other brain chemical levels.  She was going to help make up the difference with who knows what.  

Well, weeks went by.  A month went by.  The complete incompetence level at this clinic was so vast that I was getting so angry! The wrong tests were ordered. The right hand wasn't telling the left hand what it was doing.  Test results were being lost.  I was emailed the wrong thing... twice.  I ran into the clinic to get copies of the test that the right hand was giving me, but not giving it to the left hand.  I was being neglected. 

 I can say that because my current Psychiatrist and Therapist both told me so.  That's right.  I got so bad that Jason called my insurance and got a list of names of people to go to. People that actually knew what the hell they were talking about.  I am angry.  I am angry at Her.  I am angry at myself.  I am angry that I let myself believe that this would actually work. But mostly angry at the half assed way that she took absolutely no care of me in my deepest hole of life. Hindsight is always 20/20.

Days turned into weeks, which turned into a total of three months. I missed three weeks of work. I missed three months of my life!  Today is three months that I went down this path.  During which was baseball season.  I attribute that to helping me at least get out of the house.  I also re-tiled my fireplace.  
Spring helped a little. Seeing the beautiful blossoms on trees and my favorite Snowfall Cherry right in my front yard.  Watching my son's baseball team take 2nd place in his division helped. But as soon as I got back in the house... you guessed it. I slept.

Then I turned 40. 4-0. FORTY. I had a wonderful day.  It was the first day that I had put on makeup in two months.  I made sure that I pampered myself that day. Breakfast, pedicure, lunch, facial, dinner, movie... the whole nine.
My best neighborhood friend had decorated my house at midnight with this poster, pinwheels all over the flower beds and Coke and candy galore.  The day itself was great. Being in the bottom of the sea for so long I was kind of numb during the whole thing.  Going through the motions because the attention was on me.  I admit, it was kinda nice.

My new MD has me adjusted and feeling back 90%.  She said that my brain was mad at me and that it would take a little longer to get up to 100%.  I can deal with that. Oh, and PS... the Wonder Drug that would replace all three, actually would only replace one. 

The therapist told me that I should write this down to help me heal, to get over the anger against myself because frankly, it wasn't my fault. She told me to write a letter to the lady and tell her how I felt.  The next day the lady actually called me. I don't think I'll be hearing or seeing her again.  I'm surprised that she stayed on the line as long as she did listening to me all the while apologizing and just listening to me.  I'm sure she had the bird finger held up to her phone on the other end.  I know I did. 

I would feel remiss if I didn't mention what a rock Jason has been for me. My shoulder to cry on, my cheerleader.  My parents also quietly holding my hand and being there to cry to. 

The day's have become fewer and fewer that I sleep all day.  I'm back to work. The weeds are still three feet tall.  I haven't planted any annuals this year and don't think I will.  I'm laughing again and that feels really good. 

 Today I woke up and my son actually told me that I sounded happy. That made me want to cry.  I just might have.

I sit here with a lump in my throat and tears streaming down my face, not realizing I had any left for this situation until I started typing. It has been over a year and two months since his passing and I still haven't mentioned it on this blog. 

                                         Always looking for something snug to bury himself

I would have to say that it was four or five years ago that Bentley's health started to decline. I had taken him to the pet store to have him bathed and groomed but after we were all done I took him out into the parking lot and set him down so he could go pee on one of the bushes in the parking lot. He was acting like he was drunk. He was walking in circles, then fell onto his side and flopped around on the pavement. I thought FOR SURE he was dying. Foaming at the mouth and stiff as a board I scooped him up, ran back into the store and was screaming as tears ran down my face. "HELP! I think my dog is DYING!" The personnel at the store quickly gathered and had me lay him down on his side and said that he was having a seizure. A WHATZURE? Are you Surezure? My first question (quietly in my own little mind) was, WHAT DID YOU DO IN THERE TO MAKE HIM HAVE A  SEIZURE!!!

