Thanksgiving.......

So Thanksgiving has come and gone and I've been reminded that it's not just a time for gluteny it's actually supposed to remind us to count our blessings and be thankful.

I've been reviewing my blessings and thought I would include a list.  I know you are bored already; I could care but I don't..... so onward we go.

I am thankful for in no particular order of importance:

1. My children
2. My husband
3. Family (those of blood and those I'm just lucky enough to claim as such) 
4. Sex (Yup you read it right.  How do you think I got all those children?)
5. Chocolate
6. Dr. Pepper
7. The bands Korn, Lincoln Park and my secret pleasure Toby Keith
8. My freedom
9. My sister
10. My bed.  Oh I love my bed.......
11. Friends though I could do with more of them
12. Wonderful daycare providers who shelter and love my children when I can't be with them
13. Vehicles that run
14. Poo, honestly you don't know what you're missing until it doesn't work the way it should
15. Walmart, without whom I would never have seen an almost 7 foot man in pink spandex and enough a** antlers to strip you of the will to live.
16. Taylor L. from Eclipse because he's finally legal and so so yummy
17. Trials because you don't know how strong you are until you face something that you weren't sure you could survive.  
18. Underwear that cover the goods but still looks and feels oh so sexy
19. Massages
20. Clorox bleach.  Man you can use that stuff for just about anything
21. Really comfortable jammies
22. Bra's. 
23. Our savior Jesus Christ.  Who bleed for me.  Who died for me.  Who LOVES me unconditionally no matter my faults.  Who has carried me when I couldn't walk another step on my own and shown me by example how to forgive the unforgivable.

 I sometimes forgot in the hustle and bustle to remember that I have a pretty fabulous life.  Sure there are struggles, many of which I've brought on myself but somehow we've made it through.  I'm married to my best friend.  I am raising some of the coolest people on the planet.  I am loved and I love.  That's what makes life worth living.

Love,
Amanda

PS: Just so you won't think the posting was a complete waste.  Here's some fun pic's from Thanksgiving....

 The Grandparents

 The Aidenator

 My handsome hubby and kids

 The fat shot.  Dang suck it in.

 My Unc Mike and Mom. 

 My Rachel Elizabeth

Ryan and Ryan.  Troublemakers in charge

Unc Spence and Noah having some special time.  Don't you love Cassie and Spence's place BTW.

 Cutest babies ever.......  I just want to kiss and squeeze on them all!

 Rachel Elisabeth. 

 Mr. Aiden looking a little less than bright.

 Awwww.  Don't you just want to kiss him

 Ryan Caleb who pretty much rocks

 Munching on the bink.

 Aunt Cassie.  Isn't she gorgeous!

 Bouncing..... Bouncing.......

 Noah Thomas

Rachel and Unc Spence

 Kathryn Collette.  Fabulous.

Aunt Cas and Rachel.  Having fun as usual.

It's been one of those days.......

You know those days where you are just so sorry that you got out of bed.  I've spent most of today inserting my foot in my mouth apparently trying to reach the other side.

Do you ever have those moments where you know that you've said the wrong thing and you just wish that you could rewind and take it back.  With a mouth like mine, I have a least one of those moments on a daily basis.  Today's was awesome.  I made the biggest dink out of myself in front of, 3 co-workers, my boss and even better my bosses boss.  AWESOME!

Sometimes I just wish someone would hit that sensor button in my head or at least punch me in the mouth before I can utter a sound but no one ever does and out comes the asinine comment.  Go me.

Even better, I'm slightly insane so I spend the rest of my life being haunted by these stupid comments.  I'll have just gotten out of the shower and remember a comment I made in third grade and be horrified and embarrassed all over again.  I'll remember an ex-boyfriend, or a comment I made to a co-worker or really just about anything and get to relieve it all over again.

Sometimes I wish I could just delete my brain and start over.

Today mommy failed.........

For any working mother the key to success is constant never ending nagging.  I mean honestly how would a person get anything accomplished without unceasing, mind numbing followup (AKA nagging).  This followup can involve yelling, screaming, hair pulling (your own never someone elses) or throwing your hands up and realizing that to the world you are that person who's always 5 minutes late and never dressed appropriately.  I believe in an even approach and using a little bit of everything to get out my dang door.

Take this morning for example:  We leave the house at 7:30 on the dot with or without clothing, accessories or shoes.

It's 7:37.  I'm yelling.  "Ryan have you got glasses, shoes on; have you brushed your hair? 

