Forever in Sharpie

I was the guest contributor on Earth Monkey Moms last week. This is a blog set up to inspire, encourage and amuse other moms. The following is my post on their site, how exciting to be a part of this!

ENJOY!

I love scrap booking. I have boxes and boxes (ok baby wipe containers) filled with pictures to be one day glamorized on some beautiful paper for the entire world (and by that I mean myself and my reluctant husband) to ogle over.

I realized recently that no one really wants to look at other people’s scrap books, except of course to steal ideas for their own scrap booking enterprises. But for us moms, it feels good doesn’t it? As we look over all those pictures and our perfect little quotes and captions we feel an order to our chaos. Like somehow all the blood, sweat and tears (okay poop could really be added to this list) were worth it. When it’s all summed up on pretty paper it feels a little more manageable.

My scrap books don’t look like everyone else’s though. First of all I really use the word “scrap” literally, I don’t mean to be messy, or uneven, but really I don’t get breaks to go and put together my memories. So I break out the pictures, the glue (which isn’t even acid free…OH THE HORROR) and a Sharpie. Yep I said it, I write my captions with a Sharpie, and I don’t even use a pretty font.

I’m almost embarrassed to show other people my pages, but I suppose these pages are a representation of me, my life, and how I do life. It’s not that I’m lazy, it’s not that I don’t care, it’s that my life is simple, it’s Sharpie simple.

I not only don’t like to share my pages because of my lack of elegantness or cuteness, but also because I record silly things. Sure my scrapbooks have the normal documentation: “Madi took 3 steps” and “Lilly said Mama” but I love to add the real stuff.

For example, when Madi first learned about binoculars, she called them “knockers” that’s in the book, as are; “Madison actually kicked me while I was holding her on the potty seat, as soon as I let her get up she peed all over me.” “Lilly put dog poop in her mouth today, I got it out before she swallowed any, but the look on her face was priceless.” Well you get the point, I’m not a bad mom, I’m just embracing the craziness.

I don’t have time to do pages all the time and I certainly don’t have the brain power to remember all the funny/annoying/cute things my kids and dogs have done, so I keep post it notes everywhere. When one of the kids does something “scrapbook worthy” (and you can tell my standards aren’t ridiculously high) I write it on a note, put the date and stick it to my journal. By the time I actually get to the scrap booking part I have close to 50 notes waiting to be memorialized forever in Sharpie.

I guess the point is this: life isn’t pretty…don’t NOT scrapbook your life because you don’t have the time to make it perfect on paper.

And imagine this… you’re dead and gone (sorry, reality) and your great, great grand kids are in the attic of the beach house you purchased and could never sell. Anyhow, they are playing dress up and find an old box full of scrapbooks. Imagine the look on their faces as they open it and see how life really was for you and your kids. Seeing your handwriting, forever in Sharpie marker. (I’m really trying to make myself feel better about this).

Everyone has those beautiful family pictures; I want the future to see their true roots, the mud on the face, uncombed hair, and saggy diaper reality. This is my everyday and that’s what I scrap. Sure the pretty pictures are nice, we aren’t cavemen after all, but the true representation of our lives is what I’m after.

So get some sticky notes and start documenting all the things that make you laugh and cry (most likely in 20 years they will ALL make you laugh). Get some Sharpie’s, some glue, and when you have time (ahahahaaaa) throw some pages together. Who cares what they look like, if you’re that worried about how they look tell yourself you’ll redo them when you’re retired (liar, just sayin').

Just get it done, your kids, grand kids and great grand kids will thank you, let me be clear, you’ll NEVER hear a “thank you” you’ll just know it’s there when your grand kids can tease their mom about putting dog poop in her mouth.


PS...anyone want to buy a house in the lovely beach town of Lincoln City? No? Darn.

Waypoint has been released!!

I'm proud to announce that Waypoint: Cache Quest Oregon has been released on Amazon.com! Whoo hoooo, I'm so excited. This could be little or it could be huge, either way I'm gonna keep on writing, that's what I do, so onward to Alaska...and beyond!!

Watch the trailer and share it with your friends, family, co-workers and ememies, maybe it'll change 'em, you never now! :)

Buy it on Amazon.com, get one for yourself, your kids, or a local school or library. Let's get our kids active and excited about reading and being outside! Just make sure they aren't reading while walking, cuz ya know that could be dangerous and frankly at $9.99 per book I can't afford a lawsuit!

click below for...

Waypoint: Cache Quest Oregon book trailer!


Buy a copy..or 2 or 3, or 20 (hey I can dream) click below to be directed to Amazon.

Waypoint: Cache Quest Oregon

Mani/Pedi My Way to Heaven

I've just decided that the perfect window into my soul, or my insanity, is my nail polish, or lack there of. Actually lack there of would be good, right now, my nails are a tattered mess of peeling lacquer. I seriously look as if my nails have been bleeding, the red nail polish is peeling and shredded, and remnants of my decals look like squished bugs permanently fossilized in a blood red mess.

They were pretty a week ago.

I'm doing this new thing with Madi, every week we're doing our nails together. Yup, I wanna be "that mom". I want her to feel pretty, I want her to know how to sit still while they dry and I want people to comment on how cute her little nails are, which they do regularly. *pat self on back*.

On the first day we do our nails, we feel beautiful, David looks at our nails and comments on how great they look, we dress better, we do our hair, we feel and look pretty. But as the days go on, and the dishes need to be washed, diapers need to be changed, and well for Madi, lizards need to be caught and mud pies need to be made, our polish starts wearing off, our beautifully filed nails start to snag, and pretty soon they just look, well horrible. I really should just take the polish off, but I suppose in a way I leave it there for a day or two to learn something about myself?

Okay maybe I'm just lazy.

