I'm Blessed. And So Are You.

Well, it's day two of Jackson without meds. As of right now, I have to say that the diet isn't working. He's off the wall and completely out of control. I'm not sure if he's just eaten something he shouldn't have had or what. I'm not going to give up, but it's going to take a little detective work and a lot of patience, I'm afraid.

I'm so busy this month, I feel like I'm drowning. I haven't had enough time to spend with my kids, I'm letting my house slide. I haven't cooked a decent meal in over a week and I have laundry piled to the ceiling. Brooklyn has given up naps, but she still needs them. I should have said no to being in this play, but it's too late now. I still need to get one costume before Wednesday. I'm making plans to meet with Michelle and Mimi because Kendra was so kind and got us tickets to Oprah's show.

I need to find a way to clone myself so I can make sure the kids practice their instruments, read, do their homework, and get to baseball practice on time and at the right field so we're not standing around amid a bunch of Orioles waiting for other Red Sox to show up. Not that that's ever happened or anything. Ahem.

I haven't had time alone with Joe in forever. Perhaps that's why he knocked 4 holes in the freaking family room ceiling while I was out of town. I guess he didn't remember that brief conversastion where I said, "I don't want lights in the ceiling, and even if I did, we have a lot of other stuff that's higher on the To Do list."

Brooklyn's walking around in a shirt, diaper, snowboots and a backpack while eating leftover pancakes from lunch right now and you know what? I don't have the energy to try and find where she took off her pants. Whatever.

I believe I'm finally done with the book now. I think I may be done with the articles I've written. Maybe. I hope. I'm down to only 50 pieces of mail in my box at the moment.

As busy as I am, I know I can always come here and read your comments and feel a little bit better. Like this one I just got this afternoon....

Dawn! I have been such a big fan of your website for many months now. I used to love how long your blogs would be and how hilarious they were. Then, you started sharing less and less with us because of your book deal, which makes me a tad angry since without us, the readers, you really wouldn't have a book deal. I was so excited to get your book but because this blog has become really boring and seems like such a big time waste for you, I am going to stop reading your blog and won't buy your book. Something has happened to you. You are not funny anymore and seem angry for having to type a paragraph for your readers. You have also said in the past that you exaggerate on a lot of your posts, which makes me think that your household is not as chaotic as you make it seem. You have time to fly every other week, rehearsals, two blogs and your book? Something smells fishy and I think a lot of your fans understand this now....it is sad. I used to be a huge fan, sorry you gave up on us.

LR


Well, LR, I want to thank you for following my instructions on sending me hate mail. There's nothing worse than hate mail containing misspelled words. In the future, so you know, you can just leave. You don't need to inform me of your decision or ask permission, okay. Enjoy not reading my blog and not getting my book. God bless.

Actually, the things that always makes me feel better when I get just a bit too busy are my kids...

One day while the kids were on spring break, Lexi and Clay got up early and made everyone lunch. At 6:30 in the morning. There they were, preparing half a dozen indentical plates, assembly-style. I'm really more of a "coffee for breakfast" kind of person, but how sweet were they?

It's times like that, even though there was peanut butter smeared on every inch of countertop and pretzel crumbs on the floor, that I smile and know that everything in my life is worthwhile. I'm where I'm supposed to be right now. But like everyone else, I'm only human. I regularly get overwhelmed and have a hard time keeping up.

We've all been there. I'm sure I'm not the only one who has taken her child to baseball practice at the wrong field or the wrong time. I'm sure I'm not the only one who has spent an hour looking for my car keys only to find them in the refrigerator. I'm positive I'm not the only person with laundry piled up on the floor, or a baby walking around in a shirt and snow boots saying, "TOTALLY WICKED!" repeatedly. Okay, well maybe I'm on my own with that last one. But my point is - when things seem overwhelming and hectic and you find yourself living in a playland pit of all the balls you've dropped this week, just remember to take a moment and relax. Take a breath and smile and know that you're blessed.

Just How Much Pineapple Did You Feed the Baby?

I'm not a morning person. In fact, I've never been a morning person. I used to drive my mother insane each and every morning when I was a kid. My mom was and still is a morning person. You know the type - they jump out of bed happily humming along with the birds, they make their bed, shower, dress, cook breakfast, read the paper, discover life on another planet, and invent a car that runs on mud all before 5:00am. This is my mom. I, on the other hand, am the kind of person that hits the snooze button on the alarm clock fifty-three times before throwing the clock against the wall, pulling the covers up around my head, and falling back asleep.

I can stay up until 3:00 in the morning without blinking an eye, but when 7:00 am rolls around, I still play the snooze alarm game on a daily basis. My children, however, are small versions of my mother who delight in waking me up by running through the house, shrieking the blood curdling screams of a bad actor in a horror movie about to be slashed by an ax wielding madman. It's a great way to start the day with an ulcer.

After a particularly bad week of the kids waking up super early and being super crazy in the morning, they surprised me. On Saturday morning, I slept until 9:00! That's unheard of in my house. NINE O'CLOCK! Know how I awoke this particular Saturday morning at 9:00? I awoke to my two oldest children bringing me breakfast in bed. I was certain that either

A. I was in the Twilight Zone and those were not my children, but cyborgs programmed to cook or

B. I was on Candid Camera

They came in my room carrying a cookie sheet which they used as a tray. On the cookie sheet, was a stack of pancakes with syrup, a plate of toast with jelly, and a glass of orange juice. Wow! After being reassured that the two kids bringing me my breakfast were indeed my children and not aliens who'd taken over their bodies, I took a bite of the pancakes only to discover that they weren't actually pancakes. I'm not certain what they were, but they were definitely not pancakes. First, they were black, and I'm pretty sure I've never seen pancakes quite this shade of black at IHOP. Secondly, I remembered that we were out of eggs. How did they make pancakes without eggs? Lastly, what were they doing using the stove? I mentally thank God that they didn't hurt themselves or burn down the house while flipping flapjacks, then I choked down every last bite of that breakfast because that's what moms do. We appreciate all the little things our kids do for us from the burnt, chewy pancake breakfasts to the homemade Mother's Day cards, to the mud pies and dandelion bouquets. I know that all too soon, these days will be gone.

Oh yeah - where were the other four children while my oldest two were playing Emeril in the kitchen? Well, three of them were watching a movie. And the baby was sitting in her high chair eating the breakfast that my two oldest prepared for her. It was a breakfast of pineapple. Yep, that's it. Just pineapple. A whole big can of pineapple. It was so thoughtful of my oldest kids to try and help out and give the baby breakfast like that, that I just didn't have the heart to tell them that they had given the baby enough citric acid to last a year and a half. The baby's poor little butt burst into flames every time she pooped for the next two days. I don't think I've ever used so much diaper cream in my life. Still, it was a wonderful gesture on my kids' part. So wonderful, in fact, that I hardly noticed the pancake batter splattered all over the stove and the orange juice spilled on the floor and the jelly on the counter tops and the bread sitting on the counter drying out in the open bag. Hardly.