I AM BEAT

So when I signed up to be the hold room supervisor (which That Man did last year), I was promised the help of lots of burly men.  Last night, a couple of husbands stopped by while their wives shopped.  Today, it was just us girls (and this really freaky guy who didn't seem to understand English except to complain to me how HE would do things if he were in charge, but never did seem to listen to instructions-but he was only there for about an hour).  And you know, as I was saying to my helper extraordinaire, Beth, we totally rocked for not having any guys around.  Furniture, equipment, you name it-they had it, we moved it-from the floor to the hold room to people's cars.

Okay, so I admit, since I was the supervisor, I did a lot of pointing and telling people where to go (and they LISTENED-WAHOO), but I did get out on a couple of runs and also spent much time moving things within the hold room since some of the helpers didn't seem to know their alphabet very well.  Some poor little kids aren't going to learn the right ABC song, that's for sure.

However, can I just say that I am dead tired?  I finally know the meaning of the expression, my dogs are barking, from personal experience.  Last night, from 9 am-10:30 pm, I wore my newest shoes, the ones I got over thanksgiving, that are already falling apart.  I've been too busy to get new ones, so I had to spend the evening on my feet in them.  Bad Idea.  So today, I thought I'd wear my old shoes since I hadn't gotten around to getting rid of them yet.  Another bad idea.  The support in them is shot, so I may as well have worn sandals or something, for all the good they did me.  I got there at 7:30 this morning (which, oh MY-how can people STAND themselves, getting up that early?), and I finally got home at 3:30, only to go back because I'd promised to take the girls shopping.  And for some stupid reason, when we got home, I thought it would be fun to do yard work.

If you don't see me for a while, it's because I died.  I keeled over and died from so much physical labor, waking up too early, and not enough sex (see post from earlier this week).

I also spent less than usual-DH told me of his job demise when I called him to ask if I could buy this expensive thing, so I didn't buy all the stuff I wanted.  However, my kids will have plenty of clothes for the next year.    Shh... I'm going back tomorrow morning for the half price sale on my way to my job... where I will be asking for more hours until D-Day.  Come April 18, I am going into hibernation-preferrably somewhere warm, tropical, and where I can get a 24 hour massage. 

I came home to some mixed news.  I got an email from the build a bear people, and there's no way I can get the pony.  However, they offered me a substitute animal that I didn't know they had, and when I showed it to Bay, she was okay with it.  Actually, I read her the email from the lady, showed her the picture of the substitute animal, and let her decide what she wanted. Not completely happy, because the ensemble she planned for the creature won't go with it, but happy enough she'll survive childhood without any major scars.  I'm not giving up completely-I know I won't get anywhere from the company, but there's still eBay, right?  I will probably end up being one of those idiot parents who spends a fortune for a stupid toy, but the look on her face will be so worth it.  So if you do see the pony, let me know. 

And in sad news, Bethany is broken.  Bethany is a doll I got when I was 4 or 5 years old.  I was going through a box of my baby stuff I'd managed to save from my evil mother who throws everything away, and I found her.  And I thought, oh what a cool legacy to give my children.  I loved Bethany. So I let them have her to play with, telling them to please take care of her.  I came home today, and the little heathens had somehow managed to decapitate her.   Her innards are  now broken, and I'm going to take her to the doll hospital (which I always thought was a stupid thing until now) in hopes that they can repair her.  She was already pretty battered, thanks to my mishandling of her when I was young, down to the haphazard red stitches I gave her on her back when her top started to tear.  She's also got a freaky hair cut from when I was going through that stage of life.

Awe, I just found on the back of her head that she was made in 1977.  Little Bethany is almost 30!

I am so thankful that I haven't given them my great grandma's doll quilt.  It's the only thing I have of her, and I've debated about letting them use it.  Now that I see what they did to poor Bethany, I'm going to wait a few more years. 

Okay, I just nearly threw Bethany's head across the room.  I was looking at her, holding her, and looking into those baby blues, remembering how, when I was a little girl, I used to hold her and pretend she was my real baby (and yes, her name was always Bethany.  I couldn't name a REAL child Bethany, of course, because I already had a Bethany).  What?  Surely some of YOU did that.  Anyway, I remember at one point, prior to being married, but as an adult.  Oh CRAP, I totally remember when this was... I had just broken up with my then-fiance, who was blonde haired and blue-eyed, like Bethany, and I thought it was hideously ironic that I probably would never have a blonde haired, blue eyed child.  I was fairly traumatized at the time and going through a mega cleaning spree.  Anyway, tonight, when I was looking at Bethany, I realized that she seriously looks like Kay.  Isn't amazing how things come full circle like that in really weird and unexpected ways?  Especially considering how, to look at DH and I, you'd never picture a blonde haired, blue eyed child coming out of either one of us.

It's official.  When I die, Kay inherits Bethany. 

Dang, I'm more tired than I thought if I'm sitting here sharing about Bethany.  And talking about her as though she were real.  Hey, she's sort of my velveteen baby... heh heh....

And what exactly do you mean by THIS?

So we know that God's been doing some heavy work in my heart lately.   And so today, we get hit with a mega whopper of a whammy (speaking of, why is tonight the ONLY night my compadres are not online?).

That Man got laid off. 

The sad thing is, the boss did him a favor by laying him off, because even if they found another place to put him, they're laying off 60 more people next week, and at least another 40 the following week.  They have no new jobs and no prospects of any in the near future.  How is this a favor?  Well, he's that far ahead of the others (including his boss) on the books.  Let's break out the champagne.