I guess this is the point; it's nice to have our nails all pretty and done up, it feels great and elegant, but well, that's just not us. We do our nails knowing perfectly well that in a day they will be scraped, or bitten off, they will be scrubbed after a diaper explosion. We could never make it without doing these things, we would go insane. We need the activities that ruin our polish, for survival, for fun. And maybe that's why I leave the scraped nasty polish on for a few days too long. It's a record, a history. When I feel lazy, or I feel as though I haven't gotten anything accomplished being a stay at home mom- I can look at my nails and think "wow I've done a lot of stuff to mess up my nails!" and that feels good. You have to be working (or playing) pretty hard to accomplish our level of nail ugliness, and that is something for me to be proud of. I never want Madi to be one of "those girls"... "I can't do that! I'll mess up my manicure!" I want her to look at her torn up hands and think, "I've been busy!"

At the beginning of the post I wrote that my nails could be a representation of my soul, and well that's just it: when my soul feels like crap, worn out, scraped up, nasty, with fossilized bugs on it, I can count on God to let me feel it for as long as I need to, in order to grow, then He'll wipe it clean and put on a fresh coat...which I'll eventually screw up again, and He'll eventually fix up again. I know it sounds silly, elementary, and probably a little apathetic, but seriously God is that parent. The one who wants us to learn, to mess up, to have reality discipline. He's there watching, allowing us free will even though He knows we'll get hurt, and learn (hopefully), and every time we do it brings us closer to His understanding.

I know, "nail polish and God" how did she get there??? Sometimes the voices in my head get confused, what can I say?!

But seriously, I pray that I'll be more inclined to show people my tattered nails, be it, my actual manicure, my tired soul or my failures, please Lord help me to never allow my appearance to get in the way of your work.

It's all happening!

Wow, this has been a crazy, busy hectic month!

Many exciting and scary things are happening, first we're moving to Klamath Falls. It's a bitter sweet move for sure, I'm sad to be leaving my friends here on the coast, but so excited to be closer to family and friends down in Southern Oregon. And also I'm just solar powered I need the sunshine to keep my spirits up, and on the coast we just don't get enough of the good stuff!

The second very exciting thing is that I'm publishing my novel, Waypoint - Cache Quest: Oregon through Amazon. It will be available on Amazon in September, and shortly after in book stores and libraries.

I finished the website, sans the official book cover and more character info, and am working on the book trailer for advertising online. It's very exciting and very scary, it could end up being huge, it could end up being nothing, but I'm focusing on the positive and the "what if..."

So when you get a chance check out the web site, let me know what you think! If all goes well with the first book's sales then I will be writing one for every state in the U.S.

I always love to have feedback, good and bad... how else will I know to change things, right?

www.waypointbookseries.com

WAYPOINT- An excerpt from my novel.

Lately a lot of people have been asking what's going on with my writing and my trying to get published. Well, getting published I have found is a long and tricky, anxiety ridden road, but I've been keeping busy with revisions and of course writing this blog.
So today I thought I would kill two birds with one stone and post a small excerpt of my novel, WAYPOINT. This is middle-grade fiction, written for readers between the ages of 8 and 15, however I have noticed a lot of adults seem to be enjoying it as well.

So here ya go, a little taste of WAYPOINT...

Chapter 3

Lacey screamed again, “Ben!” but didn’t hear any response. Fear overcame her, what if he was dead? The thought made her throat tighten; whatever had happened inside wasn’t good. She stepped back from the old red door then using as much force as she could she kicked it in. The door flew open, smacking the interior wall with a loud thud. She glanced inside before entering, she couldn’t see Ben anywhere. She looked up the spiral staircase, then around the floor one more time, just in case she had missed him in one of the shadows. He wasn’t there. Panic constricted her chest; she grabbed her cell phone, but didn’t have the nerve to call her sister. She would find him, she had to.

***

Ben closed his eyes and opened them again to make sure he was seeing correctly. It was as if his brain wouldn’t process the image above him. The structure of the lighthouse went deep into the ground, circling the walls was an ancient staircase winding slowly all the way up. It had to be over one hundred feet high. Ben didn’t think he had fallen that far, but it had all happened so fast. He squinted his eyes, and there like a tiny dot he saw the hole he had fallen through, it would take him ages to climb to the top.

He pulled himself to his feet, groaning with pain. He almost screamed as he stood, not because of the pain, but because there were thousands of human skulls staring back at him. They circled the walls all the way to the top, running parallel to the staircase. Each skull was set into the walls of the lighthouse, as if someone had carved shelves specifically for displaying them. But who had put them there? The question ran through Ben’s mind and then suddenly common sense took over and he started running up the stairs. Whoever had put them there probably wouldn’t mind displaying one more.

***

Lacey stepped into the lighthouse and noticed the hole in the floor just below the window. She looked down into the hole and was amazed to see such a huge deep cavern. Stairs circling the walls seemed to go on forever. She heard something; it was a pounding sound, coming from the staircase under her. She stuck her head into the hole, “Ben!” she yelled, her voice echoed loudly below her. She waited, praying that she would hear some sort of response.

“Help! I’m coming up as fast as I can!” Ben yelled back. Just as he felt a little relief he suddenly fell and smacked his face into the stairs, but they weren’t stairs anymore. The entire staircase had become a huge slide. He was sliding down so fast he couldn’t stop. What on earth was going on? One minute he is climbing stairs then suddenly they changed into a slide? The stairs must have folded in, but why?

As he reached the bottom he realized the answer. He flew off the slide and was thrown into the back of a figure standing in an old cape of some sort. The figure turned and looked down at Ben. It was an old man, with a long tangled beard. His deep eye sockets were almost black. He didn’t even look real, or maybe it was that he didn’t look alive.