Katie, glasses.  Where are your glasses.  You've got to brush all the way through your hair not just the top.  It looks like someone wet on the top of your head and ratted the bottom.  What do you mean you left your glasses in daddy's car.  Oh my gosh, your school must think I am the worst mother EVER.  Why did your glasses come off your face.  You are so grounded. (mind you we have been through 7 pairs of glasses this year and it's only November.)

Noah, NOAH.  NOAH I AM TALKING TO YOU. ANSWER ME.  Oh lord, you are not dressed how can you not be dressed.  I pulled your clothes out for you.  I've yelled at you no less then 10 times.  What do you mean you can't find your shoes?  Where did you take them off?  Why aren't they in your closet?  Fine wear the pink cowboy boots you found in Katie's closet.  Jeez, what's one more teacher thinking I'm the worst mother ever.

Rachel, RACHEL.  No honey, you have to take your shoes off before you put on your pants.  Yes go to the bathroom.  Did you flush?  Why not?  Go FLUSH?  Rachel, I don't have time this morning for you to spend time crying about flushing the toilet.  Please, Please, Please just put your pants on.  At this point I'll beg.  Can someone please just get ready?"

Finally 7:47 we are dressed (more or less) everyone is sort of presentable.  I've got baby, milk, diaper bag, purse.  Head count, yes 5 children.  The dog is locked up and honestly at this point I don't care if the lights are off or not. 

Into the car we go.

Drop off Aiden and Noah. Chat for a minute, kiss & HUG.  I love you's too each of them.

Drop off Rachel.  Chat for a minute, kiss & HUG.  I love you's.

Drop off Katie and Ryan.  Remind Katie that since she can't see a bloody thing she'd better not spend the day talking since she's going to have to listen extra hard.  Realize the futility of that statement.  Yell a hurried, I LOVE YOU Both. 

Finally to work, I'm only 19 minutes late.

The phone is ringing as I walk to my desk.  It's the sitter.  "Ummm Amanda.  I can't find the baby's milk.  Any chance you dropped it off?"

As seen on TV (or in this case in printed ad)........................

I want one.....

You've seen it, THE ad.  The one that makes you salivate.  You know you must have it or your life is not going to be OK ever again.  For some it's jewelry, for others tight girdles that guarantee Angelina Jolie's body for as little as 4 easy payments of 19.95.  For me, its a Toilet. 

You read that correctly.  It's a toilet.  Not just any toilet.  This sweet thing flushes itself, alarms if the lid is left up and you can flush a tennis ball down it and it won't plug it up. It comes with a nifty plumber man, who will install it and if by some unlikely and world ending chance your little goblins manage to clog it up, he will come and fix it anytime for no charge.

I really, really want one.  Since we potty trained Ryan I have as of yet been unable to walk into a bathroom that's ready to be used.  I can just finish cleaning my toilet to shiny perfection, turn around to put my cleansers away and BOOM........... someone has been there, done that and gone.

I long for the days of embarrassment free toileting.  Where I can have someone come to my home and ask to use the restroom and I won't have to say, Just a moment please I need to check something.  I long for the nights of usage, where I don't have to do the double check.  Where a preemptive flush is not required and where countless hours of plunging, snaking and crying are no longer a weekly occurrence. 

As my husband has thus far been unwilling to help me with my ultimate master plan, it includes an electrified toilet seat that can sense when something falls on it or in it and the situation is not properly contained, this is the next best thing.

I mean what's $759 plus tax for a life altering necessity such as this.

Is that a cow I see.........

Lactating.  Nursing.  Milk producing.  Not my favorite thing but I love my babies and I do it because I honestly believe it's the best thing I could possibly do for them. Plus formula costs more than my car is worth. But, I HATE nursing.  You leak.  You smell.  Your breasts have flying saucer shaped nursing pads so it looks like they are trying to take off. You are a walking food processor.  Your child doesn't see you they see dinner.  Need I go on.

As my due date with Aiden fast approached, I knew that I would continue to work.   I am happier and my children are happier when I am NOT a stay at home mom.  Working isn't easy.  I miss things that I wish I didn't have to.  I want to be home and spend all day reading with them, playing with them, snuggling and lavishing all the love I feel on them.  But, I enjoy working and the adult conversation that goes along with it and it's important that I have something that does not revolve around a little person and the things that go into and come out of their bodies.