When I first heard the news, I just literally went, "WTF God?  Why are you doing this to us AGAIN?"  We're finally getting back on our feet after this happened the last time, which lasted TWO years.  And really, it wasn't a bad time... I mean, the blessing of that time is that God always provided for us.  We never went hungry, we always paid the mortgage, and we didn't lose out on a whole lot of quality of life.  I get the lesson of trusting God.  I do.  And it's not so much that I"m really worried about how we're going to make ends meet.  I'm not.  I'm a little pissed because it makes my new house goal a lot more difficult, but really, I'm not even worried about that.  I asked God for a miracle, and obviously this is His way of making sure it's such a big miracle that everyone knows it's Him.

So I was sitting here thinking about it, and one of the things God has had on my heart lately is the idea of seeing Him everywhere.  We tend to look at the negative and say, "well where's God in this situation?"  And we tend to go on and on about all of our problems and seek help while failing to recognize the good things in our lives. 

The good things in our lives... we have a lot, and yes, we are blessed.  I mean, I have a job for another two weeks, and I have been putting aside some money.  We do have a roof over our heads, and I think our mortgage payment is still do-able.  Thus far, we haven't done our taxes, and thus have not spent what I anticipate to be a refund.   We're all healthy.  We're happy.  We love each other, but more importantly, we love God, and He loves us.  DH won't be getting a paycheck, but he does have some people (that actually pay him, imagine that) wanting him to do some work for them.  And he knows of a few other job opportunities that he can take-even though it means possibly leaving the area.   And I see the potential for a couple of things I've been praying about to happen.  God, please work with me here will ya?

So, I'm okay... pissed off... but okay.  Mostly just confused, because I am such a control freak about things in my life that it's really hard for me to live not knowing when the next check is coming in or how much it will be.  But I do trust that God will provide.  I just get impatient in wanting to know the how and other details. 

Okay, off to bed.  I'm working the MOPS sale this weekend-I worked all day today, from 9-10:30 with about an hour break in the middle, and I'm on again tomorrow from 7:30 until about 2:30.  Fun, fun, fun.

Reason Number 5894 why people with children never have sex

Untimely puddles of vomit.

It was late at night... Mama Bear went to bed early, feeling a little bit frisky and slightly irritated at the universe. A combination that Papa Bear knows how to fix. ;)

He picked up the small child from the marital bed, opened the kids bedroom door to deposit her into her bed, only to be met with a baby sleeping in a puddle of her own vomit.

The good news: All of my worries about having sick kiddos choking on their own vomit in the middle of the night and dying are completely unfounded. Little stinker slept through it all apparently. But who am I kidding? I still won't sleep if the kiddos are sick.

So rather than a night of lovin' with the man, we cleaned puke. You can tell she did it in her sleep because the side of her face that she slept on was just matted with the stuff. It was truly gross. She hadn't realized what had happened, so she was pissed off that we woke her up to clean it. Like we were going to let her sleep in that all night.

And so, after an hour of the joy of cleaning, laundry, scrubbing kiddo (it's really hard to get off kiddo in its dried form, in case you were wondering), we were too exhausted, too grossed out, to think of anything other than passing out.

Let this be a warning to those of you without kids.

And if you see one of those crazy, harried women in the grocery store with screaming kids, refrain from making one of those "helpful" comments about moms with their hands full. We know, thanks. And if said harried mom accidentally backs into your car because vomit baby is still not herself and acting exceedingly cranky, don't read her the riot act. Accept that there is no damage to either vehicle, and let her be on her way. Your dirty looks and lecture will serve no purpose other than to further stress her out and since she will not be having any sex to relieve that stress anytime in the near future, you should probably give her a break. People become homicidal with less provocation.

Dear Build a Bear People,

I am officially beginning my campaign to get my daughter's horse. 

The more I think about it, the angrier I get.  And while I have never embarked on an assault of a company before, I'm starting now.  This would be your opportunity to do the right thing.

I have sent an email to the very polite customer service representative, and if I do not receive a favorable response, I will be sending letters to the following people:
Molly Salky, Director of Investor Relations
Maxine Clark, Chairman and Chief Executive Bear
Barry Erdos, President and Cheif Operating Officer Bear
Tina Klocke, Chief Financial Bear
And anyone else whose name relating to Build-a-Bear I can find.

This is the letter I sent this evening-do comment if you can think of anything other than, "I am so pissed off, I could kill someone right now" to add.  I may need it if I have to travel higher up the food, er, bear, chain.

Sarah,
While I appreciate your offer, I'm not sure how $10 cub cash is going to make a 5 year old who's worked for months to earn her pony is going to make her feel better. How do you tell a little girl who has reserved a place in her bed and her heart for a special animal that she did all the work to earn that she can't bring it home?

What I, as a parent, cannot understand, is that the store employees told me that they had some in the back, but weren't allowed to sell them. If it were a product recall issue, surely BuildaBear would issue some sort of public safety statement. I've searched online for any information, and none was to be found, other than a transcript of an earnings call for BuildaBear on February 16. According to that transcript, the pony was a big seller for the company. Why would a company stop selling what was obviously a successful moneymaker with absolutely no notice to the public?

I know that BuildaBear animals are collectors items, and I would hate to think that your company is capitalizing on the success of the pony purely to increase collector value, and yet, I can't think of any other reason why they would be sitting in the back room of a store and not be allowed to be sold. I think it's sad, that an item designed to bring a child joy is reduced to that level.

All I am asking is for the opportunity to buy one pony. To give my little girl the comfort of knowing that when she sets a goal and she works hard to earn something, that she will have the chance to see the fruits of her labor. We've never bought anything from your stores before-I've always felt they were too high priced to justify giving to my five year old. But when she saw that pony, she wanted it so badly, she dreamt about it, asked for it, and was willing to do whatever it took to earn it. I don't know many five year olds who are willing to spend a couple of months working to earn a new toy-but she was. I want to reward my daughter's hard work.

