Let's face it... stereotypes usually derive from some truth, which is why its nearly impossible to get people to QUIT stereotyping. Yes. Most old people drive slow. Yes. Most women are hormonal. Yes. Most men don't hang onto their wife's every word. Yes. Mississippians eat a lot of fried food. OTHER stereotypes are just something pulled out of someone's nose. Mississippians DO have teeth... we DO have shoes... and we CAN read and write. (But maybe along time ago that wasn't the case?... I don't know).
I thought it would be fun to dispell or NOT some of my FAVORITE stereotypes. MORMON ones.
*All Mormons have 10 kids. FALSE: some only have 7.
*All Mormon women drive a Mini Van FALSE: some drive surburbans, full sized vans, and small busses
*Mormons are not Christians FALSE: I think God would agree that He gets to hear from me daily (You people think I am detailed on facebook and blog? You should hear my prayers) and in my daily prayers I always give my gratitude for my Savior's infinite atonement and every prayer is dedicated in the name of Jesus Christ. Plus, how many one year olds do you know that can point out a pic of Jesus? (Well all the kids in our nursery certainly can!)
*All Mormon men have more than one wife. FALSE: No members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints practice polygamy. TOO BAD... if we did I'd have Starling married to a good cook, another wife that enjoyed housework, and one that really liked to have a job and make lots of money.(Starling on the other hand can barely deal with ONE wife).
*All Mormons are brainwashed. HMM: I don't exactly know the definition of brainwashed... being told something over and over again? We do teach the kids from the time they are born to PRAY PRAY PRAY... and to ask for help from their Heavenly Father. We are also repeatedly encouraged to serve our fellow men, to read our scriptures, get our food storage ready, make our homes refuges from the world, steer clear from pornography and any addictive substances... whew... I dunno. But if I'm brainwashed, I want Brooklyn to be brainwashed the same way because it kept me out of a LOT of trouble!!
*All Mormons are weird. TRUE: I prefer being called a "peculiar" person rather than weirdo- BUT tomato, tomotto. Come to think of it... I don't know ANYONE Mormon or not that doesn't fall into the weird category somehow.
*Mormons don't know how to have fun. FALSE: I happen to believe I have some of the MOST fun! (and not just by scaring my husband)And I remember it the next day, have no hang over, and have no regrets!
*Mormons don't drink alcohol, coffee, tea, or use tobacco. TRUE: Health Insurance companies LOVE some Mormons! (and so do our dentists)
*Mormons read more than the Bible. TRUE: We read the King James Bible and the Book of Mormon. The Bible takes place on one side of the continent, where Jesus was born and raised and lived, and the Book of Mormon takes place in the Americas. The Book of Mormon also testifies of Jesus Christ and his birth and resurrection. The two books go hand in hand.
*Mormons are always dressed in white shirts and ties and knock on people's doors. FALSE and TRUE: All worthy young men are asked to serve a two year mission at the age of nineteen. They are not paid for their service. In fact, young men save up money all through high school so that they can pay for their mission. They are sent all over the world sharing a message about Jesus Christ and his restored gospel. But the rest of the men and women just where normal clothes.
*Mormons believe in prophets. TRUE: We believe the Bible accounts of all the prophets. We also believe in MODERN day revelation, which simply means, we don't believe that our Father in Heaven left us without direction in todays world of computers, pornography, cell phones, etc. (ALL of which did not exist in Bible or Book of Mormon times). That is the MAIN thing that sets Mormons apart from other religions. We believe that the Church of Jesus Christ was restored to the earth in the same form that Jesus formed it when He was on the earth. We have a prophet and 12 apostles just like He originally set up.
*Mormons worship Joseph Smith. FALSE: We believe he was a prophet in more recent times, the prophet who translated the Book of Mormon from its original language through the power of God. We are grateful for his faithfulness and endurance through all the tribulation he faced, but we do not esteem him as an equal to Jesus or God. We do not pray to him. Believing that he was truly a prophet of God is important in our religion, though. Because, if he wasn't a prophet, then he couldn't have translated the Book of Mormon, could not have had the keys of the priesthood restored to the church, and therefore... we wouldn't have The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.
*Mormons exist all over the world. TRUE: A neat fact about our church, which is unlike most all other churches, is that you can go to a Mormon church in Oak Grove, MS and the next week to one in Africa and the same doctrines will be taught from the same lesson manual.
*Mormons don't get paid to serve. TRUE: We do not pay a preacher, teachers, or in most cases custodians. We have a Bishop who is called to serve a ward, free of charge. We then have music directors, pianists, Sunday school teachers, missionaries, etc. that are asked to serve and it is a freely given service (except for all the blessings we recieve!) Members are released from one calling and called to other callings based on the inspiration recieved from diligent prayer. We take turns cleaning our building and donating our time for service projects.
*Mormons pay 10% of everything they make to the church. TRUE: We pay a 10% tithe which goes to pay for the buildings lights and any maintenance needed, new church buildings, etc. and is used not only in OUR area but in places where money is scarce like Africa, Mexico, Haiti, etc. We also pay a fast offering which maintains food for those in need of food and monetary needs for those needing living assistance for both members of our church and those of our communities all over the world.
