Learn to Swerve.

The crap. Hath hitteth. The fan.

Of course, I reside in Alaska, where ceiling fans are about as rare as the appearance of underwear on yours truly's favorite mother of the year. I still can't help but notice every time I get all the crap together, I forget to tie the bag closed, and fweeeep. All over the place it goes. Of course this attracts the children, and I now how crap everywhere. Way too visual I'm certain, but that's how it goes.

If throwing tantrums were something I'd get away with, I'd totally take it upon myself to have one, such as Charity does at just about every opportunity. And the one that I'd choose to have, would not be accompanied by a face like that. Even on a child as cute as herself, that face poses no evidence of such beauty. Tis best to leave tantrums to those who possess the appropriate pouting skill.

I. At this time. Do not.

Even the nectar of his most evil does nothing to quell my troubles. I've practically given it up. By practically, I of course mean I now only drink 44 oz. As opposed to 68. baby steps. Always.

My small hiatus of things included making layouts that were forever late. Relinquishing some of the things I had just decided to take on, and trying to convince the ER Doctors, that I don't just drive the 50 minutes there to find solace and peace. I really have sick kids who need something. Imagine that.

The snow did finally melt, rendering us able to once again walk on the roads without fear of losing life or limb. Which is always good for fat roll removal. I'm down to 159. And my goal is 140. Think I can do it? Let's all say it with me. I think I can, I think I can. If my petition to get Pizza put on the acceptable dieting food list goes through, I will be one step closer to where I need to be. If not, I may have to settle for this. Either way. The pizza stays.

Ok. A few layouts. I ask that you not point and throw sticks, they are far from what I would normally consider post-able layouts, but with all the Havoc that was being reeked upon us, I had to settle for less than my best.



yes. Once again, I've managed to create more layouts with 1 photo, than those with more. I tried. Honest. I tried really hard.

We had some fun over the weekend and threw a party for Charity. We kept it to the minimum in people and invited my friend Courtney, and her lovely children. Who really are lovely. I'm not mocking. Honest. My kids and hers get along smashingly, so I figured why mess with a good thing. There is only 1 month left of school, and then begins the fun of an Alaskan summer. We'll do things like, go fishing, camping, try not to get run down by moose and other Alaskan wildlife that may or may not be friendly.

See, we love animals here on the Kirby plantation. But teaching the kids that petting large things, like moose, is taking some time. I for one would be absolutely scared to death of a moose at their age. They however, not so much. Take for instance, last week, when this giant creature began tapping on the glass with it's large and in chargeness, begging to come in. ( Pay no mind to the windows that need washed like 100 times over. ) It's Alaska, clean windows are the least of our concerns. So. This beast, saying hi, and all of a sudden, My children, decide to open the window, to pet him! Pet. Yes. Like, it's a bunny, that will wrinkle it's nose at you. I don't think so children. Moose are not our friends. Lucky for them, the moose was more scared of them, then they were of it, and no harm was befallen. I just have to make sure next time Molly the moose, ( a name they so aptly chose for the creature with the large nostrils) comes back. I am there. To thwart the play date attempts. Yes. That is what I must do.

It's probably more information than you care to have, but I've locked myself in the bathroom to keep the howler monkeys at bay while I pretend to go to the bathroom. I however think they're onto me, and know I'm not actually relieving myself, so tis probably best I open the door and face the world with a smile. Or something somewhat resembling one. I don't know that I could force one today if I tried. I have alot of catching up on emails, and layouts to do, not to mention the household chores that are beckoning with the same amount of enjoyment as a can of Diet Pepsi. But I'm going to drive forward. I must. I cannot afford to give up. Yet. =)

Ruth. Ya dead Mon?

Update your blog loser. I do believe those were her exact words. SO. In an effort to appease the one friend I do have, and not being one to let down my favorite people, I offer you, updates.

1. Charity's appointment went as well as can be expected. She is testing about 1 year below her age for all except her social skills. Came by that one honestly. She's my kid. They've got her with a speech therapist, a fine motor skills therapy session, some much needed behavior therapy, and a developmental pediatrician. And all I have to do, is drive her the 45 minutes to her appointments. Thank goodness it's not winter anymore. OH WAIT!!, update number 2.

2. It snowed 18 inches over the course of the weekend. I pulled in Friday night, after a girls night out, gone somewhat wrong, and was unable to move my car This morning, due to the sheer amount of snow piling itself around my wheel wells. Don't you just love spring? Spring in Alaska. When you don't use your snow blower anymore, BECAUSE it's covered with snow.