Ben started to crawl backwards, as he turned over to stand the old man took the long staff he was holding and slammed it into Ben’s back. Ben smacked into the cold dirt floor. “Help!” Ben screamed. “Aunt Lacey, help!”

Lacey could barely hear what Ben was yelling, but it sounded like he was screaming for help. Something was going horribly wrong. She sat on the edge of the broken floor and slid onto the steep slide below her. “Well this will be fun.” She said to herself as she pushed off.

The ancient man towered over Ben, he was extremely frail and yet it looked as if he was ten feet tall. He reached down and grabbed Ben’s shirt with a twisted, knobby hand and pulled Ben to his feet. “Have you come to harm the light?” He asked, his voice whistling as it escaped his lips.

“What?” Ben’s voice shook as he tried to speak.

“The light, have you come to harm it? Why are you trespassing on this place?” The man was growing angry.

“I just came for the prize.” Ben pleaded. “The window was open, and I saw the prize, so I came in, but then I fell.”

“I saw you come through the window, most come through to harm the light.” The old man knelt next to Ben. “What is your name?” his warm smelly breath was burning Ben’s eyes.

“Ben.”

“Benjamin, do you know who I am?” His face came even closer to Ben’s. Now Ben could see that deep in those black sockets were small blue eyes. They were the bluest eyes Ben had ever seen, and strangely as Ben looked into them a calming sensation came over his body.

“No, I don’t… but did you kill all these people?” Ben responded.

“No, they were killed by those that have harmed the light.” His voice seemed to struggle as it escaped his old withered lips. “I have protected the light for two hundred years, when someone harms the light those in the sea parish. These skulls belong to them, all of those that have been lost at sea, because I failed to keep the light shining.” A tear dropped from his wrinkled cheek. “I keep the skulls to remind myself everyday why I must protect its brightness, for if it goes out, I fail once again.”

“But who harms the light?” Ben asked innocently.

“Some who come are simply here to destroy, Benjamin. They don’t understand the consequences of darkness, for when darkness wins the sea swallows up those who travel its waters.” He pointed to the skulls that spiraled up the walls, with a long curling finger, “The bodies come to me, as a punishment for allowing the light to go dark. Can I trust you Benjamin, to not harm the light?” His eyes pierced into Ben’s soul.

“Yes, I promise.” Ben replied. The old man closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

As Lacey rounded the last corner of the slide she saw the tall cloaked figure standing in front of Ben. Fear and anger came together within her chest; she had to protect her nephew. “Hey!” she yelled. The figure turned, spread his arms, and anger replaced his calm expression. Her speed was growing on the slide and as she hit the end she flew off and was headed right for the tall man who stood before her. As soon as her feet connected with his cloak his body exploded into millions of tiny pieces of glitter, they floated for a second, and then began to spiral around like a tornado, they became bigger and at the top of the tornado they began to separate and fly away. Ben and Lacey just stared as they saw each piece fly into each individual skull, lighting it like a jack-o-lantern. The entire cavern became bright, as if someone had just plugged in a string of white Christmas lights. Suddenly the floor shook, Lacey grabbed Ben’s arm. As the floor churned slats of wood on the slide lifted and once again became stairs.

“You can explain at the top!” Lacey said as she shoved Ben toward the stairs. They both began to run as fast as they could, the skulls of thousands of men lighting their way.

So, let me know what you think, I really don't know if its any good or not, I've gotten positive feedback from publishers and agents, but haven't gotten an offer so kinda makes me think that it might just suck! So leave me a comment, find me on facebook, or shoot me an email! Seriously, if it sucks I need to know so I can stop wasting my time on it.

Friendship is like peeing your pants...

Well, we’re moving again. This will be move number 26 in my life, I’m of course overwhelmed, excited and sad, it’s hard making friends knowing that ultimately you’ll be moving in the future, but here in Lincoln City I have made some wonderful friends, I feel so blessed. And I know that these people are why God brought me to this place.

Without these amazing friends I would have never gotten through the weather here, they were my rays of sunlight on the dreariest of rainy days. They supported me, made me laugh and loved me, they welcomed me, shared their lives, danced and drank, they came to the hospital when I had my second child, they hugged me and wiped my tears when my crazy post-partum depression made me unbearable to even those closest to me. These friends are priceless and I am so blessed. One friend in particular has seen me at worst and continued to love me.

So to Tamera, thank you for going on a blind date with me to the beach when I was brand new here, I know you are a blessing straight from God. Thank you for getting me out of the house, for continuing to call even when I was too depressed to pick up the phone. Thank you for my wonderful baby shower, the booty cake, the poopy diaper game, for Mama Mia, for Hubba overnighter’s, scrapbooking, tea parties, Twilight…so much to list, you are amazing, I love your family, your children, and you. I do, I love you. This world is so blessed to have you and I’m so thankful that God brought me here and blessed me with your presence, what a gift!

I know this sounds silly to those of you who have never experienced, deep true friendship, but I truly believe that friends are the family you get to choose. My life map has had many different paths, different street address, but in most locations there has been at least one person who has planted seeds in my heart. So when I feel sad about moving I have to remember that each move has more potential and having friends all over the world is an amazing gift. So it’s worth the stress, the questions, it’s worth watering those seeds and allowing them to grow, it’s worth not losing touch even though it’ll be a little harder to communicate.

Because as some wise and funny (by the way) person once said, “Friendship is like peeing your pants, everyone can see it, but only you can feel its true warmth.”

R.E.S.P.E.C.T…Speaking a man’s language.

R.E.S.P.E.C.T…Speaking a man’s language.