If you have more Mormon stereotypes to add or have heard feel free to comment! I'll answer them to the best of my ability. You can also visit LDS.ORG to see exactly what Mormons believe and are being taught. You can spy on our Prophet and his twelve apostles by clicking on Conference Talks. And if you are curious and comfortable with inviting people into your home, get those 19 year old boys into your living room and ask them what Mormons believe. They come from all over the world to share their testimony. Afterall, you don't have to BE Mormon to know what a Mormon believes... But you should definitely ask a MORMON what he or she believes not a person from a different religion. I wouldn't ask a heart surgeon advice on my plumbing or a plumber to give me heart surgery. It's sad how many preachers are devoting hours they could be teaching of Christ to teaching falsehoods about Mormons. I don't see how that benefits members of their church or the community. And Mormons love our Christian neighbors! We are on the same team! We want to stand as a united front against Satan and his wicked media tactics. As Christians we should be helping each other fight to preserve our constitution and protect the family, not fight each other. And for all my non-Mormon friends who are praying for my soul... THANK YOU! (sincerely)! And pray for my family, too! I love that we pray for each other, because we are all brother and sisters and that is what family is for!
Friday, February 25, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
The Attack!
My sweet Brooklyn is OBSESSED with balloons. We go to WAl-MART and she exclaims "BUH-LOON!!" from the minute we walk INTO the store and yells, "BYE-BYE BUH-LOON!!" all the way OUT of the store. (A little trick I learned to keep her from wanting to take them home with her... "This is the balloons home! Its where his mommy and daddy is. Tell him bye bye!") But every now and again she'll end up getting a balloon, usually from Chic Filet.
Charkley, our precious little peek-a-poo pup, is NOT obsessed with balloons. On the contrare... The poor thing is scared of EVERYTHING... vaccuums, his toys touching the wall, his food bowl (because his name tag dinged into it and rattled). And balloons? TOP of his TERROR list.
ME? I'm not afraid of balloons. I'm not obsessed with balloons.
WELL- this is all good background info for the EVENT that took place a bit ago in my bedroom.
We have a king size bed, which we fill to the max with Brooklyn, who sleeps sideways, Starling who sleeps spread out, me, who sleeps squished like a sardeen in the middle with Charkley on my head, Brooklyn kicking me, and Starling draping his ENORMOUS legs over me. Needless to say... my sleep isn't the soundest. Plus I have to untangle myself about six times a night to go PEE with Brighton's, the kid in my tummy, new position of ONLY sitting on my bladder.
Well a bit ago we went through our nightly ritual, family prayers (where Brooklyn prays for EVERYTHING her little peeping eyes can spy in the room and anything she remembers hearing about during the day), family scripture study (where I read, Starling tries to keep his eyes open and Brooklyn exclaims "WANT ANGDER FACE!" everytime I mention that the people were angry or angered. And she does it for any OTHER word she reconizes... arms, heart, strong, lifted up, etc... so a chapter a night takes a good LONG time).. I was yawning through the last versus because the time was past 11:00 p.m. and I was dying of exhaustion. Starling was already snoring and Brooklyn's eyes were drooping like a Bassett Hounds. But when I tried to lay down, Brooklyn wanted her BALLOON to sleep with. I don't choose too many battles at bed time because I just want to SLEEP, so I gave her the Chic Filet balloon that still had enough helium to float, but not enough to reach the ceiling anymore.
Brooklyn and I yawned through our goodnight songs and I told Brooklyn to tell the balloon night-night because it has to sleep in the corner. Surprisingly she did so and the three humans crashed. Charkley made his way to his position on top of my head and he too drifted off.
I fell into a pretty hard sleep, which is a rare treat for me. But I woke up because Charkley was making the strangest gurgling sound right into my ear. It sounded like a whimper, bark, growl, pained noise. I thumped him, trying to get him to hush. He whined a little louder. So then I groaned and peeked through a slit of my eye. The bedroom was completely black except for the outline of a man walking towards me.
Both of my eyes shoot open, my blood turns cold, and I try to sit up but I'm trapped under Starling's logs he calls legs. Just as I realize I'm trapped and I can't scream for help because my voice won't work, the air kicks on and the man RUNS at me! I squeal and start punching out as hard as I can, trying to shred the intruders face with my fingernails, knowing I'm the only one who can save my family because Starling is in a coma and my dog is probably peeing on my pillow behind me.
I hit the face, but it keeps coming back at me. My heart is thudding so loud I start to think a heart attack may be what kills me instead of this thug trying to attack me in my sleep.
And then I get tangled up in... in... string? And all at once I realize I am fighting Brooklyn's pink Chic Filet balloon. I try to punch Starling awake and tell him what just happened because my adrenaline totally makes sleep impossible. He moans and moves his leg off me, assuming that's why I am punching him. Then I put the balloon in a different room,(though I did consider trying to make it attack Starling first).
So maybe Karma is out to get me... I don't know... but I will admit I can sympathize with my chicken, I mean dog, more now.
Charkley, our precious little peek-a-poo pup, is NOT obsessed with balloons. On the contrare... The poor thing is scared of EVERYTHING... vaccuums, his toys touching the wall, his food bowl (because his name tag dinged into it and rattled). And balloons? TOP of his TERROR list.
ME? I'm not afraid of balloons. I'm not obsessed with balloons.
WELL- this is all good background info for the EVENT that took place a bit ago in my bedroom.
We have a king size bed, which we fill to the max with Brooklyn, who sleeps sideways, Starling who sleeps spread out, me, who sleeps squished like a sardeen in the middle with Charkley on my head, Brooklyn kicking me, and Starling draping his ENORMOUS legs over me. Needless to say... my sleep isn't the soundest. Plus I have to untangle myself about six times a night to go PEE with Brighton's, the kid in my tummy, new position of ONLY sitting on my bladder.