Ah yes. These are good times. And I am clearly not going anywhere until I dig my car out. Rest assured, if you need me, I'll be here.

3. Even though "spring" isn't really here, the fact is,  in most parts of the northern hemisphere, people are doing spring cleaning. Us Kirby's are doing the same. I've never been a fan of this wretched time of year. Taking all the crap out of ones house, and kicking up dust bunnies which will surely render my eyes watery, and my throat closed, sounds like fun certainly, I'd rather Jazzercise in my two piece. BUT, the fact is, my father has invited several women, who are actually very nice people, I can't complain, to come stay in the casa de Kirby for a few weeks starting the end of May. Sounds swell. EXCEPT. This house holds 15 people, is 25 years old, and could stand for some TLC. Guess who gets to be the Loving Carer? Bingo Johnny, what do we have for her. A whole lotta housework, and very little thanks in return. I'm excited. Can't wait. So much so, I'm already faking an illness.  Tomorrow we begin the painting portion. This can only end in tears.

4. My operation fatrolls, is in severe distress. The onslaught of snow has left the roads a treacherous feat for even the most padded of runners, and I've been forced to turn to alternate methods of weight loss. As starvation was a no go, I made it until 9:21. I woke up at 9:15. I've decided to call for reinforcements. This new plan called for, buying a pair of really cute pants in a size smaller than what I actually wear, in hopes of tricking my body into wanting to wear said pants, and having the weight just fall off. What the plan failed to take into account, was that Ruth might jump the gun, and attempt to put these pants on, only to pop the button, making them completely unable to close. I will get into them one day. It might involve some vasoline and a pair of jumper cables, but there will be fittage. Just you wait. I could also use some advice on what I like to call, my "I might be 26, but  my upper arms compare to that of a 76 year old, upper arm problem. Case in point... THAT. Bow to stern, that upper arm must be at least 12 inches across. How does one combat such an atrocity? Weights? Push-ups? Surgery? DO tell. It's a problem. A Large one.

5. Birthday time is upon us. This part of the year always reeks havoc on my budget, and my party planning skills, not to mention not only is it my daughters birthday, it's the population of just about all those residing within these walls' birthday too. That leaves us with the always looming problem. What to do? Charity would probably be content with some cake to call her own, and a .25 high flying bouncy ball from old navy. I however, am trying to encourage some of that social stuff she actually excels at, and have her a party. But where? With what? Birthday's anymore are like weddings, only messier. You can't just say, meet us at burger king. We'll split some chicken tenders, and call it a day. Oh no. There must be cake's, bouncy toys, presents, pizza, clowns, lawyers, permission slips, dry clean only dresses, and heaven forbid we dispense with the formalities, and not send invites via email too. I can't do it cap-tuhn. I don't Ave the powuh. I think we may just buy some trick candles, and occupy them that way. Kidding. Kind of. Point is, it's alot of work for something she's not likely to remember. Suggestions are always welcome.

The saddest of updates, is that it's also my mom's birthday this month. Never before has her absence been so apparent. We really are managing as well as can be expected. We do what has to be done, and we put on a good front, but sometimes, it's like the bonus footage around here. The behind the scenes stuff you don't see, until you buy the DVD. When someone calls, and asks my 6 year old brother if they can talk to his mom. When the voice-mail from the phone kicks on, and her voice says,  just leave a message. When people who don't know, mention my mother, What do you say to that? I usually just smile, and say, she's doing good. Because deep down, I know she is. I hear it gets easier with time, and I'm certain that's true. I guess there's just a moment every once in awhile, I could walk into her room, and see her smile. Tell her how I'm dealing with the things I'm being faced with. Show her how much my baby looks like her. Which is really something special if you ask me, Looking into her sweet face, seeing so much of my mom.

I hate to end on a sad note, so I will say, my LT kit is on it's way, and I plan to scrapbook some more of my mom this week, maybe a little personal stuff about yours truly. I rarely scrap that. So maybe it's time. Might help air some things out I've been holding in. And just because, I'm a sucker for funny kids. I offer you Mia. Who's obvious position as an Akers/Kirby kid has just been secured. She knows exactly where to find the best treats for snacking. Why inside the couch. But of course ; ) Stay tuned for layouts. I'm sure you can hardly wait ; )

Answers.

Ever wish there was just a reference point you could go to for answers?

I don't mean WebMD, or google, both are fantastic, but offer nothing to help me out in my current dilemmas.

I'm just focusing on so many things in my life right now, that I can't just FIGURE it out. I know at some point there are right choices, and rightER, choices, and I don't want to make the wrong ones.

