Crazy Me

Mormon Fame

Cynthia, my newest blogging friend has tagged me. (How daring of her…she hasn’t been reading me long enough to know how I hate to be tagged … he he he)

Her tag rules (which are posted under my following list) say to write about 7 famous or infamous people you have met. Here is my list…Every one of these, except for the first three, are Mormon. (and 7-12 are only known in the Mormon world)

Speaking of which, have you ever checked out famousmormons.net ? I was so ecstatic to find out that Ricky Schroeder had joined the church. I absouletely LOVED him growing up. I mean I really thought that I would marry him when I got older. I guess I will have to settle for him being a brother in the gospel. 🙂

1. Dan Jansen (I met him at a Corporate Party. I went up to him and said, “Oh my goodness. I was so inspired when I saw you win that gold medal and take your victory lap with your son.” He said, “You mean my daughter?” (or it was the other way around…whatever I am an idiot!)
2. Ted Johnson (We went to High School together. I have always loved this guy. He is the one that broke the news to me that I had won my Sophomore Class President Election. He and I also spent some time together at the school’s weight room.) I just read this article and think it is a crying shame what he is going through. He was the nicest guy back in his day.
3. Scott Karl (We also went to High School together. He was a good friend to my brother. His little sister Stefani was my good friend. I had the hugest crush on him also, and determined to only call him by his first given name…Randall)
4. Steve Young (I have already blogged about my encounter with this guy.)
5. Ty Detmer (I got his autograph for my little brother David, when he and his wife came into The Malt Shoppe where I worked. I hated doing that because I really am not into bugging celebrities, but I knew it would mean a lot to my brother. The Malt Shoppe was totally empty that day…it was cold and rainy out. I waited until they were done eating to ask and went out to the dining room and took his poster off the wall. He was very sweet.)
6. Sterling Van Wagenen (I met him at the taping of The Work and The Glory. He was sweet and complimentary to Sophia’s performace. He said that he was very impressed and that she really was a natural)
7. Ardeth G. Kapp – I have linked to an amazing letter she wrote to the National Pornography Commission in New York City, on January 22, 1986. She was ahead of her time. (She was the president of the LDS General Young Women while I was a youth in the church [12-18] I eagerly adopted the Young Women Values and the Young Women Theme that she was instrumental in implementing. I met her later at a fireside in Huntsville UT while on my mission. I wrote her a letter and she wrote me back.)
8. Marlin K. Jensen (I was instrumental in teaching two separate friends of his while on my mission. He attended both baptisms and wrote a very nice letter to my mission president, complimenting my companion and I) I had served in his ward earlier on my mission and met him and his wife (they are both very sweet, but I absolutely love his wife [she is not mousy and is very smart and sweet] ….nerve wracking to give a talk in a ward where you know a General Authority is listening.
9. Elder Robert K. Dellenbach (I met him while on my mission)
10. Elder Robert E. Wells (I also met him while on a mission…he is the Father of Miss America Sharlene Wells)
11. Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf THIS MAN IS NOW AN APOSTLE OF THE LORD (I met him on my mission at The Missionary Training Center. I took the time to go and shake his hand because I had been really touched by his talk and loved that he mentioned serving in Utah on his own mission)
12. Elder Earl C. Tingey (I just met him a few months back when he set apart my father-in-law Duane Gold as a Counselor in the Kingsport TN Stake)

Honorable Mentions
13. Sophia Gold (She is our lovely daughter and she played Rachel in The Work and the Glory)
14. Ken Jennings (He is a distant relative of LeGrand – never met him – and he is only related by marriage – but, LG’s family is all very smart and Ken must have picked a prize winning intellectual wife from the Heiner side)

Here are the rules:-Link to the person who tagged you.-Leave a comment on their blog so that their readers can visit yours.-Post the rules on your blog.-Share the seven (7) most famous or infamous people you have met. Or go with the original 7 weird things about yourself.-Tag 7 random people at the end of your post.-Include links to their blogs.-Let each person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

I am not tagging anyone further for I don’t believe in adding pressure to any of the mothers that are linked on my site. If any of you would like to oblige, I would love to see what you can come up with.