So, that is when it started.  The Vet told us that it was due to stress and anxiety.  I guess that runs in the family.  He gave us some Phenobarbital and we were to give it to him every day.  We didn't, but he really wasn't having any more seizures.  The only time he would have one was when he got groomed.  We never went back to the pet store, but tried out a lady out of her home- of which he seized and gave her a tremendous scare.  Then we asked the Vet if they knew of anyone and they actually had a lady in the hospital that did it and they would be able to give him care if they needed to in the event that he had a seizure.

We felt we had it under control.  Not much activity going around and he was even fine while we were remodeling our other home.  It was while I was packing up to move to this house that did it.  It was in the morning.  I had just sent Brendan off to school and let Bentley out for the morning.  After he goes outside he would get in bed with me, burrowing under the covers and sleep until Addison woke up.  That morning he had thirteen major seizures in a row.  Being in my bed it freaked me out.  He would have one that lasted about a 30 seconds and then pant for a few minutes.  Then have another one that lasted about 45 seconds to a minute.  One right after the other.  13 times.  I called the vet the minute they opened and they had me take him right over for observation for the day.  I had told them that I don't know what happened, or what changed that would make him freak out all of a sudden.  Then it dawned on me.  I told them that we were in the middle of a move and that I was tapping up boxes and hurrying as fast as I could because the house was getting done faster than we thought.  The Vet told me that Bentley was feeling nervous about that because he was sensing that we were going to abandon him.  This made total sense.  He told us that we should find a boarding place until not only we were done packing, but completely moved in to our new house.

                                                                Our first born son.






Dave and Debbie have the best next door neighbors.  Liz and Lisa have known Bentley since he was a baby and have taken him in as their own when Jason and I would go on vacations.  Truth be told that he loved it over there and they spoiled him rotten. They called him Big Ben.  They have three other dogs that are bigger than him. So we asked them if they would take him for the next 6-8 weeks so that not only could we pack up the rest of the house- but unpack and make it homey for him in the new house.  They said he was acting not normal.  They said that they had to even take him to the Vet just to be safe.  They gave them more sedation medication to keep him at ease.

We hurried and unpacked the house in an amazing amount of time.  We had furniture arranged in a way that was familiar to him.  He was doing well for the first year we lived here and it just got worse and worse.

The Valium and the Phenobarbital that the Dr. prescribed for his anxiety so many years ago had been damaging his liver.  He was dying of liver failure.  There was really no quality of life.  He couldn't control his bowels and his seizures were getting worse.  The Dr. told us that we could take him home and let him live out his last days, maybe weeks, at home or we could have him humanely put to sleep.  We took him home with us.  We stopped to buy doggie diapers and training pads to put all over the floors.  Watching him for those next two days killed Jason and I.  We decided that we would take him in the next morning available and just let him go.
                                                                 Look at those sad eyes.


When we got there I asked the Dr. if what we were doing was the right thing and he said "Without a doubt, this is what I was hoping you would choose."  He loved Bentley too and didn't want to see him suffer.  We said our last teary goodbyes as the staff got everything ready.  They first gave him a dose of a sedation so his body wouldn't totally freak out.

Dr. Goode, which was his name, came in teary as he got ready to shave Bentley's leg so that he could see a vein.  He got down to his face and said "Mr. B, you've been a wonderful little guy. I'm going to miss you."  And as Jason and I hovered over the table we watched the lethal injection.  Dr. Goode said it would only take about 10 seconds for it to work.  We held on to our baby until his last breath was taken.

We decided to have him buried in our backyard because we didn't want to think of just abandoning him there.  Jason and I were silent the entire ride home.  Jason was holding him wrapped in a blanket.  I would reach over and just pet his body over the blanket.  It was surreal.  Jason had dug the burial spot the night before so we just put him in a nice velvety blue blanket and Jason bent down and laid his body in there.

The kids were doing fine. Sure, they were sad, but we were actually planning on going to a trip to Moab starting that morning.  They helped us and watched as we buried him.  Brendan put in his grave a Cheeto, because that was his most favorite thing in the world. We also put in his favorite bath toy The Frog.  Addison had picked some flowers that she thought would be pretty. 