I just have so much to think about. Really makes no sense, I know. But delving into it now isn't an option. I just have to focus. And focus I shall.

I'm am however, doing some things for ME. to help me in this quest for answers.

I'm running again. Slow, and quite possibly as graceful as an elephant in tap shoes, but I'm doing it.

I'm also, for the benefit of mankind,  not making <------- that pose anymore. Passer-byers, on the road, and viewers of this blog can thank their lucky stars for that.

I'm ped-egging my feet. Not really going to help me become a better person, but those who happen to be standing behind me in the line at the post office, and glancing down at my heels, will want to utter such phrases, as "She must Ped-egg", and "look at the heels on that mom of 4." Really, it's bettering so much more than just me.

I'm embracing my inner artist, and putting myself out there, in a new collaborative creative blog, called Creative Therapy.  I'm a huge fan of anything therapy related, not to mention, it's got some kick butt designers, and Guest Designers.

I'm finally getting some REAL answers, about what's going on with Charity. They've given me some things to work with, and we meet with the therapists again on Friday to maybe diagnose some of her behaviors, and see how I can best mother her. She'll be 3 in less than 2 weeks, and while she is cute as all get out, the fact she can still only mimic few behaviors, and is about on an even learning keel as her 18 month old cousin, has me wanting to solidify some facts, and be the best mom I can.

I'm coming to terms with the fact that, my mom is gone. She will never be replaced, but women will come into my fathers life, and I will have to accept that. As disturbing as it is to think of my father as a "player", there are thousands of women out there, searching for stand up guys. And my dad just happens to be one of them. A man who was windowed, not divorced, is apparently a rarity this day in age, and while I hate to think of someone 10 years older than me, becoming my step-mom, I have to face facts. My dad's a good catch. If you've got a big enough fishing pole. He has even been referred to as "hot" in his quest for love. Ew.

I'm coming to terms with the fact that I will never again be able to wear a bathing suit in public, and while that may seem like dismal news, rumor has it, Alaska has no public beaches, so really, this works out in my favor, not to mention the fact that turtlenecks and long johns are approved swimming attire when the weather never reaches above 85.

I'm taking the advice of the Shape magazine columnist who encouraged us all to find a "feel good part". Something about yourself that you can love. When your skin is stretched, when your fat rolls have to be tucked into your pants, and when your bosoms rival that of a grandmother 3 times your age, tis best to focus on something else. I'm still debating between my soft heels, or my forearms. Both are equally awesome.

I'm setting aside time with each of my kids to focus on the things that make them tick. Find out what they need from me.

"All I need is an ipod, and some heelys". Says Mikey. Apparently we spend enough time together, his requests are more of the worldly in nature. Go figure.

I'm really just trying to finally find the balance I need to be the best mom I can, no matter what life hands me. I've been a mom since I was 19, and for so long, I took all that for granted. I never thought about the bigger picture. I'm not giving up my SAHM status just yet. I just want to make sure I'm being and doing all that I can, for my kids, my family, and as I already mentioned, for me.

This fits really well with the, I try really hard Actually sweatshirts the Fed-Ex man delivered today. I took some photos of me in them, but they appeared to make me look as if the only thing I tried really hard at, was eating all the food in the house. I think it was the angle. I'll try again later.

Thank you all for reading, I'm coming up on 100,000 views on my blog,  which is like, the biggest thing to ever happen to me, aside from that time I saw George Clooney at the airport, and I want to celebrate in style. I'm debating on how to do that, with the limited time, and scrapbook supplies at my disposal, but, I think I've come up with a plan. So don't go too far, (2 more days on scrapsmack, and I'll be giving away the goods in no time flat.)

Speaking of giving, if you want a chance to win the April kit from Label tulip, (which is seriously going to put the Free, in FREEAKING amazing, go Here  and give your ideas for names for future Label tulip kits. IT's that easy.

I'm going to go shower, that's one easy way to better the area around me, and go to sleep early. Thanks for all your support, encouragement, and comments. I never thought I'd have such an amazing group of people I could tell things to, and have them actually still like me. It's amazing what the internet can do ; )

As promised.

Some gazage. For those who actually care about that sort of thing. I know most of you come here for, what not to do, the prerequisite for parenting 101. Those not interested in either will surely be disappointed.

This is one for my mom. I still miss her so very much.

one for my girl. Born 2 fly. Play on words. I do that sometimes. Makes me less cool. But I'm ok with that.

One for the ol' estranged husband. About our 7 years together. Technically, it's a few more weeks, but Dang. 7 years? That's like a dogs life right there. Whoa.

