Blog Challenge: Top Ten

My MIL moved out of my house on December 14 after 63 days of living with us.

My younger son finally potty trained and is out of diapers. Only one more child to go!

Going to the Dixie Chicks concert in Atlanta on December 2. It was my older daughter's first concert. Say what you will about their political views, but the Chicks rock!

Seeing my older daughter sing 2 solos in church. She's amazing!

Attending a ScrapShare retreat in Helen, Georgia in October.

Moving into our new house in April (and finally selling our old one in August!)

Finding a medication to treat my depression and finally feeling like my old self again.

Scrapping 1,009 completed pages in 2006 (I only did 489 last year!)

Going to Disney World for my 10th wedding anniversary in January. We stayed at the Grand Floridian (in a honeymoon suite 2 doors down from the one where we spent our honeymoon). Eating at Victoria & Albert's was *the* highlight of the trip. It was the best meal (with the best company) that I've ever experienced. Next time I want to sit in the kitchen at the chef's table!

Attending the ScrapShare Texas retreat in November and making a whole bunch of new (if not completely strange and wonderfully funny) friends.

Groggy Blog

Word of Warning:

If you're going to drink a Mimosa at midnight and then stay up to, oh, 1:30 am watching "Ace of Cakes" on Food Network, be prepared for the inevitable.

Like, say, your 4 year-old son bringing you his **previously assembled** Lego Tie Fighter in a gazillion pieces at 8 am the next day. And he wants YOU to put it back together. NOW!

(PANTS? Where are my pajama pants? And what is that stuck to my cheek? Oh. The medicine I dropped last night... THERE it is!)

Thank goodness for Little Debbie honey buns.

Feed 'em, clean 'em, go back to bed.

Darned mimosas.

Happy New Year!

I'm 33 years-old, but I might as well be 60, because I bet my New Year's Eve is as exciting as my parents'.

At least I can stay up until midnight. But barely.

I never have an exciting New Year's Eve. Even when it was just me and the hubby, we were boring on December 31. The first few years I tried to get him to go out and do something. He's just not a party guy.

Then we had kids. Do you know how hard it is to find a babysitter on New Year's Eve? Just as hard as it is to find one on Valentine's Day. Fuggedaboutit.

Right now we have the news on. Previously we were watching "Dick Clark's New Year's Rocking Eve" (hosted, oddly enough, by Ryan Seacrest...) I'm sure when our local news is over we'll be switching back to Ryan so we can see the Swarovski crystal ball drop.

PAR-TAY.

At least I knew who Rihanna was when she was on the big show earlier. My husband recognized the sampling of "Tainted Love" that's a part of her song "SOS", but he had no idea who Rihanna was. Same with Fergie. Bless his heart. He still thinks the Black Eyed Peas are something we're supposed to eat for luck on New Year's Day.

I'll just leave him to his Star Wars marathon. I didn't marry him 'cause he's cool. He sure fills out a pair of Joe Boxer plaid lounge pants, though. Call the fire department, 'cause my man is H-O-T HOT, y'all.

SIDE NOTE: I just noticed on Wikipedia that Rihanna was born in 1988. Fo shizzle, y'all. I was 15 when that girl was born. I told you I was old.

Usually hubby and I toast the new year with a glass of sparkling apple cider. This year we'll be enjoying Mimosas (yee haw!) thanks to the nice folks at the Grand Floridian hotel at Disney World. They gave us a split of Korbel champagne when we were there in January celebrating our 10th anniversary. We brought it home in our checked luggage, and it's been sitting in our pantry since then.

Woot! My man's gettin' out the Solo cups for the New Year's toast. It's almost time!

Happy New Year!

Dressed Down

I was standing in my laundry room just minutes ago, hanging up clothes and thinking about... stuff. Nothing specific. Just chasing rabbits through my brain.

Thoughts were coming at me from all over the place, like a hundred balls simultaneously fired onto a racquetball court. You know how it is... you start thinking one thing while performing some mindless task, and all of a sudden another deeply buried thought hits you and you wonder, "HEY! Where did *that* come from?"

While I was folding my daughter's pants, the fishing rod that is my brain reeled in a memory from childhood. I recalled standing in my grandparents' den in Tennessee. My Aunt Sharon was showing me and my mom a piece of smocking that she was making. Her plan, she explained, was to make a dress for me, incorporating this smocked piece into the chest area. The fabric she was using for the body of the dress was a dark black and red plaid.

I was in love with the dress, even though it technically was not yet a dress. It was going to be so very pretty. *I* was going to be so very pretty.

Since I was an overweight child, I hardly ever got to wear what the skinny girls were wearing. I remember when designer jeans were all the rage. My Calvins had pleated fronts like "mom jeans", and the label was hidden under the belt I had to wear with them. Everyone else had Calvins with pockets, and their labels were sewn onto those pockets. Forget the Chic and Jordache and Gloria Vanderbilt jeans. My fat butt wouldn't fit into those.

I was in a singing group when I was in 6th grade. Of course we had to have matching outfits. The director found the same skirt in everyone's size but mine. All the other girls had straight navy blue wool skirts. Mine was pleated like a lampshade.

Man, I hated being a fat kid.

MAN, I hate being a fat adult.

But I was writing about a dress...

This smocked dress was going to be so cool. It was supposed to be ready at Christmastime, and I could not wait. I had a friend at church who wore smocked dresses, and they were lovely. She was a skinny girl, so you can imagine my excitement at being able to wear something just like her!

Christmas came and went. I didn't get the dress. To this day I don't know what happened to it. I never saw it completed. I guess my aunt didn't finish it. She has sons, so I'm pretty sure she didn't decide to keep it after toiling over it for a long time (unless there's something I don't know...)

As I stood there in my laundry room remembering my extreme sadness about the dress I never wore, it occurred to me that I still abhor being disappointed. I have come to a place in my life where I block excitement, because I don't want to be let me down. I'm guarded. Too guarded. I guess my hopes have been dashed one too many times, and I've grown a thick shell to deflect hurt feelings. Sucks to be me.

As a consequence, I don't let people inside my shell. You see, I like people who follow through. I don't like it when someone makes me a promise and then doesn't make good on it. Empty promises nag at me like something I know I need to do but can't recall.

If I tell someone I'm going to do something, I make it my ambition to get it done. I do not want to be that person that lets someone down. I don't want to be the person that drops the ball and causes someone else to hurt. I will always be the person who follows through, or tries REALLY hard to do so.

I desire those same attributes in friends, but it seems that there aren't many people left like that. I am a good friend. I know I am. I just wish I could find else someone like me. I could use a few great friends.

Blog Challenge: Money

How did money affect you this holiday season? Did it affect you at all? Did you overspend? Did you work within a tight budget? Did you feel guilt or anxiety over how much you spent? Did you find yourself wishing you could spend more, or wishing you had spent less? Did money control the way you gave, and did it influence the way you received?

This is the third Christmas when I haven't worried about money. I don't know how I ever enjoyed Christmas in years past, knowing bills were coming our way in January. I would be completely stressed out if I knew a credit card bill would be on its way soon. I couldn't enjoy the holidays that way.

We started the Dave Ramsey program in October 2003 and paid off our last consumer debt in April 2005 (we still have a mortgage). We don't use credit cards; instead, we put aside a certain amount of money each month so we have a decent Christmas budget in November. The budget includes everyone we need to buy for as well as any charity donations we plan on making in December.

Two years ago my husband and I decided to limit our kids to three gifts each, following the tradition of the Magi that visited baby Jesus (each brought one gift.) It has really trimmed our budget, and the kids enjoy what they do receive MUCH more. We have found that we also put a lot more thought into what we buy for the kids.

I always wish I could spend more money at Christmas, but not on my kids. My favorite part of Christmas has become the charitable giving. There's never enough money for that, in my opinion. I could give and give and give.

In November we do the shoeboxes for Operation Christmas Child. We pack one box for each member of our family. The kids have really enjoyed participating in buying the items we place in the boxes, as well as the packing of the boxes. I love walking into our church on the designated day and seeing all of the shoeboxes piled high. I would love to follow those boxes one day, to be able to hand them out to the kids who receive them. Man, what a trip that would be.

We also choose angels from the Salvation Army Angel Tree every year. Our church sets up one, and we look for kids that match our kids' ages. We have a blast shopping for the kids, and our children enjoy picking out clothes and toys for their "angels". I hope our children get as much out of this process as I do, and that as they grow older they will always remember that it's not all about them at Christmas.

My family has been blessed beyond measure. I'm a firm believer in the passage found in Luke 12:48. It says, " From everyone who has been given much, much will be required..." I feel like because I have been so richly blessed, it is my duty to give back. I love to give, and I try to do it as often as I can.

Did you find yourself wishing you could spend more, or wishing you had spent less?

I definitely wish I could give more. Always. I just love to give!

I Am the Queen of Slugvania

I am officially a slug.

Three of my children have been away from home since Tuesday afternoon. I've only had the 8 year-old here with me.

I've slept late. I've watched WAY too much television. I have done the assorted load of laundry and kept up with the dishes (I'm not that sluggish!), but I've been more laid back about household chores. I'll get to them when I get to them.

We've gone out to dinner every night. (I did take dinner to someone else who just had a baby...)

I've even watched "General Hospital" a time or two. I can't tell you the last time I caught up with the goings-on in Port Charles. I set the DVR to record "GH" again because I miss watching it (I quit when I was homeschooling...)

