If Practice makes perfect. . .

Then why is my doctor still "practicing medicine" after 28 years? Don't get me wrong. . .he is a great guy. And not the only one who seems to have a track record of making "educated guesses" when it comes to patient care (I'm looking at you Gregory House). But here is the deal. . .

I've been on anti-dperessants for 6 years. SIX YEARS. And at first. . .all was well. Magical even. Its amazing what a small amount of brain altering chemicals can do for your outlook. But about 3 years ago, I went to the doctor complaining of fatigue. Tests were run. Nothing conclusive was found. "You are probably still depressed" was the Doctor's decision. After all - fatigue is a symptom of depression. So they doubled my dose. And I didn't get better. So I went back after about 6 more months. Tests were run. Nothing conclusive was found. "Try to exercise more and get more rest." And I didn't get better. Lather, Rinse, Repeat.

I would go to the doctor, they would run tests, they would find nothing, they would either A - up my dose of anti-depressant or B - give me great advice like "try to avoid caffeine - it might be disrupting your sleep". In which case I would look at them like the crazy person they OBVIOUSLY are because caffeine is the only thing that gets me through the day without collapsing. Then I finally got fed up. And decided to pester my doctor until he figured out what was wrong with me. And in May of this year (after running tests and finding nothing) he finally sent me to a sleep disorders lab. And I racked up over $10K (yes - that is not a typo - $10,000) in sleep tests. AND. . .THE RESULTS ARE IN. . .I don't have a sleep disorder. Not Sleep Apnea (First guess) nor Narcolepsy (second guess). Nor anything else. I sleep like a baby. However. . .what I do have? Is apparently "fatigue caused by the secondary effects of my antidepressant". Translation - one of the side effects of the antidepressant is fatigue. . .and so for three years - THREE YEARS - they have been increasing my dosage - making me more and more and more and more and more tired. Nifty - ain't it.

I wonder how long you have to practice so that it doesn't take three years to make a patient better.

This child belongs to F (Just Kidding Honey)!

Randomly today as the whole family drove through town, Mischief decided to tell us "At night-time, I pick my nose sometimes." Oh REALLY? And where do you put the boogers? "In a secret hiding place where they can't get out."

One day we are going to find a stash of dried crusty boogers that she has been keeping locked away - lest they escape and find their way back into her nose.

Sweet Child of Mine

Drama Queen got to go on her very first Black Friday shopping experience this year. Making it even more momentous? The fact that we were shopping at midnight. She was so excited and had so much fun. Also fun was watching her comparison shop through the crowds of people as she tried to stretch her budget of $10 to buy as much as possible. Final result. . .she left with $10 and came home with $1. . .and a new purse and some make-up.

Oh yeah. . .she's mine alright. Those are two of my favorite things to buy. . .the other being shoes, but she couldn't find any of those for less than $10 :)

Eye of the Beholder

I hate having photos taken of me (I think I've mentioned this before) - and especially right now. My hair is in this weird growing out length that is a cross between a bowl cut and a mullet. I've gained about 10 (ok 15) pounds this year as I've focused on way too much crap besides taking care of myself. And I generally think I look like a bloated frog with a wonky eye. But a friend of mine was encouraging me to get over this. That one day when I'm 80 I'll want pictures to pass around the old folks home to show off what a raging beauty I used to be. And then my photographer friend is always begging me to let him take pics. And then I bought this dress. This dress that I LOVE and I had exactly one occasion to wear it and now it hangs in my closet in broken hearted agony (I'm a little crazy about the dress). So I had some pics taken. And I think for the first time since I saw my wedding photos - I thought - wow, I look beautiful. Tell me what you think. . . .

Things my kids say to me - Part 4 of a zillion

While watching Disney on Ice. . .

Drama Queen sees "Ariel and Eric" KISSING. "Mommy! They are KISSING! Are they married?"

Mischief sees the wildebeests stampede and Mufasah is run over. "Mommy! Are the werewolves taking Simba's daddy to the doctor?"