Well a bit ago we went through our nightly ritual, family prayers (where Brooklyn prays for EVERYTHING her little peeping eyes can spy in the room and anything she remembers hearing about during the day), family scripture study (where I read, Starling tries to keep his eyes open and Brooklyn exclaims "WANT ANGDER FACE!" everytime I mention that the people were angry or angered. And she does it for any OTHER word she reconizes... arms, heart, strong, lifted up, etc... so a chapter a night takes a good LONG time).. I was yawning through the last versus because the time was past 11:00 p.m. and I was dying of exhaustion. Starling was already snoring and Brooklyn's eyes were drooping like a Bassett Hounds. But when I tried to lay down, Brooklyn wanted her BALLOON to sleep with. I don't choose too many battles at bed time because I just want to SLEEP, so I gave her the Chic Filet balloon that still had enough helium to float, but not enough to reach the ceiling anymore.
Brooklyn and I yawned through our goodnight songs and I told Brooklyn to tell the balloon night-night because it has to sleep in the corner. Surprisingly she did so and the three humans crashed. Charkley made his way to his position on top of my head and he too drifted off.
I fell into a pretty hard sleep, which is a rare treat for me. But I woke up because Charkley was making the strangest gurgling sound right into my ear. It sounded like a whimper, bark, growl, pained noise. I thumped him, trying to get him to hush. He whined a little louder. So then I groaned and peeked through a slit of my eye. The bedroom was completely black except for the outline of a man walking towards me.
Both of my eyes shoot open, my blood turns cold, and I try to sit up but I'm trapped under Starling's logs he calls legs. Just as I realize I'm trapped and I can't scream for help because my voice won't work, the air kicks on and the man RUNS at me! I squeal and start punching out as hard as I can, trying to shred the intruders face with my fingernails, knowing I'm the only one who can save my family because Starling is in a coma and my dog is probably peeing on my pillow behind me.
I hit the face, but it keeps coming back at me. My heart is thudding so loud I start to think a heart attack may be what kills me instead of this thug trying to attack me in my sleep.
And then I get tangled up in... in... string? And all at once I realize I am fighting Brooklyn's pink Chic Filet balloon. I try to punch Starling awake and tell him what just happened because my adrenaline totally makes sleep impossible. He moans and moves his leg off me, assuming that's why I am punching him. Then I put the balloon in a different room,(though I did consider trying to make it attack Starling first).
So maybe Karma is out to get me... I don't know... but I will admit I can sympathize with my chicken, I mean dog, more now.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Communication or Lack thereof??
I went to school for several different things before deciding on a major, the final one being Psychology. And you are probably thinking it, my professors all said it, and I admit it; people who go into psychology have something wrong with them that they are either openly or subconsciously trying to fix. Well... I guess I THOUGHT I wanted to help fix OTHER people... but after studying the books on "healthy communication" I decided I'm all KINDS of screwed up.
BAD: using the silent treatment WENDI: favorite form of dealing with TICKED off. BAD: monopolizing conversation (or taking over conversation) WENDI: I couldn't NOT monopolize a conversation if you ducked taped my mouth shut and put me in a corner. Though I am trying to work on this. BAD: rambling WENDI: Rambles on and on and ON when audience is no longer attentive (or in my case with Starling- unconscious).
But, of course, I ALSO noticed that STARLING has communication problems. Like... BAD: tuning out wife STARLING: TUNES out WIFE. (well... that's pretty much the biggy).
I have expressed my need to STarling. NEED: TO TALK, VENT, RAMBLE, anYthing that comes into my head for at least 15 min a day. Starling agreed to try and focus on my train of thought, no matter where it may derail, for that alloted time.
It was pretty late. Brooklyn was asleep and I was laying in the bed. Starling was sitting on our bedroom floor staring at our master bathroom that is still in the renovation stage of stagnant. I start my fifteen minutes of communication by saying, "You are going to finish school in May right before the baby is born and then doing your internship right after. Can't you do your internship AFTER the summer?"
Starling half moans, half answers, "yeah if I want to pay a lot of extra money."
Wendi: "oh. so that's a no. Well, I guess I'll just have to figure something out. My mom will be out for the summer so she'll probably be able to take Brooklyn alot."
Starling: "We need to go pick out what tile we want around that tub."
Wendi: "I need you to finish moving those shelves out of Brighton's room so I can start decorating."
Starling: "I already have most the tile for the tub, but we'll need some decorative tile to break up the stuff I already got."
Wendi: "How long will it take you to move all that stuff out of the play room? I really want to paint that back wall in a sailor mural but your old bed is in the way."
Starling: "I bet that Hudson's stock has some good stuff for tiling. Maybe I can swing by there after school tomorrow."
Wendi: "I'd like to paint next weekend. I'm going to do a big boat with the sail, which I may do out of cloth for the COOL effect, and the bed can look like part of the boat."
Starling: "I gotta get that sheet rock mudded and sanded then we can paint the dang bathroom."
Wendi: "Yeah. That'd be good. Well I'm going to bed. Nice talk."
Starling: "Huh? Yeah. Good talk."
So.. I guess my need to talk was fulfilled. I need to express my desire to be LISTENED to. And then there is the other form of tuning out wife that I hate. The, "Uh huh..." the, "yeah..." the, "that sounds good..." after I ask a question like, "Would you rather eat left over chili or order pizza?" "uh huh??? uh huh, WHAT?" "yeah.. yeah WHAT??" "that sounds good??? WHAT sounds good??"
Well, I hope that Starling is learning his lesson about the latter tuning out wife. I read him the blog about me scaring him while he was SUPPOSED to be listening. He made zero comments through its entirety besides a couple of "uh huh's." So when I finished reading it and he didn't say anything I said, "That's cool with you if ppl read this?" He nodded,"sounds good."
