Uh-Mazing

I have a lot to do today, and there's something about having a big to-do list that makes me want to blog. The funny thing is, my list isn't actually that "big." But I've had a calm week, so now that I have a few things to do, it feels like "a lot."

At this moment, I'm pretty on top of things, and it feels really good. I'm caught up on laundry, my house is fifteen minutes from clean (this is my standard), and nothing on my aforementioned to-do list is absolutely dire... save for washing some pee bedding and shampooing a mattress. So when I get myself off this computer and start working on that list, it's going to help me stay ahead in life. And that feels uh-mazing.

(I basically just contradicted myself by stating that I have a lot to do but I don't actually have to do any of it).

(It's cool. I do that a lot).

Anyway, the weather around here has shifted lately. It went from 90° to 50° overnight. Tis the Utah way. In fact, last night I stayed up pretty late working on a project (one that I hope to be able to post here someday, but it's one of those things that I don't want to tell you about yet because if it doesn't work out, I'm just going to hide it in a garbage can and pretend it never happened, but it it does work out, it will be uh-mazing) while Scotty was away working on a side job about half an hour from home. Here it was cold and rainy, and where he was, it was SNOWING. Like, a lot. Scotty said "blizzard." Was he exaggerating? I don't know! And he wasn't near the mountains or anything. It was snowing at 11:30 p.m. in the valley! And technically, today is the first day of fall, so it was snowing in the valley during the final 30 minutes of summer.

(That may possibly be one of the worst paragraphs I've ever written. Just go with it).

(Also, I apologize for blogging about the weather).

(But I'm not done yet...)

Since it cooled off, I now have the privilege of wearing long pants, which is always an uh-mazing transition. When I get to wear long pants, I become a new woman. I feel so much better about myself and about life in general. Shorts and capris are not my thing. but I wear them because I can't deal with the heat. I spend all summer putting my body into clothes that just don't work for me, and then fall comes, and I get to wear long, glorious, comfortable pants!

Unfortunately, I'm running low on pants that fit.

Story of my life!

But better than shorts.

Always.

I went through my clothes the other day and got rid of a garbage bag full. It felt uh-mazing to purge a bit... but it probably won't feel uh-mazing when I decide that I need that blue shirt after all. Or when I magically drop 20 lbs and suddenly feel like I might be able to wear peplum.

(Actually, it might take more than 20 lbs because I didn't feel right in peplum even 30 lbs ago).

(Peplum is so unfair).

(Totally just googled "how to pronounce peplum" because it dawned on me that I've never said it nor heard it aloud. Apparently "pee plum" is incorrect. Thank heavens I've only said it in my head. What if I'd gone into a boutique and said that I needed some "pee plum?")

(And by "boutique" I mean "Deseret Industries." Cause let's be realistic about where I shop).

(I could probably find pee plum there).

Speaking of DI, I went yesterday to try and find a book for my book exchange. I already have a book for my book exchange, but what would it hurt to have ten more just in case?

Sadly, I didn't find a book for my book exchange, but I did find a copy of the DSM-5 for $1. That's an uh-mazing deal.

I was pretty psyched.

(See what I did there?)

I also got a brand new pair of sandals for Eva, two creepy baby dolls that Eva became overly attached to, and a shirt for myself.

I decided not to buy the giant spoon and fork to hang on my kitchen wall. Will I regret this?

(I want to have a giant spoon and fork as an homage to the giant spoon and fork my grandma had in her kitchen during my childhood - very similar to the giant spoon and fork from Everybody Loves Raymond).

OH MY GOSH!!! Why didn't I buy the spoon and fork? They would have been uh-mazing!

Picture This

A couple of months ago, I mentioned that I'd applied for an "opportunity." I didn't think anything would come of it, but it worked out, and now I'll be presenting at a women's conference in November.

One of the things I've had to do in preparation for the event is provide a bio and a photograph of myself for the program. I knew immediately that there was no photo in existence that I could use, but just in case, I scoured my files to see if I had anything ready to go. 

I wasn't surprised to discover that the nicest photo available was of me and a goat:

{Britt & The Goat}

What I didn't realize was that I take a lot of selfies with animals. 