So Bentley is still with us in spirit.  I know that I will see him on the other side of that Rainbow Bridge.

Today we had another hard time getting to dance.  She refused to get into her leotard again and no-way those ballet slippers were ever going to get on her feet.  Well, she was wearing her favorite silver sparkled polka dot leggings with a shirt on.  So, she was somewhat flexible.

Today was supposed to be the best day of my life.  The one I had dreamed of for since I found out I was going to give birth to a little girl. 

THE FIRST DAY OF DANCE LESSONS! (Cue Oprah Winfrey yelling it out!)

She has dancing in her blood.  Running through her veins.  She dances in her sleep.  In the tub, in the kitchen.  Wasn't she going to love it?  We went and picked out the leotard and tights.  But the time came to get dressed and she would have nothing to do with it.   So I went to the next best thing. Her ballerina inspired swimsuit. Surely she loves that and would wear it.  Um, no.  She wanted nothing to do with dance. 

I got her to at least carry her swimsuit and slippers to the class but she would not go into the studio.  She sat in the entry/waiting area on a bench meant for me.  I took her into the class.  I sat down and started doing the streches with her and the other little girls her age.  All of her neighborhood friends were there.  Here I was, huge and doing little girl stretches- with Addison on my lap, biting her nails.

For 40 minutes I tried to get her to participate.  Fifteen minutes early, and then 30 minutes of the actual class time.  Surely I was annoying the teacher, so I left.  Defeated.  Crushed.  Not the best day of my life like I always imagined.  Rather, one of Jason telling her that she would go to that class next week or he would spank her.  Really?  Has it come to that?  Threatening our child to love to do something. 

I really had zero coaching in the taking of this picture.  This is EXACTLY what she looked like when I tried to get her out the door.   You can see that she is trying so hard not to get that sassy smirk that she gets when she's being sassy.

Me: "Addison, whattcha doin?"
Addison: "I pudding my cose out to wear dem."

As she fans to flatten out her dresses and shirts and matching the pants to go with them.

Thus ending my say on what goes on her body.  Ever.  Three months ago.

This little princess of mine is in love with Spiderman.  Not the cartoon-- oh, no.  She loves Toby Maguire in the live action movie. She loves the Green Goblin.  She loves Mary Jane.  She sometimes acts out scenes from the movie.  If you ask her what she wants to be for Halloween she will reply "Spiderman".  Not Spidergirl, no no... SpiderMAN.

I found these cute jammies at Target today.  She hasn't liked wearing costumes the last couple years, so I figured that she could just wear these jammies around and be good.  We might have to find a mask and see if she will wear it to go along with these jammies. 

Rest be assured though, she does have princess undies on.  We can't go completely rouge.

Lately Addison has been sitting at the piano plinking away at the keys. Today she thought she would teach the Princesses a thing or two.  Please don't look too carefully at the dust,  It's protecting my piano!


In this one she goes on to tell "Cindewella, you sing wike diss."  Last night she was singing Sing Sweet Nightingale over and over and over.  And OVER. Which would have been fine... but it was in  Stepsister style.

Me: "Why?  Did the windshield of your Teryx come in?" (He's been adding to the 4wheeler.)

Brendan has been off track since Easter (*sigh*) and luckily he has been having a lot of baseball to keep him occupied but there are those days were everything. is. boring.  EVERYTHING. 

I have kept my last few months occupied with my one year house anniversary.   Meeting with every sub contracter that worked on our house. (another post)  Also potty training Addison (also another post.) And finishing my front yard. (you guessed it... another post.)

But this last week we took to the zoo.  It was a beautiful day and my friends kids are off track as well so we all thought it would be fun to make the kids run around and keep the animals on thier toes for a few hours.


These two are the best of friends and I love them so much! They are getting too big too fast.