And of course. One about me. There's always gotta be one of those.

I've been trying to scrap more photos on my pages lately, yet as I look over what I've posted, I see that single photo pages are actually quite dominant. I need to work on that.

On the life front, it's time for the tri-annual, make a new sweatshirt thing, me and my sisters do. See. We for some reason at one point, thought it'd be "cool" if you will, to make our own sweatshirts. We'd vote on a slogan, once a quarter, and then create hoodies, for the "group".

"The group", was the token name we decided for ourselves when we made our first sweatshirts. We had this joke since we were kids, whenever anyone would say something, like, I can recite the alphabet backwards, or read kosher labels on the back of cans,  we'd say, "Is that what you're bringing to the group?" Technically it was really obnoxious, and just another way of being snobby, but over the years we've inducted hundreds of people with useless skills, into the aforementioned group, and are still just a pathetic sad bunch if I've ever seen one. But with the group, came the first of our hoodies. The classic, coveted, "What are you bringing to the group?" hoodie. We had such a huge fan base, that group membership sky rocketed. People everywhere began approaching us, asking us what the group was, and how they could join. Turns out they just wanted free hoodies. I don't think so buddy.

Anyways. We've voted on a new slogan, and within 24 hours time, we will all be sporting navy hoodies, (the green was getting a bit overdone), that say " I try really hard, actually." a classic quote from juno. One of the best movies that ever was.

We are still taking applications however for the group, if there are those of you who think you have a skill that nobody else would appreciate. We take all sorts of cast offs who'd never make it big anywhere else. We can't promise you fame or fortune, but we can offer you a sort of immunity, not to mention, we're all pretty cute. So. Really. Think about it.

I've made it obvious I'm overdue on sleep, not to mention school starts tomorrow. Boo. On waking up early. We're big on sleeping around here. Or maybe we're big, because we sleep. I don't know. Either way. I'll spare you anymore blathering. I hope these layouts don't disappoint too much.

Look for more, as I still have tons of kit goodness to create with, and with all the time I'm saving, not exercising, I plan to at least work on one area of my life. Creativeness. Thanks for reading, and being such awesome blog buddies. The group thanks you. And bids you all. goodnight ; )

Scrappage. Much.

The world you know it has ceased to exist. I, Ruth Akers, have managed to scrapbook, not one, not 3, but 5 layouts in the course of 48 hours. 5!! All in the recesses of the night when my children are sleeping. It was actually kind of funny, because I told Mike I needed to wait until the kids were asleep so I could get some scrapbooking done, and I put them in bed, normal time, and Aubree just would not go to sleep, I kept singing to her, and talking, trying to get her to give up the ghost, and finally, she was like,
" I wanna know the secret mom".
was like. What secret?
"The ones that you're scrapbooking when we go to sleep. You can just tell me."

She apparently thought I was scrapbooking all sorts of things that cannot be named while she was drifting off. So I let her help me cut the papers, and paint the stamps. Just to prove, there were no secrets.
I also decided to use some of the photos I found of my mother for this kit, because I really want to start capturing the things I remember when they are still fresh. That little head in the photo below is yours truly. When I was 1 day old. I won't pretend I was cute. I wasn't.

Things are looking about the same around here. No view of change on the horizon. Just the usual my father looking for internet love, my family falling apart thing. But somehow, I know it will turn out ok. I mean, my mom raised us well. If we can keep going, we might just make it. Well. Other than that, it's spring break this week. Trying to get the kids out of the house once a day for some fun activities. It usually involves, me, a large car, 5 carseats, and alot of "OMGosh?. Are all those kids yours.?" Yep. Sure are.
I had him when I was 7, him when I was 10. and this one when I was 12. Good grief. I have some dignity. Or at least I used to. I do hope to have something awesome to report soon. I mean, I don't know what. Things can't get much better than dwelling in a basement, and living off your father. But if they do, you guys will be the first to hear about it.

Mia is getting HUGE. I mean, like, pulling up, taking steps, getting on the couch, trying to talk. I can't believe it. I just gave birth to her. At least that's what I pretend when I look at my stomach.
But, I have to make this short. Rumor has it, Horton Heard a Who, and my kids would are all about going to see it. So. Gaze. Gander, and come back tomorrow for the full monty. Ha. Right. I mean the layouts people. Enjoy your friday. I'll be back.

First, I just want to get to know you.

