Can I have some?

welcome to my blog.

a place to post. a place to eat oreos. a place to vent. a place to heal.

i started this blog so i could use a different outlet besides munching on fattening oreos. as if that has done any good... *mind wanders to oreo package in the house...*

then i realized that oreos can be semi symbolic. if you are are that crazy about oreos that is. which... i am.

eating oreos is therapeutic for me. when i am struggling or when i need a pick me up. they have chocolate. and sugar. both of which help lift my mood. not to mention that i eat them soaked with milk, which is my miracle drink.

i post my posts to not only get stuff out. there may be people who read my blog who have been in the same kind of situations as i have. i hope reading them and knowing that others have gone through things like i have, will be to you what eating oreos does to me.

and yes. i didn't capitalize anything in here. i just felt like it. deal with it.

munch up.

Sunday, July 31, 2011

How should I say this....

I feel... odd. I really don't know if words can describe it, but I guess I'll try. That's what my blog is for, right?

Something is off somehow. It's like I feel there is a word on the tip of my tongue. But a word isn't something that is about to be found. I feel almost as if something wants to explode out of me. Maybe a story, maybe a picture... I don't know what, but I think it is something that wishes to formulate itself through a craft. I'm like a volcano that is on the verge of exploding, but instead of shooting out burning hot lava that will destroy everything in its path, it will be appearing as something creative. I have many crafts up my sleeve. Many of them I learned from my amazing mother.

I have been boiling inside for many years. Trapped in a cage, boiling slowly. A slight simmer. Lately the fire has turned up, and the boil got fiercer. I don't really know what it is, though I have a guess. I have no idea how close I am, or how far off I am. And I don't even know how to deal with this. I have never felt like this before.

If you read this, I'm sorry. I'm sorry my thoughts are so confusing right now. Maybe I hope for this to be the creative outlet. Or maybe I'm drilling a hole in the volcano to let out some of the pressure, but not all of it. After all, I don't want to hurt him either.

I'm sorry for the way that I am. But I fear, that this thing... this thing cannot be changed no matter how hard I try. I may just be trapped in this cage until I die, quietly and slowly letting steam escape, holding in the creative lava.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

At least he didn't freak out.

He might have gotten a heart attack. I mean he IS getting up there in age...

Okay, just kidding.

We didn't do much for Pro Boxer's birthday. I have decided that I am horrible at planning. Or I have just given up. It seems every time I do try to plan something it falls through. Whatever the case, my horribleness or lack of motivation or whatever it is, I just don't plan things anymore.

Anyway... I decided to make a recipe that my aunt who has lived in Sweden for..... a good portion of my life. Raspberry torte. I have no idea if I am spelling it right. Everything went along smoothly, and I amazed myself that I was able to keep the kitchen in decent order, AND do pretty well at a recipe that I hadn't ever made before. After the cakes came out at the perfect time, no crumbs clinging to the toothpick, I should have known it was too good to be true. (please keep in mind that I hardly ever, EVER make cakes from scratch... disclaimer is over)

I tried to get the first cake out of the pan so it could cool. It wouldn't come. Side note: don't ever try to force a cake out of the pan when it doesn't want to come. Breakage will happen. Yes, it fell apart. The good kind of fall apart though... it was a completely done cake as was evident. Good thing that was the bottom part, eh? Either that or it just volunteered itself for the job. Whatever. I am good at puzzles and patchwork (at least in regard to food) so i just kind of force it to resemble a possible cake like shape. You with me? The second cake I decide that it might be a good idea to slide a knife through the sides so that it can come out easier. Thankfully it did.

I must put in here, I was so proud of myself being able to get both the raspberries sugared and mixed, the best ones being set aside for the top, AND all the dishes washed before the cakes were finished. I can't believe it, even now.

The whipped cream. Is. The 'frosting'. My mom taught me a while ago how to homewhip cream. I find that I am rather good at it, once I remember the process. Well, as I have never made this before, and haven't ever known how much whipped cream it would take to frost a whole layered cake, sides and all..... I poured the whole thing of cream (you know... the big one) into the bowl, assuming that the bowl would be able to handle it. After all... it was the only metal bowl that we had for me to freeze. (My grandma did it, my mom did it, only until she found out that her mom only did it because she made whipped cream out of canned milk. Who knew? Anyway, Pro Boxer had tried whipping shelf cream, and it didn't turn out well... possibly because it was still warm and he didn't use the chilled bowl or beaters? I was worried about the time the cream spent out of doors waiting for the bus to bring us back home so that is why I used the frozen things.)