{Britt & The Bunny}

 

{Britt & The Cow}

Those weren't really options for this event. And neither were any of these:

 

{Britt & Vomit Laundry}

 

{Britt & Pee Mattress}

 

{Britt & Kid Getting Eaten by Dinosaur}

 

{Britt & Poop Mug}

 

{Britt & Facial Mask}

{Britt & Fake Braces}

{Britt & Costume Prize}

 

{Britt & Chicken Suit}

 

{Britt & Toddler}

From now on I'm going to try and take at least one "nice" photo per year. 

It's going to be hard. My face can't handle it. But I need to act like a professional once in a while. 

So here is the illusion I will give people for this round:

90% put together.

Just don't calculate any percentages using the above photos. Ahem....

Once Upon a Library Bathroom

A few years ago our local library closed for renovations. While it was closed, we made our weekly* visits at a library about 20 minutes away in my "hometown" (I use the term "hometown" lightly because I lived on the border of the township of Magna and the city of West Valley. We were technically on the West Valley side of the border, but we had the Magna zipcode. So I get to claim both places).

The Magna library was newly built a few years before our local library was renovated (there was already a Magna library, but it was torn down and a new library was built in a different location). It's one of my favorite libraries, so even though our local one reopened, we still venture out to Magna occasionally. 

 

Today was one of those days where I really needed to be out of the house, but I didn't have anywhere to go, so we stopped at Arctic Circle for courtesy cones and fries, and then we went to the Magna Library.

As I pulled up to my usual parking spot, I started thinking about where the bathrooms are located in the library. That's just something you do when you go out in public with little ones - you have to have a bathroom route mapped out for when they "nee go pee."

(That's what Zoe says while doing her potty dance, "I nee go pee! I nee go pee!" It's precious. Especially in the middle of sacrament meeting. Luckily we sit in front of a little girl who loudly states when she needs to poop, so we just blend in).

During my mental bathroom mapping routine, I recalled something I'd forgotten about...

I found out I was pregnant with Eva in the Magna Library bathroom.

We'd been on our way to the library, and I stopped at the store and bought a test. Then I went ahead and took it in the library bathroom, and it was positive.

It felt poetic, being a person who loves books and takes pregnancy tests in library bathrooms.

After remembering this, I thought about how cool it will be to someday hold Eva's hand and walk her into the Magna library saying, "This is where I was when I found out you were going to be in our family!"

(I could have done that today, but it will be funner when she's old enough to know what a pregnancy test is).

She might think it's weird. She might even say something like, "Ew, mom!"

To which I will respond, "Hey, be grateful you're not your older sister. I learned about her in Walmart."

There wasn't anything poetic about that. 

*Since having my fourth child, I've stopped taking my kids to the library regularly. I reached my limit and now find it nearly impossible to endure a trip to the library with my kids. We've been dabbling in weekly visits for the past few weeks since school started, but we only do so to fill the awkward half hour that I need to burn in between dropping off a kid at dance class and picking up a different kid from piano lessons. Having two fewer kids with me is the only thing that makes it work.  

Chaos Percentages

I have a confession that's a little hard for me to admit.

I really like to look like I have my life together. I want to fool people.

In truth, I don't have my life 100% together. My life is kind of chaotic and seems to be the perfect reflection of my mind... which is also kind of chaotic.

But I like the illusion of having it together. Or at least a 90% illusion. I don't mind if people see small glimpses of the not-togetherness I'm toting around. I'm willing to give you 10%. But I don't like the idea of someone seeing my not-togetherness regularly.

90% togetherness.

10% chaos.

I can deal with that.

But the reality is that it's more like 50% togetherness and 50% chaos.

That's still not bad.

But my 50% chaos always presents itself in front of the same people, which makes it look like 100% chaos, and that makes it hard to fool them!

One of these people is my mom.

It's probably because she's my mom that she's privy to my chaos. I'm always having to call her over chaotic things like, "Mom! I ran out of gas in the school parking lot!" and "Oh my gosh, I forgot I can't use a credit card at WinCo, and I have a cart full of groceries!" and "Mom! I locked my keys in my car at Chick-Fil-A!"