So, does the fact that I can pull out this many famous people give me a right to be a famous Mormon blogger?!! he he

Conversation Pieces

LeGrand has repeatedly warned me that blogging about “the bedroom” is off limits and so I hope the following two funny conversations don’t cross the limits. If you are the kind of person who is afraid that you may not want to read further, please stop here. I don’t want to embarrass you or me. If you are even just 1% like me then I am sure I just peaked your curiosity and I know you will have to keep reading, even if you don’t know if you want to. If that is the case, I don’t mind if I embarrass you a little, just don’t tell me if I’ve offended you. I offend so many people in my life, and I just don’t need one more. Consider yourself warned.

LeGrand and I have been trying to get pregnant for 8 months now with no luck. We’ve never really had to work at it before and so we have gotten a little worried. As we were talking for the two minutes that we actually saw each other last night, LeGrand felt it necessary to share with me the infomercial that he had heard on the radio. I vaguely remember, as I was half asleep, but the commercial mentioned that there is a link to an enlarged prostate and fertilization. So, my memory was jogged about another short conversation that had occurred that I meant to blog about: (for your reading pleasure, here it is)

So, we were at LeGrand’s parents for Christmas and an interesting conversation took place that I thought was worth sharing. LeGrand’s little brother Logan started commenting that he needed to go and relieve his bladder in the bathroom. This small statement blew up into a huge thing. Jordan, the middle brother, starts telling Logan that he shouldn’t hold it for so long. “It’s not healthy.” Logan then says, “Yeah, when I hold it too long it almost starts to hurt.” So, this conversation is going on and on and it is almost making me uncomfortable re-sharing it here. (At the time it didn’t seem to be such a big deal) During the whole conversation, where even Faye and I added a few suggestions, LeGrand, the oldest brother, was sitting across the room at his laptop, totally oblivious. All of the sudden, LeGrand looks up and loudly exclaims, “Oh yeah, well I have an enlarged prostate.” What in the world? If you aren’t already laughing, then you have to imagine the look on the face of my usually quiet and subdued husband. The look was as if to say, “So, top that, you wimpy bladder brothers!” LeGrand swears that he was trying to warn Logan that he may have the beginning of prostrate problems, but I think he was just bragging.

And another funny conversation that is totally not related yet is in a round about way. (has to do with male body parts – again stop reading now if you are easily offended) This is a conversation that happened between my brothers and sisters and I about a year and half ago. I have wanted to share it for a long time ago but have never felt appropriate. (I am going to now lose the two new readers that I gained this week, but hey, this blog is for me anyway and I like writing about funny things)

We were at my sister Sarah’s house. She lives in Lincoln, CA, and her house became the gathering place when my Grandma Dorothy died. The funeral was in close by Sacramento. All seven of us siblings were together for the first time in 6 years. So, where did the conversation head? – The natural place of course, what name were we each teaching our own children for the male body part. I have all daughters and so of course I wasn’t as involved here. My brothers, who all have sons were really getting animated. The following names were mentioned: Pe Pe, We We, Tinkles, Wa Wa, and on and on. Who knew there were so many choices? I had put my two cents in towards the beginning of the conversation, “We just teach the girls the correct scientific terminology like the parenting books tell us to….penis is the only word we use.” You should have heard the roars of disapproval from the peanut gallery. This is what really got the conversation going.

Seriously, I didn’t know when it would ever end. We were talking about his for about ten minutes, and the brothers started making up new names that would be good to use. I couldn’t stand it another minute. How could I possibly stop the conversation? Like a pro, if you ask me, “At our house we just call it King Kong.” (LeGrand is going to kill me because it really isn’t true) Yes, I really hope that you are laughing. But, if you are offended or not, I have to say that it’s o.k. because at the time, my plan worked like a charm. Everyone laughed so hard that we finally had a lull long enough in the conversation to change the subject.