So. Despite my amazing *slight cough on fingertips* whipped cream abilities, I always tend to forget how much it GROWS when you whip it. The bowl I had just barely made it. And by the time I had enough sugar in the mixture, I had whipped it enough where it was almost butter. So... I had some almost butter/over beat whipped cream to spread. And a LOT of it. I didn't even use a fourth of it... Maybe an eighth... We'll have to have lots of things with whipped cream on it in the next little while... Maybe we can make more Frog eye salad...

Anyway, the moment you all are waiting for. The picture unveiling... Dun dun du da!

It's a heart. If you can tell... Well... it's a heart within a heart. And six unneeded raspberries.
I have also never made a layered cake before.
Bug's opinion:
Goof Ball's opinion:
Our opinion:
It turns out that Goof Ball doesn't particularly enjoy the taste of raspberries. But he ate the whole thing, sans raspberries. He'll just have to grow accustomed to the taste. ^_^

To be frankfully honest, I can't really remember the taste of my aunt's torte when she made it for my mom on her birthday this year. It was too many months ago. But this tasted close enough to it that I loved it just as much.

Another fun side note: Pro Boxer had apparently thought of asking me to make this for him, but he never did because he thought it was too much work for me. He is much more selfless than I. I guess I was on the right path when I decided to bus the kids to the store to get the raspberries and cream. Hurray for snap decisions! ^_^

Monday, July 25, 2011

Wooden Roller-coasters

The first full week of this month, we had two family reunions. The first one was at a campsite near a big lake. A very big lake. Here is one of the pics taken from said campsite:
Sorry if it is small. For a pic taken from my phone and when I was slightly swinging from being in my hammok swing... thing.... I think it is a pretty darn good pic. I took others like it, but I only sent this one to my e-mail address from my phone right away. I am too lazy to look for others. Trust me, they are very like the same. Bug was in a mood to pose. It was very cute, as you can see.

Then I think on Thursday we went down south to spend the rest of the weekend with Pro Boxer's family. It was nice. We went to a cave. I had to be sprayed down and "disinfected" as well as Bug as we both had been in a cave near the great big lake and there was some bat disease going on. I seriously debated just not going as most of my clothes I had worn in the previous cave. I'm glad I did anyway. And.... not so glad. The hike to the cave was... very long. And uphill the whole way. Bug was a trooper and made it all the way to the top by himself. I didn't get carried either. However, by the time I got to the bottom after we toured the cave (which stopped my complaint that all caves are all the same anyway, and why in the heck am I being sprayed with Lysol??) my lungs were really.... really not feeling well. I was panting almost the entire way back to the campsite, and felt worse there than I did right after we got in the car. I spent the rest of the afternoon in the car panting and trying to relax so my lungs could relax as well. It was quite disconcerting to be in such a situation and also be such a long drive away from a hospital as we were pretty much in the furthest campsite that the canyon could offer.


Then onto the next weekend, Pro Boxer's family had yet another reunion. This time including his grandparents and cousins. Hence we went even further down south. Also after having two throw up moments in our car already in July. Our kids seem to take after both of us... which is a problem. Bug can *ahem* in a bowl, but Goof Ball isn't quite as talented as that.

The main excursion this family reunion was visiting the famous "Hole in the Rock" near another lake.

I feel to preface this with a story that has already (maybe) been posted. I can't remember. In any case, the July 4th reunions bring to light a different thing to remember. Pro Boxer and I got married June 25th (6 years ago of course). Exactly a week later, his family had gathered together to celebrate the 4th. His family is big into 4wheeling. Yes, you guessed it, Pro Boxer and I crashed. Quite epically in fact. We went up too steep a hill and the upper wheels went up and the whole thing rolled over us only once and we stayed on the ground as the 4wheeler rolled the rest of the way down. Thank the Holy Ghost for alerting practically all of Pro Boxer's family to look out the back window of the house they were in right at the time we rolled. I don't know how else we would have gotten off the mountain.