Last night my daughter had a sleepover guest. Today they've been in their PJs all day long. I had told them we'd go to the movies to see "Night at the Museum", but I didn't even have enough energy to do that. It's raining, and I just didn't feel like going out in the rain. Instead I ordered a pay-per-view movie and popped them some popcorn and left them to watch the movie while I did some scrapbooking.

It's been a great day. I *love* days like this when I don't have to be busy.

Merry Christmas to me!

(ps: THANKS Mom & Dad for taking the kids this week!)

Tears

“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of
weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief...and unspeakable love.” Washington Irving

This week, paint us a picture of a time when you cried. Maybe it was recent, maybe it was ages ago. Maybe it was tears of grief over a break-up, or tears of joy over an engagement. Maybe you cry when you get mad, or perhaps you cry when you're laughing hysterically. Perhaps you have a hard time crying at all. Pick one time, and color the story for us.

I cry at the drop of a hat, basically. I am a very emotional person, but I don't mind crying. In fact, I feel so much better after a good cry. It's healing!

I cried tears of joy last week after opening an email from a friend. She told me she was expecting a baby. I was overjoyed for her, because I know how badly she wants a sibling for her son. I immediately committed to pray for her and her unborn child. I asked God to protect her and the baby and help her give birth to a healthy son or daughter. I cried for her, knowing how happy she must be.

I cried tears of sadness the next day when I opened another email from the same friend, telling me that she had miscarried.

I cried tears of anger and frustration for my friend. I don't know why God chooses to do that, to take life like that, to break hearts like that. I just have to live in the faith that God almighty, all powerful and sovereign, knows why it happened. I pray my friend has the same faith, that she trusts that God has a reason. I have prayed that God comforts her and holds her in the palm of His hand while she goes through this trial.

Hopefully one day soon I can again cry tears of happiness for my friend. I will pray for her every time God brings her to my mind. I'll pray for peace for her, for strength, for health, for understanding, for faith, for perseverance, for wisdom.

And I'll pray that one day, in the not so distant future, she has another baby to hold in her arms, to laugh with and love and yes, cry over.

Stage Presence

Tonight I sat in the pew of my church and watched in awe as my daughter approached the microphone to sing a solo. She sang without signs of any nervousness (though I was sitting with cold, clammy hands, shaking in my seat...) She sang loudly and confidently and she sang with perfect pitch.

I was so VERY proud of her.

This is her fourth time since May 2005 that she has earned a solo in a church musical. She was the only first grader to earn a solo in her first musical in May 2005. She rocked that one. I cried when she finished because I was so very stinkin' PROUD of her.

She went on to sing solos in last year's Christmas musical and the spring 2006 musical. The song she sang tonight was the most difficult one yet.

But she pulled it off.

The other kids that took their turns singing did so with fidgeting hands or fists clenched in fear. They sang softly and quickly and ran back to their places when their songs were over.

Not Camryn. She strode boldly to the microphone, smiled her winning smile, and sang her heart out.

She's a natural performer. I don't know from whom she gets her confidence, because I would be jelly on that stage. I have sung in groups before, large choirs and ensembles, but never a solo. That's scary.

My daughter knocks my socks off. I'm such a proud mom!

Brain Dump

My 8 year-old's teacher uses an expression I find amusing. She says "brain dump" to describe random thoughts she's put onto paper in the form of a newsletter. So, that's what I'm calling today's blog. It's a total brain dump.

Taco Bell

I spent my morning cleaning and deodorizing my basement. My mother-in-law finally left last night (woo hoo!) Unfortunately she left behind the lingering odor of her perfume (I can't stand her chosen scent). Armed with Febreze, Clorox wipes, baking soda and various scented oil plug-in devices, I braved the vapors of the basement and went to work this morning. I'm exhausted, but it's done. And it smells *M*U*C*H* better.

Since I was working so feverishly during the morning hours, I didn't have time to stop for lunch before time to pick up my youngest three children from school & Mom's Day Out. By the time I picked them up and delivered the appropriate gifts to each of their teachers, I was famished. So I made a run for the border.

Now, if you're a parent, you know that stopping to get fast food for just ONE person in the car is next to impossible. So I planned on ordering the kids a snack, too.

When I was a kid, Taco Bell served a scrumptious confection called a Cinnamon Crispa (they should've been called SINnamon Crispas, 'cause they were devilishly bad for the waistline...) They were like fried flour tortilla chips coated in sugary cinnamon. I don't know what year Taco Bell decided to go instead with a Cinnamon Twist, which is like a bag of large, twisted, cinnamon-sugar coated Cheeto-like things. But they're not nearly as good, I tell you.

Today I think I was stuck in the 80s, 'cause when I ordered, I asked for 4 orders of Cinnamon Crispas. Doink.

Yeah, that's all there is to that story. It doesn't have to really have a point, does it?

My Kid is Funny

After picking up our Taco Bell, we headed to Camryn's school. On the way, Aiden (5) suddenly blurted out, "Mommy! Are you thinking outside the bun?" Then he proceeded to poll his siblings, chanting, "Raise your hand if you're thinking outside the bun! Outside the bun.... outside the bunnnnnn..." I swear, that kid makes me laugh hard. He's a riot. I loves me some freckle-faced, long-eyelashed Aiden Josiah. His smile is an ointment for my soul.

Revenge Songs

I was playing Wynonna Judd in the car today. I love, love, love her song "That Was Yesterday". It's a total revenge, spit in your face, did you really think I wouldn't survive? song. Like Destiny Child's "Survivor" and Gloria Gaynor's "I Will Survive", "That Was Yesterday" kicks butt. I've played it more than once in my lifetime. It's the kind of song that makes you want to grab a hairbrush, and with long, red fingernails pointing to unseen people who've ever done you wrong, SING YOUR HEART OUT.

Yeah, it ROCKS.

Wynonna rocks.

Here are the lyrics.

It's finally over
But I can't even cry
So, don't you give me no sweet talk
You done told your last lie
I was your puppet
Just a dancin, dancin on a string
But when the sun went down last night,
Lord, it changed everything
Today I feel different
'cause now I can see
That you care more 'bout yourself
Than mistreatin' me
It took me a long time
To figure you out
But misery and pain
Ain't what love's all about

(chorus)
I was your woman
But ya threw me away
I used to be your very own
Custom made, love slave, do-anything-for-you little fool
But that was yesterday
That was yesterday

And so it goes
Another lesson gets learned
And in the big book of experience
Another page gets turned
Now you say you need me
Well, honey, you got some nerve
I hope some sweet tomorrow
We both get what we deserve

(repeat chorus)

I'm packing up and movin' on
Your real good thing is good and gone

'Scuse me. I need to go find a bottle of red nail polish and a hairbrush.

Oh, and Brooke, I'll put it on your iPod after Santa brings it. It might help you get over a certain someone.

Just a little Rx from your big sis.

Funny Quips

I came across a page of funny sayings today. I thought I'd post some here.

Grab a drink and a snack and enjoy (though, maybe not too close to the keyboard...)

*Duct tape is like the force; it has a light side and a dark side, and it holds the universe together.
*Never take life seriously. Nobody gets out alive anyway.
*If you can read this, I can hit my brakes and sue you.
*Give me ambiguity or give me something else.
*A day without sunshine is like, you know, night.
*A dry sense of humor is better than slobbering everywhere.
*Life in a vacuum sucks.
*A pessimist is never disappointed.
*Lottery: A tax on people who don't understand statistics.
*Hold a hard drive to your ear -- listen to the C:
*1024x768x256... Sounds like one mean woman.
*Two most common elements in the universe: Hydrogen & Stupidity.
*DOS never says "EXCELLENT command or filename"...
*I Have To Stop Now, My Fingers Are Getting Hoarse.
*Canadian DOS prompt: EH?\>
*Computers can never replace human stupidity
*Why does the person that snores always fall asleep first?
*Experience: What you get when you don't get what you want
*If at first you don't succeed, skydiving is not for you.
*Vuja De - the feeling you'll be here later.
*Whatever you delete today, you desperately need tomorrow.
*I feel like I'm diagonally parked in a parallel universe.
*I wonder how much deeper the ocean would be without sponges.
*On the other hand, you have different fingers.
*I know you are nobody's fool but maybe someone will adopt you.
*Did you eat paint chips when you were a kid?

Blog Challenge: Fill in the Blank

1. My current favorite song is: "Wind it Up" by Gwen Stefani

2. The last book I read was: The Innocent Man by John Grisham

3. The last book I bought was: A Designer's Eye for Scrapbooking with Patterned Paper by Ali Edwards

4. The last CD I bought was: Taking the Long Way by The Dixie Chicks. That was before I got my iPod. Since then I've just been downloading from iTunes.

5. Another CD I wanted but didn't buy is: Wynonna's new Christmas album

6. Right now, I'm wearing: black gauchos from Target (my favorite pants!), white camisole and a black v-neck shirt from Old Navy. Black is very slimming, you know!

7. The last gift I bought was: The "Hannah Montana" soundtrack for my daughter's stocking.

8. The last time I laughed heartily and loudly: When I picked up my 5 year-old son from school one day last week he showed me his two new best friends. They were acorns. Nothing special. Just acorns. He put them in his pocket. We drove to the post office. As we were walking inside, he's fumbling with the acorns in his pocket. Truth be told, he looks like he's scratching his boy parts. He declared, in a loud voice, "HEY! I can feel my acorns!"

9. My favorite holiday ornament is: My grandmother's crocheted wreaths and stockings because she has Alzheimer's and no longer remembers how to crochet.

10. My house smells like: You know, I don't really know what it smells like right now. I've had a cold for a week, and it's affecting my sense of smell and taste. I know the basement smells like my mother-in-law's perfume (yuck) and my room smells like Creamy Nutmeg because there is a Bath & Body Works Wallflower plugged in in there.