So I posted with a grin on my face, knowing he didn't listen to a word I said. The next day when people were asking him about "cowboy crotch" he read my blog. "WENDI!!!!!!! WHAT ON EARTH!!!!" I told him the truth... I cleared it with you first babe. You shouldn't agree to something you TUNED OUT!
BAD: using the silent treatment WENDI: favorite form of dealing with TICKED off. BAD: monopolizing conversation (or taking over conversation) WENDI: I couldn't NOT monopolize a conversation if you ducked taped my mouth shut and put me in a corner. Though I am trying to work on this. BAD: rambling WENDI: Rambles on and on and ON when audience is no longer attentive (or in my case with Starling- unconscious).
But, of course, I ALSO noticed that STARLING has communication problems. Like... BAD: tuning out wife STARLING: TUNES out WIFE. (well... that's pretty much the biggy).
I have expressed my need to STarling. NEED: TO TALK, VENT, RAMBLE, anYthing that comes into my head for at least 15 min a day. Starling agreed to try and focus on my train of thought, no matter where it may derail, for that alloted time.
It was pretty late. Brooklyn was asleep and I was laying in the bed. Starling was sitting on our bedroom floor staring at our master bathroom that is still in the renovation stage of stagnant. I start my fifteen minutes of communication by saying, "You are going to finish school in May right before the baby is born and then doing your internship right after. Can't you do your internship AFTER the summer?"
Starling half moans, half answers, "yeah if I want to pay a lot of extra money."
Wendi: "oh. so that's a no. Well, I guess I'll just have to figure something out. My mom will be out for the summer so she'll probably be able to take Brooklyn alot."
Starling: "We need to go pick out what tile we want around that tub."
Wendi: "I need you to finish moving those shelves out of Brighton's room so I can start decorating."
Starling: "I already have most the tile for the tub, but we'll need some decorative tile to break up the stuff I already got."
Wendi: "How long will it take you to move all that stuff out of the play room? I really want to paint that back wall in a sailor mural but your old bed is in the way."
Starling: "I bet that Hudson's stock has some good stuff for tiling. Maybe I can swing by there after school tomorrow."
Wendi: "I'd like to paint next weekend. I'm going to do a big boat with the sail, which I may do out of cloth for the COOL effect, and the bed can look like part of the boat."
Starling: "I gotta get that sheet rock mudded and sanded then we can paint the dang bathroom."
Wendi: "Yeah. That'd be good. Well I'm going to bed. Nice talk."
Starling: "Huh? Yeah. Good talk."
So.. I guess my need to talk was fulfilled. I need to express my desire to be LISTENED to. And then there is the other form of tuning out wife that I hate. The, "Uh huh..." the, "yeah..." the, "that sounds good..." after I ask a question like, "Would you rather eat left over chili or order pizza?" "uh huh??? uh huh, WHAT?" "yeah.. yeah WHAT??" "that sounds good??? WHAT sounds good??"
Well, I hope that Starling is learning his lesson about the latter tuning out wife. I read him the blog about me scaring him while he was SUPPOSED to be listening. He made zero comments through its entirety besides a couple of "uh huh's." So when I finished reading it and he didn't say anything I said, "That's cool with you if ppl read this?" He nodded,"sounds good."
So I posted with a grin on my face, knowing he didn't listen to a word I said. The next day when people were asking him about "cowboy crotch" he read my blog. "WENDI!!!!!!! WHAT ON EARTH!!!!" I told him the truth... I cleared it with you first babe. You shouldn't agree to something you TUNED OUT!
Monday, February 21, 2011
Whale Watching
I feel like I should start my blogs with "Dear Diary" because essentially I am using absolutely no filter (says Starling who just read my last blog. hee hee...) Anyway... today was just gorgeous so OF COURSE I wanted to be outside.
WELL... as you know I'm a thousand pounds (give or take) and I don't give a rat's tail. I get that I gain enormous amounts of weight when I'm pregnant and so I've moved on. HOWEVER, everyone knows that fat looks better tan. And everyone ALSO knows that tanning beds cause cancer. Well, that's never stopped me from tanning in a bed, I'm sad to say, but being prego HAS... Therefore, this RADIANT sunshine GLORIOUSLY appearing in the dead of WINTER has been my own little personal MIRACLE.
I carried me a blanket into my backyard and found a nice spot behind the pool where no neighbors or passerbys could see me, and laid it out. I then put on the maternity swimsuit I bought in Destin AFTER I was over being pregnant but thinking of the future. Well... putting it on was kind of like... trying to squeeze a watermelon into a coke bottle. Needless to say... IT DIDN'T fit. SIGH... so I did what any innovative person would do. I put on a two piece swim suit (no belly restrictions) and pulled a shirt over the top. PERFECT! I looked both ways leaving my back door. CLEAR. I hurriedly ran (or trotted like a horse that's been shot in the leg) to my blanket and laid down.
My neighbor kid came over and wanted to swim in my pool (even though its sub zero and isn't clean). Brooklyn immediately starts having a melt down about swimming and so I say, "SURE! Ya'll go RIGHT ahead and swim" thinking that they would stick in their toes in and freak. NOPE... Brooklyn LIKED it. So Brooklyn sat on the ladder and played with the neighbor kid. I got nice and comfy on my blanket.
Starling came home in between showing houses and was keeping an eye on the girls, so I fell asleep. After thirty minutes or so of snoring under the lustrous sun, I woke up to male voices. I glanced up and immediately DIED of mortification as I see Starling, my DUDE neighbor, and Starling's DUDE CLIENT standing in our back yard working on our lawn mower.