Right on Target

So, I had a short stint as a cashier at Target this year. Wow, was that enjoyable! If you ever need to be motivated to go back to college, just go and take a $7/hr job that deals with the public and retail during the holidays.

I have no idea why, but I have always had this dream of being a cashier ever since I was a little girl. I always loved to play grocery while growing up. I think I dreamed of being a cashier because it combines things that I love: meeting different people, working at a fast pace, pounding on a keyboard, and organizing (you can’t put the bacon in with the Tampax now, can you?) It only took two shifts for me to totally outlive my dream of being a cashier. Well, as LeGrand says, “It’s a good thing you got that cashier stint out of your system because I am on the virge of making the big bucks.” Time shall tell. When LG is a millionaire, I don’t think he will want a Target cashier for his trophy wife.

Well, anyhow, it is late and I am tired and I want to get to the funny part of my story. There were many things that happened funny at Target. I may remember all of them someday. There were also many unfunny things that happened to me at Target, like the day I left a customer in my checkout line with a quart of spilled chocolate milk. What person did I find to help me on my third day…the only person not working…the HR lady….what did she do….She exclaimed, “You left a spill, didn’t you watch that training video?” Oh, yeah, I vaguely remember that video that said to never leave a spill…but, if no one else is willing to help, how in the world will it ever get cleaned up unless you walk away and get some cleaning stuff? And, I had asked the customer to stay there and watch it. It was her own darn fault for handing the bottle to that darn toddler to chuck it down on the ground at least 5 times.

Well, you know I became the expert Target cashier because on my next to last shift when a woman urinated all over my checkout line, I didn’t move a muscle. I stood there like a statue and flipped my blinking light until my team lead came and took care of the situation (Yes, he took care of it alright – he told me, he would watch the spill while I ran to clean it up…yes, the joy of being management- another reason to go to college or work at Target for 10 years straight after getting your GED – And, he was quite helpful – he said, “You may want to get some Lysol off the shelf for this one”)

So, the short funny story. One evening, a woman came through. She was purchasing a bunch of “for kids only” stuff, including mylicon drops and detangling spray. Now, you know my goal in working at Target was to make sure everyone left with a smile. (not because Target told me to, just because I like to make people smile.) Now, if any guest left with a laugh, then I would be able to come home feeling really underpaid. (there is no feeling that can compare to being underpaid)

So, I strike up a conversation with this woman as I check her out. “Have you used this stuff before”, I ask as I chuck her mylicon drops in the bag. “I have three daughters and have never tried it.” She says, “Oh yeah, if you have three daughters you have to have it. You epecially need it with curly hair. You would not believe how much it helps.”

I say, “Really, curly hair, I have never heard that before. I have only heard that there is a link between babies with hair and a pregnant mother’s heartburn.” At which points she starts cracking up. I say, “I can’t believe that, children with curly hair have more gas than those with straight. That would explain why I have never needed those mylicon gas drops, all my girls have pretty straight hair. Who knew.” I keep going with, “Well, they did get some gas when they were really little; I wonder if that is when their hair was curlier.” She just laughs even harder, at which point she takes the bottle of Detangling Spray out of the bag. She says, “I thought you were asking me if I have used this stuff before, not the Mylicon drops.”

I am sure that my face turned a brighter shade of red then my beautiful Target polo. At which point, I started cracking up. I had no reason to be embarassed, she was loving this funny conversation. As a few other people around us started laughing too, my shirt immediately flushed back to it’s normal color, which is roughly the same shade of my Target khaki pants. Now, don’t you think that they should have given me a raise to at least $7.50/an hr. I made at least 6 people laugh that night, not to mention the skill of making my skin the same colors as my uniform.

Self Check OUT

I have searched high and low on the internet for a picture of self check-out in action. This picture was with an article found here.

I wanted a point of reference as I tell you one of my most HILARIOUS embarassing life experiences. This is a good one, I promise, you want to keep reading.