Whatever the case, we both survived, and neither of us had to even visit the hospital (though we both got adjusted by Pro Boxer's bro-in-law for free... he is nice and does things like that even if we aren't in an accident). We were exceptionally blessed. That doesn't even cover it.

Since then however, I have been practically terrified of steep hills. Even on paved roads. This "Hole in the Rock" is not just on a bumpy dirt road. It is on a 4wheeler worthy bumpy dirt road. In fact, in the middle of the drive the whole entourage stopped, and parked their cars somewhere so they could drive the rest of the way on 4wheelers. Sure our little CR-V was "built for things like this," but that didn't make me any less worried. I was terrified. To the point of hyperventilating. The road started off paved, but that ended quickly, and turned into the washboard road. That went on for a while, and then came the hills. Even the smaller ones terrified me because I saw in them all the big rocks and other things that might trip us up. Stupid irrational fears. Though, these ones maybe not have been all that irrational. Whatever the case, I was still terrified, and nothing that Pro Boxer could say would change that. It took all my courage to get back in the car to leave after we ate at the Hole.

And then I came up with a brilliant metaphor. Driving on those blasted bumpy roads, steep hills, and the way Pro Boxer, accelerated to get up said stupid hills, was very like a wooden roller-coaster. The car shuddered probably more than the carts on a roller-coaster would, but other than that, it was very like a wooden roller-coaster.

The rest of the trip back to blessed pavement consisted of me smiling every time we came to those dreaded hills.

And my kids! They slept most of the way anyway!! Grr... though I am glad that they didn't get nervous like I did. It still infuriated me. It was nice they slept though cause it might have prevented the throw up. Sadly it didn't work quite the way it was supposed to. Goof Ball threw up before we got back to grandma great's house.

And now that the month is almost over, I suddenly remember that I love the smell of fireworks and haven't been to a single show. *sigh...

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Traveling worlds

I have never been good at self discipline. It is that very reason why I don't practice my trumpet even though I know it to be good for my lungs. It is also because I take for granted the talent I was born with, the trumpet. Though I understand that I could become even more amazing (I flatter myself...) if I practice, I just don't. I have never been good at keeping goals, sticking to an exercise routine, and I haven't even tried to stick to a diet. I just know that I would fail.

Sometimes I feel like I have been spoiled all my life. Sure I'm a younger kid in the line, and supposedly, the younger ones get a bit more spoiled than the older ones. Not that I particularly feel like my parents gave me special treatment or anything. They did their best to prepare me for living in a world without them. It isn't their fault that I ignored (or at least tried to) everything they tried to teach me because I was lazy then and took everything for granted. I mean I literally took everything for granted.

I love reading. I love the experience I get from jumping into a world and living a life so different than my own. I love writing in my own world that flys to my fingertips when I sit at a computer and type. In fact, I love the joy and exhilaration of doing such things so much that it frustrates me when I get pulled away from them. When I have to wake up and live my own life. Wake up, Shay. Wake up and change the laundry, wash dishes, and clean up messes from three boys plus yourself.

I just don't have the self discipline to do such things. So I let the world around me go to waste as I live the world inside of the book that I am reading/writing whatever the case. When I am forced from that world I experience in my mind, as I said, I get frustrated and sometimes feel unruly anger fill me directed at my kids (as they are the most common distraction). Meals become drudgery and I can't wait until I can get back into the book. I stay awake for hours and hours (last night I didn't go to sleep until 2) without feeling tired, for I am living in a different world.

When I get to the end of a series or story I feel empty inside and long to dive into a new one. You wouldn't believe how many mangas I am following right now, waiting for one more chapter, just one more chapter. Some stories influence me so much that I sometimes feel like I am living in that world even when the book isn't in front of me. I find myself thinking things that the characters would think. My dreams become overruled by the stories.

Maybe there is something wrong with my brain.

Every once in a while I start thinking and wondering to myself. I wonder why I can't stop reading to take care of my house/family. Is this some sort of addiction? Am I just trying to avoid feeling something that I am not consciously aware that I am avoiding? I have already learned that when I begin to feel numb, I turn to books to try to erase the existence of 'Shay.' So what is it? How possible is it that everything I read is so good that I get lost inside the story, so lost in fact that I don't even want to return?