Is Starling NUTS?? He could have at least told me to MOVE my blanket or he could have MOVED the dang mower to the other side of the yard. Or he could have at least WOKE me up so I could make the decision if a tan is worth the humiliation of never being able to show my face in my own neighborhood... I could have wrung his neck!
I whisper to my neighbor kid, "How long have they BEEN HERE???" She shrugged.. "A WHI-LE." UGHGHG... "What are they DOING? Whale watching?? Shammoo only flips every thirty minutes!"
WELL... as you know I'm a thousand pounds (give or take) and I don't give a rat's tail. I get that I gain enormous amounts of weight when I'm pregnant and so I've moved on. HOWEVER, everyone knows that fat looks better tan. And everyone ALSO knows that tanning beds cause cancer. Well, that's never stopped me from tanning in a bed, I'm sad to say, but being prego HAS... Therefore, this RADIANT sunshine GLORIOUSLY appearing in the dead of WINTER has been my own little personal MIRACLE.
I carried me a blanket into my backyard and found a nice spot behind the pool where no neighbors or passerbys could see me, and laid it out. I then put on the maternity swimsuit I bought in Destin AFTER I was over being pregnant but thinking of the future. Well... putting it on was kind of like... trying to squeeze a watermelon into a coke bottle. Needless to say... IT DIDN'T fit. SIGH... so I did what any innovative person would do. I put on a two piece swim suit (no belly restrictions) and pulled a shirt over the top. PERFECT! I looked both ways leaving my back door. CLEAR. I hurriedly ran (or trotted like a horse that's been shot in the leg) to my blanket and laid down.
My neighbor kid came over and wanted to swim in my pool (even though its sub zero and isn't clean). Brooklyn immediately starts having a melt down about swimming and so I say, "SURE! Ya'll go RIGHT ahead and swim" thinking that they would stick in their toes in and freak. NOPE... Brooklyn LIKED it. So Brooklyn sat on the ladder and played with the neighbor kid. I got nice and comfy on my blanket.
Starling came home in between showing houses and was keeping an eye on the girls, so I fell asleep. After thirty minutes or so of snoring under the lustrous sun, I woke up to male voices. I glanced up and immediately DIED of mortification as I see Starling, my DUDE neighbor, and Starling's DUDE CLIENT standing in our back yard working on our lawn mower.
Is Starling NUTS?? He could have at least told me to MOVE my blanket or he could have MOVED the dang mower to the other side of the yard. Or he could have at least WOKE me up so I could make the decision if a tan is worth the humiliation of never being able to show my face in my own neighborhood... I could have wrung his neck!
I whisper to my neighbor kid, "How long have they BEEN HERE???" She shrugged.. "A WHI-LE." UGHGHG... "What are they DOING? Whale watching?? Shammoo only flips every thirty minutes!"
The Booger WOE- Man
So... if you know me AT ALL, then you know I'm NOT normal. That's a fact I live with and have no qualms about admitting. SOOO naturally, my relationship with my husband is peculiar as well.
For example... most girls get thier thrills by shopping sprees and gossip circles... and yeh- I guess those things are alright. But ME?? I get my thrills by scaring the pee pee out of my husband. We have been married for almost five years and we dated for over a year so the way I figure... I've scared at least 3 years off Starling because HALF to death equals about that. And I don't stress about "what am I going to do next to top last time!?" No, no, no... I am just ALWAYS prepared for that perfect moment to pounce.
Starling worked VERY diligently on prepping our house to paint Saturday. He was tired and whining because he "hurt all over." I tried to be sympathetic and listen to his moaning and groaning about cowboy crotch and a broken wrist. I gave him peace and quiet while he filled the juccuzzi with steaming hot water, lit the candles we always use in our bathroom, and turned on some relaxing music.
Starling was in there FOREVER and (another thing about me) I like to TALK!! So I was getting antsy and tired of waiting for him to get OUT so I could converse with him about ANYTHING (bc I can talk about nothing for hours or something for 10 hrs... I'm just desperate for conversation after being with a one year old ALL day). I called to Starling, "How LONG are you going to stay in there?? Until you're a PRUNE??" No answer. So I march my waddling hiney into the bathroom and... it was a perfect moment I COULD not RESIST. I didn't care that Starling had worked all day... I didn't care that he was exhausted... I didn't care that Starling was completely and totally relaxed... the moment had risen when I could get a SUPERB thrill! I couldn't pass it up.
Starling's head was under water. It was completely dark with only the shadows darting from the candle flame. He had no idea I was in the bathroom, let alone leering over his head like a cat watching his prey. I got into position in record time (no time to waste). I crouched down lowering my face inches from his. I contorted my face into a mask of utter HORROR.
Starling's face lifted. "phew" he groaned as he used his hands to wipe the water from his eyes. "Ahh" he relaxed again against the tub.
And then it happened. He opened his eyes. "EHAHAHEIAHGIAH" I shrieked into his face. "AHAHAHGIHAIHGIAh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" He screeched like a school girl that just got thrown on top of a snake. He punched outward with his sore wrist.
Now... terrorizing someone isn't something an amateur can do without consequence. It takes skill, patience, quick judement, and most importantly... quick reflexes. One must be able to anticipate the victims reaction and DART out of the victims punching range. Luckily, I'm a professional and knew to yank my face back. Unfortunately.. my giant gut restricted my complete body removal and Starling's fist socked me right in the eye... but not too hard.. It didn't much hurt me.. but, as I said, he used his SORE wrist so it sent him writhing in pain. Again... I didn't care. I cackled and crowed and mocked him for 45 minutes straight.
