I am totally funny . . .

George's Teeth

. . . and by *I* . . . I mean me, Sheila. Oh, I know all of you out there are thinking,"But Erik is the funny one . . ." and you would be right, except I selfcensure, uh, a lot. So, I am funnier than you know.

And, so, I am busting my gut at another one of my jokes (which is something my mom does, you know, laugh at her own jokes . . . I love you, Mom!).

My boys get the physical comedy of my genius. Did I mention how funny they are?

I am my funniest when I am on the phone with the doctor's office, the insurance company, or my sister (but NOT the cable company, I have to get *mean* sometimes). Today, I was totally funny on the phone with the dentist's office . . . and, no, George Washington's teeth were not wooden . . . .

And, since I am surrounded by the "Three and Under" crowd, I, like most bloggers, felt the need to tell the virtual world something . . . I am funny. Someday I'll tell you why.

Did It Again

I am pretty well aware of my strengths and weaknesses. Really, I am. And, if I ever forget, something happens through the course of the day of being a parent to remind me; really, it does.

One of my areas to work on is: I expect adults to act adult. And when they don't I get irritated or disappointed with the interaction.

Kids, I get. Though, I am not saying I never get impatient with the repetition of a 3 year old or the dawdling of said child, my expectations of what can be and will be done by children are pretty reasonable.

Not so with adults. Each time I start a new interaction with a group of adults that I am getting to know, I forget. I forget that there really is no such thing as acting like an adult. There is just a spectrum of respect and maturity that we are all on, and I wrongly assume age to be corresponded with an increase in illustrating respect and maturity.

Never fear, I've been reminded.

And, then, I am surprised when someone rises above it all and exemplifies what it means to be respectful, be mature, and it impresses me.

So, cheers to being impressed! (And I am really trying to be heartfelt here and not sarcastic.)

Peeking

I know that I've been under a rock for several months now. I don't watch the news. I don't read the paper. I feed baby and toddler, potty train toddler, and try to get as much sleep as possible. Last night I turned on the television to a non-HGTV station. (gasp, I know)

Who gave Jimmy Fallon a late night show? Is this really a good idea? It was clear last night that he needs better writers for his monologue. Serious. I miss his news anchor desk.

And what does it say about me that out of all the things I've been missing this made the biggest impression?

Weak Link, newly strengthened

This is a written account of what has occurred over the last little bit, or couple of years; it encapsulates a more detailed account of our transition to Texas and the sale of our house. It will probably be boring, but I need to catalogue it.

Long ago, a friend of mine said that he once thought that the weak link in the gospel of Jesus Christ was faith.

Around two years ago, something was pushing me. Something was off kilter, and the feeling left me feeling like I wanted to go home. Turn the clock to around six months later, and I was pretty miserable. I wanted, needed, nay, craved a change. For me, that ended up recognizing through prayer that we need to go home to Texas.

To get us there, Erik had job leads, interviews, verbal offers, and then nothing. n-o-t-h-i-n-g. We met with our realtor to get a sense of what it would take to sell the house. It was going to take a lot of money. The real estate market was not like it was when we bought our place. We didn't buy at the height of the market. We saw an increase of $100,000 in appreciation for our townhome as we lived our lives there, and then we saw a loss of $100,000 in depreciation. And, realtor fees. . . . 6% of a lot of money is a lot of money. And, since we lived where we lived, there were other fees, costs, expenditures, and more ways that required more money than I could count.

So, we saved and sacrificed and saved and sacrificed and saved some more. When I quit my job, we needed to draw on those savings to make ends meet. I was angry sometimes when we had to use our savings to take care of daily living when those savings were earmarked for getting out of our house. I almost felt like I was trapped. What if we used all the savings before we had a chance to move? I knew that our family needed to get back to Texas. I just couldn't figure out why accomplishing that was so hard.

It was made very clear to me that part of what we needed to do before leaving DC was to go through the fertility process before moving. In fact, we started the process several months earlier than I would have even considered if I hadn't had that strong prompting that we needed to move. Later, it became clear that being in DC for the pregnancy was the best situation for all of us.

When the stars aligned this January, and it was clear that we were coming back to Texas with a job, the cost of selling our home was going to potentially put us in a situation that we might have to short sale or foreclose. GASP! Shudder! Vomit! Faint and pull my hair out! All that planning and all that work. All that prayer and all those sacrifices.

At that point, I told Erik that my faith was weak and that if we came out of this okay I would need to stop questioning my Heavenly Father so much. God and I had many a heated conversation . . . okay, maybe I was the one that was mad and He just listened.