11. The first thing on my to-do list tomorrow is: Hmmmm.... tomorrow.... My husband has the day off, so we will run around doing errands like we always do on his days off. I know we have to take the car to CarMax for some things they didn't do to it when we bought it. After that, who knows? I need to get the kids' teacher gifts together, personalize the ornaments I bought to go in my 3 year-old son's class Christmas treat boxes, wrap an ornament for an ornament exchange I have to go to on Saturday, put together the treat boxes for the 3 year-old's class, find my older daughter a nightgown that looks like it came from the 1800s for her play on Thursday night, wrap assorted gifts, assemble and hang the wreaths for the outside windows... the list goes ON and ON!

12. If I could sit on Santa's lap and believe that he'd bring me whatever toy I wished for, I'd ask for: a Canon Rebel camera

13. If I could holiday shop in ONE store, all expenses paid, I'd shop at: Target. It's one stop shopping at its best!

14. If an angel alighted on my doorstep today and said, "I'm here to grant a Christmas wish," I'd wish for: Money to pay for the expansions and upgrades to my older daughter's school. It's a private school and they're growing rapidly.

15. When I see a bell ringer while out shopping, I: try to drop something in the kettle or make sure the kids have something to drop in it. Since I do a lot of my shopping at Target, I don't get the chance to walk by the kettle!

December 5th

I have a knack for remembering dates. I remember people's birthdays forever. I remember certain unimportant dates like when my prom was held (April 27, 1991) and the day I had my wisdom teeth removed (December 20, 1990). Things like that just stick in my head.

Today is December 5th. Today is Leah's birthday.

Leah was a friend of mine in elementary school. I remember being so jealous of her. She was beautiful, with blue eyes and gorgeous blond hair. She had the popular boy as her "boyfriend". She was rich. She had it all.

I was invited to the party celebrating her 8th birthday. I remember having drinks we called "suicides", which were nothing more than two different sodas mixed together (I had Coke with Mountain Dew.) It was a great party. I was so excited to be there!

Her house was amazing. She had an enormous bedroom with her own bathroom and a walk-in closet that was bigger than my own bedroom at the time. It was decorated in bright green and pink. She had all the Hello Kitty stuff you could imagine. Leah was so cool.

Ten days after that party, on December 15, 1980, Leah was killed. She was knocked down by the open car door of her mom's Nissan 280Z when her mom's foot slipped off the brake. Leah was run over by the car.

I remember our second grade teacher, Mrs. Phillips, tearfully cleaning out the contents of Leah's desk. Most everyone got to check out of school that day, but I had to stay because my mom worked. Mom picked me up and I told her what happened. Mom was in charge of making the little stockings for our Christmas party. All she could say was, "Beth, are you sure? But I just sewed her stocking last night!" I know she was in shock. She was friends with Leah's parents.

My mom let me attend the funeral. She says she was criticized for taking me, but I'm glad she did. It help me process the whole thing.

Every December 5th I remember Leah's birthday. I calculate how old she would be today (34) and wonder what she would look like. To me she'll always be the smiling, blonde, blue-eyed girl in the monogrammed sweater from her second grade picture.

Happy Birthday, Leah.

Blog Challenge: Nuggets

What are 5 nuggets of wisdom that have been imparted to you by people you've cherished? How do those nuggets show up in your daily life... or do they? Have the words of wisdom shaped you? Which nuggets have you passed on to people who cherish you?

Well, it turns out my mom actually had some wise things to say. How do I know this? Because, dadgummit, I find myself repeating them to my own kids on a daily basis. The words just fly out of my mouth before I can stop them.

(1) Jeremiah 29:11. "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

My mom repeated this to me anytime I got down about things that didn't go the way I expected them to. She still recites this verse to me as an adult. I have quoted it to my own 8 year-old daughter a few times just this past year. Dontcha' hate it when you find out Mom was right?

(2) "She didn't make you feel that way. You allowed her to make you feel like that."

Classic mom, again. I have to repeat this one to myself a LOT. I have to reign in my emotions many, many times. I have a tendency to fall into pits of self pity. This mantra pulls me out of my pit quite frequently. Others' words only have as much power as we give them.

(3) "(S)he who laughs, lasts." Mary Pettibone Poole.

I love this quote. I have to remind myself to laugh when I get too serious or sad. Laughter truly is a medicine for me. It's as vital to my daily existence as water. I thirst for laughter. A hearty guffaw just makes me feel better.

And while I'm on the subject of Ms. Poole... I had to look up the quote above to make sure I had the author right. I found another great quote during my search. That Mary Pettibone Poole was a cool chick. MUST Google her to find out who she was!

Oh, the quote! "To repeat what others have said requires education; to challenge it requires brains." You go, girl.

(4) "Whoever gossips to you will gossip about you."

It's a Spanish proverb. Who knew the Spanish were so wise? I knew they made good rice, but this... this is better than Spanish rice!

I have a love/hate relationship with gossip. I hate being "out of the loop", but I hate being "in the know", too. I just don't get a good feeling when I hear gossip. I have been the victim of it, and I try to stay away from it. I have learned the hard way not to trust too many people with my secrets, and I never get too close to people with loose tongues.

(5) "You can't love an inanimate object."

Wisdom from Dad. My sister and I used to roll our eyes whenever we heard this one, but it has truth to it. While I guess it is true that you can love THINGS, they won't love you back. It's better to invest in loving people. Dad was right after all.

50th Blog!

Woot!

It's my 50th blog! PAR-TAY!

I went to Target today to do some Christmas shopping for my hubby.

Really, he's not that hard to please. He doesn't even need Christmas gifts, but I always feel the need to try to buy him something. Anything.

I took my 4 year-old son with me and we had a great time. I bought him a box of cookies and some chocolate milk at the snack stand ('cause I use food to buy my kids' love, you know...) We surfed the endcaps for the Target clearance deals (not much there, I tell you!) I got myself a new sweater, some new Aveeno facial cleansing pads and some moisturizer. I love getting new stuff, even if it is just *moisturizer*.

But back to the reason we were there. Shopping for my sweet hubby.

I pushed our buggy up and down the aisles, perusing clothing (he doesn't need it), underwear, t-shirts (needs them, but my mom always gets him these for Christmas... don't know why...), electronics (not even going to go there... he's a tech freak and I'm so.... NOT), bicycles (um, no) until I got to the automotive department.

JACKPOT.

I found so many things that hubby can use in the auto department. A new suede-y steering wheel cover. A thing that fits in the cup holder that stores loose change. A huge mug with a bottom that fits in the cup holder. A keyring that is also a voice recorder thingy so he can leave himself little messages (like, "bring home eggs" or "buy my wife something nice". You can see how this might work to my advantage!)

I also found him a nice Black & Decker auto wrench in the tool department. 'Cause if there is one thing my hubby loves, it's things that make his life easier. And what about an AUTOMATIC WRENCH doesn't SCREAM "lazy to the bone"?!? You don't even have to turn your wrist! COME ON! How great is that?!?

There's just one thing I have left on my list for hubby: a Claxton fruitcake.

I can see it now. Sweet hubby, sitting on the couch on Christmas morn, wearing his brand new undies, noshing on his fruitcake, putting together toys with his lazy man's wrench.

It's a Wonderful Life.

Oprah

I have a confession to make.

I'm in LURVE with Patrick Dempsey.

He's just got that smirk that makes me quiver. I've never been one of those rabid fans that slobbers over television stars or shows (well, there was that one guy from "Weird Science" that I used to have a thing for... not Anthony Michael Hall... the other one... Ilan Mitchell Smith... bio added for my sister's amusement...)

I have enjoyed certain shows in the past, but I am over the moon about Grey's Anatomy.

Oh.My.Goodness.

I'm sitting here on the couch watching Oprah interviewing the cast, and I'm as giddy as a schoolgirl. I'm all over this. Loving it. Can't get enough. I want to move to Seattle. I want McDreamy to operate on my brain (well, maybe just remove my tonsils...)

Why does this show affect me like this?

Speaking of Oprah.... I have a bunch of unwatched episodes on DVR. Today I watched the episode from November 21. There was a couple with two young girls who were trying to sell their house. They started a business and maxed out their credit cards and then the woman was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Sad story.

Nate Berkus was dispatched to help spruce up the house to get it in sellable condition. They did some really great stuff. The budget was $10,000.

I kept thinking, all throughout the show, "They're going to surprise this family and tell them that the mortgage is paid and they can stay in the house."

Nope.

I didn't get it. Oprah has the money. Mom's got a BRAIN TUMOR for freak's sake. Can't Oprah spare a little change and help them out a little?

Geesh.

Oh, and I found this on the internet. It's an updated picture of my preteen crush.

I kinda wish I'd quit Googling before I found it.

Things I Love A to Z

I borrowed this idea from my friend Stacy. I got it from her blog.