With all these doubts and thoughts, it is inevitable then that I start to question my worth as a wife, a mother, a person. If all my actions are pointing to wanting to disappear into books, then wouldn't it just be easier to believe that that is all I am worth?

I feel like I'm rambling. Very possible and understandable (in my opinion and as this is my blog, you get to read my opinion... I pity you...)

I don't know what to do with myself. I know there are lots of responsibilities at being home owners that I am neglecting. There are things that I should be doing even if we were living in apartments. Laundry. Dishes. The 'everyday.' I feel like I am in a slump that I can't get out of. Reading, writing, causing myself to disappear and lose track of time... it really is like being part of a story. You know those dimension traveling novels/series where the time travels differently? Narnia for example. When I read or even work on my own story, that actually happens. Time travels faster in this world where you all live, and all of the sudden the spell breaks and I look at the clock to realize that it is 2 in the afternoon and I hadn't even fed the kids lunch. (what about your hunger pains, Shay? - I don't have them. End of story.)

Is this normal? Am I going insane? Should I try harder to not get sucked into the black hole of books so that I can face the thing I may or may not be trying to avoid?

When I start questioning these sorts of things, my self worth, what little of it there was, disappears and the only thing I can do to live is to bury myself inside the stories of others once again.

Why does everything have to be an endless cycle of doom?

Saturday, July 16, 2011

2 weeks and 3 reunions later...

I am very tired. And ready to be in my own house. We are all sick of our wonderful car who kept us from dying on a 50 mile+ dirt (ATV worthy) road. There were a total of 3 throw ups within our crazy expeditions, two we had to clean up as they were from Goof Ball, and Bug is old enough to know when he is going to puke, and we have been accustomed to keeping a puke bucket in the car. One of the throw ups was in our new car seat.

Course, all these things could be their own post, but I will try to narrow them down within the three different reunions. I am currently too tired to do more than this quick summary.

I will update you all when I find the energy. Which may be a month from now... ^_^

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Lazy Laundry Day

Truth be told, I should have worked on laundry yesterday. Somehow though, 5 o'clock came out of no where and Pro Boxer was making dinner (probably cause I didn't realize how late it had gotten).

I went to bed late last night. Around 1. I suppose one would call that this morning, but I don't consider it the next day until the sun starts to rise. Well, my usual thing is until I wake up again, but the sun rising boarder works better for all-nighters. Which I don't do these days. Unless of course I run across a really good manga or something and just can't stop reading... It was like that a few weeks ago when I was reading a book by Brandon Sanderson, The Way of Kings... I just couldn't stop reading some nights and I would lay in bed reading until near 4.

Ah... anyway, this morning I woke up and just didn't want to get out of bed. For obvious reasons, one of which going to sleep around 1:30 or so. But there was more than that... I hate not knowing why I don't feel good. Right now, I feel a little headachey, but more than that, I feel dizzy sometimes and nauseated others. Maybe one causes the other? Maybe the headache causes the dizziness which causes the nausea? I didn't truly begin to feel nauseated in my bed until I sat up for a bit. Whatever the case, my headache isn't like normal ones for me. In fact, probably due in part because of my other uncomfortable feelings, I hardly notice my headache. Most times these days when I have a headache, I know it. And so does everyone else in the house.

And so... I have decided to try to take it easy today. The house is a disaster area, I am still in pjs, but... laundry must be done. So laundry is the one and only thing that I will force myself to do. I may try to catch up a bit on the overflowing dishes, but don't count on it.

Also, last week was spent entirely camping. I will try to remember to post the happenings soon, but if I forget, please remind me. I really do have some thoughts to discuss about them... but my brain is swimming in dizzy soup right now, and I can't really think properly to do so currently. Or maybe the dizzy soup will cause me to be more creative... I haven't quite figured myself out yet.

Look forward to it?

Saturday, July 2, 2011

Of snakes and snails and puppy dog tails. And red blood.

My afternoon was tiring. We were out shopping pretty much all afternoon. We had a late dinner around 8ish (Kraft mac n' cheese ftw?) and after that I started to get a bit overwhelmed by the idea that I had to do the first step of making Frog Eye Salad because it needs to be refrigerated overnight. Granted, I could have easily done it tomorrow, but I was set on getting the hard part over with and done tonight.