Please provide whatever assistance you can-if you are unable to further assist me, I would appreciate the contact information for someone who can. I am including my contact information in case you need it to process my order and will be happy to provide you with my credit card information upon contact or I can go to the local store to purchase.

Sincerely,

One ANGRY Mama Bear (okay, so I really gave my contact info-but I am one angry mama bear)

And can I just add, that for me, and my sake, if it had been me who'd been affected, I'd have taken the gift card and gone on my way.  But for my child, I just can't.  I have to fight for her.  I have to step out of my comfort zone and fight. 

Have I blogged about people who need to die recently?

So the build a bear people got back to me:  Dear crazy lady, thanks so much for your email, but we ain't selling you the pony.  But hey, we'll give your kid a small gift certificate to make up for the pain and emotional trauma of not getting her dream.  Have a nice day. 

Yeah.  Thanks.  God, could you help us out here, please? 

Usually, I don't ask for shallow things from God.  I tend to be more into the whole, God, make me a better person, a good mom, obedient to You, keep me from killing people, help me forget that whole God smiting people lest I should ask Him to do it, that sort of thing.  You ask me to pray to heal someone or fix whatever woe they have, and I'm pretty good about saying, God, your will be done.  But DANGIT, please, Lord, find me that pony for my little girl. 

Speaking of smiting enemies, I was thinking of this discussion I had with one of the board members about how she's into the God smiting enemies frame of mind, and I'm more into the whole loving God act.  I've decided it's probably a good thing I'm not a smiter, because with my temper, lotsa folks would be dead.

Tonight, That Man very nearly lost his life.  The only thing that kept him from being murdered in his bed is that he suggested I buy the more expensive Todd Agnew tickets, and I don't know of any way to legally kill him and get away with it.  Besides, I'd end up missing him fairly quickly, and that would suck.

I had a really good rant about That Man and men in general, but God is making me be nicer.  Why do I want to be nicer, anyway?  Did I mention I didn't have dinner tonight because That Man didn't save me any?  What?  God, I'm just explaining why I'm in a particularly bad and grouchy mood.  Me + low blood sugar= mean lady.  If you don't like it, too bad, you made me this way.

Well, I'm suddenly very sleepy. I think it's because I had a long trying day.  And I haven't eaten.  Eating at night makes you fat, anyway, doesn't it?   Of course, when I don't eat at night, I wake up sick to my stomach.  Would it be really wrong of me to roll over and puke on his pillow?  Aside from the fact that I'd be the one to clean it up anyway, of course.

Yes, I know... be nice, Danica.  See, this is why people shouldn't remind me of God's smiting powers.  I'd go around pointing, "Smite, don't smite..."  But God doesn't always grant people what they want, so I'd be covered.  Oh yeah.  But this world would be so in trouble if I could harness that smiting power...  Ah, pleasant things to dream about when I go to sleep.  Besides the yummy dinner that I DID NOT GET.

Heart Breaking

We've been working with Bay on her goals and just doing things she needs to do, so we set up a goal chart where she got stickers for accomplishing each task. Well, the time has come where she has filled her chart to get the promised reward-the purple princess horse from build a bear.

She has been working for this horse for months now. Today was the big day where we got to go to the build a bear workshop and buy her the horse that she's been plastering pictures all over the walls of for months. She's spent all day jumping up and down, so excited that today was the day.

We got to the store, and they are no longer selling the horse. According to the store manager, they have some in the back, but aren't allowed to sell them. WTF?! I talked to two different people, showed them my crying, broken hearted little girl, but no dice.

I know it's not the store's fault, and I was impressed with how the employee and her manager handled it-they even did take my name and number and all that. They seemed sincere that they would call me with an answer. The horse is not online anymore, but I did email the corporate office.

I'm just so frustrated right now, because we're working so hard at teaching her to set goals and work hard for them. And here she is, having worked hard, and she can't get her prize. Yeah, I know, happens in real life. But she's FIVE. Can we have a little time before she gets slapped with harsh realities?

So keep everything crossed and prayers lifted up that the Build a Bear people will let me buy one of the horses (that they have in the freaking back room) for Bay.

Steps in some direction

Today, as we know from my rants the past few days, we had critique. Oh it was so so so awesome. I missed those gals! Can I sound completely stupid for one second and just say that this one gal, who I haven't seen in a few months, it was so good to see her face. I just kept looking at her because I've missed her face. I'm smiling right now.

Well, the good news. As per usual, they said my writing rocked. What can I say, I'm brilliant. Now for the bad news. They HATED my heroine. Yes, with big exclamations. Crap does not even begin to describe the words in my head. But I'll say it. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. And I'll admit to my fear in submitting this book. no one who has read it has liked the heroine in the beginning of the book. Those who've read the whole thing-they like her. However, those who only read the first half, hate her guts.

And even though I am completely in love with this heroine and story, I am finally saying, fine. I'm changing the effing story. Because the fact of the matter is, no matter how good the writing is, no matter how well I show her growth, no one is going to continue reading a book with a heroine they hate so much. I will say that I did learn something really really interesting about my characters, though. As some of you know from my previous blog, I have issues with creating sympathetic heroines. It's driving me nuts. I have all these cool stories, and rejection after rejection says, unsympathetic heroine. Need I say, CRAP? Usually, I don't get it from my CPs, so having THEM say it and spend a million hours picking apart what they don't like about her (everything), I figured it out. (Insert happy dance)

My heroines are unsympathetic because I like the underdog. I like taking someone from the pit of humanity and crafting her into something beautiful. Not that she wasn't beautiful before, because I believe she was... I'm just taking the time to reveal that beauty. However, the first part of the book is so focused on the bad place she is that people aren't seeing enough of the good to want to root for her. And because I like to complicate matters, I make her problems really really big. Apparently, people don't like that.