At every point that we had to spend more money to sell our house (because it all had to be picture perfect in this market), I just saw our savings dwindle away. I saw our car fund fade into dust and then fly off particle by particle. I saw any leftover money for our next home move over into the "sell Reston house" pile. I saw our emergency money go to the "sell Reston house" pile. I had to start counting on our devalued retirement accounts as money to get rid of the house. We were going to have to get rid of all our assets, and I was sick and upset.

I had no idea that I was that emotionally tied to money. When we ran the numbers and the reality of the situation hit us, I felt like there was a death in the family. If we didn't sell the house before our property lost further value, then our credit would be crushed. Yes, there are worse things, no doubt about it. The issue is that we had worked so hard to avoid that situation. We had made sacrifices to prepare for the move back to Texas.

There were moments when I felt foolish and questioned our decision to buy when we did and to sell when we were selling. Self-doubt can be so exhausting.

We had prayed about buying the townhouse in 2004 before we bought it, and it was clear that it was the place to live and start our family. Through prayer, we knew that it was time to get back to Texas, now. Why were we to sacrifice so much to get into a place and then feel the exquisite financial pain to leave it? I don't know. There were plenty of moments when I doubted the process, where I doubted the Lord's plan for me and my family. Life just doesn't follow logic and I was struggling with that.

All I could do was put my big girl pants on and pray, oh, and whine to my family and beg for their good vibes and prayers. (THANKS, Family!) And to top that off, I was totally sleep deprived, a shadow of my physical and intellectual capabilities because I was taking care of a newborn.

So, we spit polished the townhouse, put it on the market, hoped for the best, and moved to Texas.

Through the process of selling our townhome, we were calmed by the fact that we had tons of foot traffic going through the home. We had priced it well.

Since we were one of the first townhomes on the market for this season, all the other houses for sale used our mark as one to beat, including two other townhomes on our street. Talk about competition. At one point, as the season started to heat up, over 25 townhomes in our demographic went on the market in 10 days. A couple weeks into the process, we dropped the price by $10,000 to undercut that competition.

It showed EXTREMELY well. But, buyer after buyer gave feedback that they just wanted two bathrooms on the top level, not one. (BTW, the townhouse already had two and a half baths.) So, we brought contractors through the home to see how much it would cost. Several years ago, we were told that would cost close to $20,000. Let me tell you that I was apoplectic about the fact that we were going to have to add a bathroom to sell our place.

The contractors varied in price, but we were able to settle on a contractor who could do the work for around $6,000. I called Fairfax County to see what permits we would need.

We would need five permits. And, no, I can't apply by phone or fax. I, being the homeowner, have to go in person to apply for the permits ,and it would most likely take several trips to the permit office to get everything in order.

This was it. The end of my rope. We waited a week to make the decision. Our realtor contacted previously interested buyers letting know of the drawn bathroom plans and cost. "We'd put the money in escrow, etc." No contracts came through in that week we waited. We were going to have to make a decision. And, it would have to be that we were going to put the dang bathroom in . . . sigh.

The same day that we were going to call the realtor and go ahead with the construction and work out a return trip with babies in tow to get the dang permits, our realtor called us. There was an offer on the house. He then called a second time, another offer. And, a third time, another offer. By midnight, we were on a conference call with our realtor and the buyer's realtor working out the contract details.

Our house was going to sell WITHOUT that stupid bathroom addition. Thank Heavens and Glory, Alleluia!

My faith in the process, my trust in His plan was starting to firm up again. My daily scripture study topic of PEACE was going to get me through this.

The next steps were agonizing probably because I have a tendency to agonize.

• House inspection: went super well.
• Funding hurdles for the buyer were being overcome (yes, we had to consider the lender's stability when we were deciding which offer to take and, no, we did not go with the highest bid).
• No termites: check.
• Radon: not a problem.
• The property assessment went through appropriately.

And I actually started to relax somewhere in this process. I actually started to accept that I had no control and even if it all went to pot before we made it to closing that it would be okay. (and probably getting more sleep helped the situation)

In fact, one Sunday as we were driving back to our apartment from church, I had this peaceful feeling come over me that it would be OKAY. That we wouldn't have to foreclose or short sale. I can't tell you how much relief this brought.

This process, the sale and the transition, has been a struggle. There have been very tenuous moments where I just didn't know how point A was going to match up with point B. And then just when you come to terms with the big challenge, daily life happens like an expensive car repair or a serious illness with an infant. Things can always be worse because they did get worse, but we managed to come out of the daily life challenges, too.