A is for Aiden, my 5 year-old son. He always makes me laugh and smile.
Beth is my name. I like my name. It's short and sweet (like me! HA!) Not Elizabeth. Not Bethany. Just Beth.
Cul de sac. I love living at the end of the street. It's quiet!
Doughnuts. Chocolate covered cream filled from The Donut Shop is da bomb.
Elvis singing "Blue Christmas".
Four kids. That's what I have. Camryn, Aiden, Quinn & Lillian. Four is enough!
Gulf Shores, Alabama. My best childhood vacations were spent there.
Hotels. I love staying in hotels, 'cause it means I'm on vacation!
Iron Bowl. Auburn vs. Alabama. The best football game of the year. Cannot miss!
Junk being cleaned up. I am super organized, so I love when a room is cleaned up and everything is put away.
K is for ketchup. It's my favorite vegetable. What's life without ketchup?
Lillian is my 2 year-old. She cracks me up. Such personality!
Mailman. I love getting mail. I get excited to see the car pull up to the box!
Nickelodeon. I can get so much done when Dora & Diego are on, 'cause Quinn and Lillian are glued to their favorite shows.
Orange is my favorite color. It's so warm and bright.
Pajamas are my preferred clothing. I could live in them!
Quinn is my 4 year-old son. He's a sweet, loving boy.
Radio. I always have it on in the car (if I'm not listening to my iPod). I love music!
Sunshine. I love a sunny day. Cloudy days and dark skies make me blue.
Texas. The word just brings a smile to my face, because I met so many new friends there recently.
Umbrella. If I need one, it's raining, and I love rainy days.
Victory in Jesus. My favorite hymn. It reminds me of my favorite teacher, Mrs. Burch. She passed away in 1993, and we sang this at her funeral.
War Eagle! That's what we shout when the Auburn Tigers score.
Xtra cheese. What's NOT good with a little extra cheese?
Youth. I don't want to ever grow up.
Zig markers. My new favorite scrapbooking pens.

Blog Challenge: Treasures

We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures. ~Thornton Wilder

This week, think in terms of Thanksgiving. Even if you aren't in the USA, really think about the things you're blessed with. But don't blog about the general stuff. Don't make a quick list of what you're thankful for. Don't do a half-hearted attempt at the generic "I'm Thankful for" blog. Instead, meditate on the above quote, and then write.

There is so much I can give thanks for this year.

I have a beautiful new house that I enjoy every day. It thrills my heart to hear my kids playing together in the back yard. I get happy when I can spend some time in the scrapbook room my ever thoughtful hubby asked the builder to include for me in the plans. Its pink color warms my heart!

My husband has a job that he enjoys, and it allows me to be able to stay home with my kids. I am constantly thankful that it is ME who picks up the kids from school every day. I'm blessed to have the freedom to be so involved in my kids' lives.

My children are healthy. They're happy. They love each other. They do fight, but they do have their moments of expressing genuine adoration for one another. Those moments make me so very proud.

My parents are still alive. And more than that, they're still married after 37 years. And yet still more than THAT... they still LOVE each other after all that time. They still smooch on each other and travel together and enjoy being in each other's company. THAT'S amazing. Their marriage was a good model for me.

I have a great sister. She and I have a great relationship. That's something to be grateful for, because in this era of dysfunctional families, not many people can truly say they get along well with their siblings.

But this year, at the top of the list of things I'm praising God for, is FRIENDSHIPS.

As I blogged about a few days ago, it's been a difficult year. The depression I wrote about afflicted me for months before I did anything about it. I let a lot of my friendships dwindle to the point where I was left with just one really good friend. I regret that.

So this year I'm grateful for that one friend that's left. She and I have grown closer this year. I love her and am very happy to have her in my life.

I'm also exceedingly thankful for new friends I made when I went to the ScrapShare Texas retreat. I may not be able to talk to them much, but I know they're there for me when and if I need them. They rekindled a fire in my soul that has been dormant for a long time. They made me feel alive again, reminded me that I need female friendships.

This group of women, each one of them unique and gifted and talented and strong, loved on me and joked with me and insulted me (in a good way!) and laughed with me and encouraged me and stayed up all night with me. I came home from that retreat exhausted and renewed all at the same time.

I cannot wait to see them again. Thanks, girls.

I *heart* Compliments

I went to a scrapbook event last night. It was the last workshop that my Creative Memories consultant was doing. Her husband lost his job and they might have to move, so she's quitting crops. It's sad, because I'll miss the monthly get togethers, meeting new friends and catching up with old ones.

I'll also miss the energy that those crops give me. I admit it, I'm a compliment ho. I love it when people sing my praises. I'm not good at accepting them, but I love hearing them. Who doesn't? (My love language, coincidentally, is Words of Affirmation. Go figger.

I tend to get a lot of compliments on my pages at these crops. I have a regular table that I sit at, and people have to pass by it on the way to the snacks, so I always get lingerers going and coming. I love it. (I didn't sit there for that reason, but it's a nice bonus!) I always go home from those crops with my self esteem tank overflowing. It keeps me going for a few days, so I'm really going to miss that monthly ego boost.

Last night I received kudos of a different kind. I was sitting at a different table, because I was late and my regular table was full when I arrived. I was sitting with a friend (S.) who is a friend of one of my friends (K.). We were laughing and chatting and having a great time. She looked at me and said, "I was talking to K the other day and I told her that I think you are one of the funniest people I know, and K said she agreed!" S went on to say that K also said she hasn't seen me in awhile and misses me and my sense of humor (K goes to my church, but her husband teaches a different Sunday school class than the one I attend, so I *don't* get to see her much!)

I fumbled around and made some lame attempt at a thank you, but my heart was bursting. I kinda think I'm funny, and my husband tells me I have a great wit, but it's something else when others tell you that.

I love making people laugh. It makes ME laugh to see other people chortle. I love that laughter that goes on and on for minutes. I love chuckling until my jaw and stomach muscles hurt. It just revives and renews me. A good laugh makes you momentarily forget all your troubles. I LOVE TO LAUGH.

I have had a tough year. In January I saw my doctor for depression and was put on medicine. I thought it was post partum depression (even though my youngest child was 16 months-old at the time of my diagnosis), but looking over my life I know that I have had depressive episodes throughout my life. It just took me a long time and a lot of help from my husband to help me see that I needed help. I fought it, because I didn't want to take drugs. I am a naturally happy person, and I thought that if I tried hard enough, I could make myself happy again.

It didn't work.

It's been almost a year now that I've been on Cymbalta. I am really just starting to feel like my old self again. I feel like I'm coming out of a fog. You know when you dream and you feel like everything is moving slower and doesn't seem as clear as it does in real life? You can shout but you feel like you're not being heard? That's how I've felt as a depressed person. Nothing was sharp. Everything seemed foggy. I was in my life but not living it. My life felt like it was moving along on a conveyor belt.

Now things are crisper, clearer, faster, louder. My joy is back. I am belly laughing again. I am *ME* again.

I love being me.

Foolish Pride

I've had a great day.

I grooved in the car to my new Black Eyed Peas CD (Monkey Business). I had the bass cranked up so loud I saw the rearview mirrors shaking to the beat when I stopped at the traffic light. I was getting some looks, I tell you. Ain't nobody seen a minivan rockin' like that before.

I went to the salon (Ulta) and got my roots touched up. I got some golden highlights and also got my eyebrows waxed. I was feeling super hot. Definitely NOT like a mom of four (who drives that aforementioned minivan).

I found out that I had enough rewards points to make the haircut FREE, plus I picked up a new bottle of OPI nail polish gratis as well. SCORE!

I left Ulta and went to Shoe Carnival. They were having their buy one, get one at half price shoe sale. I picked up some new shoes. Nothing makes you feel cuter than a new pair of shoes. ROCK ON!

Next stop was AC Moore. I popped in there and found *the* K&Company Verbena scrap pad I've been looking for. It was 40% off regular price, so I got to use my 40% off coupon on a pack of Zig markers.

THIS DAY ROCKS!

Wow. What a great day. I popped in my Kelly Clarkson CD on the way to pick up my son. I'm feeling like the grooviest girl EVAH. I'm so hot and styled and hip with my music selections.

I felt INDESTRUCTABLE.

Halfway to Aiden's school I felt something tickling my ankle. At the next red light I looked down and saw one raunchy, nasty Band Aid hanging off my foot. It had half fallen off my ankle.

I *KNOW* it had been there all morning long, flapping along behind me.

Oh, well.

My hair still looks good.

40 Days

You know it's 40 days until Christmas, right?

I'm not ready. I'm really NOT ready.

Usually by this time of year I have at least half of the gifts bought. I haven't bought ONE dadgum thing yet. I don't even have a firm grasp on what my children desire this year. I really don't care to buy them ONE THING, to be honest. Why should I? I'll just have to clean it up.

I don't want to drag out the tree and the ornaments and the lights and all that hoo haa that goes along with a commercialized Christmas. I don't want to make a list and check it twice. I don't want to dress the kids up, take them for their annual visit with Santa, cajole them to smile for the picture. I just want to skip all that nonsense this year.

I used to love Christmas. I love everything about it. I love the true meaning of it. But I've gotten so burned out trying to "do" Christmas the world's way. I'm tired of it. No cookie exchanges, no Christmas parades, no pageants, musicals, class parties, gifts for "fringe" people (teachers, mailmen, secretaries, etc.)

I just want to quit Christmas this year.

I want to gather my family up and escape to a secluded location and really celebrate the meaning of Christmas. The meaning that's not widely marketed.

I want to give gifts to people because I WANT TO, not because it's expected of me. I want to grab a handful of angels off the Salvation Army Angel Tree and buy for them instead of my own kids, who truly do not need a thing. I want to GIVE IT AWAY this Christmas.

So why do I feel like I can't do that? Why am I stuck?

Blog Challenge: Rite of Passage

Write about a rite of passage. It can be your own experience or someone else's. It can be an event that you're anticipating, or one you're anticipating for your child. It can be a long forgotten memory, a touching ancedote, or a funny story.

I had to search my brain for something to blog about given this assignment. I don't know why it was so hard. It just befuzzled me a little bit.

What I want to write about came to me a few minutes ago when I was doing the dishes. I don't know what reminded me of it, but I couldn't wait to finish cleaning the kitchen and sit down to write.