O.k., much has been said about self-check out. Everyone has their own opinion about whether or not self check out is a good thing for society. My opinion of self checkout should have changed after my experience yesterday, but I have to admit that I will still be a frequent user of self check-out. I LOVE it.

I am addicted to self check-out. In fact, I HATE it when the workers who oversee the self checkout kiosks try to get too involved with my check out process. There is this one elderly employee at Wal-Mart that will stand by my side the whole time giving me tips, telling me how to unload my shopping cart, and what the codes are on the produce, and so forth. I want to shout at her, “Would you let me be? I am in the self checkout because I don’t want to deal with people like you!” I guess she just doesn’t understand that I am completely capable of scanning bar codes and swiping my own debit card. What she really doesn’t get is the sheer joy I feel when “pretending” that I am the cashier(a job I always wanted to have as a child). “AND I REALLY WANT TO DO IT BY MYSELF…o.k. grandma!”

Well, there is my take on self checkout. Now let me tell you of my experience at Wal-Mart yesterday. [Don’t you think I should start to tally how many times I write about Wal-Mart.] I guess it is a funny place. Let me tell you what, you would have been laughing hysterically if you were anywhere near me at Wal-Mart yesterday. I literally CHECKED MYSELF OUT!

Well, a friend offered to take my children for me so that I could do some heavy duty shopping. Bless her heart, there is NOTHING more painful than doing heavy duty shopping with three children under 6, unless you want to add more children to the scenario. I was in a HUGE hurry. Abigail started first grade today, and yesterday from 3-4 p.m. was the “meet the teacher” day. I dropped the kids off at one and vowed to be back by two; this would give me just enough time to get the groceries home, clean Abigail up, and drop Phia and Bella off at the other babysitter. I knew I would have to hurry. One hour is just not enough time to do heavy duty “I have nothing in the house” shopping.

So, of course, I found the time to be 2:05 and I hadn’t even had a chance to navigate through the frozen food aisles. I made a mental note to do the frozen stuff later and hurried my way to the self-checkout, knowing that I had to make it real fast if I was going to get to the school by 3. O.k., so here is the crazy part:

I was unloading one shopping cart, checking items out, and loading them all into an empty shopping cart on the other side. I was crusing! I got my six gallons of milk scanned and set in the bottom portion of shopping cart #2. I then, proceeded on to my 12 pack of diet caffeine free dr. pepper. As I came back up (still, in a rushed mode, remember) I went to quickly grab the next item from my original shopping cart. Except my aim was WAY off. I slammed the top front part of my head against the corner of the scanning device. I heard a loud POP sound, and couldn’t believe that I had slammed my head that hard in front of all those people. How embarassing. Little did I know that the slamming noise was the least of my worries.

I stood upright and brought my hand to my head, just hoping that I wouldn’t find blood. I am unsure of what happened first, me feeling blood trickle down my face, or looking at my hand full of blood. I got dizzy and sat down on the “bagging” section of the self checkout. Thankfully there were no groceries there, leaving me a perfect little recovery bench. I am also thankful that the weighing device didn’t shout out “weight not found” or “get off the scale”. I sat there, put my head down, and held pressure on my bleeding head. How mortifying! There was blood all over my hair and face, the floor, my hand, and arm.

An older Tennessee native (who was missing most of her teeth) was walking by with her grandchildren right as all of this conspired. Normally, she would not be the kind of person that I might associate with, but yesterday before she left, I gave her a huge hug and told her, “Thank the Lord for Mothers!” She stepped right into action, grabbed a travel size kleenex off of the shelf and started handing them over. At one point she held them on my head for me. What a woman. She didn’t know me or my blood history at all. In fact during the confusion I did promise her that my blood was clean. I probably stressed her out, as I am the kind of paranoid person that worries about blood diseases and so forth and she probably hadn’t even thought of it.