The buyer completed the final walk through yesterday with the dogwoods and all of our climbing clematis in full bloom. When I heard that, I was a tad jealous. It is a great home. Better than that, there were no major issues in the walk through . . . next step--closing.

Erik is on a flight home from DC right now. We sold the house. Done.

In all, Erik was offered a job around Christmas time. We worked for six weeks to ready the house. We moved on February 8th. The house was put on the market on February 10th. We signed a contract at midnight on March 20th. Closing was on April 30th.

Sweetness, it is over.

My heart is full of gratitude.

My faith feels firmed.

My trust newly strengthened.

During my daily scripture study on peace, I kept being rounded each time to 1 Nephi 13:37 in the Book of Mormon. Now, I was looking for peace in my daily life type of stuff, not the enduring to the bitter end type of stuff. But this element kept coming across my studies:

1 Nephi 13:37 And blessed are they who shall seek to bring forth my Zion at that day, for they shall have the gift and power of the Holy Ghost; and if they endure to the end they shall be lifted up at the last day, and shall be saved in the everlasting kingdom of the Lamb; and whoso shall publish peace, yea, tidings of great joy, how beautiful upon the mountains shall they be.

And it seemed I heard a heavenly giggle each time I read it since this experience has been a trial for me to learn, yet again, perspective.

I am grateful for the teachings about food storage (we have almost pounded through our entire food storage--guess we'll need to build it again), tithing, fast offerings, self-reliance, the power of prayer, and the support of family. I've tried to highlight the major aspects of this experience. I needed to highlight it for myself. I needed to write it out for my boys to read through later.

And, no, I never imagined that it would sell as quickly as it did. I also could never imagine how much work it would take from us while living in DC and living here in Texas. And, yes, we had to bring a huge-o check to settlement. And guess what? A couple of realtors bought the items I used to stage the home so that they could stage other homes on the market--like they bought the entire house and put all the furniture in an empty house. HA! My own version of "rooms to go."

Now, we forget about the pain of paying out and start anew ready to build our lives here in Texas, express our gratitude to our Heavenly Father, enjoy the company of our family, and provide for our boys.

I'm in the mood for a great backyard. Don't worry, you'll be invited to our first barbque.

Chick-fil-a and Me

Have you ever watched kids playing on a play structure and said to yourself,"I hope I never have to go up there and rescue anyone." I have, about a bajillion times, and, yeah, you know where this is going.

Chick-fil-a and I have a somewhat tenuous relationship. I don't appreciate all the misspelled words in the establishment, something about environmental print and whatnot. I am a bit sick of their limited use of chicken. But, they have the best of the "fast food" out there, healthwise; Everett loves to play on the play structures; Erik, especially, loves the lemonade.

This evening was a bit harder for Everett with Erik not being around to play. I decided to let Evy pick what was for dinner . . . and we ended at Chick-fil-a. Our local chicken providing establishment has one of the most intricate and highest play structures I have ever seen. [Erik always calls me OSHA (Occupational Safety & Health Administration) because up until the past few years most playscapes looked like death traps, and I would be the first to critique them.] Our structure is very clean, very OSHA friendly, and Erik said that Everett made it to the top last time and slid down the slide.

So, off he went to play while I sat on the bench to entertain Merritt.

Tonight, Everett did make it to the top (the top has to be around 15-18 feet up). I thought his goal was to slide down. There were lots of kids playing around, climbing up the slide, and screaming. So, I knew it would take some time. Well, it took too long. The time to feed Merritt came and went, and it was time to get Everett out of there and go home.

I called his name.

I cajoled.

I cheered.

I counted.

I waited.

I tried to problem solve.

I said I was leaving and left the room (to this he said cheekily,"Bye, Mom").

I called his name repeatedly.

I counted again.

I asked the older kids to help.

I waited and called, in vain, for him to come down.

I exchanged looks and comments with other moms and wondered at what point I needed to go up.

Other moms came to investigate: Is it the four year old blonde boy at the top?

Me: Yeah, but he is two, he is just big for his age.

(BTW, with how this structure is designed, you can't see the kids at all times. There are lots of places where they are hidden from your view. I have now added this problematic element to my OSHA criteria.)

Supportively, the other moms started to say to their kids: Stay down here until he comes down, Stop screaming, Get back here, Don't climb up the slide, I said not to scream, No--you need to wait until we get him down.

20 minutes after I started, in vain, to get him to come down, I decided I had to go up.