Well, she did it. Addison chopped off a huge chunk of her hair.  Luckily the front was up in a pony tail so she didn't cut bangs.  She cut the left side above her ear and part of that pony tail.  Brendan had left a pair of scissors on the coffee table- which is a totally normal thing- but today Addison tested the power of the blades.  The weird thing is that she cut it, then we went upstairs to change her diaper.  Yes, she is STILL in diapers.  More on that in a minute.  But while we went up the stairs and into her room, it looked like she found a lock of hair and handed it to me "Here go, Mom". 

Last night I went to my friends because she wanted to put a few highlights in front by my face for Spring and while I was there she thinned out my hair.  I remember going into Addison's room after because of course she was still up screaming and I startled her with the foils in my head.  (Deb sent me home to rinse myself.  That's the price for getting free highlights.  It's a great deal!!)  So, in my mind I was thinking that maybe she hadn't brushed out all of the thinned hair, when I went in last night some fell out and Addison had found a lock of it.  It could have happened.

But then she ran her hand through her hair again and MORE came out! I said "Addy, did you cut your hair?" "Yes I did." She stated proudly. So I put down the lock of hair, ran over to her looked at the sight, not really being able to tell where she had cut and saw the blunt cut off of her pony tail. But there had to have been more. That was way to much hair to just be off the end of her pony tail. Then I saw it. The side butch cut.  Not scalped, but a helluva lot shorter than the rest.  I gasped. I ran to my phone and called Deb. Luckily she was in between clients and so I ran over. She is a life saver! She layered her hair, which I had been wanting to do for some time. It makes the curls pop even more. You're not going to be able to notice it too much, but we'll see. 

The drywall guy showed up today to touch up the loose screws around the house. He wasn't medically licenced to fix the ones in my head, so I gave up asking so many questions. Especially since he mostly spoke Spanish. And by mostly, I mean only. I did a lot of pointing, smiling, following, and more pointing.

He even ended up fixing my towel bar in my master bath that I have been wanting to re-do! He cut out two 4 inch squares, put wood behind it, screw it to new drywall and then mesh, mud and completely cover it! The wood will secure the screws for the towel bar that has four hooks on it and it won't weigh it down! I am so excited!

There are a few places that Jason went through and tagged for when he comes tomorrow to finish up. For now, here is what our house looks like. It's the worst on both staircases.


When I told my sister Kelly that my walls were being decorated like a giraffe she said "Um, is it going to stay like that?"  I told her I should start a new trend in decorating.  I hear it's very in this spring to wear animal prints.  I'll just pretend that until the painters show up in a few more days. 

One thing is for sure- having to examine the walls so closely made me notice how incredibly filthy they are!  Not that I don't have a two year old who thinks touching everything with sticky hands is fun, but this paint SUCKS.  S. U. C. K. to the S.  This is what I wrote to the home warranty department "The paint used in this house is an absolute disaster!  It doesn’t clean up, and it DOESN’T blend well after painting touch ups.  I have roller marks to prove it! (And that was after the professionals did it. I have not touched up one spot.)"  It shows every little touch.  Eggshell finish.  Every one of my neighbors have said how much they are displeased with the paint that the home builder used.  We will be sure to mention that in our wrap up letter.

Hooray for one year! They say the first year is the hardest in any relationship. We did do a lot of growing up.  We've mostly behaved ourselves on spending.  Mostly.

I can't believe it has been a year since we went and signed our papers to own this house.  Well, own the rights to pay for this house would be more like it.  Although we do get to live in it while we pay for it, which is a dream come true.*