I’m kind of tired of all the TV shows that show these irresponsible, idiot men. They tease them, show them making stupid mistakes and of course the wonderful wife is the heroin, who solves all the problems. Don’t get me wrong, I think women do a wonderful job in our society, but I think men are getting a bad rap.

Once upon a time I thought all men were stupid, I thought I knew more, was more articulate and got a job done better, but with the eye opening help from my sister, Steph, I can see that I had a blindfold on. There are men out there who are morons, sure, but the majority of them are hard working, smart, loving and deserve our respect.

As soon as I started respecting my husband and showing/telling him how much I respected him, my blindfold came off and I saw what a wonderful man he has always been, it was a change in my thinking and my vision of him that made the biggest difference. He has always been an amazing man, but once I realized it he became even more wonderful in my eyes.

David and I married young, I was 19, and he was 20. We did a lot of growing and learning together, and looking back now, sure we made our share of mistakes. But seriously once I learned his language, and was able to articulate how important he was to me our marriage truly blossomed. I don’t want to minimize a man’s needs or illustrate them to be simple creatures, but once I figured out how to effectively communicate to him life has been amazing. Think of it as having a wonderful friend who speaks a foreign language. When you tell them that you love them, they might not fully understand what that means to you, however when you become bi-lingual and start using words that they really value, then your relationship becomes that much fuller.

Respect has different meanings for men and women, for women we think this might mean having our bosses admire us, trust us and of course pay us what we feel we deserve, and for men it is similar, but I’ve found that it also means telling them regularly that we respect them. That we understand the sacrifices they’re making and that we trust them. When David and I were first married all decisions had to go through me, now when he brings something to my attention, I usually say, “ya know honey, I trust your judgment, you decide.” Since I have done this our finances, our home, his work, everything has turned around for the better. I had to get out of his way, he knew how to do things and make things wonderful the entire time but I was blocking him. I guess a lot of people, especially women will think I’m giving away my power, but really I’m allowing him to do what he does best, and I’m telling myself that I might not know best and so I made that change. Early on I realized that in marriage if one person is right, the other person is wrong, and nobody enjoys being wrong, and frankly when one person has to be right, both people lose!

I guess I’ve learned that the fastest way to be treated as an equal, to be treasured and to be trusted with any man, your father, father-in-law, grandfather, husband, brother, boss…whoever, is to tell them how much you respect them! For some women this might be hard, certainly there are men out there that don’t deserve our respect, but the ones that do need to be told how you feel. If not they may feel that they are being taken for granted. It’s not that you feel that way, but that we don’t know how to effectively communicate what they need to hear.

So ladies, give your men what they need, tell them how much you respect them, and show them how much they mean to you. Let’s face it there are plenty of losers out there, if you have a good, decent man, keep him by speaking his language. Also keep it interesting, mix things up, surprise them, you might just surprise yourself in the process.

We all need fertilizer.

I love spring time, the new growth on the plants, and the promise of warmer days ahead. Sometimes, and I say this tongue in cheek, even the rain feels good and cleansing. As I was weeding my flower bed though I realized that my poor plants have been neglected, they certainly have enough water, living on the coast, but they needed a good pick me up and so I fertilized them. I love all natural fertilizers; you know the ones made almost purely of rotten debris and well…poo.

As I was explaining to my four year old daughter how poo helps plants grow it occurred to me, we all need a bit of poo in our lives, or more appropriately, we all need some crap! I mean the kind of crap that drives us crazy, that keeps us frustrated and on our toes. The kind of crap that keeps us up at night, the kind of crap that makes us not want to pick up the phone when it rings. We like plants, need to be fertilized! Without the crap, or garbage in our lives, we wouldn’t make any changes, we wouldn’t grow.

Now while we and plants need good fertilizer, we have to make sure we aren’t over fertilizing our selves, just like a plant will wither with too much, there is only so much we can handle also, so we have to be good judges of our stress levels and we must determine which crap is good for us (in the long run) and which cannot be used for growth.

I also realized that we all have weeds in our life, which stunt our growth and steal our precious fertilizer, you know when you go through something really frustrating and powerful that could just be enough for you to make a positive change in your life, but you do something and neglect to make the change? Like perhaps you turn to an addiction, rather than dealing with the crap and growing from it.

Well I’m sick of it, I’m sick of going through the hard stuff, only to have the fertilizer that could benefit me be stolen by an enabling weed. I’m slowly going to pull out the weeds in my life, if I pull them out to quickly roots will be left behind and they’ll keep popping up, so slow and steady I want to remove them. I also want to fertilize with caution, by saying no more and not overloading myself, but being open to the kind of crap that really does have a purpose, even if I don’t understand it right now.

So be careful what you curse in your life, it could be the best mixture of fertilizer for you. It could be exactly what you need to make your next big beautiful growth spurt. Embrace the poo and rotten debris, grow from it, pull out weeds that steal your growth potential and hard earned fertilizer, and don’t forget to share, you never know when your experience, or crap, can help someone else get through their own.

I apologize about the crude nature of this post, if it offends you…well put on the big girl panties and deal with it, sometimes life is offensive!

Do you love me enough?

This past weekend I felt like I did at least of year’s worth of growing up. It was exhausting, humbling and an emotional roller coaster ride.

My Grandfather died, while I was in the room, talking to him. Right in front of my eyes he let go, I felt his soul leave; goose bumps covered my flesh, tears, panic and somewhere deep inside relief came over me.

I don’t do death, I haven’t for over 12 years, and sure death has come and been a part of my life, like everyone’s I suppose. But I have avoided it at all costs, due to my fear and an overwhelming need to protect myself.