Long are the days in the week when your life resembles mine. Yet, still I persevere. Between the idea of scrapbooking again, for not one, but now 2 causes. Yes. I managed to secure yet another awesome opportunity. I was asked to use the Homegrown Scrapbooks spring survival kit to help show others what to do with it, and teach some layouts and page ideas. And teach I shall.

Have you seen the sneak peek for Label Tulip? If not, run with a quickness, and see what you can get your hands on. Tons of new CHA mingled with brilliant color schemes, and butterflies. Where do I sign up? Lucky for me, I'm already signed up. Speaking of signing up, I was tagged by a fellow tulip girl, the talented Alexis, to reveal 7 quirks about myself. I think most of you know the really embarrassing stuff. But there's a few things I have yet to reveal. So. What the heck.

1. I have a weakness for small children selling things outside of large chain stores. ie, girl scouts, boy scouts, little leagues, and the Shakina Mime dancers. It's me they sit there for, I look down, and find my hand reaching into my purse, and next thing I know I'm walking away with a few less dollars, and a cute little kid beaming in my wake. I guess there are worse things to be a sucker for.

2. I can't talk on the phone, without running my hands through my hair. It sounds harmless, but behind the wheel of a large car, with one hand on the phone, and one in my nappy hair, I'm a force to be reckoned with. I tend to pull over and talk for this reason. I happen to like life. Sometimes.

3. I cannot drink anything with ice in it. Absolutely cannot do it. I've been known to pull back around the drive thru and ask for no ice just because it causes me great pain and anguish to see it in my drink. I've not had ice in my drink since 8th grade, and I don't plan to start now.

4.I have 2 skills for which I am known through out the Kirby lineage. Scrapbooking, and expressive dancing to different food items. I have a routine I call "double decker taco with sour cream and guacamole." It not only sends shiver down my family's spine, but usually has us all running for the border.

5. I have a sickness when it comes to carpets and the dirt that resides on them. I could probably live in filth if my floors were clean. I wouldn't want to mind you, but if you gave me the option of no vacuum, or clothes on my bed for the rest of my life, I'd be sleeping on my clean floor.

6. I am allergic to cats. But only if I know there is one in the room. I've lived for weeks in the presence of cats, but it wasn't until I knew they were there with me, that I begin to swell, itch, cry, and cough with a ferocity matched only by an asthma attack. I suppose it's all in my head, but I can deal with that.

7. I could do anything in the front seat of my car, that you couldn't pay me to do in public. Dancing, check, nose picking, check, singing at the top of my lungs, check. The second that door opens, the bubble has been penetrated, and I am no longer alone in my world. My windows are not even tinted, but something about that wall of steel between me and the rest of the world makes me invincible.

Quirky, no. Weird yes. I need to work on that. I'm excited to get my first LT kit, and start scrapbooking soon. But in the meantime, I'm taking my time finding cute photos to use, and trying to solidify my style. My sister, who has never once wielded a craft item in her 21 years, told me yesterday all my pages look the same. Ah, ok. Well. Let me see what I can do about that. So, if I sway a little from the Ruth that you know and tolerate, work with me. I'm trying something. Other than that. Nothing has changed. I'm still living in my dad's basement, I'm still taking pictures of my adorable children, and I'm still as cool as I never was.

I'll leave you with the latest from a McDonalds photo shoot exclusive. These photos will be coming to a scrapbook page near you, very soon.

and it goes a little something like this...

Well GARSH.Thanks for the support, and votes of confidence. As you can see, I don't really pay much mind to the likes of those who find fun and delight in bringing others down. I've got way too much to deal with in life to defend my actions to people who really could care less about me as a person. I mean, I've got tattoo and piercing appointments to make for Aubree, husbands to divorce, and 3 other children who still have to be led astray before they get too old to say no. I can't be bothered with message boards and haters.
I actually penciled in some time with the children I so desperately wish to ruin with hair dye, and went to McDonalds, (yet another tick mark on my mother of the year point tally,) with the infamously  talented Courtney, who took some photos of my kids and me. As I have NONE of us together. Mikey looks absolutely morose over his plight in life being the only boy in a house full of sisters. I'd offer to make him a brother, but this train done jumped the tracks, and sadly, I'm not thinking he's too keen on the idea of sharing a room. So. For now. He poses with the pout.

In scrappy news, I did happen to find a little silver lining in my cloud there. Seems some fabulous ladies and I, (notice I did not include myself as one of the fabulous ladies) were asked to be part of a delish Kit club, Label Tulip. Which I'm sure you can tell from perusing the home page, is not only an extremely well thought out kit, but has quite the following of fresh funky designers. some of my favorites as a matter of fact. I really hope to do these amazing kits justice. I have always had good luck with kit clubs because the product is all there, and my only job is to make it work. I got my "start" in the industry if you will, working on a kit club, and I figure, what better way to jump back into it, than with a kit club! So. Check them out, and look forward to me actually scrapping something! I know you could care less, but I'm excited.