I turned 16 on February 5, 1989. I don't remember exactly when I went to get my license (and there are no pictures or anything like that... 'cause my mom's not a scrapbooker like me!), but I'm sure it was the same day or the same week, at least. I passed on my first try (barely!) and that was it. I became a licensed driver.

About a week later I got to drive the car (a 1984 white Ford Thunderbird) by myself. I drove it from my house to my high school (which was about a 5 minute drive, really...) I was on the yearbook staff, and we sponsored the Miss Rendezvous contest (the beauty pageant). I know it was a Saturday, because we were decorating the gym that day for the pageant that night.

Oh, I was thrilled!

I was scared to turn on the radio. I did everything so carefully. I was petrified, but I got through it. I got better and better at driving, and eventually felt comfortable turning on the radio.

Fast forward to August 16, 1989. I was cruising with my younger sister. We had just been to the video store (I think) to get a video, and we took the long way home. It was raining. We (of course) had the radio up loud.

We were sooooooo cooooooool.

Then I saw them. Red lights in the rearview mirror. Dang it.

I was given a ticket in the amount of $110 for going 56 mph in a 35 mph zone. I was lucky he didn't double ticket me for driving too fast for conditions. I got a small lecture, and I drove home slowly, embarrassed, ready to quit driving altogether.

When I got to the house, my mom asked me to turn around and go back to the grocery store (this was before cell phones...) I threw the ticket at her and said, "I don't know if you'll want me driving after this!"

She was disappointed, and that's all I needed to hear. I lived to please my parents, and could see the disapproval in her eyes. She knew that I was already punishing myself more than she could, so she was brief with her scolding. She said she would cover the cost, and that I didn't need to tell my daddy. I'm sure he found out eventually, but I never told him. HIS disappointment in me would have been too much to bear.

One of these days I'm sure I will get another speeding ticket. I haven't had one since I was 16 (I was pulled over one time in Mississippi on the way to see my future husband in Memphis... luckily I had a gorgeous roommate that knew how to flirt, and I didn't get a ticket...)

I still love to crank up that radio, and I admit I drive a little fast. My favorite times to be in the car are when there is NO ONE else with me. I blast my favorite songs and pretend I'm 16 again.

And in a cooler car, 'cause somehow the minivan thing just doesn't align with the music.

The song I love most? Jack & Diane by John Cougar Mellencamp.

My favorite line?

Hold on to 16
as long as you can
Changes comin' 'round real soon
Make us women and men

And to quote Shania Twain...

Man, I feel like a woman.

Blog Cop Out

I haven't felt much like blogging since I got home from Texas.

I'm flat out exhausted. It was like one looooooooong slumber party, and I didn't want to miss a minute. I stayed up all night on Saturday, into the wee hours of Sunday, ate brunch, crashed.

My body is still craving sleep. I've hit the bed early every night this week trying to get some of that 24 hours back. Ain't working. I'm still a zombie.

So forgive me if I haven't blogged. Today you get the blog cop out. Someone else's original questions with my answers.

What color is your room?

My room is a golden yellow. When we built this house we were told we could choose five colors tops. Each additional color would cost $200. So most of the upstairs is painted this golden yellow. It's nice, but I want to change the color in the kitchen to a rusty red.

Do you give your pets birthday and Christmas presents?

They're lucky if I remember to give them food. Before we had children I used to treat the cats to soft food on holidays, but I don't do that anymore. I'm a pitiful pet owner.

What color nail polish do you most often wear?

I have short fingernails. I pick at them. Toenails, too. I've never been able to grow my fingernails to a glamorous length.

Several weeks ago I got a pedicure and chose an OPI polish called "Lincoln Park After Dark". I liked it so much that I bought some on eBay. My fingernails and toenails are now currently that color. It's so purple it's black!

What's your favorite sexual position?

Is this really something you want to know about me? Methinks not.

I know you all have had to eat one of the Hamburger Helpers, Chicken Helpers, and Tuna Helpers. Which flavor is your favorite?

The one I don't have to cook.

No, really. I don't care for the tuna or chicken helpers. I like any of the beef ones, but I would have to say the stroganoff is at the top of the list.

Is that supposed to reveal some deep, dark secret about me? What a silly question.

When you fasten your pants do you button first of zip first?

I usually button first.

Leno or Letterman?

Depends on several things, really.

Who's the guest?
Is Leno doing Headlines? (If so, I choose Leno)
Who's running the rerun?
Did something (like a sporting event) push one back meaning the news is still on on that particular channel?)

I'd say 7/10 times I go with Leno, but will be switching to Letterman when Conan takes over. He's a little twit.

Which of the following characteristics would you rather have? You can only choose one. Nice Exciting Loving Hot

Nice. That's my gut choice, but now I'm thinking I might prefer to be loving, 'cause being not nice is where the laughs are.

Okay. Loving. Lord knows I'll never be hot (unless it's over 100 degrees outside...)

If I asked every person that you've kissed, they'd say that your kisses are tentative, wild, intense, or sweet?

I don't know. Really? I don't know. That's a weird question.

Do you kiss on the first date?

Not anymore, 'cause I'm married. If my husband takes me on a nice date, he's definitely going to get past first base. If'n I don't fall asleep first.

Blog Challenge: Scared

With Halloween upon us, tell us about a time in your life when you were scared. Shaking, screaching, frozen, trembling, crying, sick-to-your-stomach, whatever scared. Maybe you were a child, maybe you were an adult, maybe it was a nightmare, maybe it was a job interview. Whatever. You've been scared before.
Tell us!

There isn't really much that terrifies me. Most bugs that I was afraid of when I was younger don't really bother me much anymore. I don't care for snakes, but the non-poisonous ones I can tolerate. I can handle most critters, I guess.

What I'm truly scared of, really REALLY scared of, is flying in an airplane.

I haven't always had this fear. I have flown to Spain. I've flown to Los Angeles, to New Orleans, to Miami, to Washington, DC, to Orlando (many times), and to Belize (even braving a little airplane whose engines were so loud I couldn't carry on a conversation with my friends!)

Flying never bothered me until one day in late March, 1997. My husband and I were returning from a four-day Caribbean cruise. We were aboard the filing-for-bankruptcy (at the time) AirSouth flying back from Miami. It was the most turbulent flight I've ever experienced. We were in the middle of the flight and people had unbuckled their seatbelts (the captain had turned off the seatbelt sign) so several passengers actually hit the roof of the plane. People were screaming and calling on Jesus. It was not fun.

After that experience, I swore it would take a miracle to ever get me on board a plane again.

Then we all suffered through the horrific events of 9/11. That was the nail in the coffin for me. NO MORE FLYING. Zip. Nada. Nothing. Nope. Not. Me. FOR-get it.

Until my husband convinced me to fly to Orlando in January 2005. We wanted to take our two oldest children to Disney World, and my husband was adamant that he wasn't thrilled about making a 16-hour round trip drive.

Hmph.

He won. I flew. I didn't like it, but it was only an 85-minute jaunt and I survived it.

Then we took all four of our children to Orlando in December 2005. We did okay on that trip, too.

My husband and I flew again to Disney World for our 10th anniversary in January 2006. I didn't want to go without my kids. It scared me to think that my children could be left orphans if our plane crashed. I'm still here, but that one was a nail biter.

The time for me to fly has come again.

I have to get on a plane (a TINY plane) on Thursday.

This time I'm going to Texas without any of my family. I'm flying on a TINY plane. (Did I already mention that it's a TINY plane?)

I do NOT like tiny planes.

I know I'll have a blast once we get on the ground in Texas, but that nearly 3-hour trip on a seemingly model-sized airplane is FREAKIN' ME OUT.

Freakin' me TOTALLY out.

Massaged, Facialed, Pedicured... Oh, My!!

I just got finished enjoying a spa day with mi hermana (my sistah). We went to Santa Fe Day Spa in Birmingham, Alabama and got the treatment, I tell you. It was HEAVEN.

Let me back up a little. After having lunch with my husband, my sister and I went to Scrap, Etc. in the Patton Creek area of the Galleria. I had a blast in there, picking out some new Basic Grey papers (Fruitcake and Dasher!) I fondled it and drooled over it and loved it and bought way too much of it. I can't wait to get home and use it!

Okay, back to the spa. I got a deep cleansing facial from Tiffany (loved it). She extracted the blackheads from my pores and gave me the skin of a 15 year-old. I am determined to find a good place at home to get a monthly facial. I'm also going to find the moisturizer Tiffany recommended and buy stock in it. It was "alishus" (as my kids say...)

After the facial Tiffany took me to a locker to store my stuff and told me she was taking me to see Matt for my massage.

Wha? Huh? I didn't know there were girls named Matt.

See, my sistah had booked us with female masseuses (maseese? I dunno...) I've never had a massage from a man that had not previously impregnated me. Weird.

I said, "Um, I thought I was getting a female masseuse?" Tiff said, "Oh, well, she's overbooked."

So, Magic Fingers Matt it was.

I put on my iPod and pretended he was a woman with man hands. It wasn't too bad. I got through it. Though, in retrospect, I might've made a different underwear selection if I'd known Magic Matt was going to be touching my thighs. Instead of purple gingham cotton I might have selected something... um, well, less Mom-like. (Do I own anything like that?)

Note to self: bring SexyBack to the undies drawer upon returning home...

After Magic Matt finished rubbing on me it was time for my pedicure. And this weren't just ANY pedi. 'Twas a SPA pedi.

That means they put your feet in a soapy whirlpool and you sit in a chair that vibrates. NIIIIIIIIIICE.