Which leads to the second realization we can thank my other CP for. I so do not want to admit to this. Really. Even though I love and adore romance, I am a (whispers) more literary and cerebral writer. ACK!!! First off, I despise literary writing. However, she had a good point. Yes, I like the romance and the relationship and the characters, but I am really about the cool brainiac stuff. When I get excited about the story, yeah, I like the characters, but the part that makes me excited is the idea, the process, the twists in the plot. I never start with characters, I always start with a what if?

For example, the two books I'm not supposed to be working on. The How to Lose a Guy book-I adore the movie How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days. As I was watching it, I thought, wouldn't it be cool to twist it? Up the stakes so that the heroine's entire life is riding on whether or not she can lose a guy she's not willing to give up, BUT, what she doesn't know is that what she thinks is the right choice is really the wrong choice. The other book-Friends to Lovers-I wanted to explore a modern day marriage of convenience-a couple who get married for the sake of a convenience other than a baby. Are you with me here? For me, the thought process of that whole thing and the twists are what makes it fun.

Now, here is the freaky thing (and really long so forgive me). I did a Strengths Finder analysis several months ago, and do you want to know what my strengths are:

1. Intellection: You like to think. You like mental activity.
2. Restorative: You love to solve problems
3. Context: You look back. You look back because that is where the answers lie.
4. Input: You are inquisitive. You collect things that are interesting and a lot of things interest you.
5. Empathy: You can sense the emotions around you.

Crap I just found better explanations of these things but it won't let me C&P. Anyway, I think it's pretty obvious that for me, it's the whole mental process that revs me up-although, I score high on empathy, so I just need to harness that more and help readers be more empathetic about my characters. Anyway, if you do want to read more about this stuff (because I love this sort of thing and I love sharing-hey, look, that's one of my strengths), you can check out the book, Now discover your strengths by Marcus Buckingham and Donald O. Clifton. I will say that it's a great book for learning the strength styles, and really, you get it to be able to take the quiz, but it isn't so great in the practical application, IMO.

Finally, a quick update on what's going on with my argument with God.

My lovely argument with God got me exactly... um... somewhere. You know the crazy thing about arguing with God? He's always right. So why do I bother? And then of course, there's this little tidbit that my friend Diane likes to point out occasionally in reference to her life, but it really is a big kick in the pants for me to remember when I'm tempted to argue. He's God. We can't possibly begin to understand Him. Okay, fine.

So tonight, I was exhausted. DUH. I went to bed, believe it or not, at 9:30. World record for me. And, promptly at 11:30 (which seems to be when God starts talking to me, for some reason... I wonder if He's got one of those PDAs with an alarm in it that beeps at that time to say, "Go visit with Danica"), I woke up. Now, I will say that God is pretty incredible and forgiving because after I ranted and whined about him making me so dang tired, I do feel strangely refreshed. So apparently, I got a lot out of those two hours (God, please remember to do this when I go to bed again tonight, considering I do have to work at 9 am).

What is this stuff God is doing in my life at the moment? I can't exactly say, since it's a roller coaster of just weirdness and fixing stuff in my heart. Crazy days.

Dear God

You suck.

Let's just get that right out in the open, shall we? Would you please look at the time? Have I not expressed my complete and utter exhaustion? But no, there I am, getting ready to drift off into dreamland, and you begin to work on yet another piece of my heart.

I get it.

Really, I do. I want a big miracle, I'm screwed up, and you have lots of work to do. But I'm tired. I am so tired I am sitting here crying. My head hurts from lack of sleep. My body hurts from lack of sleep. And why, of all things, did you have to pick THAT thing to work on at that exact moment?

Yes, I know. I asked for it. I said hurry up already and get me through this muck to the good part. Can we be at the good part now? Please?

For those of you churchy people who think I'm being irreverent, blasphemous, disrespectful, whatever... no, I don't really think God sucks. He's a royal pain in my butt right now, but I did ask for it. I am, however, a big fat whiner, and I reserve the right to whine at will. And don't you dare quote me that stupid verse about doing everything without complaining. God, let's not sift there yet, okay? Yeah, whatever. You'll do what I want, I know. I didn't ask for sifting on THIS particular thing, and yet, you had to pull it out of your bag o' tricks at the worst possible moment. Okay, fine... we'll sift that too. Happy? I'm exhausted and b*tchy, thanks for asking.

And of course, because we all know that I'm seeking your will and that whole thing about my chief end being to glorify You and enjoy You forever, it'll all work out for the best.

But I am so freaking tired. It's 3 am, Lord, and I have a long day tomorrow. And the day after that. Will you let me sleep on Sunday? Can you get me through until then?

Thanks.

You did answer all of my prayers tonight, even though I got a "no" on the thing that I wanted a "yes". I know you want something better for me. And I'm too tired to finish this sentence thought.

The woes of a psychotic writer deep in edits

No, this is not a deep post. I'm already drowning in crap, thank you very much, I don't need more of it. Did I mention That Baby made disgusting poop in her pants and I had to clean it-again-today? Why can't she do it to her father? Geez.

I have to get this chapter edited for critique, so you get to experience my process with me. Have I whined yet about how much I hate editing?