Chaos Theory

I talk a lot about the chaos in my life. It seems sometimes to be all encompassing. My job, the studio, the laundry, the dishes, the children and their toys. The list goes on. How are you? Oh you know. . .crazy busy. Its my default setting. But sometimes its in the chaos that you see the beauty of someone else. F is an amazing man. Really - I have a tendency to harp on him a bit, and there are things about him that I'll never understand - but sometimes in the midst of insanity he just amazes me.

Case in point: We are redoing our living room. We are moving the big old TV to above the mantle and this requires a change of our entertainment center. We are getting rid of the three cabinets that currently sit on the floor and replacing them with two cabinets that will hang on the wall on either side of the TV. Now if you had asked me to do this. . .I would have taken a drill, some screws and molly bolts and hung the cabinets. I might have gotten out a tape measure and a level at some point. Then I would have hung the TV between the two cabinets and then realized I needed a hole in the cabinet to run the TV cables from the DVD player to the TV.

F? He measures everything. . .the cabinets, the TV, the mantle, the ceiling and the wall. He then centers the TV over the mantle, centers the cabinets between the edges of the TV and the wall, and the floor and the ceiling. But wait! I mean - he centers them on a drawing he has made where the living room is mapped out to scale. You didn't think I meant he hung them already right? The he draws with a pencil everything out on the wall. Perfect lines, perfect proportions. THEN, he cuts a large rectangular hole in the wall where the cabinet will hang. . .and reinforces the studs with a 2x6 piece of wood. And then patches the hole. THEN he cuts a smaller rectangular hole in the wall between where the TV will go and the cabinet will go. And proceeds to install a 2" PVC pipe in the wall so that the wires can go from cabinet to TV without even being seen. And patches the hole. When all that drys and the sand has settled - then we'll paint the walls. And then we'll hang the TV and cabinets.

So my living room is a nasty mess of sheet rock dust, wood chips, DVD cases, books scattered around the floor. But there is a method to his madness - and really - there is a lot of beauty to the chaos.

A Horse of a Different Color

Its amazing really - when you think about it. Two children, with the same mother and father can be so violently different. Drama is a pleaser - no doubt about it. She wants to do the right then all the time and show you how super right it is. She wants to be the best at everything, the smartest, the funniest, the nicest. She does her best in school and today told me about how "PERFECT" she had written a cursive "S" in school today - detailing how it had gone up and looped over and curved down. I believe it might have been the highlight of her day. Mischief on the other hand. . . well, lets just say the highlight of her day had something to do with the basket of laundry she dumped out on the floor when she was supposed to be napping. Definitely - two very different children. Each perfect in their own way.

Things my kids say to me - Part 3 of a zillion

Drama Queen - "Mommy, why do you weigh yourself every morning?"
Me - "To see how much I weigh so I'll know how much I need to lose."
Drama Queen - "Oh. I bet you have alot to lose"

Apocolypse Now #3

"Look honey - Gas is only $3.50 a gallon today!" "wow - Cheap!"

Things my kids say to me - Part 2 of a zillion

Mischief - "Mommy, do you love my daddy?"
Me - "Yes darling"
Mischief - "But he's mine mommy, you can't have him"
Me - "He's yours?"
Mischief - "Yes. But I will share him with you"

Things my kids say to me - Part 1 of a zillion

Drama Queen, after watching a tv show about a Quincinera - "Mom, when a girl gets her first credit card, is that when she becomes a woman?"

Germy Germs

Kids and Germs. They go hand in hand. Of course. Drama Queen is very aware of germs. This week Mischief began running a fever, and then began vomiting. Drama Queen was all about "don't get near me, don't touch my drink - I don't want your germs". I'm really glad that she knows about germs and spreading them. Really. But this past weekend, I got a small glimpse of some of the impact this knowledge could have on the brain of a 6 (ALMOST 7) year old.

My grandmother has been diagnosed with cancer - uterine and ovarian. On top of that, her house caught on fire recently and I went to visit her to help her get scheduled in an apartment where she will live for the next 5 months. Where she will recuperate from her surgery, and live while her home is rebuilt. I left the girls with F while I traveled to Mimi's house. I worried about my Mimi's health, I worried about her sanity with all of the upheaval, I worried about F dealing with 2 girls for 4 days. I didn't worry about my girls at all.