So much going on around here lately. I'm having the hardest time eating whatever I want, and staying below the weight I've set for myself. I realize it seems like an easy fix, stop eating so much, but as I've mentioned before, I exercise, SO, that I can eat whatever I want. As of late though, the only exercise I get is chasing the dog out of the garbage can, and hauling laundry up 2 flights of stairs. It's not really the same, as jumping on the treadmill for an hour.  My ultimate goal is to be a size 9. I currently have 2 sizes to go. I just want to say, I'm back to my high school weight, and then, ,who really cares what I do past that. And it's not unrealistic, at all. I've thought about taking drastic measures, like slim fast, or Alli, but the complications of having leakage really RUINS, any happiness I might get from being skinny. So. I suppose I'm left with just good old fashioned calorie counting. Meh. I don't like it. Not one bit. But I've got to do, what I've got to do.

I'm sure you've had enough of my idle prattle, and it's actually 1am, which means 6 hours until that dreaded siren of death comes calling me from my peaceful slumber. I'm going to have to catch up on my sleep, if I want to stay awake all night and scrapbook come next week. Thank you all again for the comments, and I'm sorry for those of you who also mentioned having been put out to dry on that wretched blog.

And as my dear estranged husband likes to remind me. "All women are inherently crazy. It's not their fault" If that doesn't make you feel better, than Dr. Seuss certainly should "Be who you are, and say what you feel, because those who mind, don't matter, and those who matter don't mind." Like Mia. She could care less really that she's called a boy on at least 100 different occasions. She just goes with the flow. And I  personally think she does a wonderful job of making it look good.

I'm bringing Scrapsmack back. Yeah.

Guess who is officially cool enough to once again get a coveted spot on the official blog of those who know?
Oh yeah. It's me. And I thought I had lost my touch. Ha.

I was apparently right on about the whole, letting my 4 year old get her hair done thing. Seems when one wants to really get it served to her on a gold smack covered platter, one should always involve a child, and some left over hair dye. It's just what I needed. Oh, and the fact that I made the mistake of saying, "Mike is gone in more ways than one".

Which, if any of you have ever had someone deployed, you know what I'm talking about.

Having Valentines, Birthdays, and Anniversaries while one of you lives in a 4x4 cell is really not all it's cracked up to be.But rather than explain that, I sort of left it to the viewer discretion.
My bad. Next time I'll be specific.
Mike is gone, as in Serving his Country, and gone as in, His internet connection is crap, so the time we get to spend together is anything but "up-close and personal." No, we are not divorcing.

Unless of course I find someone else willing to put up with my crap, and wonderfully father 4 children. Not to mention fund my ridiculous diet-coke habit. Just those alone would require sainthood in themselves. I know I owe nobody an explanation, and could very well have ignored it, but what's the fun in that?

I was however VERY much impressed with the people who stuck up for me. 

I had no intention of reading it, you know with that whole house cleaning, child rearing, ditch dodging thing I have going on, but my source assured me there were nothing but good things to be had, aside from the initial, let's talk about Ruth Akers thing.. So glad I took the time out of my busy, mom to 15 schedule, to read it. Gave me some hope that there are people who really do care about people. Not just me mind you. People in general.

It was actually somewhat amusing, when I showed it to Mike, (the Mike I am still very much married to), he was like, "Man, I didn't know scrapbookers used voabulary like that. You paper people take this stuff way too seriously."

If he only knew.

I have scrapped a few pages lately, posted some, submitted some. You never really know. I doubt I'll ever be the girl with a BILLION design teams again, the one who's children are neglected so I can get all my work done. (that's sarcasm by the way.)
Those of you just now tuning in. That's why I was the feature of the day last year at this time. I had so many DT's and all. My kids were going to hate me, and Mike was going to leave me.
But really, now that I think about it, need I neglect them, when I can just give them all highlights, and ruin their childhoods that way? I think not.

I know I only feed the fire by posting this, but sometimes, it does one good to say what they're thinking. And we all know, I'm capable of that.