Finally, the Wal-Mart workers became aware of what was going on. The first one on the scene questioned my new older friend, “What happened?” I shouted out, “She beat me up!” You gotta make light of the situation, right? How else does a person survive such an embarassment? Everyone had a good laugh and more and more Wal-Mart workers came out of the woodwork. (Why is that when you need a worker you can never find one? And, if you ever need customer service, you have to stand in a line for at least 15 minutes?…….Because ALL Wal-Mart workers feel the need to respond to a little emergency like a lady bleeding all over their floor in self checkout) One of the workers commented to the other, “She is bleeding like a stuck pig.” I don’t know if she was looking at the scale that I was sitting on or if she was trying to make any reference to my weight, but golly, do you think that was what I needed to hear at this horrific moment? Like everyone couldn’t see the blood for themselves!

So, I started to regain consciousness, and threw out a request to my Wal-Mart fan club….”Can someone please get the Wipees from my purse?” (a good mom always has the wipees within arms reach) I started wiping off my head and hands and at this moment, the nicest worker, who happened to look a little like my husband, said, “Oh, here, sweetie, let me clean up your eyes.” I closed them so that he could take care of me, unlike the rest of the staff who just stood around staring in awe. Someone did bring me some ice which was really nice. Then, the short little manager (you know he is a manager because he wears a red vest) asked me if he could take a statement. The nice guy that looked like my husband proceeded to check out the rest of my cart (or buggy as they call it here in TN). I stood up and proclaimed to the crowd of 8 that I would not sue Wal-Mart. It was totally my own clumsy fault. The short man said it was protocol to have me sign something.

I said, “Can you make it quick? I have to go and meet my daughter’s teacher right now.” This brought a roar of laughter. I guess I looked pretty awful and holding that bag of ice on my head didn’t help the situation. I then got a stroke of genius. I said to the crowd, “Come to think of it, maybe I could get Wal-Mart to pay my husband’s way through LAW school.” Everyone laughed and the short serious manager replied with a worried tone, “Your husband isn’t really in law school, is he?” I loved to get his goat and said, “Yes he is, and maybe I should call him before I sign anything.” He tried to play it off like he wasn’t worried, but what he was probably thinking about was the little sign that they keep in the break room that will now proclaim 0 days since an accident on the sales floor. I laughed and told him I was kidding, and reasurred him that I wasn’t going to sue. He informed me that I had only 24 hours to let Wal-Mart know if I was in need of anything.

I then tried to awkwardly push my VERY heavy shopping cart out of the store while holding a bag of ice on my head. I smiled to myself because I was on my way, and maybe would even make it to meet the teacher on time. And, I had to laugh at myself. How many people on the internet have a self checkout story that even compares to mine? I survived checking MYSELF out at Wal-Mart. (and I am not talking about in the dressing room mirror) I can never show my face there again, but hey, I survived.

Sleeping arrangements

This is a photo from a room at The Gettysburg’s Battlefield Bed and Breakfast Doesn’t that sound like a fun place to go?
Well, the only vacation we will be taking any time soon is to Panama City, FL to see my new little nephew. My father-in-law booked all of us hotel rooms at a Days Inn down there. My mother-in-law informed me that he booked us a room with two double beds instead of the King. He was thinking of the kids of course, but either way they will end up on the floor because LG and I really cannot sleep in a double bed together. Anyone else out there understand that notion? Why do hotels even THINK about putting in double beds? We are in America in the 21st Century. People are fatter. We need bigger plane seats and bigger beds, not only at home, but at hotels too. Man, I cannot wait to have a Master Bedroom big enough someday, so that I can finally own a California King.
Well, the reason for the picture above is to take us on a trip back to the days when couples really and actually slept in seperate beds. Some nights I would be the first to agree that this wasn’t such a bad idea. Well, yesterday in church, I had reason to believe that some parents out there teach their children that this is the only way to be chaste.
As you know, I teach the kids music. I taught a song about The Holy Ghost. I started with an object lesson, comparing my daughter’s favorite well-used blanket as a COMFORTER and the Holy Ghost also as a COMFORTER. I asked the kids that like to sleep with a blanket to raise their hands. Of course the children started spitting out what they like to cuddle up to. After listening to their responses I asked them,”Do you know what Sister Gold likes to sleep with at night?” After no answers and all eyes on me, I replied, “Brother Gold.” Well, all of the teachers rolled laughing, and some of the kids chuckled. I can be so INAPPROPRIATE!
Well, the best response came from little Rebecca. “Sister Gold, that’s pornography!”
Could you just die laughing? I told her it wasn’t pornography and questioned whether her mom and dad slept in the same bed. She said, “Yes.” and after breathing a sigh of relief, I quickly changed the subject.
Moral of the story: If you sleep in the same bed as your spouse, you have no morals!