Except the girl didn't get that I was trying to read a magazine. She kept talking to me. The worst part was when she told me I have viral warts on my feet.

LURVLY. That's exactly what a girl wants to hear. Viral warts.

Apparently, I can get them lanced at my family MD's office. But the pedi girl can't scrub on them.

Understandable.

And after all the spa loveliness my non-scrappin' sistah even acquiesced when I asked to go by Hobby Lobby. I bought some Basic Grey ribbon. I was happy.

Scrap store, spa treatments and Basic Grey ribbon.

It was a good day.

Man, I hate it when He does that...

Okay.

I'm still whining about my mother-in-law being here for 2 months. So shoot me. I have the right, don't I?

But I read my Bruce & Stan book this morning and I've decided that I (1) need to quit reading the Bruce & Stan book or (2) quit whining about my mother-in-law.

Hmph.

The title of today's entry in my book? Make Someone Happy.

Yeah. Uh-oh.

"Personal happiness is most easily gained by bringing happiness to others." (emphasis mine). As if it weren't clear enough the first time I typed it, it somehow got erased and I had to type it again.

OKAY, GOD. I GET IT. Don't make me type it again.

Mostly the entry is about not trying to place your happiness in things, but the last paragraph just settled on my chest like one of those dental x-ray aprons. It's heavy, man. Heavy.

"A better way to gain happiness is to do things for others. Make others happy, and the happiest person will be you. Make others happy all the time, and your happiness will turn to joy."

God has spoken. It's time to shut up about my mother-in-law. I gotta make like Nike and Just Do It.

Blog Challenge: Do Over

This week's blog challenge:

In golf, there's this thing called a Mulligan. Basically, if your golfing buddies agree to let you have it, it's your chance to try again without a penalty. It's a do-over. We don't get many Mulligans in life. But if we did... if there was one Mulligan you could take - one do-over - what would it be?

I had to think about this one. I really can't say that there are a lot of things I'd do differently in my life, because in one way or another, I've grown and stretched as a result of things that have happened. I really had to consider my answer to this question. I came up with three things.

The first one is silly, really. It's juvenile and I am embarrassed to even mention it.

I had my first date when I was in 9th grade. I went to see Mike Warnke, a Christian comedian, with a boy on whom I had a decent sized crush. He was funny, played the piano and spoke 5 languages. I was so excited to go out with him!

I acted totally dorky on the date. I didn't act like myself. Instead I acted like a stupid airhead, which was so not who I was.

He didn't ask me out again. I'd like to have that night back to prove I was a mature person that he would ask out for a second time. I saw him a few times in college and thought about asking *him* out, but I didn't have the courage.

Fast forward about 15 years or so. I had a c-section with my 3rd child. He was breech and I chose not to have him turned.

When I was 35 weeks pregnant with my 4th child, the ultrasound showed that she was large. The doctor suggested we schedule a repeat c-section, because most likely the baby would be large (I'd already had 3 children over 9 pounds.) I was really, really devastated. I knew my 4th pregnancy was my last, and I really wanted to try to have a VBAC. But, I listened to the advice of my doctors and tried to be at peace with my decision.

When Lillian Grayce was born, she weighed 9 pounds, 10 ounces. She was my second largest child weight wise. She was a tiny thing, though. All of the 0-3 month size clothes I had for her just hung on her. That wasn't the case with her 9 pound, 11 ounce sister. Camryn came out of the womb wearing 3-6 month clothing.

I knew the instant I saw Lillian that I could've pushed her out with no problem. I know it. I wish I had insisted on a VBAC. I just didn't have the b*lls to defy the doctors.

So those are my do-overs. With 33 years of living behind me, I guess 2 do-overs isn't bad, eh? I'm satisfied with most of the decisions I've made along the way. They've made me who I am.

As Iron Sharpens Iron

I have this book that I keep in my toilet area (how's that for an introductory sentence?) It's called Keeping God in the Small Stuff and it was written by Bruce and Stan (Bickel & Jantz, but they write as Bruce and Stan). I gave this book to my Stan for Christmas in 2001. It sat on his bedside table until we moved to our new house. That's when I put it in the bathroom, 'cause that's just about the only quiet place I have to read and contemplate spiritual matters.

So, when I forget to read a day's entry, I go back and catch up. I've been sick and haven't kept up with the entries, so I caught up today. October 18's entry was about friends.

"Finding a True Friend" is the title of the entry. The quote at the top says, "Select friends based on their character, not their compliments." Bruce and Stan exhort: "You are now at a stage when you get to select your own friends. Don't let it happen by default. be very intentional about it. Look for friends that will raise you up to a higher level; avoid the people who will pull you down to theirs." And then they close with one of my favorite Bible verses; it's one I used to contemplate and pray over when I was searching for a mate. Proverbs 27:17 says, "As iron sharpens iron, a friend sharpens a friend." I looked for a mate who would sharpen me, so I should be looking for the same in friends.

To be honest, I don't have many friends. I have a lot of friendly acquaintances, but I can count on one hand the number of true friends I have. I'm related to two of them (my husband and my sister.) The other two are my friend Malinda and my college roommate Christi.

I miss Christi. There are days when I crave spending just 10 minutes in her presence. I have not laid eyes on her since her wedding day, which was July 18, 1998. I don't know her two precious girls, but I know they look just like their beautiful mom from the pictures Christi sends with her Christmas cards. I wish she lived closer. She lived in Texas for years, and she just recently moved to Tennessee. That's a little bit closer, but still not close enough. Maybe one day God will allow us to live close enough to be able to share our lives with one another. Until then I will have to be content with cards and letters and emails and phonecalls. Nothing makes my day like a good laugh shared with Elmer (she calls me Bubba... it's a long story that involves putting together a computer work desk...)

Malinda is the kind of person that sharpens me. She calls and emails me when she thinks about me. My oldest 2 children are the same age as her 2 kids, and they're good friends, too. She offers to let my kids spend the day with hers and vice versa, because we realize that sometimes moms just need a break.

Malinda is the person who encouraged me to go back to scrapbooking after I'd quit because *I* thought it was too hard and intimidating. She showed me the simple way to create memory books. She patiently waited for me to find the inspiration I needed to start, and she's encouraged me in it ever since. We just get each other.

Malinda might have to move. Her husband's company was bought by a larger company and his job will most likely be eliminated. She is almost certain that they will not be able to stay in this area. They will probably move to Birmingham, because they have family there. I will miss her terribly, and it's just dawning on me how much I will miss her. She is one of the few people I can really be myself with. She doesn't care if a curse word slips, and I feel totally comfortable with her. I know she won't divulge my secrets.

Friends like those are hard to find, and I might lose one. I'm a little down.

Asked and Answered

I started this entry on Friday and finished in on Saturday. I'm a bit wired, 'cause I was at a scrapbooking workshop tonight with actual, real live grown-ups! Anyhow, random questions... asked and answered...

What is your favorite flavor of ice cream?

It's a tie. I love mint chocolate chip and chocolate raspberry truffle. If it's a Blizzard, it has to be chocolate covered cherries or Butterfinger. If it's a milkshake, chocolate, and NOT malt. Ick.

What was the last thing you ate?

A leftover cheeseburger from Wednesday night's visit to Outback Steakhouse. I didn't eat dinner before the scrap workshop, because I hate to sit and scrap when I'm full. So I warmed up the cheeseburger when I got home. It was tasty.

What CD is in your CD player right now?

I don't really use a CD player much anymore since I have an iPod. The CD player in the car has my daughter's musical practice CD in it for the Christmas musical she's doing at church. She has a solo!

The last song that was playing on the iPod tonight was "Hazy Shade of Winter" by the Bangles.

How many keys are on your key ring?

Um, since I keep them hanging on the gearshift in the car, I don't know exactly. I have one of those uberfab (and overworn) Lance Armstrong-type bracelets on my keyring ('cept mine's not yellow... it's pink and says, "Live. Love. Scrapbook.") I attached it to my keyring so I can wear my keys on my wrist when I'm not carrying them in my purse. Anyhoooo... I'd guess that there are 4 or 5 keys on the ring. There's my house key, my van key, hubby's truck key and a key to my parents' house. Surely there's more than that, though?

How much money do you have in your wallet?

Too much. I don't use credit cards. I use mostly cash, so I always have too much cash on me. I don't dare say how much.

List two bad habits that you have. Now tell me which one you would be willing to give up first.

I bite my fingernails. I've always done it. My grandmother even used that bitter stuff on me when I was little and I just licked it off. It tasted like ear wax, but it wasn't so unpleasant that it made me stop biting (and, um, I don't care to discuss how I know what ear wax tastes like...)

Hmmm... my other bad habit.... I guess I'd have to say that I'm bad about interrupting people when they're talking. I don't mean to. Really.

What spice or seasoning is your favorite?

I loves me some cinnamon. Cinnamon toast. Cinnamon in my oatmeal. Snickerdoodles. Streusel topping.

I also like salt. It's so simple and inexpensive but flavors things so well.

What's your birthstone? Would you change it?

Amethyst. I don't know that I'd change it. What would I do with all of those birthstone rings and things? Anyways, I love purple, so it's perfect.

If you had one day to live, what would you do?

I'd stay in my PJs and play with my kids all day long.

Do you know what your name means?

Which name? I have 2.

Beth means "House" in Hebrew. For example, "Bethany" means "house of figs". "Bethel" means "House of God". Oh, and I'm just Beth. I'm not Elizabeth or Bethany. Just Beth.

My other name is Mommy.