I just had to delete my favorite line in this chapter. It followed a HUMONGOID backstory dump, and I chose to delete the BS dump, which means the really awesome line has no place in context. Hey, I just made a funny. A good way to remind myself to avoid backstory dumps... they're BS dumps. Tee Hee.

(You are aware I didn't go to bed until 5 am this morning, right?)

Anyway, my heroine is developing a headache, and I'm getting a sympathy headache for her. Poor little thing. I feel for her. I'm trying to make her less b*tchy, but frankly, the headache is making me feel a little b*tchy, so I'm more inclined to give her some sharper claws.

I'm ashamed to say, I picked out the glaring things on paper, didn't really focus as much on the rewrite as I'd have liked, but two things are going on. One, I shared what I wrote last night with someone else, and God decided to convict her of some things she needs to talk about. And two, as we chatted, God pointed out a few more things to add to The Book. (Heather, we need a word counter for The Book-19K out of 100K). Besides, isn't the point of going to critique that they're going to rip it to shreds. Have I mentioned that I'm bringing one of the books I'm terrified to let others read?

(Did I mention I'm not real amused with God right now? It's called sleep, Lord. Even you get a day of rest every week. Which, may I point out, I have not had in MONTHS? Insert bad words)

Do you all find it funny that I keep giving Heather tasks on my blog? I'm worried I sound b*tchy, but I don't really mean it in that way. I'm just being random and saying it when I think of it. Besides, I'm hoping you all will see what a great assistant she is and hire her. I have ulterior motives.

Yes it is all about ME. Let's all sing... memememememememe.... MEMEMEMEMEEMEMEME...

Which is what God is kicking my butt about right now. My main fear in writing The Book is how specific people are going to react to it. I need to share this story, but I'm so afraid of the rejection of some very specific people that may come as a result. I want to help people, I have stories that I believe will help people, and I'm so consumed with the Almighty Me that I can't seem to bring myself to do it.

Memememememememememememememememememememe

Low self esteem? Me? Pshaw! Supposedly it controls me, and yet... memememememememe

Hey, there's a book in there. People with low self esteem=self absorbed jerks. Or is that just me? Literally.

I almost wish I had a webcam, because you all would see me sitting here totally laughing hysterically. At myself. At life. At God. However, that would mean you'd see my messy house, my hair haphazardly piled on top of my head as I sit here in jammies, wrapped in my blankie. And as we know, I'm much too self conscious to allow that.

MEMEMEMEMEMEMEME

Have I mentioned in this post that I am, once again, listening to Todd Agnew? I tried Sonic Flood for a while-they totally suck. (I am SO kidding. I usually love them-which is why I tried to listen to them). I can't even bring myself to listen to U2. I admit it, I'm a freak. I go on music binges and that's the only thing that will satisfy me. Sort of like me and food. I really want a quesadilla right now, but I've been in hermit mode and haven't been back to the groc since I realized that the brand new package That Man brought home was mostly moldy. Gross. And so, because I can't have a quesadilla right now, I won't eat anything.

I am still pissed off about cutting that one line. But I worked for an hour, trying to fit it in and make it work, and just really doesn't work anymore.

Good Morning America, How Are You?

Dragging, but alive, thanks for asking. :)

My plot to convince That Man I'm insane failed. He does not think I'm nuts, just weird, and he can live with that.

I apologize for not replying to posts, for some reason, Blogger is not letting me post replies to posts. I click on my identity thingy, I put in the word verification, and it does... nothing. It doesn't let me post as a Blogger on other people's blogs either.

Also slightly annoyed that Blogger doesn't send me an email when someone posts on my blog.

Finally, I'm thinking of changing the blog again. I am toying with the idea of having a column on the left with what I'm reading/listening to now, maybe some fun quotes. Any thoughts? Maybe I need to bite the bullet and get a website. Er, build my website.

Anyway the sun is out, it's a beautiful day, and I have kids who've been cooped up all spring break going stir crazy. Must go find something fun to do with them. After I get some work done. :)

Shaking my fist at the sky

Yes, I'm calling God bad names.

So I went to bed, all prepared to snuggle with my honey, and That Man was snoring. Why is it that gross things have to come out of one end or the other with him and ruin my plans for the night?

And then as I was doing a little fantasizing about how fabulous I'm going to be when I grow up, God gave me a little message. I need to tell the story of Ronald Reese. Crap. I'd forgotten all about him. I knew him when I was 9 years old. Hello... do we know how long ago that was? What could it possibly have to do with me and what God wants me to do with my life? Apparently, more than I realized. Crap. Crap. Crap.

Have I said crap yet?

If you look at the time stamp on this post, it is the REAL time here. Past 3 am, and what am I doing? I'm writing on THE BOOK. Can I sleep? No. Am I going to regret it in the morning? God, could I remind you that I have a toddler, a preschooler, a dog, AND I have to go to work when That Man gets home. Plus, I have critique on Friday and I don't have anything ready to bring, which is what I'd planned on working on this evening and tomorrow. But what does God want me to do? Work on this stupid, icky, rotten, yucky, miserable book that is tearing at my guts and forcing me to go places I don't want to go.

Heather, if you're laughing, I will so go down there and kick your butt. I'm serious.

All I have to say is that God better reward me for my faithfulness here. I'd be happy with not being exhausted and dragging all day tomorrow. Can we manage that, please?

That man is going to get up for work soon. He's going to see me sitting here with the laptop, shake his head like I've really and truly lost it (which I have). He's really gonna think I'm nuts when he reads what I've written thus far. (And yes, I'm still working on it, so don't EVEN accuse me of procrastinating. I'm processing. I'm at 12 pages for the night, so THERE). You know the good thing about my husband finally realizing he married a lunatic-I can go live in the loony bin, have my meals brought to me on a little tray, and not have to clean up explosive diarrhea from either the dog or the kid (Did I mention The Dog is also having issues with it?).