I am SIX feet tall. I've got a little extra post-pregnancy love around my middle. In all, I am not a small woman. (if you are over 54 inches, you aren't supposed to play on the structure the sign says). You know that the openings to climb through get smaller the higher up the structure you go. ye-ah.

I climbed that play structure, trying not to expose my entire belly to EVERYONE in Chick-fil-a who was now watching some grown woman climb the stupid thing with 8 kids running and climbing around her. Found Everett. Asked what the problem was and he said,"Wanna slide but poopoo."

The boy wanted to go down the slide; he was right by the opening, poised to go, but he didn't want to slide because he had POOPOO in his pants.

I gave him the choice to slide with poopoo or climb down. He tried to slide. I cheered him on, but he just couldn't do it.

So, with a John Wayne swagger (remember the poopoo), he started to climb down the structure. Midway down he decided he wanted to go back up, and I let him know that in no uncertain or certain terms was he going to do that. So, he started crying and calling for dada and screaming about how he missed his dada.

And, yes, Merritt is bawling his eyes out the entire time.

And you know what bothers me the most, it isn't the crying. I hate heights and never want to have to climb through those multilevel structures again. I had to slither my body through the levels because I am so long.

And, we had a thorough debriefing when we got home about what happened. Don't underestimate the 2 year old. They know a lot more than one would expect.

Hello, Wrestling Alligators

You know those days when the sun sets and you feel like dropping into a fave chair hoping to not get up until you are darn ready? Those days where everything seemed to be constantly thrown at you, or challenges were overwhelming, circumstances seemed to be falling apart, and even the small things seemed to be snowballing into chaos?

It was because you were wrestling with alligators. Yep, alligators. And, hello, alligators are 10-19 feet long and around 1,000 pounds. So, of course, you'll be tired physically and mentally beaten and maybe even emotionally spent from all that effort. You know, the effort to avoid being eaten.

Alligators can be found in singles if they are large or groups if they are smaller in size. Not surprising, right? Life events that challenge you come along in clusters and one at a time. I prefer the one at a time kind, but then it always is a ginormous alligator, even if it is alone.

Alligators can move rapidly in short bursts on land. In the water, they are very strong and silent swimmers. So, no matter where you are, you aren't immune to the possible threat of an alligator, on land or by sea. Challenges of everyday life are real for everyone whether the challenge comes at work, at home, or simply at the grocery store. Everyone has alligators. (Yes, everyone. Even the lady with the perfect children and the perfect manicure and the perfect job and the perfect spouse. Yes, even her.)

Depending on the time of year, alligators can spend several hours underwater. Or they will lay quietly without moving, with only their eyes and nostrils above water. While they are staying still, they can look like logs. Hello, ever feel like the alligator is lying in wait? It is because often times you don't see the alligator coming. You don't see the next turn that life has for you. If you are like me, you have a PLAN of what will happen next. But, alligators don't care about Sheila's plan. Challenges come along willy nilly sometimes as a natural consequence to an action or sometimes as a "growth opportunity" provided by our Heavenly Father.

They are considered "ambush predators". They stay underwater, near the banks until they can reach their prey. Then they quickly lunge, grab their target and drag the prey underwater to drown it. Like, hello, again. You can't predict when an alligator is going to strike. You can do the best you can to send scouts ahead, to stay inside the house, to avoid looking like a tasty morsel, and it doesn't matter. You will experience the unexpected challenge. The question is, do you have skills to wrestle that alligator?

Skills? Skillz? Of course, you have skills. (I mean, you do have skills, right? Because I won't always be there to beat off the alligator with a rolled up newspaper or be able to have that handy hunk of an exterminator dude with the rad mullet over to catch the alligator for you.)

Here is a short list of the skills that can save your life when wrestling with alligators:

• Asking someone else for help and helping others. Hello, I'd rather take on my alligators with at least a couple of people with me. And, I know that you feel the same, too.
• Having a sense of humor. Okay, so the alligator got your hand. Hooks are up and coming and many a movie has been made with one.
• Praying and meditating.
• Eating and sleeping well. You are faster when in shape and fully rested.
• Keeping things in perspective. In the last 100 years of recordkeeping there have been only 30 confirmed deaths. Since 1948, there have only been 16 deaths. So, seriously, you most likely will not die from your alligator(s). Given that tidbit, things are looking up! But, hello, I am not the best with perspective looking. I have to force myself to determine the WORST case scenario and then talk it through with someone to determine that what I am going through is not the worst.