I've been itching to be more of a dedicated scrapper lately. I know alot of people think it's greed, and selfishness, or maybe a love of attention that makes one want to be on a DT. For me, it's neither. Sure free stuff is fun, and seeing your name in print, or on a website is fun to share with those who have no what freelance scrapbookers are, or those weird relatives at a family reunion, but for me, the real driving force behind the Design teams, is the REASON and the WHAT behind the scrap. For some people, me included, they need more than just an idea to get going. I need a cause. Yes, I love my kids dearly, and I scrapbook for them, but I'd be lying like a bear rug if I said the only reason I scrapbook was to preserve memories. I love being able to say, Oh, American crafts assignments are due soon, let me grab some AC, and scrap this cute picture. Makes that decision process that much faster, and it gives me a deadline to actually work for. I like deadlines. I love them actually. Seeing that specific date or time on my calendar, gives me the motivation to actually take the ideas that run ramped in my brain, and get them onto paper in a timely manner. IT worked for me.

But with all that is going on, I probably won't be running after any large DT's in the near future, feel free to take me off your hate list for that,  I just wanted to put it out there my reasons, for doing what I do. My reasons for making, creating, and displaying.

I love that I can connect with so many people through scrapbooking. I have met 90% of the friends I have today, through this hobby, and whether or not I ever make it to the coveted magazine Design Team, or the ranks of a world renowned scrapbook blogger, I've made friends. Good Friends. Best Friends really.

And those friends, accept me, no matter what I do, who's hair I highlight, or how long my husband deploys. They know me. They love me, and frankly, as small as that might seem. That's reason enough for me.

Ifs, ands, or butts.

Where do you go, my lovely? Where do you go?

Well. I go crazy. Mostly. But I did decide to take a brief hiatus from the "Whoa Is Me" drama I've been writing about lately, and get back to just being "me".

The me who scrapbooks. Oh yes. No need to reread that. I did it. I'm not ashamed. I made a page. (Singular). Even posted that bad boy at Two peas. Where I'm sure the majority of people are going, WHAT in the WORLD? She's still here?

Yeah. The leper of the scrapbook world, is slowly making a comeback.
It's nothing I'd put my name on in a public forum, but it gets the job done.

(Exactly what job remains to be seen)

.
I also against my better judgment, decided to color my hair. Again.

See. I get these wild hairs no pun intended, where I think to myself, "Self", your life needs something. Something that doesn't involve getting arrested, getting pregnant, or doing something I can't speak freely about to a family member, and when I get that way, I have to fill that need. With something not laden with calories. So. I turn to my misguided roots. I found this photo of a very attractive girl, with a very sultry, yet easy to acquire hair cut. Or so one would THINK. Turns out, 4 hours, and some not so fun foiled moments later, I actually look like this: 

Really not the same thing, at all. But in the true to Ruth fashion, I decided to just go with it.

So here we be. I also, in awesome mother of the year nominee status, allowed my daughter to get some highlights as well.
I'm sure someone will have something to say about my 4 year old with highlights, but they were free, she wanted them, and she's been so awesome about having to home-school for Pre-K, since it's the price of a small car to send her to preschool here. I think it bodes well for the both of us. Who knows.

Things are just so not normal lately, it's like I'm in a red bull induced fog, that just won't clear. Which might work for some people, but I can't stand red bull, so it makes me a little leery. My dad thinks he's found love, AGAIN, small problem, she doesn't want kids. He has 10. Hmmm??

My husband is still gone, (in more ways than one), and I'm reverting to the only coping mechanism I have. Eating. Which would be great if my pants were too big, or my rear-end didn't double as a parking garage, but, sadly my pants barely fit, and there are enough parking spots on my backside for a sold out Hannah Montana concert. *Sigh* Perhaps, I'll do what I have to, to survive. That seems to be our motto around here. But the good news is, we almost have a super target, and I've not crashed this week. I realize it's only Tuesday, but I'll take it.

My kids keep me going, and not just because they run faster than me, they really do make the day worth living. I had someone tell me yesterday that if they could guarantee they'd have kids like mine, they'd take that plunge, and while some days are much better than others, I wouldn't trade one second for anything.

That's the good thing about kids. They love you, no matter what. No matter how fat, how thin, how ugly, how scatter-brained. They don't care, all they require is everything I can give them, food, love, and the occasional trip to Chuck E cheeses.
And I mean really, for what I get in return, it's completely worth it. 100%.

No ifs ands or buts about it.  (well maybe some butts, but it's a small price to pay when you consider the rewards.) A very small price indeed.

When it rains...

You can pretty much tell what kind of day you are going to have within the first 2-4 minutes of being awake. Or so it is for those of us with children.