The WORK and the Glory

We spent a good proportion of May involoved with the filming of The Work and the Glory. Sophia has a short stint in the second film. She plays the three-year-old Rachel. I was such a good stage mom! We are looking forward to the film coming out in theatres. You will have to look for one in your area. With the first film it only played in a limited amount of theatres nationwide. The film is available now on DVD. I recommend it and the books by Gerald Lund.

Because Sophia was considered a “principal” actor when we were on set; they rolled out the carpets for us, as is tradition in the “acting” world. No wonder why they all have such big egos…the industry puts the actors on this awful pedestal. Although, I must say that most of the actors that we came into contact with were very down to earth and nice, especially to Sophia.

Well, as you can see, Sophia had her own trailer. Isn’t she so special? When we got home from our first day on set, Sophia and I relayed all of the details to LG and Abigail and Bella. We especially made a big deal about her trailer. Abigail got a little jealous of the attention that Sophia was getting. I called the casting director and asked if Abigail could come on as an extra one day. Cookie was really helpful towards my sibling rivalry situation and booked us in for a day.

So, a few days later, Abigail and drove up the road 30 miles to The Museum of Appalachia where they were filming The Work and the Glory II. As we drove up and saw all of the trailers (wardrobe, hair, make-up) Abigail turned to me and said in all seriousness, “Where is my trailer”? She was in for a rude awakening as we stood in the “cattle call” lines all day with the rest of the thirty or so extras. Many crew members got a few laughs as I sarcastically inquired where Abigail’s trailer was.

Abigail and I played as “extras” in a few horrendous scenes. Abigail absolutley detested the whole day and told me that she did not like acting at all. I couldn’t blame her. I hated dragging her around to play “pretend” all day. It was 80+ degrees outside and we were filming a winter scene where we had to run up and down a hill multiple times. We had to wear Pioneer petticoats, bonnets, dresses, tights, uncomfortable “issued” shoes, PLUS, winter coats and shawls. We were running after a horse, and the last time we had to ditch the poop that he had deposited just minutes before, ruining the 14th take. By the end of the 15 takes I was saying, “Where is my trailer”? Oh, the things we do for our children.

At the end of the day, Shay, the assistant casting director invited us for another day of filming; I couldn’t even seem to find any tact.(surprise, surprise!) When Shay said, “Could you come back on Tuesday?” I answered with a very loud, “NOOOOoooooo.” followed by a much too soft, “thank you!”

London Bridge

Our prayers to the victims of terrorism in the wonderful city of London. Here is a poem I wrote after 9/11. It showcases my feelings toward terrorism.

Choose to Live

I will choose the faith, not the threatening fear.
Observe the children at play and not their danger.
I will hear the laughter, not see the tear.
The love of a friend, not the threat of a stranger.

Life is not lived if we choose to retreat.
If all we see is wrong then we have failed our test.
Let us not all give up, stay home, be beat.
Choose to live and give and take from life the best.

Now, if that hasn’t done enough to inspire you, here is a quick funny story.

About a month ago, we went over to the home of some friends, who had also invited a woman over who is a new member of our church. She is a single mom to a 6 year old son. At one point all of the children were engaged in the timeless game of “London Bridge”. As I assisted the 6 year old boy and my 6 year old daughter, I made a terrible Freudian slip…..”Take the key and knock her up.” I swear I need to staple my lips together!!!

For you die hard fans….Yes, I am going to still try and get on here once in while. Sorry, I got really burned out….keep watching…I could surprise you.