On Thursday I got the call, Grandpa was sick, I told my mother that no, I wouldn’t be going to say goodbye. But sometime later that night I could hear my Grandfather’s voice asking, “Do you love me enough to be uncomfortable? Do you love me enough to let me go?” I course do, and so I drove, to what would be the most emotionally scary place in my life, to see my hero take his last breath, to tell my hero what he has meant to me, at first I didn’t think I was doing this for me, I told myself I was doing it for him, but now I understand that he was doing this for me. Him letting go in front of me was his last lesson for me: I was strong enough to get through it.

I’m still struggling with the visions of things I can’t un-see. I still have questions, but now I have a sense of peace, I know where my Grandpa is, and I know that death, while terrifying- is part of life, it is another birth into perhaps the greatest part of life.

I am honored that my Grandfather let go of his last grasp in this world while I was present, he was always so in control, a real patriarch. He would never want anyone to be uncomfortable in his presence, unless it was of course for their own good. And so I am humbled.

This is more of a diary entry than a blog, I suppose, somehow just writing these jumbled thoughts and emotions feels better than keeping them in my exhausted brain.

At this point I could be asking God why, but after that distinct moment I have my why. I know what myself and every other person in the room confirmed to me, he wasn’t gone; there was a very real presence of his soul, his being, with us. I guess a lot of people may think I’m crazy, or just trying to make myself feel better, but my faith has only grown stronger since this has happened. If I’m wrong and there is no God, then nothing will happen when I leave this earth, if I’m right then I know I will be in his presence and my grandfather’s, that’s an insurance policy I can’t refuse.

Grandpa, I’m so thankful for all of the lessons you taught me, most of all I’m so thankful for every single breath we shared.

“Life should not be measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.”

Treasure Hunting

When it’s a sunny day on the coast or anywhere for that matter one of my favorite things to do is Geocache. For those who haven’t explored geocaching on their own, think treasure hunting with a GPS unit. Once you go to geocaching.com enter in your zip code and find a list of geocaches, you simply enter the longitude/latitude coordinates or waypoint into a GPS unit and you’re on your way.

Not only does geocaching get me out and into nature but it takes me places I haven’t been, or to places I have been but never truly appreciated in the past. Once you find your way, using your GPS unit, you look for the cache, which is usually some sort of metal ammo container or plastic weather proof tub, inside will be a log book to document your find and some nick naks of some sort, the rule of the game is to take something and leave something for someone else to take. It’s not only an awesome way to get out into nature, but a great way to get rid of unwanted small toys that you find yourself stepping on in the middle of the night, I have a basket on my junk drawer for such toys, that once the silent screaming and cursing is done I toss the offending toy into. I say silent because no pain is great enough to wake the kids and have to start the bedtime process over again.

Since I love geocaching so much I decided to start a geocaching journal, I feel very much like “Indiana Jones” when I write in my journal, it’s leather bound and has a cool design on the front, it’s something I picture the girls finding in the attic when I die, and of course since they would love geocaching too I would hope that they would go to all the places documented in the journal, heck maybe by then they could teleport there, but frankly I think that would diminish the value of a good treasure hunt, indeed the real treasure is the journey. I started this journal ages ago and have logged many caches over the years, so I thought I would share one of those entries with you.

From the journal:

July 17, 2008. CACHE NAME: Sied Creek. WAYPOINT: N44’57.700/ W124’00.293.

CLUES: West of sign.

We are new to Lincoln City; figured breaking out the GPS unit would be the easiest way to find some cool locations in this windy city. We quickly realize that driving and trying to read a hand held GPS unit is not wise and also can cause many arguments. Shauna takes over on navigation, David drives, and Madi is cheerfully holding her prize that she will leave behind for someone else after we find this cache. We know the general location of the cache, somewhere around Devil’s Lake. We quickly realize as we drive that Devil’s Lake is much bigger than we realized. We enter a park and follow the GPS unit, we unload Madi and get her bundled up, even in July it’s cold and chilly here. David is asking me questions; I am stumbling over rocks and actually walk into a garbage can as I’m too focused on the GPS unit in my hand. We wind our way up a path and come to a breath taking view of the lake, tall trees surround us, and the smell of camp fire is in the air. It’s really quite something. We search and search, we find one sign, and look to the west, nothing. After an hour we are all frustrated, and David takes over on the GPS unit, he quickly realizes that I’m way off and that while on the screen of the unit we are only an inch away we are really a mile away. MY BAD.

So we eat lunch at the small park we found, and take a lovely break before loading up and having David navigate and drive us. Within 5 minutes we are at a large sign that reads “Sied Creek” Damn he’s good! Once there we searched for about 20 minutes, there was a small trail, we followed it for some time, then decided the cache couldn’t be that far back into the brush, we went back to the sign and searched under some big trees, under the largest of trees was a pile of rocks, I decided to dig. It paid off quickly I found a small green lock box, the cache had been placed by Lincoln City Parks and Recreation. The rule in geocaching is to take something and leave something; we let Madi choose her treasure. She chose a small novelty bottle of bubbles from someone’s wedding; “Mark & Jenny” were printed on the outside. I thought this to be very sweet and hope that Mark and Jenny are still together. We left a map of Cedar Breaks National Park, Utah it was still in the truck from our last hiking trip there, we had all our favorite sites marked on it, I hoped that someone would find it useful and maybe even go to some of our spots.

We had a wonderful time today, the area was beautiful, I learned a lot about our new GPS unit, and Madi had fun, which is all that matters. We do want to go back to this area sometime soon to see if Parks and Rec will continue to clear the trails that lead through this awesome area.

Kind of cheesy I know, but we did have fun, and like I said the real treasure is in the journey, looking back on this now I remember feeling so frustrated at my GPS skills, or lack thereof, but David swooped in and got us back on track, I think that’s good for both of us. I also think it’s great that Madi gets to explore with us, to places none of us have been, but will hopefully continue to go to in the future. These are my real treasures, the memories of the breeze on my face, watching Madi dig through bushes, even running into that garbage can. The best is always unearthing the treasure, even though there are only trinkets inside it is very fulfilling…like I said very Indiana Jones.