Case in point, 7:45, the alarm goes off, yet strangely enough, my bed is empty. Which, might SEEM normal to most married women who's husbands are deployed, but when you live in a 6 bedroom house with 15 people, waking up alone means one of 2 things: The Lord has called your family home, and you were not invited, or the children are up to NO GOOD. Being that nobody in this house is quite ready to return to their maker, I began to panic.

Without so much as a 25 second head start, to prepare me for what I am going to see when I open my  bedroom door, I hear the voice of Aubree: "Mom, if you see brown stuff in the tub, it's either Chocolate, or poop".
I've never been a betting woman, but I'm willing to lay you money, I'm not going to find a Dove bar.

Seems the potty train, the one I bought tickets for 3 weeks ago, hoping Charity would climb aboard with me, had left the station. Not only had it left without her, it has become quite apparent, it's not coming back this way for a good 2 or 3 months. (What do you want to bet, there's no refunds on that badboy?)

I cleaned up that awesomeness, and figured with a start like that, we could only move upward. I guess I see now why I failed statistics. Figures and me... we're just, No.

I took it upon myself to let Mikey pack his own lunch last night. He has been begging for hot lunch, and while the idea of it is tempting, (no packing, no paper products, no forgetting it on the bus, ) the idea of forking out $3 a day for something I'm pretty sure he's flinging at unassuming kindergarteners, just isn't getting me excited. When I initially offered this idea up, I fully intended on supervising him in the process. What I didn't count on, was the complete removal of all the keys on my laptop by my niece, and my still diapered 2 year old, as I bathed a sickly Mia, who was still all smiles, but very much in need of a cleaning.

I always heard it said genius children are known for taking things apart and putting them back together at early ages. They got the complete removal of the keys down, yet when it came time to reassemble their little "project", their IQ's suddenly failed them.

After playing sherlock in my room for a good 2 hours, I managed to locate all but 4 of the keys, the "v", and the first 3 function keys. I set out to putting the kids to bed, and was delighted to take a moment to myself.

When I realized at 8am, that I hadn't yet surveyed the contents of Mikey's lunch box, I asked him to let me see it. He removed from his backpack, what I imagine a small group of large men would feast upon after having been left in the wilderness to fend for themselves for 2 weeks.   I realize that this may appear to be a whole lot of processed food for  one child to eat, you have to understand we usually take a wrap, an apple, and ONE sweet delicious or salty snack. Never have we just opened up the floor for whatever strikes your fancy. And yes, that IS an entire can of spaghettios in there. I had to draw the line at bringing the can opener .

He was not impressed when I made him remove all but the cheese stick, and the oreos, in favor of some fruit, and a something who's first ingredient isn't "glucose". Things settled down for a bit when the kids finally got into school. Only to take off again when it was time to meet the bus. The doors open, and Mikey steps off. Ok, 1 down, 1 to go. The driver waves good-bye, and begins to pull away. Ummm, I do believe I have another 6 year old aboard your trusty yellow wagon. He disagrees, and proceeds to drive away. I turn to my son who informs me, Isaac's coat is camoflauge, it's possible he's still on the bus, just not recognizable to the untrained eye. I take his knowledge into account as I head to the school for my brother.  Sure enough, there he sits, in the cafeteria, awaiting someone to pick him up.

I've become the "mother" to 4 new children. And while I am more than willing to do it, sometimes I just don't think they want me. I can't say I blame them.

We get home from our little excursion, and I decide to climb Mt. Everest, AKA, the laundry pile, only to be met by a leak in the washing machine, which has dampened the ENTIRE pile of clothes. I start troubling deaf heaven with my bootless cries, and swear off clothing all together, when my favorite boxcar child, is once again running the opposite way of the train tracks. I don't even want to see what she's done, and vow to duct tape her diaper on her, until she's secured acceptance into an Ivy league school. (Of course they'd have to be willing to change her diapers.)

At this point, the day is all but shot, and I'm drowning my sorrows in a cup of cold-stone, (Why diet, when one can have self-loathing, and fat-rolls for free?).

It is then I remember the words of someone, although who, fails me right now. "This too shall pass". Almost as if I'm being prompted to just say, you know what, tomorrow WILL be better. It HAS to be better. I give into the urge to cry, and things seem to improve almost immediately. It could be worse, I could have a criminal record still, and be going through all this. Either way. Things do have a way of seeming so funny when you break them down. And I hear crying burns at least 10 calories an hour. So yes, when it rains, it does pour, but I do have the rainbow to look forward to. And for those of you wondering,It might be raining, but I'm not grabbing my umbrella. Heck no. I'm building my ark = )