I was sitting on the floor with Mimi - surrounded by mail and medical papers and clothes in trash bags - when my phone rang. It was Drama Queen. "What are you doing mommy?" "Sitting here next to Mimi - helping her unpack" "Mommy, can cancer spread?" "Yes darling, sometimes it can grow a bit until the doctors can get it out" "Oh." Silence. Silence. Silence. "Drama Queen?" "Yeah mommy" Silence. Silence. Silence. All of a sudden, I get it. "Drama Queen, darling. Cancer might grow in the person who already has it - but it can't spread from one person to another." "So its not like a cold mommy?" "No, darling - mommy can't get it from being here with mimi"

Things I should have talked to her about BEFORE heading off to Mimi's house for 4 days. . .DOH!

Hello Again!

So its been a while. . .yeah - sometimes its like life takes on a life of itself - craziness just oozes out of every pore and I can hardly keep up with my jobs, the kids, the laundry and the dishes - much less find time to post a blog. In the past few months I've. . .hmmm. . .nothing exciting. I'm sure I've cleaned up a few more messes from Mischief (Pee Pot's new name. Its my blog, I'll call her what I want, even if you people refuse to vote), I've refereed multiple fights between Mischief and Drama, I've taught classes, gotten new clients, lost clients, done untold loads of laundry, cooked a thousand meals, dealt with one thousand and one emergencies, lost 5 lbs and gained them back. . .Life is just a repetition of the same scenes over and over. Its really frikken frustrating some times. Times like now. . .

Ever have those days? Where everything seems wrong? Your kids, your job, your marriage, your life - you should get up and clean house but its all too overwhelming. . .and what would be the point - the kids/job/marriage/life would just mess it up again in the morning? Sometimes I swear, it makes more sense to just walk over the clutter than to pick it up. More sense to ignore the child pitching a fit over nothing than to try to discipline or correct. More sense to take a nap than to get up an exercise. More sense to eat the chocolate cake than the salad. More sense to be wrong than to be right.

I need to go to sleep, but I'm so distracted by the utter chaos of life that I can't sleep. . .that I lie in bed and toss and turn and wake up F and irritate him. I would take a sleeping pill, but at this late hour, it would just serve to make me a miserable groggy mess tomorrow. I would take up drinking but unfortunately sobriety would come back and hit me in the face in the morning.

Next up - positive thoughts by Julia: Lets all drop the toaster in the bathtub :) Sorry guys - I'll be lighter hearted tomorrow. And I'll try to post funny kid related stuff soon.

I spilled a Burp in My Bed

I have no idea what that means. I've just finished explaining to my currently-pregnant best friend Banana about the amazing love of children, the joys (really - I'm not being sarcastic) of parenting and the wonder of it all, when from upstairs, Pee Pot (who has been asleep) begins to whine and calls out "Mommy! I spilled a burp in my bed."

Does. Not. Compute.

"Honey, did you spill a cup of water?" No. "Did you have an accident?" No. What on earth is she going on about. Upstairs I go. Her shirt is missing, but her pj pants are still on. And dry. "Whats going on baby?" I ask. "There is a burp in my bed, mommy." Still totally confused, I stumble into her room (where Drama Queen is still sleeping and begin blindly running my hand over the bed, looking for a damp spot where her water cup has spilled, or she maybe she drooled in her sleep, or something. . . .My hand runs across something soft, squishy, wet. I pick it up and carry it into the light of the bathroom to inspect. Its a strawberry. A Strawberry? Did she have one tucked away in her shirt from supper time? I look up at Pee Pot just as she begins to cough. I instantly register EXACTLY what is going on (bout time there Sherlock!) and instinctively turn her away from me and toward the potty, just in time for my darling to Linda Blair projectile across the bathroom floor. Perhaps a stray drop hit the toilet, but the majority hit the floor in an impressive display of momentum.