She's always having to save me from my own idiocy.

And then there's my aunt, Lori.

I don't mean to air out my chaos around my Aunt Lori, but it just happens. I'll pull in her driveway, and a kid will start throwing up, and then I'll trip and fall on my face while I'm walking up her porch. Then someone will poop, and I won't have any diapers with me, and I'll realize I forgot to pick a kid up from school.

I'm starting to wonder if there's a "Lori Factor."

And then there's Becky.

I tend to run into Becky when something stressful has just happened. Several months ago I ran into her at Walmart, and I had all of my kids with me and hadn't showered for like three days. I just needed one, stupid, little thing, and I could barely get my cart of screaming children through the doors. After fighting through the store and waiting in a long line, I got out to the van and I'd left the item at the register in the bag.

Then last week when I ran out of gas in the school parking lot, and my mom had to come save me (I also called my Aunt Lori because my mom didn't answer at first, and she was going to come save me, but then my mom called me back) I ran into Becky at Sam's Club immediately after.

I think our conversation went like this:

Becky: "Brittany!"
.
Me: "I RAN OUT OF GAS!!!"

(Okay, maybe it wasn't quite like that... but close)

Luckily, I don't think Becky looks at me and sees the chaos. She just sees a friend.

And that I am very grateful for.

**UPDATE**
After I wrote this post, a friend told me that she was surprised that I feel the need to "put on an act," since she considers me to be very real and open. I realize where the discrepancy is between what she said about me and what I said about myself. My issue isn't with people knowing that I don't have my life together. My issue is with people seeing it. I want you to see 90% together-ness, and I will tell you about the not-together-ness. I don't want you to look upon it with your own eyes!

Brad Makes Me Cry

The kitchen renovation continues...

Remember how a few months ago I couldn't stop mentioning that I had graduated? Well, now I've moved on, and I can't write a post without mentioning the work we are doing in our kitchen. It's all-consuming. So bear with me while my kitchen is the center of my life.

(Still happy about the graduation thing, though. In fact, at church today, I was sitting in the pew thinking about the fact that I have a degree, and I started crying. I just never saw myself achieving this. I'm still in shock that I did it, and I have little moments where I remember, and I almost lose it).

Anyway, I've needed a lot of music, podcasts, and re-runs to get me through my kitchen renovation. A couple of weeks ago I was listening to a Brad Paisley play list on YouTube while I was working in the kitchen, and I kept getting teary eyed (maybe it's time for me to take my quarterly pregnancy test - it's kind of a tradition that about every three months I get super hormonal and paranoid that I'm pregnant. Ah, the life of a woman!).

Those Brad Paisley lyrics, though...

{Via}

Before I get into that, let me tell you about my history with Brad Paisley.

One year for Christmas, Scotty bought us tickets to a Brad Paisley concert. I knew who he was and knew some of his songs, but I wasn't really a "fan." I was neither thrilled nor disappointed by the tickets.

Then we went to the concert, and I converted.* Brad Paisley gave an amazing performance (and I can say the same for the next concert of his we went to). I think I listened to Brad Paisley for about three months straight after that first concert.

I learned to really respect Brad and his music. Some of his songs are a little cheesy, and in all honesty, he doesn't have a beautiful or a powerful voice. It's not a bad voice, it's just not "beautiful." But that guy can perform and entertain like you wouldn't believe. He is really, really talented.

I know nothing about playing the guitar (though I have a guitar and used to be able to play a wicked awesome rendition of the Hanukkah Song), but I'm pretty sure that what Brad Paisley does with a guitar is worthy of respect.

And if you look past the cheesy songs (which I still love despite the cheesy factor), he writes some really meaningful lyrics.

Which is probably the reason I cried while I painted my cabinets.  Well, that and it's just really horrible to paint cabinets.

*I also realized at that concert that I have a dream to play the fiddle in a country band, and now, thanks to Carrie Underwood, I also want to play the harmonica. Like, really play the harmonica, not just Oh Susanna, which I've known how to play my whole life.