Mommy means:

caregiver
teacher
chauffer
facilities manager
cook
dishwasher
laundress
janitor
counselor
accountant
nurse
party planner
historian
photographer
negotiator
buttwiper
diaper changer
love

White & Nerdy... or Not

I took the nerd test today. As it turns out, I'm not nerdy at all. I'm a little upset. I think nerd is the new cool.



Hmph.

I want to be nerdy again. I feel like I've lost my identity.

Third Joke

I subscribed to the '"Word a Day" e-mail at www.urbandictionary.com. Today's e-mail gave me a chuckle. I have been guilty of telling the Third Joke one too many times.

A "Third Joke" is when someone says something funny, someone else feels the need to follow it with something that may or may not also be funny, and then a third person, trying to keep up, follows up with a third quip, which by this point is most definitely no longer funny. It is important for others at this point to call "Third Joke" out loud to point out the third individual's social error, to embarass them for killing the funny. A truly unskilled individual can Third Joke on the second quip.

Bob: "And then I said, 'That's not my fish!'" Haha!

Bill: "A halibut tale!" Haha!

Ted: "I smell fish!" Ha.. um.

Bob: "Third Joke, Ted."

Blog Challenge: Inside/Outside

Pick a day this week, and blog about what's going on outside and what's going on inside. I'm thinking in literal terms: outside your house and inside your house. Or outside your place of business and inside it. But if you want to get creative, feel free to blog about YOU - what's going on inside as opposed to what you're allowing the world to see on the outside.Extra points for posting photos! If you can't post photos, then do your best to illustrate with your words. Give us a clear visual of what's happening inside and out! Don't worry about your house being messy, or your outside being boring. Document a day this week, just as you're living it. Tell us about the sounds outside and the sounds inside... or what the squirrels are eating and what you're eating... or what the temp is out there and how comfy you are inside... or what needs to be done outside and what needs to be done inside.Whatever. Be creative. Just blog about inside/outside.

Okay. I'm picking today.

Right now I'm sitting in my den with my laptop perched on a pillow in my lap. Everyone is heading to the kitchen table to sit down and eat lunch. The house smells like bad sauerkraut because my husband cleaned out the refrigerator while he was making lunch and put the sauerkraut down the garbage disposal. My 8 year-old daughter is refusing to come to the table because the smell of the bad kraut is making her gag. Funny. It's making my mouth water.

Outside it's a beautiful, sunny day. The temperatures, I believe, are hovering in the mid-60s. I don't know for sure, because I was in bed until around noon. I'm still sick. The marshmallow in stuck in my larynx has gotten smaller, but it still feels like someone poured jet fuel down my throat and then lit a match. And now my ears are starting to throb. Woo hoo.

I'm dressed in my lounging pajamas because, well, I'm lounging. I do not want to move from this couch. A neighbor came to my door about an hour ago, asking me to sign a petition. I'm sure I looked SO PRETTY. I'm sure I can't look that bad (I am clean, wearing clean underwear and deodorant), but I feel nasty. Sickly and nasty. My outsides look better than my insides.

My insides are a total mess. My mother-in-law found out last week that she has 4, possibly 5 blockages in her heart. She will be having open heart surgery on Thursday the 19th.

Outwardly I appear to be the loving, sacrificing, supportive wife and daughter-in-law. I should win an Academy award, really. Best Performance by a Daughter In Law pretending that all of this is going to be F-I-N-E.

I have so many emotions about what's about to happen with my mother-in-law. It is no secret that I do not think the best of her. I do not HATE her. She did produce my wonderful husband, so for that I am grateful. I'm just constantly preturbed by her. Just little things, really, but I have a very low tolerance for her.

So the fact that she will possibly be living with us for two months is driving me insane. I know that we built this house with its downstairs suite in case something like this ever happened. I just seriously didn't think it would happen this SOON. I'm not ready to have her in my house for such a long period of time. Not ready at all.

And I feel completely, utterly, sinfully guilty for having all of these feelings. I mean, if MIL didn't come here, where would she go? She has a sister, but she works. She has a brother, but he's not really the caretaker type. She has a daughter, but she's in Georgia. She has another son, but he doesn't have any room for MIL. So it's us. We (*I*) get the job of taking care of her. BUT I DO NOT WANT TO DO THIS. I don't want her here. I don't. I DON'T.

I'm selfish. I like my routine, and this is totally blowing all of that familiarity and sameness that I thrive on to pieces. I know I'll grow. I know this will teach me something. I know the kids will love having Nana here.

I'll get through it. I just have to deal with it. Put on my big girl panties and play nurse for two months.

I sincerely hope I don't get daughters in law like me. But I probably will.

I am a BIG BABY

I have a sore throat.

I went to see the doctor today (who, by the way, eerily resembles Dr. Miranda "The Nazi" Bailey from "Grey's Anatomy".)

I do not have strep throat.

I do have a bacterial infection. I was given amoxocillin pills as big as Jolly Ranchers. Where's the logic in THAT? "Hmm... she can't swallow worth a darn, so let's load 'er up with some big arse horse pills." Crazy keen logic there, doc.

So I'm waiting for the horse pills to work their elfin magic on me throat. So far I'm still feelin' like I have a marshmallow crammed down my larynx. I'm even talking funny-like.

I'm such a baby. But I feel B-A-D.

I want my mommy. Or Patrick Dempsey in some rugged boxer shorts.

Sista Souljah

I talked to my sister Brooke last night. She's a little bit down. A stoopid boy broke her heart.

He has to be an idiot. I know she love(d?) (s?) him, but any boy who would break up with my sister is a fool. Stoopid, stoopid boy. And yeah, I know I'm not spelling stupid right. STOOPID is a higher level of STUPID.

My sister is smart. She's beautiful. She's wicked funny. If I was a man, I'd wanna date her.

Foolish, foolish boy. I hope your new Barbie doll has some sort of sexually transmitted disease. Or, better yet, finds out she likes Midge dolls better than Ken dolls.

My sister is younger than me, but I always made her do the scary stuff when we were kids. She always had to go downstairs and turn off the basement light. I always made HER go into the closet where the breaker box was to turn off the pool pump (I was too scared of the camel crickets...wouldn't you be?!?) Brooke always took the blame for stuff, too. (Um, sorry 'bout that, Neener.)

My sister is the one that whispered and giggled with me in the darkness, under those heavy quilts in our double bed. She's the one who would touch her popsicle toes to my leg at night to hear me yelp. My sister was also my accomplice one year when we took 2 small boxes out from under the Christmas tree and hid in our closet to open them weeks before Christmas. And she is the one I missed terribly when I moved into my own room the summer before 6th grade. I missed her so bad I cried myself to sleep every night for a week, even though it was MY decision to change rooms.

My sister has laughed with (and at) me, cried with me, yelled at me and counselled me throughout the years. She's the best sister in the world. There are days when I crave her company. C-R-A-V-E it like chocolate.

My sister has done was I was too chicken to do. She pursued a career. She got her master's degree and uses it to do a job she loves. She helps people on a daily basis, and she enjoys it.

I took the easy way out of life by getting married and having a family. I was too afraid to pursue a dream. I chose the security of a marriage and family over the fear of figuring out what I wanted to be when I grew up.

I settled.

My sister soared.

And yet, she tells me she's jealous of my life. If only she knew how envious I am of her solitude. Her serenity. Her freedom.

*I* am the one that envies her. She's got it going on, y'all. One day, ONE DAY, some not-so-stoopid boy will discover the hidden treasure that is my sister, my neener, my bestest friend. And she'll be his. And I'm afraid she won't need me anymore.

And then what will I do?

I was thinking just today
About how we used to play
Baby dolls and make-up
Tea parties, dress up
I remember how we'd fight
We made up and laughed all night
Wish we were kids again
My sister, my friend

I've Retreated

This past weekend I got away from home. I retreated with a bunch of gals I'd never met (and one I had) to the town of Helen, Georgia. It was a BLAST.

I am a part of a great online community called ScrapShare. I can't really think of the appropriate words to describe this community. But, if I ever run away, I want to run away to the town of ScrapShare, USA. If only such a place existed!

Anyhow, back to the retreat.

About 18 or so of us gathered at Unicoi Lodge for a weekend of scrapbooking. As I unpacked and settled in to start working, it hit me: I'd forgotten to bring the photos I needed to finish my wedding album. I was mad at myself for being so careless (I had made a LIST, after all!), but I decided to just finish what I had brought and make myself available to whomever needed help.

I think I enjoyed myself more working on other people's layouts. I helped my friend, Malinda, finish an entire album and get halfway through another one. I loved it. It was so much fun! I also was entrusted with some photos of a new friend, Bev, for whom I did two double page spreads. I was honored that these two ladies would consider my work worthy enough to be in such a precious family heirloom.

It's been a long time since I was in the presence of adults (without kids!) for longer than an hour or two. This weekend really refreshed my soul. As we drove away from the lodge, I said to Malinda, "I think I finally remembered how to have FUN again. I haven't laughed so much in a long time." I needed that. I needed to laugh until my jaws hurt. I needed camaraderie. I needed to just be needed and feel needed and appreciated by someone other than my family. Thanks, Georgia girls.

I can't wait to go to Texas next month to meet more ScrapShare sisters and have MORE fun, but it's those Georgia girls that I'm longing to be with again...and soon!

Choco Taco -OR- Why Tide To Go Doesn't Make a Good Drumstick

Let me paint you a picture.

On the first Thursday of each month it is my responsibility to pick up a huge order from Taco Bell and deliver it to my 8 year-old's school. They don't serve hot lunch, so parent volunteers bring special lunches on Tues/Wed/Thurs.