The Upside Down Shelf

When we first moved in to our house on the coast our then 2 year old daughter Madison sneakily figured out how to work the child proof door knob protectors, ironically I was still mastering them, but for her they were a cinch. It was after I found her in my bathroom covered in fingernail polish, Q-tips, mascara and lotion that I decided we needed to start locking our bedroom door. One of the problems with our house is that the top of the door frame is surrounded by 6 inch molding, very beautiful, yet unreachable for a shorty like me. And so I found a cute little shelf and asked David to hang it outside our bedroom door so I could keep the key to the door on it.

After a long day at work and a longer day dealing with a 2 year old and a wife who was in the early stages of morning sickness, David hung the shelf. It wasn’t until the next day that I realized it was upside down, an easy mistake; it does look similar on both sides and is indeed functional either way. I immediately called him to tell him it needed to be turned around. To which he replied, “Uh, oh sorry, okay, I’ll do it when I get a chance.”

Weeks went by and the shelf remained the same, every time I walked by the shelf I would become irritated, I mean how long would it take him to fix this, what like five minutes? (At the time it didn’t occur to me that I TOO COULD FIX IT! But for some reason I kept putting it on him). Many friends would come over and comment on the shelf, I just kept saying,

“Yeah Dave’s gonna fix it one of these days.” And then it hit me, why should he fix it? Why should he have hung it in the first place? I was the one who couldn’t reach the key when it was on the door frame, he reached it just fine. There was no reason for him to hang the shelf for himself, it was all for me.

So today over 2 years later the shelf is still upside down and it will be until the day we move. He’s offered to fix it many times but I love it that way. Every time I go in and out of our bedroom I see the shelf and it is a reminder to me. Not of how I was once so irritated by it, but a reminder of how much my husband does for me, just to make me happy. It’s something that tells me over and over again that even though he’s exhausted, drained, and would probably rather be watching some random sporting event on TV, he will still take the time to do something just for me. It may not be perfect, but who’s to say what is perfect and what’s not? I’m certainly not an expert on what’s right and wrong, although I do tend to criticize more than I should.

So to David, thank you so much for being so amazing to me, thanks for putting up with all my annoying moods and directions, thank you for picking out the beautiful purple tomato cages instead of the regular metal ones at Bi-Mart (just because you knew I’d like them), thank you for peeling and cutting up the cucumber for lunch without even being asked. You amaze me. Oh and I’m sorry about the fireplace, YOU’RE RIGHT, I WAS WRONG, your way will work fine, my way was just some random attempt for control. You do an amazing job, I have so much respect for you, I promise to work harder to show that to you, and I’ll also work harder at keeping my mouth shut, when my hands aren’t willing to participate in getting the work done.

I hope that everyone that is reading this has some sort of upside down shelf in their life, may its imperfection bless you and remind you that your loved one’s aren’t people you hire who you can boss around. They are the most important people in your lives and should be treated as special treasures.

Two Hour Tuesdays

It doesn’t seem like that long, unless of course you’re listening to a newborn baby cry and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it. But today I got something new, I got two whole hours to myself!

That’s right, no crying baby, no four year old asking “Mommy can I have milk? Mommy I’m hungry. Mommy color with me. Mommy help me wipe!”

Two whole hours, and it was amazing! I woke up with a smile on my face; I’ve been waiting for this day for so long. I fed the kids, got them dressed and got to school early. Dropped Madi off at preschool and took Lilly across the hallway to the baby room. As I exited the baby room I had a huge smile, a spring in my step and I practically ran out of the school! This sounds horrible, but all you moms out there know exactly what I’m talking about- I was free. This doesn’t mean that I don’t love my girls; it means that I’m a better mom if I get to spend even a fraction of time by myself, with no obligations. No one peeking in the shower while I’m shaving my legs, no one opening the door while I’m going to the bathroom…

As soon as I got into my car I called the tanning salon, the woman on the other end was not in the mood for my chipperness, which usually I would take offense to, but today, there was no stopping me. I found the salon, bounced in and was met with the annoyed face from the other end of the phone. As I filled out my form, almost crying at the fact that I didn’t have anyone grabbing my pen, my leg, or my boob, the tanned woman asked,

“Oh lord, are you always this chipper in the morning?”

I laughed and beamed, “NO!!!! I’m usually miserable!!!! But this is the first two hours I’ve had to myself in ages!”

Suddenly she understood, and her mood shifted, she too has children, she too has experienced going to the bathroom with an audience. It was as if I’d just given her a super secret handshake for entrance into an underground society- it was all clear to her now, and I could see she felt joy for me. She gladly took me to my tanning room and said “you enjoy your time,” As she closed the door behind her.

I undressed, looked at myself in the mirror, and for the first time in a long time thought, hmm not that bad! I lay in the tanning bed and soaked up every single ounce of warmth for a wonderful eight minutes, when the timer went off I felt a new energy. I exited my room, the tanned woman welcomed me back in the lobby and said “we’ll get you started slowly; this will be so much fun!” Again, a tear came to my eye.

After tanning I called my Kinsy, and had an uninterrupted conversation for about forty minutes…this new uncharted territory felt foreign and odd, but wow - so awesome. I could focus, I could reply, I didn’t have an anxiety attack! I say “my Kinsy,” because she’s such a dear, dear friend, she understands, she’s in the same boat I am and I could feel her excitement for me. For those forty minutes, she was all mine.