With that said, I knew that I was going to have to figure out a way to nurse and work.  I already had a pump as we'd bought it with my first child Ryan.  So that was taken care of.  Now I had to figure out the where.  My employer had a bathroom set up as their only area for pumping.  I don't know about you but I don't eat in the bathroom, so I'm sure as heck not going to be pumping my tiny infants only source of nutrition in an area where less than 16 inches from me someone can go poo. Ewww.

Serendipity.  I heard an ad on the radio for the Breastfeeding Coalition of Utah. http://www.utahbreastfeeding.org  They were offering a $300 grant to small employers who were willing to setup a lactation room for working mothers.  Awesome. I filled out the application and less than a week later it was approved and I had a check in hand.  Wow,  I wish I could get that kind of service anywhere.  It was almost time for my maternity leave to end, I needed somewhere to pump now.

So now for the hard part.  Actually designating a room and getting it fitted for my needs.  Weeks go by.  Nothing happens.  I've decided to designate my own room.  I'm pumping in a conference room with the lights out and my back to the doorway.  I've posted a sign on the very large open window that reads, "IN USE."  Apparently, this serves as an invitation to the curious.  A new sign is posted.  "In Use.  Privacy please.  The lights are out for privacy reasons. Please do not press your face against the glass and look in."

Either the new sign worked or the face pressed against the glass went screaming to IT. Because suddenly IT realizes what is going on in that room.   Privacy blinds go up; a fridge appears and my little conference room has a name. 

Boobyland.

My son kicked himself in the face..........

There are times in your life as a parent where you think to yourself, I'm doing a great job. I'm raising happy, healthy and well adjusted little people who are going to go out into the world and make a difference. They are going to be doctors, writers or little dot.commers. I'm raising the next little Facebook creator or the doctor who cures cancer or aids.

You look at your little darling and think I'm doing something right. They are beautiful, stunning even. They are polite and kind. They are empathetic and sweet. They say things like, "Mom I love you." "Mom, is there anything I can do to help you?" "Mom, thank you for making dinner even though it sort of tasted like the bottom of my shoe."

Then there are times when you realize you've failed. You are raising the next star of the Jackass movies or even worse a politician. Sigh. I'm pretty sure I'm raising the kids who are going to maim themselves so badly that I'm not going to be getting the grandchildren I have been told are the reward for allowing said children to live.

Now I have a pretty even mix of boys vs. girls. We've got three boys and two girls and while most of you have heard my personal motto; for those of you who haven't it reads: "Girls are drama, boys are destruction."

Let's set the scene. I'm at work, the phone rings...... I check the caller ID and it says, "Granite public schools." My heart starts to race, my mind starts going through all the possible things that would require a school to call you in the middle of the day.

• There's been a threat against the school
• someone's brought silly bands or Pokemon cards to school
• my child has been viciously assaulted
• it's one of the many random days off and I didn't know (this has actually happened)
• my child has sneezed and therefore needs a doctor's note before being readmitted to school.

You know the normal day to day occurrences. You prepare yourself and say, "This Amanda. How may I help you?"

A voice on the other line, they sound a little breathless. "Hi, Amanda. This is Jolene Randall, over at Vista Elementary. Your son has had an accident on the playground. We aren't entirely sure how it happened, but your son has a black eye and from what he's said it appears he's kicked himself in the face."

Yes, you read that correctly. The school principal is calling me to come and pick up my 9 year old son, who has managed to kick himself in the face and cause grievous, instacare inducing trauma. I now realize, she's a little breathless because she's been laughing so hard she's trying not to wet her pants.

I am so proud.

How you might ask does a 9 year old boy kick himself in the face hard enough to have a black eye that lasts a record 3 weeks? We're still trying to figure it out.

It's time.....

My goal in life honestly is to be the absolutely last person to use any type of new technology. I just got on Facebook about a year ago. I'm not doing the twitter thing. I completely missed myspace and whatever else there was. I remember when new technology was a pager and I was the last one to have one of those too. Jeez I was cool. I have a cell phone, that's connected to my in-laws service plan and that I currently can't find and don't entirely miss. I don't even know the number to be truthful. I'm going to wait until they don't make DVD's anymore before I go out and purchase a blue-ray player.

With that said it's time. I am officially the last person I know that doesn't have a blog. I know that I have fascinating, life altering, therapy inducing life anecdotes that I'm going to share with a few well seasoned friends and family. You are the chosen, the lucky few. I know, you're nervous but honestly find a drink with one of those great umbrella's in it. It's going to be a fabulous ride!