And as usual Starling had the audacity to rebuke me. "waa waa waa waa..." who knows what he actually said... something about "one day you're going to get hurt... you're lucky you moved..." yata yata... But, like all thrills... sky diving, motorcycle racing, bungie jumping... there is ALWAYS a risk. I'll never let the risk of a black eye or a bloody nose stop me from doing what I love... putting terror into the ones I care about most.
For example... most girls get thier thrills by shopping sprees and gossip circles... and yeh- I guess those things are alright. But ME?? I get my thrills by scaring the pee pee out of my husband. We have been married for almost five years and we dated for over a year so the way I figure... I've scared at least 3 years off Starling because HALF to death equals about that. And I don't stress about "what am I going to do next to top last time!?" No, no, no... I am just ALWAYS prepared for that perfect moment to pounce.
Starling worked VERY diligently on prepping our house to paint Saturday. He was tired and whining because he "hurt all over." I tried to be sympathetic and listen to his moaning and groaning about cowboy crotch and a broken wrist. I gave him peace and quiet while he filled the juccuzzi with steaming hot water, lit the candles we always use in our bathroom, and turned on some relaxing music.
Starling was in there FOREVER and (another thing about me) I like to TALK!! So I was getting antsy and tired of waiting for him to get OUT so I could converse with him about ANYTHING (bc I can talk about nothing for hours or something for 10 hrs... I'm just desperate for conversation after being with a one year old ALL day). I called to Starling, "How LONG are you going to stay in there?? Until you're a PRUNE??" No answer. So I march my waddling hiney into the bathroom and... it was a perfect moment I COULD not RESIST. I didn't care that Starling had worked all day... I didn't care that he was exhausted... I didn't care that Starling was completely and totally relaxed... the moment had risen when I could get a SUPERB thrill! I couldn't pass it up.
Starling's head was under water. It was completely dark with only the shadows darting from the candle flame. He had no idea I was in the bathroom, let alone leering over his head like a cat watching his prey. I got into position in record time (no time to waste). I crouched down lowering my face inches from his. I contorted my face into a mask of utter HORROR.
Starling's face lifted. "phew" he groaned as he used his hands to wipe the water from his eyes. "Ahh" he relaxed again against the tub.
And then it happened. He opened his eyes. "EHAHAHEIAHGIAH" I shrieked into his face. "AHAHAHGIHAIHGIAh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" He screeched like a school girl that just got thrown on top of a snake. He punched outward with his sore wrist.
Now... terrorizing someone isn't something an amateur can do without consequence. It takes skill, patience, quick judement, and most importantly... quick reflexes. One must be able to anticipate the victims reaction and DART out of the victims punching range. Luckily, I'm a professional and knew to yank my face back. Unfortunately.. my giant gut restricted my complete body removal and Starling's fist socked me right in the eye... but not too hard.. It didn't much hurt me.. but, as I said, he used his SORE wrist so it sent him writhing in pain. Again... I didn't care. I cackled and crowed and mocked him for 45 minutes straight.
And as usual Starling had the audacity to rebuke me. "waa waa waa waa..." who knows what he actually said... something about "one day you're going to get hurt... you're lucky you moved..." yata yata... But, like all thrills... sky diving, motorcycle racing, bungie jumping... there is ALWAYS a risk. I'll never let the risk of a black eye or a bloody nose stop me from doing what I love... putting terror into the ones I care about most.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
The Thing about Boobs...
I know if you are reading the time… 1:42 AM… as I start typing, you may wonder WHAT in the heck I am doing up on a Saturday night knowing good and well I have to be at church at 9 AM to lead the music tomorrow morning. WELL… Brooklyn rolled over on my boob, which naturally WOKE me up because I had to pull it out from under her and it hurt like a foot that’s just been stomped. ANYWAY- IT GOT me to THINKING…
THE THING ABOUT BOOBS… My entire life I have heard girls and women who are pleasantly endowed say things like, “I HATE big boobs… they hit me in the face when I run” “Big Boobs are a curse. Men don’t even know I have a face” “My big boobs always get in the way” “Wendi you are SO lucky!”
WELL… as a flat chestee for most my life and president of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee, I have to say to those women… You are KILLING ME! Here is how I look at it… I longed for boobs most of my childhood, all of high school, and into two years of marriage when LOW and BEHOLD I got my wish! (Unfortunately my big boobs came in a bundle package with 50 lbs of belly and two gallons of milk that shot out every time a boob got bumped). YET STILL I was in HeAvEn!
Here are some GOOD things you complaining crazies. I no longer lose my boobs when I put on a bra.. (where are you hiding little ones??) I no longer have to worry about giant craters showing through my shirt where my padded bra has been washed and deformed. (cause’ I don’t have to where padding anymore! HURRAY!)
Granted, one can’t fully enjoy breasts or really judge the fit when there is a huge belly making walking difficult, let alone fitting into clothes properly. So, I revert to my glory days after giving birth to my sweet Brooklyn. FINALLY, after three months of recovery, I had a flat tummy and nice C cup breasts. Despite the fact that I was pumping milk like a dairy cow and the goods were pretty much untouchable if you didn’t want to get drenched in breasty milk, there were THREE very happy people in our household. (5 if you count the dogs bc I’d let them drink Brooklyn’s left over bottles when I figured they’d sat out too long). AND I went to the beach and WOE- I could finally ROCK that bikini I’d always longed to wear since I was old enough to know there was a difference between boys and girls. (I did NOT rock one, only a TANKinni, because #1 I’m a modest Mormon girl and #2 Freddie Cougher shredded my stomach while I was prego with tons of stretch marks…. (Reasons not necessarily being in that order)). And in response to the complaint “men don’t know you have a FACE” well, I consider that a blessing… less time to spend on hair and make-up. And your boobs get in the way? In the way of WHAT? Folding your arms? Seriously, padding, water bras, and those bra inserts are much more IN THE WAY (always wondering if the water bra is going to start leaking or the padding is going to fall out while you are walking into class…). And yes, I tried jogging… that does suck when your boobs are bouncing all over the place. GET A SPORTS BRA and then just do like me and run with both hands holding down your boobs… You may get a few stares but eh… they would’ve been leering at your chest anyway, right? And yes, it’s weird to have something to guard when you sleep, but the way I see it…. My legs get Charlie horses and my ankles get twisted. My legs are always too long for the pants I want to buy and they can never get comfortable when I try to sleep… YET never once have a said, “UGH… I hate my legs. You are so lucky you don’t have any!”