This week has been a tough one for Dave and I, we lost his grandmother last week, and I realized today as I was driving to pick the girls up that I hadn’t had a chance to mourn. I have had to be strong for my girls, so on the way to pick them up I turned on a sad song, and sang and cried at the top of my lungs. It felt so good. I didn’t have to explain to anyone, or justify my behavior; I didn’t have to worry that my healing would scare them. I haven’t had that in so long; I haven’t had a private moment to take care of me.

But today I did and it was wonderful, it’s amazing to me how two hours can heal months of exhaustion, and brings a new enthusiasm to my soul. I can make it another week; I can be strong for my girls, take care of the house, the kids… my husband. I can do it joyfully now, because now I have “Two hour Tuesdays,” that’s 120 minutes of pure Shauna time, and I’m not wasting one of them!

How 'bout some sugar.....

Have you ever just needed something so bad that you can’t get it off your mind? A craving where you will go crazy until you get what you need, a feeling of rage in your chest as you search for what you desire most?

Hopefully you have on some level experienced this (or you’ll think I’m totally insane and somehow feel as though you’re better than me, hey if that’s what you need to get through your day, then great! Yep you’re better than me, oh it doesn’t feel as good when I acknowledge it does it?), whether it be a drink, a smoke, a crush, or in my case sweet treats made from what I’m sure is pure poison. Yes I’m an addict, My name is Shauna and I’m a what…sugar holic? Well anyway I want sugar, I crave sugar, I know sugar is bad for me and well right now it feels OH SO GOOD! Isn’t that how all addictions work though, the things that are soooooo baaaadd feel sooooooo good!

I’ve struggled with this all my life, during my childhood food and sweets were on what my mom called a “get while the getting’s good” basis, which meant, you filled your plate when we had food and you gorged yourself, because there wasn’t a guarantee that we’d have it again anytime soon. So my sisters and I all gorged. We chowed down stuff that I hate to say now I wouldn’t even consider edible and wouldn’t let my daughters even touch let alone eat…yeah they remember sitting in the barn, eating expired Ho Ho’s, wow that sentence sounds so terribly wrong! Oh well it is what it is...the making’s of Shauna.

So we gorged, but to make it a full circle horrible situation we had other influences in our lives that told us that woman were only attractive if they were bone skinny. Sure my mom didn’t mean to make us feel like fatties, but imagine being a little girl, looking at your mother in the mirror, all 120 lbs of her and hearing her tell you how incredibly fat she is. Talk about confusion!

So we not only got the “Get while the Getting’s good” but “after you get you’re a fat cow who is good for nothing!” (My mom didn’t say that to us, just to herself….message received).

Enter eating disorders, anxiety, and horrible self esteem oh and just in time, puberty...yes thanks for that!

So yeah, yucky childhood when it comes to self restraint, you don’t need to read more about how screwed up I am, but what I am interested in is this: Why when sugar makes me feel so bad do I continue to indulge in it? I had a great run, quite a few months of absolutely no sugar, and felt just lovely; Positive, fit, emotionally stable, then Christmas comes and all those darn treats, just eyeballing me, calling my name, jumping into my hands, opening the lids…wow this is a horrible addiction.

I understand the physiological side, and the psychological side, yep I get all the “psy” words, and have a degree to prove that I understand, but that just makes it worse, I mean I do understand! I know my body gets a chemical rush from sugar, I understand that I crash and feel like crap, and yet still I WANT it, and that is driving me crazy!

So maybe it isn’t really about the sugar. I mean I do get it, I do understand, maybe for me and probably for most addicts it’s about something entirely different…

Control.

I’ve noticed that when I really go crazy with sugar my life seems out of control. My kids won’t sleep, I don’t have time to shower, I suddenly start having dreams that I’m in high school and can’t remember the combination to my locker, right as I’m going to be late for class, but oh my gosh I’m not wearing a bra!!! And the bra is in the locker and that boy is walking up to me and I forgot to put on deodorant...ok, you get the picture.

So I guess I just need to let some things go, to understand that I really don’t have control over anything, and to allow myself to have a little sugar every now and then, maybe I won’t binge if I loosen up, then again that’s like telling an alcoholic that there’s a one drink maximum.

Or maybe I just let it go. Who cares if I have this addiction, admitting it is half the battle. Is it really so bad that I binge on this stuff? If I keep myself at a healthy weight and in the jeans my husband likes does it matter?

Probably not, but the fact that I’ve spent 802 words so far going over this in my head tells me it does, and the fact that my daughter just told me she’s had too much sugar today tells me that I’m a little too vocal about my control issues. She’s 4, I’m glad she understands her bodies signals that she’s had enough, but I’m sad that I’ve brought this into her circle of understanding.

So yes I have a problem, I want to be perfect, I want my BMI to be a solid 22, I want my sugar intake under 20 grams per day, I want to be confident in a bikini again, I want to be confident walking around naked in front of my husband again, I want to sleep, I want to know if I’m moving in the next year, I want my boobs to be perky again (sans surgery), I want my cupboards organized, my car cleaned, the settling cracks in my house to go away, I want to know that there’s nothing wrong with my daughter even though her head is strangely shaped, I want it to stop raining, I want control damn it!

Well now that were clear on that…thanks for listening, I bet you wish you had a degree in psychology so you would have just made $150.00 listening to me rant.

Finding Forrester

No, this posting isn’t about the movie; it’s about my day in Portland on a trip to IKEA.

My friend Desi and I took the kids on a shopping trip to IKEA; I know what were we thinking huh? Crazy, but I had a hankering to get a laptop charging station that has been on my wish list for over a year and so Desi embarked on this journey with me. I followed her through traffic, a nightmare really, oh I hate freeways, I can’t stand aggressive motorists who merge without blinking (their eyes or their turn signals) I guess I’m just not confident enough for city life, indeed that’s why in the 9 months I lived in Salt Lake City I barely made it to the mall across the street from our apartment complex, let alone onto the one of what felt like millions of freeways there.

