3 Things to do before ANY abdominal surgery, and 3 things for after...

As a courtesy to my fellow man, I have compiled a list of three things to do before you have any kind of abdominal surgery. Here ya go:

1. Sleep on your stomach every chance you get. Revel in it. And I mean really REVEL in it.

2. Enjoy getting on and off the toilet without praying for those handicap handrails. Maybe get up and down a few extra times, just out of the sheer joy and freedom of it all.

3. Encourage your children to punch you in the stomach a few times, jump on you, and throw things at you-- help them to get it all out of their system now, because afterwards it will make you swear like a sailor.

And 3 for after (ok, it's really just one big long one):

1. Sleep lots, without any guilt, and take those dang pain pills, without any guilt, and keep your kids away from your stomach, also without any guilt.

Also, maybe 2: don't try to write a blog post while on said pain pills..... :)

Mac likes princesses, and why I'm not worried

It is 5am. I woke up an hour ago, SURE that Mac was going to die. I was breathing heavy, pulse racing, and I knew that I had to save my son. There was no going back to sleep. So after I laid there and hashed out why Mac was NOT going to die, I started thinking. I thought yet again, about whether or not I should include in our Christmas letter that Mac likes princesses. I wrote it in, and have been agonizing about it ever since. I know that someone who reads it (probably a relative), is going to think, "the boy loves princesses? What... is he gay or something?" For the last hour, I have thought and thought and thought on this subject and I have learned something. Something that I probably already knew, but just didn't KNOW. ya know?

Mac likes princesses. He really really does. When I accidently gave him Quinn's princess plate at Grandma's, he moved all the food to the side, so he could see Cinderella and was so excited he just kept saying, "Momma! Princess! uh-super coo!" Whether this has stemmed from his big sister drilling it into his head that princesses are cool, or just because they're pretty, I don't know. But he does. And guess what? THAT is all it means. Sometimes, we draw these lines, especially for boys. It's a sort of do-not-cross line. And if you do cross it, you're gay or just plain weird. And all of a sudden, a boy's interest becomes taboo. It becomes something bigger than what it is. Maybe it's a love of music or dancing, or maybe it's a straight-up love for princesses and all things beautiful. And we, as society, take that interest and turn it into something else. We label. Why do we do that? Why in the HELL do we do that?!

It is because our own inconsistencies scare us.

Maybe you're not quite there with me yet. That's ok. It took me a while to get there-- An hour to be exact. After thinking about Mac and the pressure that society puts on our boys, I started to think about our girls. Even they do not escape the labeling. Let's say a girl prefers a nerf bow-and-arrow set, to dolls. What then? Well, she's a tom-boy. I guess, in all fairness, I'm a little bit of a tom-boy. Guess what? I know this is going to be a shocker-- I hate cooking. I really really do. It is agonizing, everyday around 4:30 when I have to decide on a dinner and then commence with making said dinner. I seriously hate it. (And 2 nights out of 10, I flat refuse to do it, and we order pizza) And guess what else? I like to shoot guns. Ok, ok-- mainly just a .22. This was something that I didn't learn until recently-- because my husband pushed and pushed me to "just try it," and guess what?? I love it. The rush that I feel when I nail a moving target (this skill was only recognized a few weeks ago!) is comparable to when I really nail an idea in my writing. I feel like I can take on the world. But guess what else? I am also the girl that went home for Thanksgiving, found my sister's old prom dress, and wore it around the house for two hours straight-- just because it was fun. So why does a preference for "boy" toys and a hatred for cooking mean that we are tom-boys? Why can't we just be US?

Within all of us, there are so many different parts to our character. Some we are proud of, some we're not so proud of, some we display openly, some that we hide, and some that are never even realized, because we never let ourselves go there. We are human. We are incredible entities that are always changing. There is no end to our possibilities. So why do we limit each other? It is because our own inconsistencies scare us. We are scared of how others will view us, if they know who we really are. We might be perceived as "weird" or "not normal." (heaven forbid!) So we label others. We continue this downward spiral, in order to protect ourselves. Only it's not protecting us, it is severely limiting us.