So today I'm standing at the counter waiting on my order, chatting with the cashier. I jokingly said, "Now, the delivery person gets a free Choco Taco, right?" You know that way you have of saying something so it seems like your joking but really you hope they take you seriously, and then when they do you have to act all coy like you were just kidding? Yeah, well, that's what I was doing. So the nice cashier boy goes and gets me the Choco Taco. SCORE!



I get the food back to the car and drive off as I'm ripping open my Choco Taco. I'm trying to be oh-so-careful, because I have not proven myself to be the cleanest eater whilst inside a moving vehicle. I already had Coke splatter down the front of my shirt from an overfull cup I snagged at Chick Fil A (getting my daughter's lunch, 'cause she's not a fan of Taco Bell.)

About halfway to the school I polished off my Choco Taco and caught sight of a huge chocolate blob on my shirt. Right. Between. My. Hooters. Smashed. Ever done one of those art projects where you drop paint on the paper and then fold the paper in half to get a smushy symmetrical paint image? That's what happened to me. Chocolate blob butterfly right between the mammaries. LOVE. LY.

So I go digging in my bag for my Tide To Go, thinking I'd be able to apply it while driving (yeah, I know. I'm not bright.) I decided that wouldn't work, but I kept the tube in my hand anyhow.

I'm playing my iPod in the car, 'cause it's what I do when I'm driving. "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" started playing, and I'm groovin', using my Tide To Go as a pointer. Yeah, I let that devil have it with my Tide To Go stick. I'm glad my life isn't like "The Truman Show". It's not, is it? You'd tell me if it was, right?

The next song is even better. "Brick House" by The Commodores. "She's a brick howwwwse." I'm on drums again. Oh, yeah. Shake it down, shake it down, shake it down now...

Then a REAL drum song comes on. From the "Drumline" soundtrack. How PERFECT is THAT? So, right in the middle of my drum solo, the Tide To Go stick cracks. Tide To Go. Everywhere.

Blech.

The moral of this story is: when someone offers you a free Choco Taco, politely refuse. And for heaven's sake, don't try to go all Tommy Lee on your steering wheel with a stick of Tide To Go.

It's All in How You Ask

Just now my 2 year-old daughter brought a book to me and said, "Read me, Mommy."

I opened up the front cover and saw a big magenta scribble that undoubtedly came from a crayon.

"Did you color in this book, Lillian?"

"No."

"Lillo, did you color on this page?"

"No."

Lillian Grayce, did you huggah on this page?" ("Huggah" is 2 year-old for "color".)

"No."

"Who colored in this book, Lillian?"

"Me."

"Do you have stinky pants, Lillian?"

"No."

"Lillian, do you have poops?"

"No."

"Lillian, bring me a diaper. You stink."

"Okay. Wipes, too? Need cream, Mommy."

Days of Elijah

Have you ever listened to a song that gave you goosebumps? I have a list of songs that give me that reaction.

This is one of them:

Days Of Elijah (words and music by Robin Mark)

These are the days of Elijah,
Declaring the word of the Lord:
And these are the days of Your servant Moses,
Righteousness being restored.
And though these are days of great trial,
Of famine and darkness and sword,
Still, we are the voice in the desert crying
'Prepare ye the way of the Lord!'

Behold He comes riding on the clouds,
Shining like the sun at the trumpet call;
Lift your voice, it's the year of jubilee,
And out of Zion's hill salvation comes.

These are the days of Ezekiel,
The dry bones becoming as flesh;
And these are the days of Your servant David,
Rebuilding a temple of praise.
These are the days of the harvest,
The fields are as white in Your world,
And we are the labourers in Your vineyard,
Declaring the word of the Lord!

There's no God like Jehovah.
There's no God like Jehovah!

Our church choir has sung this on a few occasions, and this past Sunday it was included in our praise & worship time.

I.LOVE.THIS.SONG.

I put the Twila Paris version on my iPod and I crank it at least once a day. It just LIFTS ME UP.

Here's the story behind the song: Take a few minutes and read it. It gives me hope.

During the last few days and weeks I have stared open-mouthed at the TV screen night after night as I watched the evening's news. Things seem awful. There is true evil in this world, and at times I know the question is asked, "Where is God during all of this? Why does He let this stuff happen?"

I love this quote from Robin Mark as he explained how he came to write "Days of Elijah":

That these are not days of God stepping back and allowing the world and the church to roll uncontrolled towards eternity, but rather days when he is calling on his body to make a stand, to offer right praises and to declare that He is totally in control.

God's there. He's there. He has a plan. He's calling us as Christians to stand up and be the truth in the middle of lies. We are to shout loudly the hope of God in the middle of despair. We're beacons of light in a world of darkness. We're the city on the hill (Matthew 5:14 "You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden.")

There is no God like Jehovah.

Ode to My Husband...

Finally, someone has penned a song about my beloved hubby. Thank you, Weird Al.

Provided By MetroLyrics

No Consequences

No Consequences

"If you could live one day without consequences, what would you do?"

Gosh. The possibilities.

No consequences. Nobody finds out what I've done. Nobody knows. Nobody gets hurt. What WOULD I do?!?

If I had a day with no consequences, I would spend most of it without my children. Sorry, guys.

I only have 24 hours. Let's get this party started!

First I'd hop onto a private jet, which I would've rented for the entire day. I'd fly to some secluded, private beach and rent one of those little huts that sit right in the middle of the water. I'd lay in a hammock in the sun for a few hours, reading a book. The most delicious, calorie laden breakfast would be served to me on the deck of my hut. Fish would swim beneath my feet as I dined. There would be croissants, omelets made with the finest cheeses and eggs, pastries dripping with cream cheese and icing. Banana bread, blueberry muffins, Fruity Pebbles, Captain Crunch (both berry and peanut butter varieties!) WHOLE MILK, powdered donuts, and tons of Coca Cola served straight from GLASS bottles. I'm salivating.

After the beach I'd get back on the plane and head to some snowy place in the mountains of Colorado. I'd spend a couple of hours in an open field, tearing up the snow on my snowmobile. Then I'd relax in the hot tub for awhile to get warm. There would be a masseuse there to massage my aching muscles for about 2 hours. After the massage I'd enjoy all my favorite foods. I'd have to have egg rolls from Ming's Chinese restaurant, Stromboli steak sandwiches from Pasquale's, Cheeseburgers and seasoned crinkle fries from Milo's, Monte Cristo sandwiches from Bennigan's, Beer Cheese soup from Baby Doe's, Southwestern Egg Rolls from Chili's, Toasted Ravioli from The Olive Garden, Sensational Seven chocolate cake from Red Lobster (which they don't serve anymore!), ChimiCheesecakes from Applebee's, Mushroom Filets with Caramelized Onions from City Range, steak Fajitas from Cantinflas, The Peddler's salad bar (with unlimited vienna sausage!), potato salad from Mutt's BBQ, orange rolls from The Club in Birmingham, Johnny Ray's BBQ sandwiches, Bavarian pizzerts from Pizza Inn, Hibachi steak & shrimp with fried rice (and lots of shrimp sauce!) from Miyabi, a Caesar salad from ChopHouse 47, and one of my grandmother's homemade chocolate pies. I'd wash it all down with pitchers of amaretto sours.

After that feast I'd head back to the states. I'd pick up my husband and we'd spend a few hours at DisneyWorld in Florida (having rented it for the day, of course!) We'd ride TestTrack and Soarin' and Tower of Terror and Expedition:Everest a gazillion times each. I'd even ride Mission:Space since there are no consequences! We'd dine at the chef's table at Victoria & Albert's. We'd order EVERYTHING on the menu along with their best wines and champagnes. We'd spend an hour in the finest suite at the Grand Floridian... wink, wink.

I'd drop hubby off at the house (someone has to be with the kids!) I'd fly to the world's largest scrapbook store (wherever that is!) and buy them out. I'd hire a professional decorator and organizer to come redo my scrap room. They'd stay and redo the entire house as well. The house would be completely redone and decorated. Everyone would get new furniture. I'd replace everyone's linens with high thread count ones. I'd buy fluffy luxury towels (bath sheets!) for each bathroom.

I'd do some major shoe shopping. I'd replace my entire wardrobe. Heck, I'd replace everyone's entire wardrobe! (Woo hoo! new outfits for the kids from Gymboree, Hanna Andersson and April Cornell!)

I'd buy a new convertible black Saab with a killer sound system. I'd buy an iPod for my sister. I'd book an Alaskan cruise for my parents and a European cruise for myself and my husband. I'd have a pool put in the back yard. Landscapers would come and make my backyard look like The Secret Garden.

My sister and I would see every show on Broadway twice. Then we'd hop over to Chicago and get lucky enough to attend the taping of Oprah's Favorite Things show. Then I'd go appear on Jeopardy, The Price is Right and Wheel of Fortune.

I'd take abused children away from their parents and give them to people who would love them.
I'd pay off my parents' debts and build them a new house.

And after that, I'd be home in time to eat a simple dinner of fish sticks and macaroni and cheese with my kids. I would hug them and tickle them and kiss them, because I would realize that I missed them terribly. They'd tell me about their day and we'd giggle. We'd all crack up when someone burped. We'd make banana splits with everyone's favorite toppings and we'd read books until the kids' eyelids got heavy. My husband and I would tuck the kids into bed and we'd go to bed and whisper to one another in the dark until we fell asleep ourselves.

Then get up at midnight, because I'd realize I hadn't taken time to pee, and I'd feel weird because I couldn't recall a single minute from the day before except eating diner with my kids and falling asleep in my husband's arms.