Not only are alligators Florida's native apex predators, but they are a keystone species as well. A keystone species is a species that has a certain behavior that benefits other species and environments in their natural habitats. Without this keystone behavior, the environment and the all the species in the area will be in peril. Sometimes I hate to admit it, but challenges--our life's alligators--are key to our development and growth. I'm the first to complain all the way through it, but, you could say that they are a keystone to development. So, have you hugged your alligator today?

Thank you for indulging me.

Facts in Italics Taken From Suncoast Herpetological Society

The Reveal

The Before

After the deliberation, an extensive consult with the hair stylist, and a haircut that almost took 1 and a half hours, I didn't go quite as long as I wanted to for this cut. Evidently, the curl that I have, that I didn't have before having Everett several years ago, would be too much for a short cut. And, indeed, when I don't go totally straight when I style it, my hair is a good 2 inches shorter because of the curl. And, yes, I was charged more than I was initially quoted because I have thick hair.

The After

And this is Everett; he wanted to pose, too.

With Bated Breath

The results of the hair poll are in . . . and after tabulating the email responses, the voting poll, and the messages on our guestbook, I have the top two and am ready them take it to the salon.

Stay tuned and have a great Friday!

All About Me

Have you ever seen the movie "All About Eve" . . . well, I loved it. And that has nothing to do with the following--my haircut. or does it?

Okay, the first question--go short or medium length?

(the picture above is basically what I look like with the length being about an inch or so longer--and my hair is thick and either wavy or curly)

Next question, which style?

So, take alooky at the cuts below and let me know what you think by voting on the sidebar, and yes, you can email me your opinion and you can leave a message on our guestbook, also. Make sure you look at the very last picture. I think that is the one I am gunning for right now. Seriously, I am. I mean it.

Oh, you only have a week to vote. So go for it. My hair is in your hands. (okay, maybe not and maybe I'll choose something not here but it helps to get feedback.)

Short #1

Short #2


Short #3




Short #4

Medium #1

Medium #2

Medium #3

Medium #4

Hhhmm, "The One I'm Gunning For"

What Nots

Yeah, we are alive. Just busy, I think.

I've got pictures of Eriks Slammin' Jammin' "Yes, I am still in my 30s" birthday party and awesome weekend with family. Happy Birthday, Erik! (Right now he is burning the midnight oil getting work done.)

I've got pictures of Everett's first bike.

I've got pictures of my mohawk baby.

I guess I should get some pictures of me.

I measured my ponytail's circumference today. Yes, I am a geek. But my hair is SUPER thick and I am constantly breaking rubberbands. Yes, that means I am putting my hair in a ponytail all the time. And, yes, that means it is time for a haircut.

Back to the circumference . . . . 2 inches. That is two inches from one end of the rubberband to the other. And if this doesn't make sense, sorry. I am too tired to explain it further, other than "must get haircut from someone who knows how to lighten my load without making me poodley." I am an inch shy of being able to have the required length of locks of love, but I may send it in anyway. Maybe they can get good money for a HUGE chunk of curly red hair.

So I gotta decide what cut. Maybe I'll ask you to help me choose. And, yes, my life is very exciting!

Rehabilitation

This is the couch in our corporate housing.

It is rented.

One guess as to which side of the couch I sit on when I fed Merritt and give him his nebulizer treatments. Yeah, it is the side that is sagging.

This is where I answer the phone.

This is where I catch naps.

(I can catch Everett trying to sneak to the backdoor during his "nap" from this spot.)

This is where I hear news about the house.

This is where I read my scriptures.

This is where I pray about 100,000 times a day.

I do leave this spot, but it is sort of like command central for me.

Who would have known a rented couch would support so much?

A Thought Or Something Resembling That

I've been kind of lax with the blogging. I just have too much rattling in my brain right now to be super coherent and be of importance to clutter the screen.

I'm slowing putting some things together. But I heard something today that made me laugh (maybe because it hit too close to home).

"Comfortable is not a style."

Peter Perfect

The house is quiet.

sssshshshshshhhhh . . . just appreciate it. the quiet. the peace. the calm air--you get the drift.

My Mommy Vibe is telling me the boys will wake soon, but I wanted to publish this moment of peace.

The bathroom is ready for a cleanup and there is a load of laundry to fold. But, isn't there always laundry . . . that can wait. I am going to just take a moment to breathe.