Feeding Time

Oh no….the bottle is propped!

A short while back, a friend and I were at Chik-fil-A for an evening out. Once in a while, when our law student hubbies are too busy to eat at home, we will go enjoy ourselves while the kids play. Chick-fil-a is where the responsible moms eat. The food is relatively healthy and the playland is safe, but most of all, it is CLEAN.

My friend and I were delightfully surprised when three other women from our church walked in. These women consisted of a single 19 year old, a pregnant 22 year old, and a 25 year old new mother. The new mother had the baby with her. We all delightfully exchanged hellos and chatted about the weather and other trivial girl things (like where the best places are to shop).

I was obviouslly the most experienced mother in the bunch. After I gathered up my three little monkies, I overheard a disturbing conversation. It went something like this:

“Do you know that girl that just had the baby?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t believe her…her baby was only three weeks old and she had her bottle propped.”

For those of you that don’t know what bottle propping is, see the picture above. The picture shows my FIRST child, Abigail, at 9 months old, enjoying her bottle, even when it was propped.

Now, you may not see the humor in this story, but I found the judgemental comment hilarious. The reason: the woman that “propped” her child, was not a FIRST time mom. The infant that had the bottle propped was her second child. All of these other women in my company: first time moms. They had no idea how many times I have propped a kid with a bottle. (Trust me, it gets more common with the more children that you have)

So, I butted my way into the conversation with,”Don’t talk to me about that, I am a firm believer in propping.” I swear you would have paid money to see the shock in their faces. One chimed up,”Oh, but not when they are so little.” I said, “I don’t know about that. Why does it matter, they are getting fed?”

The responses: “They can choke.” “All the magazines say.” “It is my bonding time.” “They need to look you in the face, it helps their development.”

At this point, I zipped my lips. (I know, it’s a rare occasion.) What I wanted to say is this,”My FIRST child was propped all of the time, and I will bet money on the fact that she will be SMARTER than any of your children. She never choked. We still bonded. And, the people who write the magazines DO NOT HAVE CHILDREN. If they had children, than they would know that you can’t write a magazine telling other people how to parent. Every single child I have ever met has different preferences. Two of my kids were happier to be propped. Come and talk to me when you get a few more kids.”

And by the way, I had a bottle until I was seven, and according to the magazines, I would be a woman with screwed up teeth and a speech impedement. Well, my only speech impedement is I usually don’t know when to keep my mouth shut. And trust me when I say, I never had braces and my teeth are just fine. Maybe if I still had a bottle I would be more succesful with keeping my mouth shut!

Mother Hen

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Poltergeist

It seems that I have blogged a lot about my dad, but I have yet to tell you about my mom. Both of my parents made for my interesting upbringing. I have been to many therapy sessions and talked about my family, but writing this blog has been the best therapy yet. I have found myself laughing about my family, instead of blaming them for my issues. Yes, we were unorthodox and disfunctional, but as I write, I realize that we had some really good times, and I was taught one very good coping technique: laughter.

My mom provided many of the good times. When I was younger my mom was the life of the neighborhood. We must have gone through a box of sandwich bags every day of the summer. She would keep us busy for hours filling them up and throwing them at the neighbor kids. Why didn’t we use water balloons? I don’t know. Probably because sandwich bags were always on hand. Sandwich bags were also much easier to fill….dump them in a bucket of water and Wala…full to the rim.

I have many stories about my mom. My mom’s most apparent feature is that she considers herself to be every child’s mom. She has no qualm about laying a lecture down any time any where. She was always the one cheering the loudest in the stands at the sporitng events. Were those cheers for us kids? Yes. Of course. But, they were also for our coaches, “Good job coach.”, our other teammates, “Way to go Monica.”, the umpire, “Nice call ref.”, and last but definitely not least, the other team, “Good playing Oceanside, you are on your mark today.” I am sure that you could also hear my mom cheering on all the fans in the stands, rallying them up, “Let’s go parents, let’s go.”