But this was different I was following Desi and I suppose that in my quest for freedom from the unending rain on the coast I needed to get out and do some retail therapy.

However on the way there I was almost sideswiped, I luckily slammed on my brakes and allowed the car to merge into the lane ahead of me, just in time to see her car rear-end Desi’s vehicle. I assumed after Desi got out and talked to the woman that we were going to pull off the road and discuss the event, exchange info and have a merry old time at IKEA, where indeed we would be sideswiped and rear-ended with fancy I kea shopping carts. I was wrong though, the woman in the Blue Subaru Forrester yelled at Desi and then drove off, calling out “so sue me!” as she drove off.

I was dumbfounded, as was Desi. The damage to Desi’s car wasn’t severe, however there was a concern that her backup sensor might not work properly and after all it’s the law to stop and at least exchange info, even if you don’t plan on the courtesy of an apology. And so Desi called her husband, an insurance agent, who told her to file a police report. We talked with the police, gave them her license plate number and a description including the ironic fact that her license plate stated “Share the road” on it.

So here’s the interesting part of this story, and hopefully we can all learn a little lesson from this. This woman in the Forrester will most likely be charged with a Hit and Run, and since she yelled at Desi who was not at fault and refused to give information she could also get Road Rage charges, all for a simple rear end accident that quite frankly Desi probably wouldn’t have been all that concerned about after making sure her sensor was intact. But since this woman was so rude and refused to cooperate we had to call the police and now the ball is rolling on something that seriously wasn’t that big of a deal.

So the moral, always be quick to apologize, always follow the rules of the road and give the other driver in an accident your information, indeed the lapse of judgment the Forrester had will prove to be a nightmare for her unforeseeable future. The other moral, is never, never yell “So sue me!” because frankly you never know who’ll take you up on that offer, especially if you just rear ended the car that is carrying their most valuable possessions in the world…mama bear will always get her revenge!

So Forrester, you may think you got away free and clear, indeed you had no way of knowing that I was part of Desi’s caravan and I had a clear view of not only the accident but of your license plate, so in the future, practice what you preach and “Share the Road.”

On a lighter note, we were only sideswiped once in IKEA, and I was rear ended only twice by someone’s shopping cart, but I was quick to forgive because each time I received a very apologetic “I’m so sorry” from the perpetrator. Oh I also got out of IKEA and only spent $165.00, got a ton of cool stuff, and am proud to say that my house is beginning to get more organized, one brilliant IKEA system at a time.

Adorable Terrorsits

I’m exhausted. Plain and simple, exhausted. I’m so tired I feel as though I could sleep for a week and still wake up feeling totally burnt out, cranky and on the verge of tears. The sad part is that I have no huge claim to this exhaustion; I haven’t just run a marathon, I haven’t just traveled the globe, I’m just a mom and a housewife. My days are spent doing everything for everyone else, even showering feels like work right now.

I know this sounds horrible, I know I sound totally pessimistic and well, like a whiny little bitch. I know that I need to just put on my big girl panties, deal with it and keep on trucking, but I wonder…do all new moms feel this way? Am I so totally chemically imbalanced? Is my post partum depression so bad that this isn’t normal? Or is it normal? Does every mom feel this way at one time or another?

Does anyone else not want to fall asleep because they know that within a few short hours they will be awoken by a crying child? Does anyone else get angry when they are awoken by a crying baby? I’m seriously asking… because I feel like the worst mom in the world.

I try to fill my daughters’ days with learning, reading, playing; I want to create an environment where exploration is celebrated. But as my 7 month old crawls around and forces me to get up once again to pull her away from trouble I get so very frustrated.

Yes motherhood is a lot of work, most days I wish I did have a job to go to, just to get a break, just to miss them, to escape the dishes, the laundry, the diapers for a few hours. I know a lot of my readers are probably thinking…HA! You think you have it bad! Or Stop complaining, at least you have a family and children. Don’t get me wrong I do feel blessed for my family, I do love them, I’m just spent. I just want to sleep, to take a bath by myself, to actually have time to shave my legs in the shower, to lie in my bed without one of three different people requiring something from me.

I guess I’m just selfish, somewhere between laundry and bedtime stories, I’ve lost myself.

I remember a time when I could look in the mirror and had time to pluck a stray eyebrow. I remember a time when the thought of going shopping wasn’t something that sent anxiety through my entire being. I remember a time when the phone rang I actually felt excited about answering it and having a wonderful uninterrupted conversation with a friend, but times have changed.

Now I don’t even look in the mirror, and when I do it’s followed by a feeling of loss as I evaluate my stretch marks and scars. I look at my tattoo that once represented my freedom and now can only be described as a bug that has been smeared on a windshield. (For anyone out there who hasn’t yet had children, even if your DR tells you that you can’t have kids, NEVER get a tattoo on your stomach!)

Most of all I remember a time when I smiled regularly, when I woke up excited about my day and the activities that I had planned, I remember going on vacation and not worrying about the one’s I left behind for the week. Now I wish I could go on vacation, but the thought of all the work that would have to be done in order to arrange childcare, dog care, house care, etc etc…well it’s not even worth it.

So what do I do, besides whine to my computer screen, praying someone will validate these feelings…begging “does ANYONE understand?”

I guess I do what I always do…I breathe, I force a smile, I pray….and I repeat, over and over and over, because sometimes that’s all I can do.

Now I would love to finish this but my baby has filled her diaper once again, I’m laughing at myself now because I’m actually excited about this, only a mom who has experienced a constipated baby will understand my joy at this moment in time.