The Post About Facebook

I don't usually post about the social networking movement or specific sites, but I thought I would throw this out for a variety of reasons. One of which is to mark such a strong following of an online application. I have no idea what it will be like when my boys are in their mid-thirties, but I am sure my parents had no idea we'd be communicating in such a manner when they were in their mid-thirties. Another reason is that it ISN’T a shameless plug on the sell of our townhouse.

I have my own opinions and running commentary about Facebook, but we'll just start with the basics on this one, shall we?

Basically, as most of you know, Facebook is online application for social networking, meaning you can connect with friends by finding them and then socialize. It is one of the most popular if not the most popular application right now. You find family, friends, coworkers, really, anyone you may have talked to in this life or a former one. You invite them to be your friend, they accept your invitation, and then you connect.

'Facebook' is also a verb--"I facebooked my college roommates and found them!" I don't know how long it will stay around, but when it enters the English language vocabulary, there is a better chance of longevity. (Well, that might not be true since we haven't really heard "strategery" very much recently have we?)

Can't Beat It:

• It is just so easy to use.
• I just reconnected with one of my former students that I taught when he was a 4th grader. He is a college man now. That is so fun!
• I just found one of my childhood buddies that I haven't been able to find for years.
• Those who hate the phone have a quick and easy way to connect. (WHAT, me, hate using the phone?)
• A friend who wanted to start a photography business included a couple of pictures on her Facebook page, and TADA people started clamoring for her services. Cha-ching!

User Beware:

• Some people become addicted and check it compulsively. This is very easy to do since there are so many handheld applications that integrate with Facebook.
• Friend tally competition--Erik has tons of friends. I don't have as many. And, yet, I know I am cool.
• The “hyperstatus posters” are friends who post their status A LOT. It gets to be over the top when hyperstatus posters update about all of their goings, their children’s goings, their pets' goings, and their neighbors' goings. But, that is just my humble opinion. (Wait, that sounds like my blog.)
• The "Remove from Friends" option is supposed to be very invisible. Don't want someone on your list anymore, just "remove" them . . . (WHAT, you can remove a friend like an unsightly mole?) But, if you update your status A LOT and then remove friends from your list, your, now, unfriends are going to notice. How do I know this? I was "unfriended" and realized it when Friend X, a hyperstatus poster, was oddly absent from all status updates on my home page.

I do know that Facebook has not escaped privacy issues or conflicts that will be resolved in the courts. I really don’t care. It will probably blow by the wayside and be replaced by some other social networking application that, too, will be banned from being accessible at work. Just make sure you don’t lean on Facebook too much; make sure you take a note of your friends’ CURRENT email addresses. Because if you don’t, face it, if Facebook disappears tomorrow, your newly connected friends will, too.

Back In Time

I feel like I am back in high school again . . . (we've got lots going on in the Sjolseth House, and I hope that we'll be able to give you more details soon.)

No, I'm not in the picture. But, I could have been.

I feel like I could be back as a senior in high school.

We've had to make a decision where we had to choose one guy over another for a pretty major milestone in our journey . . . kind of like choosing a date for prom. (I'm voting for the guy that is the tallest, go figure.)

I've been up all night every night this week--sort of like when I would prep for semester exams (Yes, I was a nerd) or that one time I stayed up late on the phone with a boy. It *is* a boy that is keeping me up all night now, a boy called Merritt. (BTW, I wasn't a phone talker, even with the boys.)

I've had to manage and come to terms with a gossipy friend. Get over the disappointment, appreciate the friendships that I have that are unconditional and loving, and just forget about the offense.

We are poised for a major transition and are very excited . . . and unsure about several things . . . which reminded me of when I was filling out scholarship forms, college applications, and deciding what I want to be when I *grow* up.

I'm tired. I *was* tired all the time as a senior in high school--school, jobs, church activities. The difference here is I don't have teenage resilience on my side or that feeling of invincibility. I know full well that a colicky baby can kick my butt.

Our car is falling apart piece by piece, right now it only has one "eye." Only my sisters can appreciate the similarities between that and our blue short-bed family van that I had the blessing of driving during high school. The van where the driver's side door would fling open while you were driving. The van that had windshield wipers that would come on at odd times (like when it was too cold) without any prompt from the driver. The van that Marmaduke the drug dog would bark at each time--well, at least it got me out of Physics.

One difference that I appreciate is that if my *boss* (the toddler) is unhappy, I can bribe him with Nemo. That wouldn't have worked with my boss, the principal, my teachers, or my parents.

I wonder if I used a diffuser and bought a can of Aquanet if I could reclaim a physical remnant of that time, too.

new tag: musings of the sleep deprived