We have been going around the house looking for all the 'nail pops', cracks in the walls and stucco, loose paint, cracks in the wood floor.  That awfully crooked faux drawer panel that has been staring at me for this whole year in my master bathroom.  The warranty department came out today to have a look at my laundry list of items.   I have even been around with my pencil circling all the cracks and nail pops as I saw them so they didn't have to hunt them down themselves.  Aren't I nice?  Okay, just OCD, and I don't want them to miss one single thing.   Brendan and Addison have been having fun helping me with this project.  In fact, Addison came up to me a day later saying "MOM! One more!" Then pointing out several that we had missed.  It's a good thing she is eye level to that two foot mark. I missed a lot of those lower ones.  However, warranty guy says to put blue tape up so they don't have to look so hard. Boo.  Jason also gave the guy an earfull on what was done wrong and why.  He is calm and collected 90% of the time.  But give him an area on which he knows a piss poor job and he'll call you on it.  We did, afterall, just remodel the house we moved out of.  We knew what we were doing.  Mostley.
I look at pictures from a year ago.  Empty house, freshly stained wood floors without any dings or scratches. Clean walls without handprints, Nerf gun dart rings, slimey sticky balls stuck to the walls then slid down like a slug.  Not a speck of food mashed into the carpet.  Seriously- good times!  Since the day we got our keys and started putting our own touches in the house it has felt like home.  I never reach for something out of place.  Unless, of course, that thing has been put out of place by little hands that take everything everywhere.  That happens more often than one would even believe.


This is home.  This is exactly where we want to raise our children.*  There are lovely families all over this neighborhood that are filled to the brim with 8 year old boys and almost 3 year old girls.  We will celebrate tonight quietly, perhaps with an ourdoor barbque at my in-laws.  Brendan has an outdoor cooking thing he needs to pass off in scouts, so why not?  One thing's for sure and that is I am still in love with this place.

Sometimes you just have to sit back and know that God has a plan. We might not like His plan, but we agreed to it before we even came here. Make sure to tell your family AND your friends how much you love them and how much they mean to you every day!

A dear friend of mine from childhood passed away suddenly this last Monday. He was in the group of friends that I hung out with all through Jr. High and High School.  He was the one that everyone had a crush on.  My best friend dated him for a while. A few of my friends, actually...  He was the star of the HS baseball team he was genuinely nice to everyone.  I was having an emotional time about it because I thought of the 3 young kids that were left behind. The poor wife that was now a widow at the young age of 35.

And I internalized it so much that I literally had a melt down thinking "What if that were Jason?"

I would die.

I would literally shut myself down and die.

So I bawled my head off.

I left the house to go for a drive to cheer myself up with an Oreo/chocolate ice cream shake.

When I got back my son had this sign made for me. 

Well, I fully planned on going to bed an hour ago until Addison decided to wake up and throw a fit. For. An. Hour!!!  I don't know what her deal is lately.  She isn't sleeping well, and when she does it's only for a few hours at a time. 

We lost her binkey a month ago and it wasn't easy at first, but she has adapted.  In fact, she found a back up binkey a while after and I told a little white lie to her "Oh, that is baby Keaton's binkey." (Kelly's baby)  That seemed to satisfy her.  Last weekend she found her actual binkey under her crib while playing hide and seek with Brendan and a baby sitter.  I told her that, that too, was baby Keaton's.  She looked at me and said "No mom, Keatons binkey blue!"  I have to hand it to her- she is completely right.  So, I just hurried it aside and nothing was mentioned of it again.

Then, on top of that she gets a mild cold.  Stuffy head syndrome and no one will sell cold medicine to anyone under 4.  Well, that's a lie.  Sell, yes- recommend, no. Is it bad when she requests more of the medicine because it tastes so good?  Yeah, I get the mother of the year award for giving her banned cold medicine.  But, it worked and she is still alive.

We usually have left Addison in her crib to cry it out and eventually she will go to sleep after crying and screaming "MOM!" for a few hours.  So tonight I finally put her back in her bed screaming and went to lay down when I hear her right outside my door.  She scared the crap out of me because she is still in a crib and has never tried to get out.  So I put her back in and told her to show me how she got out.  She pulled a MacGyver out of her crib!  Up and over and landed on her feet...  and then quickly landed on her face.  I tried so hard not to laugh.   I am now online looking for a toddler bed with restraints.  Let me know if you know of any. Thanks!