My Unedited Life: What?? This isn't normal??

So. A couple times in the (very) recent past, I have found reason to pause and analyze my life and parenting a little bit.

The first happened at the veterinarian's a couple weeks ago. Our cat, Cat, had an oozing eye. And she was overdue for her shots by... oh... I don't know. Forever. So we made an appointment and went in.

For those of you who are pet-less, you may not know the joy that kids take in taking pets to the doctor. Because there is absolutely NO chance that they'll be getting a shot. Plus, vets are much more likely to let them play with a stethoscope that their actual doctor. (I swear. It's like the pediatrician thinks they have cooties. Why would she think that???)

I digress.

We get to the vets. Cat in cat carrier. Waiting our turn. All is well. We finally get called in to the room, and the vet begins to work with our cat. After a few minutes, three things happen simultaneously:

1. Thing 2 tries to jump up on the table because he's a "doggy",

2. The Munchkin bites my rump good and hard, since she's not the one getting the attention,

3. Thing 1 passes out COLD because she's sees a needle on the counter.

Herr Doctor looks at me with this face that says "Are you FOR REAL????"

I look back, as I'm dragging Thing 1 out the door by her shoulders, trying to muster up a look that conveys "What?? This doesn't happen all the time??"

The next thing was this past week when I took my kids to the store. The Munchkin had marker all over her face and was wearing a Minnie dress, Thing 2 was wearing really short shorts and a pajama top with galoshes on the wrong feet, and Thing 1 decided now would be a good time to roll her eyes back in her head and drool, just for fun.

Where did I go wrong???

"There is no such thing as natural beauty..."

This morning I looked in the mirror and my Dolly Pardon was looking back at me. The Dolly Pardon I remember in 1987. And while I love Dolly, I'm being perfectly candid when I say that no one wants to look like Dolly Pardon in 1987.

I am a disgrace to Southern women everywhere.

So I rushed to my nearest Target (since the closest Piggly Wiggly is an hour away) and left with an armful of things to get my pretty back.

Crest Whitestrips (on sale!)

Nair (shudder. winter legs.)

BORN BLONDE hair dye

Then I called my sister and on-call beautician to ask how to dye just the roots of my hair. She got all complicated and started using chemical terms like "toner" and "overprocessed." I kind of lost her at "don't overlap the dye with your already bleached hair. Because it might fall out if you do." Whaaaa?? You mean I can't just slather it on like shampoo???

Carefully pulling out the directions, they said to start in the back of my head. Which I can't see. That's when I knew that they contained nothing helpful and tossed 'em in the trashcan.

So here I sit. My teeth are so sensitive after half an hour of whitening that I feel like I'm biting down on a frozen creamsicle. I smell like a chemical refinery, but at least the hair is gone from my legs. And based on the tingling coming from my head, I think I might have put Nair on my head by mistake.

Am I pretty yet????

Upstaged.

We are frantically "staging" our house so that we can put it on the market.

Notice I didn't say "sell it" because, well, who are we kidding?

Anyway.

Part of staging means repainting every single room in our house.

And some furniture.

Saturday, me and my back were still at odds, but we were getting along well enough to help paint one room and spray paint a dresser. What was once an off white and gold reminder of a bygone era was now Pottery Barn white. *chorus of angels singing*

For all of one day.

Which is when Thing 1 christened it. With charcoal drawing pencils.

sigh.

Oh well.

Down for the count.

There is a lovely woman in my congregation who comes every Sunday.

She is always dressed immaculately.

She stands at the back, rigid and unmoving. Her walk looks carefully calculated.

She has "back problems."

And I've looked at her sometimes and thought "Man, that has to be hard."

Then, this morning, I leaned over to help Thing 2 get on his jeans, and my back said "If I could get your attention for a minute, and please don't take this personally, I just wanted let you know that I'm going on strike. My lawyers will be in touch."

Agony and curses.

So, after one day, I can now tell you that you use your lower back for:

bending,

lifting,

twisting,

making your legs move,

sitting up,

standing,

and breathing.

Without it, doing those things can be next to impossible.

Who knew?

And so, as a penitent, I just wanted to say to that lady at my church every Sunday:

I can't believe you got dressed.

How did you get your shoes on?!

How do you even get out of bed???

You are a rockstar.

Falling...

So. Wait. Where was I before my computer ate it??

Oh, yes.

Things to love.

Well, it just so happens that my own true love and I fell in love right smack dab in the middle of the dreariest,

yuckiest,

grayest,

coldest,

drabbest,

longest

time of year.

Which is an unusual blessing of sorts, really.

Because it doesn't matter that my Happy Lamp fell off the counter and got broken, along with my computer. It doesn't matter that we've used up so many school snow days that, from here on our, the kids are supposed to go to school on Saturdays. It doesn't even matter that I'm stuck on a weight loss plateau that would give the Tibetan Plateau a run for it's money. (Google: World's largest plateau.)

Nope.

Because back in 2003, I was in possession of a periwinkle colored parka and a brand new love. December was longing for the phone to ring and hoping it'd be him.

January was holding hands and first kisses.

February was head over heels and him IN LOVE with me.

Best. winter. ever.

And every winter, it whispers to me across the years. I'll find myself suddenly smiling and loving the fog and the frost--for so many memories that I've nearly forgotten that come back to the surface in the dead of winter.

Who knew winter could be so warm?

Whispers.

Every year, on the first Sunday of the year, we get to change what time we go to church.

So last year was a flurry of up and out and ready by 8:15 to make the 9:00 service. Hilarity and tears often ensued.

This year, church starts at 11:00. So instead of rushing, this morning found me

sitting on the living room floor,

reading books to my children,

cutting out pictures of Jesus to look at during church,

and playing with bouncy balls and laughing our heads off.

And a tiny voice whispered "This is how it could be. This is how homeschooling could be."

And my heart felt a little braver.

But not yet brave enough. Not yet.

But closer.

Accounting.

Happy New Years, everyone.

This morning, I am sitting here gazing at my folder of resolutions for 2011. Thinking about what I want to do, try, fix, change, and be. But that requires some reflection on last year.

Which is why I'm sitting here looking at my original handwritten list of goals.
In so many ways, I don't feel like I accomplished anything in 2010. I am the same weight, give or take. I am still impatient, restless, and stubborn.
But I do have a couple checks to add to my list, bringing my completed total to 54.

In 2010, I became a beekeeper.
I visited Washington DC and the Smithsonian for the first time.
And I truly did improve my ability to take pictures with my point and shoot camera.

I feel blessed by those goals. I feel grateful for every check I get to add to my list, since none of them are a given.

So, what for 2011?
I don't think I'll be seeing the Himalayas this year. Tahiti isn't really realistic either. I pause over the "Have a lot of kids" goal. I'm glad I didn't specify a number. Like 9. But I don't feel like I can check it off, at 3.

I am training for Kilimanjaro, with a goal to save the money and make the climb in 2014. So that's something.

But for 2011???

My 17 year old self didn't think to add things like "Speak softly" or "Give vegetarianism a try."
Maybe this is the year to do something I haven't done and actually add some new numbers to my list...