Banana begins heading up the stairs to tell us goodnight. . .I stop her halfway and tell her to turn around and head home. She's not great with vomit (who is though really?) and I definitely don't need extra puke to clean up. Before the night is out, I will clean up strawberries 3 more times, but at least with those instances I know its coming.

Masterpiece Theater (Part 1)

I'm not one of those proud, weepy mothers. I'm not. I'm proud - sure. But weepy? Not really. I didn't cry when she said her first word, took her first step or told me that she loved me for the first time (I know - heart of stone over here). I don't cry at ballet recitals, TKD tests or Christmas play. But last night. . .last night was different.

Last night was Drama Queen's school Easter play (full disclosure - she goes to a private Christian school) and it was amazing. Most of the acting was done by high school and middle school students - but those kids blew me away. The oldest one was 18 and all of them were so amazingly talented - singing, dancing, acting - it was totally crazy. But of course, what I thought was most remarkable? The part Drama Queen did. I can't explain it, its one of those things you'd just have to see. . .and of course we walked out the door without our video camera. So here is a link to another group of I'm sure talented people doing the same thing. . .but when my kid did it - it was even more awesome - not in a small part by the fact that last night it was done by a group of 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th graders. Really - go watch it. I'll wait. Back? Pick your jaw up off the floor as you imagine 6 year olds doing this. I was floored.

And I might have cried a little bit - I'm some sort of soft rock. I'll go back to my normal state now. . .sorry.

Good Friday

So we decided to take pictures of the girls this afternoon in their Easter Dresses (with dolls dressed to match). It was a beautiful afternoon and the sun and the shadows just showed off how beautiful my daughters are. Below are the results. . .

Happy Good Friday

Easter 2008

I need your Help!

more at twiigs.com...

Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?

So Drama Queen has been reading "The Three Little Pigs" to Pee Pot lately. And Pee Pot loves the story. We'll be driving down the road and she'll randomly shout out "Who is watching? The BIG BAD Wolf is watching mommy!" And she's so excited about it - not scared at all - just super stoked about the wolf that likes to eat little pigs. She loves to talk in her "Big Bad Wolf" voice - all deep and throaty and serious. She loves to tell me about how he'll "huff and puff and BLOWWWWWWWW the house down". In short - she thinks its awesome.

Fast Forward to this past Saturday - the girls and I are down in the basement waiting out the numerous storms to rock our area. We have on our shoes (in case of debris), are huddled under a blanket, eating granola bars and reading a story from the Magic Tree House collection. For the circumstances - we are doing good. And all of a sudden Pee Pot says to me "Mommy - I have to wear my shoes so the wolf won't eat my toes" - and I'm thrown for a total loop. Why would she all of a sudden be worried about the wolf? Why now? Why would it eat her toes? Huh?

I flounder in my response - "oh no honey - there is no wolf and it wouldn't eat your toes anyway."

"Because it just likes to eat little pigs?"

"Umm - sure. And we aren't little pigs. We are little girls."

"Then why is the wolf here mommy?"

"AHHH! What wolf?"

"The Wolf is a Tornado that is going to huff and puff and blow our house down."

And everything becomes so clear.

Open Sesame!

Its finally open. The new studio. After months of stress and agony. Weeks of work and frustration with the county and the inspectors and the landlord. Its finally open. My very own little studio. I love having my own spot - no worries about anyone else's schedule, no interruptions from janitors or kids or postmen or anything. Its just like I imagined it too - Khaki walls, green plants, cherry wood floors, white drapes. I love it. However, the horror is not over. Oh no - I've still got to pay for a sign so people know I'm there. I've still got to suffer through a Grand Opening/Ribbon Cutting with newspaper people and chamber of commerce officials. But the worst is over. And the worst occurred last Friday. I finally broke down and had pictures taken. Professional pics of me in my studio looking professional. It was horrible. I hate photos of me in them. I hate cameras, flashes, smiling. But I ate my frog again - and had it done. And several of them came out ok. The ones where I looked stoned, or goofy, or even like John McCain, far outnumbered the good ones. But thanks to the magic of my photographer, we got some, where I look ok. Wierd.