While washing dishes, I realized that we needed to bathe the kids tonight too and with Pro Boxer having to go back to the store (why is it that when we are already so freaking busy, we forget things at the store???), and having to plan our lesson for primary tomorrow, I was certain that we wouldn't be able to get everything done. Pro Boxer got the water running and bathed the kids under the idea that he could go to the store while I started making the Frog Eye Salad and the kids played in the tub.

At one point of making the sauce for the Frog Eye Salad, I have to stay at the stove and stir. At said point, Bug comes running out of the bathroom, stark naked and announces that he is done with the bath. I tell him to get dressed then. While Bug is downstairs getting his underpants, Goof Ball started crying. I assumed it was just because Bug wasn't with him anymore. They are brothers, and as such get on each other's nerves frequently... but they are also best buds. So, still glued to the stove as I was, I holler down to Bug to come back up and keep Goof Ball happy. Bug does, only with underpants on. After a few seconds of Bug going back to the bathroom, he comes back to the kitchen.

"Goof Ball has blood everywhere!" (or something to that effect...)

My heart on overdrive, I direct Bug to get a chair to the stove so he could stir the pot. I should have just given up on the stupid thing, but I guess I wasn't really thinking properly. After quickly directing how to do it (he has done it a little bit before anyway) I rush in to find Goof Ball standing in an empty tub, blood all over his face, in his hair, down his belly, on his leg, and all over his hands. I can't believe I didn't fall down right then and there and start sobbing hysterically. Somehow, miraculously, I kept my cool and went up to him to find my razor that I always keep on the shelf thing hanging from our shower head in the tub with him also with blood all over it. I directly take that and put it back where it goes. I can't for the life of me think of how it got down there.

My body operating almost completely on shock, after Goof Ball puts his hands on the side of the tub, wanting to get out (go figure, all he wanted was to get out) I get a toilet paper and wipe up the blood on the side of the tub. Trying to keep calm, I think, I should get him cleaned up at least... Almost a funny note, I remember thinking to myself... What would Pro Boxer do right now? I had no idea where he had gotten hurt, so I figured trying to wipe him up would be a good step. So I turned the water on and a couple of inches filled the tub again. I tried to get him to sit down, but he didn't want to. I at least got him to put his hands in the water and they got rinsed alright. Then when he stood back up I noticed a large amount of blood on his thumb.

Keep in mind that I was unable to think coherently at this point. I was just trying to be busy so I wouldn't start to freak out. Through my numb haze of a brain, I remembered - Pressure. I grabbed the toilet paper I used to wipe the tub and put it on his thumb and held it tight. Goof Ball didn't cry one bit once I got in there which just leads to believe that he just wanted to get out of the tub. I called up Pro Boxer (thank heavens his phone hadn't lost batteries until AFTER the phone call) and he was in the check out line. If he hadn't been that close to coming home I would have told him to screw the food and just get home. He can operate in these situations with much more calm....ness than I can.

After talking to Pro Boxer, I yelled out to Bug if everything was okay, and started to doubt my previous decision of having a naked 5 year old boy watch a pot that was supposed to be stirred constantly. So, seeing that Goof Ball's feet weren't bloody, I take him out, still holding his thumb and we walked to the kitchen and I take over the stirring responsibilities. I allowed Bug to eat the small marshmallows that we were going to use for the Frog Eye Salad, making sure that he gave some to Goof Ball as well who was, by this point, trying to get me to take my hand off of his. I once took a chance to see what the wound looked like. It is several (some pretty deep in his small thumb) cuts in the tip of his thumb. The one time I tried to look at it, blood flowed instantly to the area and I almost started to freak out, so I covered it up quickly.

After a while the mixture seemed thickened enough, and I asked Bug to get a bowl for me to put it in. After that happened Pro Boxer got back and his eyes got just as big as mine probably were at seeing such a small boy covered with so much blood. And of course, when he got there, I completely broke and told him everything that happened, sobbing, almost hyperventilating while he (like I knew he would) calmly took over the situation.

Under my better judgments, Pro Boxer insisted that I take a picture of Goof Ball's face before he washed him up (though I know I will be glad of his insistence in coming years). So here you are... If you look close, you can see his hair caked in blood too.