I will say, in God's defense, not like He needs one, since He's perfect and all that, but some really cool stuff did come out of all this (I came back and edited... on 14 pages now).

I am so freaking tired. Lord, are you really sure you want me to do this? I am so not churchy. You know, I'm even scared posting this crap for fear that some churchy person is going to come smack me. Churchy people don't say crap, you know. So here is the rough draft of the last couple paragraphs of what I'm working on. I'll post it and then try and catch a few winks before rodentia wakes up and starts taking apart her crib again.

Jesus is in my heart, healing me from all the pain. He is healing the wounds that have plagued me for so long. Tonight, in my husband’s touch, I found something new, something exciting and tender, that spoke to the longings of my heart. Jesus made me whole again, and I can enjoy the love of my husband. Not from the emptiness of longing, but from the fullness of knowing that Christ dwells inside me.

I think of how amazing it is that I am able to have such a relationship with the LORD. I love my study of the Old Testament right now, because I see just how difficult it was to remain pure enough to be in the temple, in the presence of the LORD. And yet now, He now dwells in me. His presence is with me always. But you know what’s cool… back then, the people thought they needed the temple to be with God. But they didn’t. Not really. Not if you look closely at what God says in Joshua 1:9.

"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go."

Yes, He’s talking to Joshua here, but I think it’s also a message for the people, if only they have the faith to believe. Here’s the really cool part, though. It says here in Matthew 17:20

"He replied, "Because you have so little faith. I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you."

Just the thought of having such little faith, and yet having the ability to be able to do so much… it’s astonishing to me. Astonishing, but in a beautiful way. The kind that takes my breath away because it’s so incredible.

I know I don’t deserve God’s mercy and grace. I have such a hard time giving it to myself. Why would anyone else? Yet God does, over and over. As many times as I stumble, screw up, and even blatantly thumb my nose at Him, He says, "it’s okay, Baby, I still love you."

I’m just sitting here, feeling the fullness of His love, so amazed, so humbled, and… wow.

Birth Control for those without kids AND Veronica Mars

Okay, I won't bore everyone else with VM talk until the end of the post. Skim at will. Oh wait, you already do. ;)

I have two stories to share... both happened today...

I'm taking a shower, and Bay walks in, grabs the little potty chair, and leaves. Frankly, I did not want to know what she was going to do with it. Seriously, folks. As a parent, the most valuable thing I've learned is that most of the time, it's best not to know.

I get out of the shower, walk into the living room (naked, thank you very much) and the baby is running around, covered in diarrhea. And, I must say, the only word that came to mind, appropriately, was, SHIT. I grab the baby, pull off her poop encrusted onesie, wipe her down with a washcloth, and throw her in the tub, hoping I hadn't hogged ALL the hot water. Bay comes upstairs and says, "Mom, she pooped." No shit. "Mom, it's really gross and it stinks so bad I have to stay downstairs." Wish I had that option, buttercup.

As I'm running downstairs, carrying the poop clothes, the doorbell rings. Remember, I'm naked. And I'm running right past the door. I figure whoever's there will go away, because I am NOT answering the door. I throw the stuff in the washer, grab a robe, and begin cleanup. Bay decides to get in the bath with the baby. The potty chair, believe it or not, was sitting in the middle of the living room, and YES, the baby did use it. However, when one has explosive diarrhea, especially one who is potty training, it has a tendency to land in other places. Like everywhere.

I clean up the mess, get dressed, check the door to find flyers from whoever had been at the door, get the kids out of the bath (and then have to clean soggy bathroom), and go about my day.

So then, the next funny story (aka birth control #2), I come home from work tonight, and That Man was being especially sweet and sexy. (It's okay, you can vomit. I won't tell you about his sweet, soft lips and all that stuff). Bay was snuggled with him, and I got between them. That Man kept smooching on me, and it was very very nice. And then I hear a "AHEM!" The kid was still in our bed, awake. I look at her and she says, "Mom, you are in my spot. I was having Daddy time."

I tell her that it's my turn now and if she doesn't like it, she could go to her own bed. Because That Man was being particularly kissable, I kissed him a little more, until we were interrupted-AGAIN-to be told, "That's enough kissing now." I was so ready to kick her to her own bed. Except then she says, "You guys do a lot of that (makes exaggerated open mouthed kissing gestures)-it's too much." I look at her and tell her, "No, that's a good thing. It means mommy and daddy love each other very much and it's good for kids to have mommies and daddies who love each other very much." She looks at me very suspiciously.

Meanwhile, That Man is kissing me on the back of my neck in that spot I like so much, which Bay is watching with great interest between giving me lectures. So I pull away and tell her, "You know, this is only something Mommies and Daddies are allowed to do, right?" She rolls her eys at me. "I'm serious, Bay, this is something only for Mommies and Daddies to do." Finally, I get the "I know Mom" look. And she says, "Can I PLEASE have Daddy time now?"

At this point, I realize I have two options: One, send her to bed and continue my evening with That Man. Which will be futile, because even if I get her to sleep (HA!), the other one will wake up. Kids have sensors that tell them when Mom and Dad are um, busy, that go off and make them interrupt. Fact of parenting, my friends. Once you have children, you will NEVER have sex again. EVER. At least as long as the children are in the house. By the time they leave, you will be old, cranky, saggy, and hubby will be in need of drugs to get things working properly. And the ONE time you do have sex while you have young children, like when you're away for a little romantic rendezvous, you WILL get pregnant. But I'm digressing.