I am reminded of Dr. Seuss, "A person's a person, no matter how small." That's it. We're all just people. We don't have to let the labels interfere with us figuring out who we are. And that is why, in my house, it's ok for Quinn to love monster trucks as much as Mac, and likewise-- it's ok for mac to think that princesses are "uh-super coo!" and wear around Quinn's heels. Cause we're all just people-- and I refuse to hold my children to a ridiculously rigid view of their role. They are more than that. We are All-- more than that.

Things my daughter has learned from "Tangled"

1. I'm not really "mom." I've stolen her from her real parents and am actually a witch. (AND she is REALLY a princess.) She loves to make me sing "Mother knows best" while she runs screaming and hides from me.

2. Frying pans can solve any problem-- especially annoying little brothers....

3. All princesses live in towers (or... the top of the swing-set). And wear dresses. All. The. Time.

4. Kissing is equivalent to marrying. Period.

5. Kings and Queens sleep together.

6. Horses are cool. And also.... can be treated like dogs. (Drop it!)

7. ALL girls go through the long-hair, short-hair phases.

Guys... I'm a little stressed. (and this post is all over the place)

This is a safe place right? I could use one of those right now. A place where I can admit that sometimes I wish I could ducktape Quinn's mouth closed. Right? (I mean, my gosh.... she talks CONSTANTLY) And that Mommy really needs to watch her mouth. That's right. I said it. The other day, one of Quinn's barbies (the crazy-haired, ridiculously tanned, brunette one) turned to the other barbie and said, "What the hell are you doing?!" Ok, really?! I have only said this to her probably twice in her whole friggin' life! And now she's throwin' it around in B-town. Although she did make up for it later, when she tried to teach crazy tanned barbie how to pray (hopefully for forgiveness). And while I am on confessions, I left Mac's poopy butt on him for one whole hour yesterday before I changed it. Wow- that feels good to just get that out there. 

But can I just say-- that I am so glad that I have two crazy little munchkins? Because when mommy is being a poo-head, as Quinn likes to call it, they have each other. Always. I love that. And usually when I hear them start giggling at each other's snort noises in the other room, it has a magical tendency to boost my mood. Seriously. 

Brothers and sisters are the best. And on this day I would like to give a big thank you to my own mama for having 10 of us. Because there was never ever a dull moment, and because even when my "friends" were all being jerks-- I always had a real friend in my brothers and sisters.

Midnight Banshee

It started out like any other night.... the kids and I accompanied Tyson on a few tree bids. (I sat in the car and did my darnedest to keep the kids entertained, while Tyson worked his tree magic on some unsuspecting customers.) The following are actual text messages (that went unanswered, by the way) from me to Tyson during this time:

"Little problem here.... Mac pooped and the wipes are not in my bag. Yay."

and then, three minutes later.....

"Also, Quinn threw up in her mouth because of the smell.... :)"

By the time Tyson got back to the truck, Mac's poo was a hopeless pancake, but still (thankfully) contained in his diaper, and Quinn was sitting as far away from him as possible and breathing through her mouth.

We had accompanied Tyson with the thought that we would all go to Rexburg when finished, to help Emmy pack up her stuff. We bagged that idea and I stayed home and changed poopy-butt and put the kids to bed while Tyson headed to Rexburg S-O-L-O.

What followed, was the only two peaceful, restful hours that I got that night. And I spent them reading a dang book. If I had only known what was coming, I would have slept like a baby during that time. Stupid hindsight.

Tyson got home a little after 9 and spent 15 minutes talking on the phone before the puke-bomb went off. Apparently Quinn's puking in her mouth earlier, had not been due to Mac's poops. Wishful thinking on my part. From then on, Quinn puked (or dry-heaved as time went on) every twenty minutes until about 4 in the morning.

At one point she was laying next to our bed looking completely wretched and Tyson leaned down and put his hand on Quinn's head and said, "I'm sorry, Gup. I'm sorry you're pukey." She looked at him and said, "It's okay. It's not your fault." Geez, I love that girl.

Also-- on a side note-- Quinn enjoys doing her best banshee impression after every time she pukes. We're talking top volume here. So Mac got to be awake, enjoying the show, most of the night as well. We're pretty sure she gets this from my side of the family-- Grandpa Bray sounds like a mad dog whenever he pukes. Some good pukey-yelling there. Yep.

And BTW- you're welcome. This was just one of those nights that was too good not to share. I'm sure you all have your own stories to match or even best this one.....