THE THING ABOUT BOOBS… My entire life I have heard girls and women who are pleasantly endowed say things like, “I HATE big boobs… they hit me in the face when I run” “Big Boobs are a curse. Men don’t even know I have a face” “My big boobs always get in the way” “Wendi you are SO lucky!”
WELL… as a flat chestee for most my life and president of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee, I have to say to those women… You are KILLING ME! Here is how I look at it… I longed for boobs most of my childhood, all of high school, and into two years of marriage when LOW and BEHOLD I got my wish! (Unfortunately my big boobs came in a bundle package with 50 lbs of belly and two gallons of milk that shot out every time a boob got bumped). YET STILL I was in HeAvEn!
Here are some GOOD things you complaining crazies. I no longer lose my boobs when I put on a bra.. (where are you hiding little ones??) I no longer have to worry about giant craters showing through my shirt where my padded bra has been washed and deformed. (cause’ I don’t have to where padding anymore! HURRAY!)
Granted, one can’t fully enjoy breasts or really judge the fit when there is a huge belly making walking difficult, let alone fitting into clothes properly. So, I revert to my glory days after giving birth to my sweet Brooklyn. FINALLY, after three months of recovery, I had a flat tummy and nice C cup breasts. Despite the fact that I was pumping milk like a dairy cow and the goods were pretty much untouchable if you didn’t want to get drenched in breasty milk, there were THREE very happy people in our household. (5 if you count the dogs bc I’d let them drink Brooklyn’s left over bottles when I figured they’d sat out too long). AND I went to the beach and WOE- I could finally ROCK that bikini I’d always longed to wear since I was old enough to know there was a difference between boys and girls. (I did NOT rock one, only a TANKinni, because #1 I’m a modest Mormon girl and #2 Freddie Cougher shredded my stomach while I was prego with tons of stretch marks…. (Reasons not necessarily being in that order)). And in response to the complaint “men don’t know you have a FACE” well, I consider that a blessing… less time to spend on hair and make-up. And your boobs get in the way? In the way of WHAT? Folding your arms? Seriously, padding, water bras, and those bra inserts are much more IN THE WAY (always wondering if the water bra is going to start leaking or the padding is going to fall out while you are walking into class…). And yes, I tried jogging… that does suck when your boobs are bouncing all over the place. GET A SPORTS BRA and then just do like me and run with both hands holding down your boobs… You may get a few stares but eh… they would’ve been leering at your chest anyway, right? And yes, it’s weird to have something to guard when you sleep, but the way I see it…. My legs get Charlie horses and my ankles get twisted. My legs are always too long for the pants I want to buy and they can never get comfortable when I try to sleep… YET never once have a said, “UGH… I hate my legs. You are so lucky you don’t have any!”
Friday, February 18, 2011
Birthday Fun!
Boston's Birthday
Brooklyn and I got to go to Kamper Park playground today in the BEAUTIFUL weather for Boston's birthday party. Her little friend turned THREE! He is one of her best buds and treats her so sweet. To our surprise the ZOO was closed as well as the "choo-choo" train... All the kids were disappointed, but not for long. They had a great time on the slides and swings. When the party was all wrapped up and everyone was leaving, I said, "Alrighty Brooklyn. You ready to go?" She shook her head and said, "No. No thank you." So, I sat on a bench and watched her play thinking she would get tired of playing by herself and notice I wasn't by her side. NOPE. She found other friends. And she had WAY too many things to climb to notice a party pooper mom sitting down. She played for 3 and a half HOURS and STILL she didn't want to leave. She climbed the huge dome that is essentially monkey bars. And did she get scared? NOPE. She climbed all the way to the top which is over my head. I couldn't believe that munchkin!
Finally, I was TOO hot, TOO sweaty, and TOO tired to let her keep going. I said, "Aren't you THIRSTY?" That got her attention. "Want a Du-RINK??" she exclaimed. I told her we had to go in the car to get it. She didn't want to stop playing, but she was too thirsty to put up a fight. When we opened the car it was a SAUNA!! I buckled Brooklyn in despight the fact her carseat felt like a bonfire and she was very disturbed by the temperature. Then I noticed that my arms were aflame. Seriously. I got SUN BURNED in FEBRUARY. It was 10 degrees last week and this week its 100. I guess we went from frigid winter to blazing summer. Mississippi is DEFINITELY a woman state. OBVIOUSLY hormonal with hot and cold flashes. But I am NOT complaining! I love the warm air and the sunshine. And mostly I LOVE my sweet Brooklyn!! (who is thrilled to be able to play outside again)!