There was a little girl

So my daughter Pee Pot (new name still pending) is absolutely adorable. Without question - A.Dorable. She is also extremely sweet and snuggly.

However, on the flip side of that she is a breathing incarnation of Destruction. I literally, cannot leave her alone for a single minute without something being torn, ripped, shredded, stomped, broken, colored on, painted on, climbed on, pulled over, pulled off, spilled, poured, eaten or generally destroyed. Drama Queen never did this. As a result, F and I are routinely shocked at the amount of carnage Pee Pot creates. We are child-proofing our house - AGAIN - due to her ability to open refrigerators and pantry doors and either eat everything in sight or create art work in non-traditional mediums. Maybe in her adult life she will be famous for creating masterpieces. . ."Sun and Snow - original artwork by Pee Pot, medium Egg Yolk and Feta Cheese". But the original test for that masterpiece was my living room.

This weekend we had terrible storms and I was glued to the news for hours trying to determine exactly when we needed to retreat to the safety of our basement (answer: Now!!!) After the majority of those storms had passed, another was said to be on the way and the girls, tired of watching the doppler radar, began to whine. I sent Drama Queen and Pee Pot upstairs to watch a movie while I continued to monitor the storms. In exactly 5 minutes, Drama Queen began to call for me to come upstairs "RIGHT NOW". I rolled my eyes to heaven and turned one ear to her and kept the other ear on the TV. "Why do you need me Drama Queen?" "I just need you. Pee Pot has made a mess" "Of Course she has. Clean it up, please - I'm watching for more storms." "No mommy - You NEED to see this". Up the stairs I go. Pee Pot is standing in the middle of the computer/TV room naked from the waist down. This is not totally astonishing - she often forgets to put her pants back on after going potty. What is astonishing is the color of her toes. They are fuschia. Not just her toe nails, but the entirity of the appendages. Also fushia? The intricate art work on the carpet in that room. And the hard wood in the hallway. "She got into my nail polish" Drama Queen explained simply. I throw Pee Pot in the bath tub, send Drama Queen Downstairs for storm monitoring and run with wild abandon to the computer to use my crazy Google-Fu skills to figure out what to clean this up with. (Shaving Cream) I run into the bathroom to get the shaving cream, and then toward the hall closet for a scrubbing cloth. . . .SPLASH! I step in a giant puddle of pee. And this explains the naked Pee Pot of earlier.

Welcome to my world.

Sometimes You Feel Like a Nut

And sometimes you just feel crossed-eyed crazy. And lately - that is as good as it gets. My life has been so insane lately (hence the dramatic lack of posts).

Since the new year I've decided to actually lease a real spot for my Pilates Studio and I've been living my life while dodging the rapid fire succession of bullets that has fired. Find a place, incorporate, get an EIN (WHAT?), negotiate lease terms, sign a lease, fight with landlord about stuff, fight with county about permits, fight with power company about power, change name, rebuild website, reorder business cards and it continues on and on. Add that to my regular life (why HELLO Laundry, dishes, kids and real job!) and you have the perfect recipe for disaster. Which is what life has dissolved into as of late. Forget having a clean house and supper on the table for my family - its been step over the laundry, grab a protein bar and crash into bed. Most evenings I fall into the bed only to question . . .did I brush my teeth today? I often look at my medicine on the counter half way through the day and contemplate if I took one, or was that yesterday? Should I risk taking another one?

And sleep - sleep is a twisted siren in my life. I need it. Crave it. Totally give into the bone-tired exhausted craving for a nap several days a week only to discover that I'm just as trashed when I wake up as I was when I laid down. It takes a stronger and stronger dose of my sleeping pills to keep my insane dreams from waking me.

And day after day I question. . .is it worth it? Is following my dream worth the chaos that has descended on my life and family? Is it going to ease up soon - after I move into the location will I be able to breathe again? Or will the insanity have just begun? Right now - if I felt like A nut - it would be highly preferable to the entire nut factory I'm feeling right now.