When I was in 6th grade, I had finally almost recovered from the 4th grade situation. Then, my teacher chose to show Poltergeist. I, being the sensitive child that I was, as well as sheltered and naive, couldn’t sleep for weeks after viewing the movie at school. I was scared out of my pants. I had nightmare after nightmare. My mom was getting sick of me coming into her room and waking her and my dad up. She started to grill me for details. I never wanted to give them up because I knew exactly how my mom would react.

My brothers, on the other hand, knew exaclty what I was afraid of. By some freaky coincidence, during the same time period, my sister and I had this porcelain clown in our room. I couldn’t even look at it after watching Poltergeist. I was terrified that it would come to life and harm me. At nights, I would gather up every bit of courage that I had, grab the clown, smothering it in my pillow, and as quickly as possible I would deposit it somewhere else in the house, usually in one of my brother’s rooms. I would run back and close the door behind me, feeling mighty accomplished that the clown would not be able to harm me, just my brothers.

Well, after a little while, my brothers figured out what I was doing. They loved to sneak back in our room and leave the clown next to my bed. In the middle of the night, after one of my nightmares, I would wake up to a real nightmare next to my bed.

After weeks of this torture, I finally gave in and told my mom what we had seen at school. She reacted just as I thought that she would, but I was so down-trodden by this point, I didn’t care. First, my mom, gave me a lecture about how I should have told the teacher that I wasn’t allowed to watch movies of that nature. Second, she tried to give me the pep talk that it wasn’t real and it was nothing to be afraid of. Third, she got rid of the clown. And, fourth, she marched down to that school’s principal’s office and gave her a piece of her mind.

Well, of course, the teacher was in trouble. She had to apologize to the class and the parents. A few of the other children got in trouble with their parents. The class then came after me….they knew exactly whose mom had made the stink. Mother Hen of course….she wanted to protect all the children in the 6th grade from that filthy trash of a show. What my mom did or didn’t realize is that she had succeeded at making me an outcast for another year of my life. She did the right thing, but I can only say that because now I am also a Mother Hen. I have to say that if I am ever faced with the same situation, I will want to do the same thing, but I probably won’t just because of the scars that I still carry from the 6th grade.

Man in Uniform

My favorite D.A.R.E. Officer

There is something about a man in a uniform. The uniform seems to have magical powers that make any girl go weak in the knees. That is unless the uniform is a bit too tight.

This is Officer Kowalski. He was on the Carlsbad City Police Force back in 1991. For all I know, he could still be there. I am sure that if anyone there gets a hold of this entry, life could get a little interesting for him.

When I was a Senior in High School I had a MASSIVE crush on this favorite local Mr. Friendly. The picture above is from the morning of my graduation. I am sure I was thinking how bummed I would be because I wouldn’t see him any more. The summer after graduation, I used to drive crazy on purpose hoping that I would be pulled over by Officer K, so that he would finally have an opportunity to profess his undying love for me.

Well, there is a funny story about Officer Kowalski and it goes something like this. One day, I was in Health Class and my teacher asked me to help Officer Kowalski carry some things in from his patrol car. He had boxes of drug paraphernalia that he needed for the presentation that he was to give our class.

He walked ahead of me on the way out to the car and I watched his backside the whole way. He was so fine! He popped the trunk and bent over to get one of the two boxes out. I stood back and watched only to have one very delightful surprise…..his back seam split right open. The noise was something like this: RIIIIIIPPPPPP. Now, a lady would have kept her hysteria to herself…I guess I am not a lady. I laughed hard out LOUD.

Now, remember the poor guy was responsible to give my class a presentation for the next 30 minutes. He turned and handed me the box, and said,”What is so funny?” I was startled that he was trying to play it off. I said,”Nothin.”

We walked back into the classroom and he strategically kept his backside to the outside walls. I was forced to try and keep a straight face during his whole presentation. I wasn’t always successful. I am sure everyone else was thinking what in the world is so funny about marijauna and drug needles. For all I know, they thought that I was a drugee.

Officer Kowalski, on the other hand, knew exactly what was so funny.