Brooklyn and I got to go to Kamper Park playground today in the BEAUTIFUL weather for Boston's birthday party. Her little friend turned THREE! He is one of her best buds and treats her so sweet. To our surprise the ZOO was closed as well as the "choo-choo" train... All the kids were disappointed, but not for long. They had a great time on the slides and swings. When the party was all wrapped up and everyone was leaving, I said, "Alrighty Brooklyn. You ready to go?" She shook her head and said, "No. No thank you." So, I sat on a bench and watched her play thinking she would get tired of playing by herself and notice I wasn't by her side. NOPE. She found other friends. And she had WAY too many things to climb to notice a party pooper mom sitting down. She played for 3 and a half HOURS and STILL she didn't want to leave. She climbed the huge dome that is essentially monkey bars. And did she get scared? NOPE. She climbed all the way to the top which is over my head. I couldn't believe that munchkin!
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Downtown Darlins
The Christmas gift for the year (or so it seems amongst my girl friends) was new CAMERA! Sooo naturally we all want to play with our new toys. Luckily one of my friends, good ole' Jessie who swooped in from Utah and is ahead of the times in photography and the arts, is the vet on cameras. So Stephi, one of my best friends and sister in law, Jessi one of my best friends previously mentioned, and I decided we would take our toys downtown and give them a whirl on some choice models... our DAUGHTERS... 
Something to be noted is the downtown atmosphere... besides being a little run down, it seems to host a lot of bars and bar going type people... (i hope that is politcally correct terminology. lol) As we pulled our cars into a vast parking lot around four fifty in the p.m. a car drove past filled with loud music and loud boys/men hanging out all of the windows.
The second thing to be noted is the status of all three women. PREGNANT. So if you can get a visual of three prego's waddling out of their vehicles with three toddlers in tow carrying nothing other than heavy cameras draped around their necks and a camera bag slung over the shoulder.... you might find it VERY ominous to the passerby that might be viscious. After seeing a few street goers we had the brains to actually consider the possibly that we should have brought tazers and pepper spray. Too bad. We didn't.
The third thing to note is the status of our children. I already mentioned toddlers, but until you meet them, you can not fully appreciate their diverse hyper tendencies. Alayna likes to run from Stephi, while Layla likes to pick up gum off the side walk, and Brooklyn is constantly trying to follow her two best buds while keeping just enough distance that they do not touch her (pinch, or poke her).
Jessi led the way to a nice photo opt... a railroad track. Three moms stick their three children on a train track and tell them to smile for a picture. Three girls start picking up rocks and start throwing them, eating them, kicking them...
No girls smile for pictures. They did succeed in getting completely covered in dirt and some black oily substance. And then they made sure to wipe it all over their faces. (If we were going for grunge... we certainly hit our mark).
We then headed to the old buildings were we attempted to seperate them and get solo pics. Out of 200 plus pics I think i got 2 where Brooklyn actually looked at me. She sat as poised as a porcelain doll but her attention was solely on her friends and wondering when she'd be able to rejoin them. sigh...
We tried to get the girls to hold hands, sit side by side, put their arms around each other... okay... just BE in the same area long enough to get some pics.... i wish we had a video of the attempt... it would be much more telling then the blurred photos and facial expressions.
Finally, three moms gave up and we took our three model children (though models for WHAT i won't say) and headed back to Jessi's where she made yummy pancakes and we thoroughly stuffed our faces with sweet delight. We gabbed for the rest of the night until our husbands began returning at 9:30 ish...
I love eventful evenings like that... especially when I know that we are about to add THREE more kids to that little mix. haha... it makes me smile just thinking how different boys are going to be. We all hope LESS DRAMATIC.
Something to be noted is the downtown atmosphere... besides being a little run down, it seems to host a lot of bars and bar going type people... (i hope that is politcally correct terminology. lol) As we pulled our cars into a vast parking lot around four fifty in the p.m. a car drove past filled with loud music and loud boys/men hanging out all of the windows.
The second thing to be noted is the status of all three women. PREGNANT. So if you can get a visual of three prego's waddling out of their vehicles with three toddlers in tow carrying nothing other than heavy cameras draped around their necks and a camera bag slung over the shoulder.... you might find it VERY ominous to the passerby that might be viscious. After seeing a few street goers we had the brains to actually consider the possibly that we should have brought tazers and pepper spray. Too bad. We didn't.
The third thing to note is the status of our children. I already mentioned toddlers, but until you meet them, you can not fully appreciate their diverse hyper tendencies. Alayna likes to run from Stephi, while Layla likes to pick up gum off the side walk, and Brooklyn is constantly trying to follow her two best buds while keeping just enough distance that they do not touch her (pinch, or poke her).
Jessi led the way to a nice photo opt... a railroad track. Three moms stick their three children on a train track and tell them to smile for a picture. Three girls start picking up rocks and start throwing them, eating them, kicking them...
No girls smile for pictures. They did succeed in getting completely covered in dirt and some black oily substance. And then they made sure to wipe it all over their faces. (If we were going for grunge... we certainly hit our mark).
We then headed to the old buildings were we attempted to seperate them and get solo pics. Out of 200 plus pics I think i got 2 where Brooklyn actually looked at me. She sat as poised as a porcelain doll but her attention was solely on her friends and wondering when she'd be able to rejoin them. sigh...
We tried to get the girls to hold hands, sit side by side, put their arms around each other... okay... just BE in the same area long enough to get some pics.... i wish we had a video of the attempt... it would be much more telling then the blurred photos and facial expressions.
Finally, three moms gave up and we took our three model children (though models for WHAT i won't say) and headed back to Jessi's where she made yummy pancakes and we thoroughly stuffed our faces with sweet delight. We gabbed for the rest of the night until our husbands began returning at 9:30 ish...
I love eventful evenings like that... especially when I know that we are about to add THREE more kids to that little mix. haha... it makes me smile just thinking how different boys are going to be. We all hope LESS DRAMATIC.
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