We're still working on the kitchen (and ten other random facts)

Fact #1: There's a setting on our TV that makes a creepy voice read the descriptions of shows on Netflix and tell us how loud the volume is. I don't know how it gets turned on, and I don't know how to turn it off. It's on right now (courtesy of Eva who had to hurry and push every button on the remote as I moved toward her to take it away), and it sounds like a robotic alien has possessed the TV.

I'm pretty sure we have better technology than that. If I can make my iPhone talk to me in the voice of an Australian man (I like to pretend it's Hugh Jackman) then why can't my "smart" TV afford me the same favor?

Fact #2: Last week I was late almost everywhere I went. It was really weird and very unlike me. I was ten minutes late to a hair appointment, which has never happened! And from then on, I was about five minutes behind on life for the rest of the week. 

I think it was because I was always painting, and there was consistently just a little bit of paint left in the dish that I'd want to hurry and use before I ran out the door (every drop counts!)

Fact #3: I find it interesting that there are hardly any consequences for being late. Unless you're trying to catch a plane, you can walk in late almost anywhere and not have any issues. 

This is not a good thing. 

Fact #4: I'm back to my punctual ways now. 

Fact #5: Okay, so I'm punctual. You know that.

But in addition to that, I have a hard time slowing down. Now, don't confuse "slowing down" with "being lazy." I don't have a hard time being lazy. In fact, it's one of my special gifts.

I have a hard time slowing down in the "stop and smell the roses" kind of way.

Fact #6: That scene in Zootopia with the sloth makes me absolutely crazy.

Fact #7: Two of my biggest fears are severed limbs and MRIs.

Fact #8: I worry so much about someone losing a finger (or any body part) and me having to transport the victim and the limb to the hospital.

I don't want to make decisions about the limb, and I don't want to be responsible for the limb.

But just in case, I spend way too much time googling how to care for limbs because I don't want to do it wrong. We have a friend who did it "wrong."

(Don't put the detached limb directly on ice!)

Also, we have a friend who cut off his fingers last weekend and had to go into surgery for 20 hours to reattach them.

Limbs are no joke! Neither are eyeballs.

Please don't ever make me deal with dislodged eyeballs.

Fact #8: The MRI thing is a matter of claustrophobia.

I can't even.

Fact #9: Those aren't my only fears. Nor are they my top fears. They are just two of my fears.

Fact #10:  I'm also paranoid of sea creatures, earthquakes, and getting injured on a loose toilet seat.

Then there's my irrational fear of choking on carrots while driving. Not at any other time. Only while driving.

So I obviously don't eat carrots when I drive.

Improvement

Oh, hi there.

I'm taking a quick break from my If You Give a Mouse a Cookie episode. Scotty and I have spent every spare minute for the past two weeks working on our kitchen. We've hit a bit of a snag (one of many) so I'm currently off-duty.

This morning, we installed our new microwave. We've had a counter top microwave (which we've always hated because counter space is sparse around here), so our dream has been to move our cabinets so we can hang a microwave over the stove. We hung it this morning then suddenly, we lost half the voltage in the outlet.

We aren't sure what the problem is, but Scotty is working on getting us more power.

I'm staying clear of the kitchen for a while because our projects are getting in the way of each other.

I remember why we've put off home renovations for so long! They are a pain in the tuchus!

I was super motivated for the first week, and then last Thursday evening, I hit a wall. It felt exactly like my last year of school. I wasn't sure how I could go on. The thought of lifting a paintbrush for one more second made me all sorts of crazy.

Just to give you an idea of how much time I have spent painting, I listened to 32 episodes of The Office and an entire audio book in three days while painting. I also had phone conversations with friends and listened to some music, so my rough estimate was that I spent 56 hours painting from Monday to Thursday of last week. My routine has been to drop Zoe off at preschool, go to Lowe's for my daily supplies, and then paint until 11:00 each night with small breaks for picking up kids.

The poor kids have been so neglected.

BUT...

We are accomplishing some tasks that really needed to be done, and that feels AMAZING!

There's still a lot left to do, so blogging will be sporadic for a while, but I've been posting some pictures and updates on Facebook, so check it out if you haven't already.