Or I can just give up the fight. Which is what I chose. Probably wisely, because as I headed downstairs, I heard her ask her father when was she doing to get married... I have this conversation with her regularly. It's his turn to deal.

Although the funniest part... In the midst of my laying there getting lots of sweet kisses, we start talking about having another baby (to which Bay is currently vehemently opposed-but she changes her mind regularly). As Bay starts in on her lectures to us, DH looks at me and does his usual, "And you want ANOTHER one?"

Sadly, yes. I know, I'm insane.

On to Veronica...

I did get to see my lost Veronica episode... Thank goodness UPN airs them Sundays.

And tonight, I got to see another. So, let's discuss.

The Logan/Hannah thing: sucks. I want Logan and Veronica together, period. However, the more girls he's with (especially if he is using Hannah-though I think he's having twinges of conscience about it), the less I like him. Why do males have to be such hound dogs?

DYING to know what Kendall is up to, because obviously she's doing old Aaron's bidding (and am I the only one who thinks Harry Hamlin is totally scary looking?), which is at Beaver's bidding. And of course, we know that Beaver has a grand master plan in all of this. I'm fairly certain he's going to use Kendall to get rich and then shove her implanted self into some sort of failure oblivion. I'm hoping it's not at Logan's expense, which I don't think he'd do, since they're friends, although Logan is more friends with Dick and Beaver isn't too into Dick. However, Beaver is dating Mac, and since Mac and Veronica are friends... Have I lost you all yet?

I looked up some spoilers. Supposedly, dumbhead Duncan is coming back for an episode. There's speculation (which Rob Thomas, bless him, denies) that Troy is going to be Veronica's new love interest. Get it through your head, folks... it's Veronica and Logan or nothing for me.

Finally, allow me to express my great pissed-offed-ness at the fact that I have to wait a whole week to learn more. Worse, we all know how that wily Rob Thomas works and all the questions I have from this episode will not be answered for another 2 or 3 episodes. The man is brilliant, I say, brilliant. One day, I'm going to teach a writing class based on the awesomeness of Veronica Mars.

Okay, end of VM discussion.

I'm going to see if I can pry the child out of my bed.

Enough

Okay, those of you who read my other blog know that I am currently reading Captivating by John and Stasi Eldredge. I just finished reading it and WOW! Women, I seriously think you need to get and read this book. In fact, I'm *this* close to getting the guided journal and doing a study on it. Anyone up for joining me?

I also answered my Todd Agnew debate last night. Fullness found is definitely my favorite song. :) I wonder if I'll pop up on search engines for Todd now... hmmm? Good. It's definitely better than the folks who are here looking for the porn star (remember, I've given birth twice-me naked is like watching a horror flick-I am NOT the porn star)

I'm digressing again.

I finished the book today, and the biggest message that resonated with me was the idea of being enough. That we, as women, have come to believe that we're not enough. I realized that is exactly my deal. I chase after a lot of stuff. Some of it good, some of it not so good, and some of it, I'm just not so sure. I realized I do need to take a step back and re-evaluate some of my priorities, the things I've placed at the head of what Danica thinks is important in life.

I just... I don't know. As most of you have figured out, I'm a pretty intense perfectionist. And it's stymied me in a lot of things. See, that's what's behind the fear. Why am I dragging my feet at submitting a perfectly good book? A book that while few have read, everyone seems to think is going to top the bestseller lists? Cuz I am freaking scared. Because if I submit that book, and God forbid, it gets rejected (again), it just re-affirms to me that I am not good enough. What the heck that has to do with anything, I don't know. I just know that's how I've felt my whole life. For some reason, this book means enough to me that I've been afraid to take that risk. It doesn't matter that I'm putting myself out when the book doesn't matter. But damn... here I am, writing about stuff that means something, and I'm paralyzed.

And see, that's just it. That's where I need to just let go. This is not about me. I'm making it about me, but it's really not about me. Because the books I'm writing, they aren't for me. They're for the people out there who need to read them.

So what does this all have to do with all the stuff I'm reading, crap I'm sorting through, etc. Ultimately, I fear that what I have to say, as much as *I* think the world needs to hear it, what if it's not enough? What if I take all those risks and I fall short of my aims? Because what it boils down to, what it means to ME, is that I have no real purpose here, no real worth.

As I read Captivating, I realized what a complete and utter lie that is. Somewhere, somehow, something, someone, made me believe that crap. And that, my friends, is what it is. CRAP.

God has made me an amazing woman. Not because I'm anything all that great, but because I am HIS. He has great plans for me. And you know, it's so funny, I sat down tonight, perfectly ready and willing to break open that big vast space of ick, get it out on paper (and yes, put in THE BOOK), but after I prayed over it, and prayed the prayer in Captivating, it's gone. I just don't have the hurt anymore.

Now, I'd like to say the fear is gone... we're working on it. As I prayed and read, I felt this huge tightness well up in my chest... that maybe I'm going to fail God (but the words of Beth Moore echoed in my head-He will NEVER fail me)... that I'm going to take all these risks and not succeed... that in the things that matter the most, I will be rejected. But the Eldredges point out one verse, over and over... "Do not give way to fear" (I Pet. 3:6). Interestingly, the new memory verse Bay and I are learning together is Joshua 1:9 "Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go." Even more interesting/providential, our previous verse was Philippians 4:13.

All of the things I fear-they are lies. And I renounce those lies in my life.

Friends, I don't know what you're dealing with in your lives. Okay, so in some of your lives, I do. But can I just say that whatever it is that you are fearing, those thoughts that whatever you're doing is not enough, they are lies. Lies. Remember my previous post on BNet? (Yes, sad to say, I am keeping both until I decide what I really want to do. But hey, at least Eve doesn't have to deal with the smileys if she doesn't want). We are God's crowning touch.

I'm leaving you with Fullness Found by Todd Agnew. I've played it like um, I don't know, however many times over and over for the past three hours is... each time, a different line jumps out and speaks to me. (Oh, and just one of my other shallow observations, he's got such a low (but awesome) voice that I can't sing along because I can't get that low and I'm not musically talented/knowledgable enough to raise it an octave or whatever. Pisses me off. LOL)

Fullness found by Todd Agnew

I've been walking around this world for some time
And I've found that there are quite a few things to see
Physcial, emotional, intellectual stimulations
But at the core I found them empty, empty

I've been trying so many things to fill me
But every one has left me wanting
And every answer left me with more questions
Every road ended empty, empty

For every emptiness, a fullness may be found
For every lie there's something true
And for this broken cup that's quickly leaking water
There is a fullness found in you, found in you

I've been working hard at what I thought was useful
But my hands are so small next to Yours
I've been trying to learn all that I thought would make me wise
But I just found vanity and lies
Until You opened my eyes and I saw

I thought everything was meaningless
But now I've found that's not true
Who am I to doubt the good in things
When all goodness comes from You
From You, My God

Barbie has puppies

YES, I am procrastinating. If you KNEW what That Man let Those Kids do to my house... you would be procrastinating too.

Oh right. So Barbie and puppies...

Back when I was pregnant with the baby, I got Bay a pregnant Barbie, you know to help her relate and deal with things. So pregnant Barbie... well she has a magnetic stomach that you attach and detach and this little nifty baby fits inside. Bay was quite disappointed that you just took off Barbie's stomach-she didn't push the baby out of her butt. (Yes, I know... I am SCREWED. But man, could you imagine how my life would suck if I had dumb kids?) However, we got over that, and she likes to play Barbie rushing to the altar to get married. We still haven't explained that you have to be married before Barbie gets a baby in her tummy, because that will lead to the inevitable how babies get in mommy's tummy question and given that the girls keep trying to use tampons, I am NOT going there.

I did mention googling boarding schools, right?

Anyway, Kay is going through a flush things down the toilet phase. I think I told the story of her flushing an entire box of tampons down the toilet a while back. So the other day, what does she flush, but Barbie's baby. Oh, I could so go off on some of my mom's L&D stories about babies born in the toilet. But I won't. The kids will want to know what's so funny. And I am NOT-NOT, I tell you, going to go THERE. So here is Kay, giggling, because she flushed the baby down the toilet, but then when she realized it ain't coming back, she got upset. Being good mommy that I am, I begin to try to dig baby out of toilet. However, the only thing I was able to dig out of the toilet was some icky gunk that I'm too grossed out to try and identify. Bay is now heartbroken because pregnant Barbie has no baby.

Today, my girls came up with a solution. They have a puppy that fits in there perfectly. So now, we're rushing Barbie to the altar, astride on a zebra, so she can give birth to a Dalmatian. I'm having warped visions of the Christmas story in my head about now.

If my children weren't so bent on becoming cowgirls, they'd make excellent writers.

Settling In

I think I'm going to use both blogs... we'll see how that goes. :)

Anyway, as many of you all know, I ran out of links on bnet, so now, if you'd like me to add you, give me a shout. :)

Can I manage two, no three, blogs at once?

Dunno... however, here is what I posted on my Bnet blog, so at least you can read that.

I'm still undecided about changing to this one. Someone here has a name similiar to mine. What is UP with that?

Oh yeah... Bnet post...

I really had a serious post

But I don't feel like it.

So what shall it be... shallow Danica? serious Danica without feeling?

Or do you just wanna jam with me to Todd Agnew?

I am so digging him lately. I can't decide if my favorite song is Fullness Found or My Jesus... thoughts anyone? Sadly, I've been blaring his CD every night for the past few nights. Huh. It's 1 am and I'm sitting here, wide awake, rocking to Todd. And some of his songs, man, you just want to get up and dance.

Procrastinating? Moi? Absolutely not. I have completed highlighting the first three chapters of the book, read it aloud (with FEELING) and am now in the process of translating it to my computer. So there.

And then I decided to play around on My Space. Tee Hee.

Actually, I do have a rant about My Space. I basically signed up because, well, I don't know why. I figured why the heck not. HOWEVER, I am more than slightly irritated that they REQUIRE you to list your name, city, state, and birthdate on your profile. Am I the only one who doesn't see serious stalker potential here? I read their FAQ stuff, and blah blah blah. Totally understand wanting to protect kids, but you can still protect kids AND keep a person's info private if they want. Isn't an "over 18" or "over 21" box good enough? I don't know why, but that birthdate thing REALLY bugs me. I prefer to keep mine private. And yes, I did email them my concern this evening, thank you very much.

So, if you want to visit me at My Space, you can go here. Speaking of new things I set up, Heather finished my new blog on blogspot. However, I don't know... I've got the new blog, and I just can't seem to let go of this one and move. Is her work in vain? I hope not, since I'm a picky little bugger and I prolly drove her nuts. You can check it out here. No, I don't have all the links up. Heather? You reading this? Feel up to adding some links for me? Oh, and the new background on your blog is way cool. I might want it on mine. Yes, I know, I'm lazy. However, maybe some of you will see what a great job Heather does, hire her, and she'll have some money to come visit or something.

Oh, but one cool thing about my new My Space place. If you click on the profile I don't want anyone to see, it plays My Jesus by Todd Agnew. So hey, there are some good things, yes?