Heroic Deeds Performed by Me and Other Exciting Things...

Heroic Act #1

Last night I went to Target--again (third time this week and it was only Tuesday for crying out loud). I was in a hurry (because when am I not?) and some kind of population explosion had gone off and people were everywhere. I parked in Egypt, loaded up on provisions, and began my journey to the entrance.

By the time I reached the vast desert of the handicapped parking zone I had barely fifteen minutes to get all the things I'd forgotten on my two previous trips, before I had to retrieve Girl 2 early from gymnastics so she could spend the rest of the night doing a project she should have started four weeks ago.

It was then I saw a boy trying to pick up a flailing one year old off the street. Their mother was a few feet ahead, pushing a cart with another little boy in it who was trying his darnedest to escape while she made her way around an idling SUV/monster truck blocking her car. "Just pick him up," she said, obviously in a hurry and trying to keep her frustration at bay. I got it. It was dinnertime and she was at Target with a kajillion kids (though, in retrospect, I only counted three).

Something told me to go pick that baby up. So I did, ignoring my fear that I might be mistaken for one of those crazy, childless, baby-kidnapping ladies. Harried mom left her cart and rushed back to me.

"I'll help you to your car." I assured her. She still looked worried, but went back to her cart to wrangle her other potential escapee.The baby cried for his mom, but quit his flailing as I followed her the short distance to her car. She said thanks as I passed him off to her.

"No problem," I said, giving her a reassuring pat on the back. "It's so stressful taking kids shopping!"

Then I hurried on my way back around the still idling SUV ready to speed shop. Except when I came around the SUV a Mustang turned in front of it, the driver going fast enough as it passed little ol' me and the SUV that I had to jump out of the way to avoid being run over. He sped past me. right over the spot where thirty seconds before a little boy had been wrestling his baby brother. And I knew if  I hadn't picked that baby up, those boys would have been hit. That speeding Mustang driver couldn't have seen them on the other side of that jacked up truck before he decided to turn and speed down that parking lot lane.

So I kind of saved three lives last night: those boys and that I-think-I'm-pretty-cool driver. Because imagine being that guy who was dumb enough to think speeding through a busy parking lot at dusk was a good idea.

Heroic Act #2

Remember Homeschooling Girl? Well, the other day I had to teach her how to solve this problem:
x + 2 = - 4.

And maybe you don't think that's such an act of heroism. But if a hero is defined as someone who shows courage in the face of adversity, then folks, I am a hero. Er, heroine.

 Because if you could have seen me my senior year of college when I looked at my graduation requirements and read the part that said if I had scored below a certain number on the Math portion of the ACT then I would have to take, not only College Algebra, but also the no credit prerequisite Pre-Algebra for Math Dummies class--whether or not I had taken two years of Italian in order to avoid ever taking a math class again--and seen newlywed me, who now had to pay her own college tuition and therefore needed to graduate--and soon-- think back to that fateful ACT and remember how I had totally rocked the English and Science portion of it but the Math portion had significantly lowered my overall score, and then seen me cry. Every day. For the entire summer semester I took College Algebra, bravely/stupidly skipping Math for Dummies in order to graduate on time...you wouldn't argue whether or not I am a superheroine for solving a simple algebraic equation. I am.

I passed that class with flying colors. (If, you know, a C+ counts as flying and not just sputtering). Not only that, but my semester of Algebra has turned out to be far more useful than my four semesters of Italian. Though the Italian will come in handy as I prepare a nice marinara to eat with the words, "why do I need to know Algebra? I will never use it again after this semester."

Exciting Thing #1

Remember my book that got rejected for marketing reasons? My very good friend, writing partner, and talented author, Melanie Jacobson self-published my very own copy for me. Here's a picture:

cute, huh...







Then she told me to order more copies and come do a book signing with her (Smart Move give away soon, until then order here) and our other critique partner, Kristy Tate (Stealing Mercy free on Kindle here). So I did and it was fun. But I didn't order enough books because people keep asking me for one and I'm out. I'm going to order more, so if you want one let me know and if you don't, that's okay, I still like you. But please don't let me know if you don't want one.

It is $10 plus s&h and I'm only doing a small order. No Amazon or Kindle release. Also, it went through one really great, really fast, edit. That was not enough. You will find mistakes.

Exciting Thing #2

For the first time I am doing NaNoWriMo. It starts tomorrow and I am very excited. I am also doing Book Fair, Room Mom stuff, Regular Mom stuff, Home School Mom stuff, Thanksgiving, and lots of other stuff, so wish me luck. (I've already informed hubby I won't be doing cleaning stuff. Cleaned the bathrooms yesterday in preparation for NoCleanSoICanWriMo).

The best part though, is that Home School Girl is doing it with me because I found a whole middle school NaNoWriMo packet she can do. I did not, however, order it in time to start tomorrow. Which means I have to skim through over a hundred pages of said packet and decide how many of those pages I want to print out for her. That is not the best part.

Still... things are good.

Busy, but good.

Things I Miss For My Children...

1. Waking up to this...

my parents sent me this picture of their backyard on Tuesday

Even when it happens in October, the first snow is magical. To wake up to the first snow of the season is to wake up to the wonder of Mother Nature and her ever changing moods. It's a reminder that nothing stays the same. It's a day filled with the possibility of future "snow days."

 

2. Snow days. Few things are more exciting than an early morning call saying school has been cancelled. It's even better when Mother Nature thwarts the grown-ups and lets the sun shine. It's like a surprise Christmas.

 

3. Saturday morning cartoons. When the world isn't centered around you, anything that caters to your wants becomes special, no matter how crappy it is.

 

4. Opening the cover to a textbook on the first day of class to see who had it before you... and knowing that person.

 

5. Grandparents who live next door.

 

6.  Long recesses and homework free week nights.

 

7. Being able to bike to the store to buyAtomic Fireballs and candy cigarettes. Okay, maybe not the candy cigarette part.

 

 

 

 

 

General Observations on a Variety of Topics...

 

1. Acoustic Songs: A song that can be used to sell fast food will not suck any less if "unplugged" (I'm looking at you, I'll Melt With You).

2. Short Shorts: These are the rules for wearing them... Don't. Odds are you look more like this:

 

Than this:

 

Because guess what...you're not airbrushed.

 

3.  Little Boys: After three days of hands-on research that included an entire box of angel hair pasta strewn throughout my kitchen, family room, and dining room, I have come to the conclusion that two little boys between the ages of two and three are easier than one preteen girl.

 

4. Home School: Home schooling requires a lot of schooling at home. (Warning: If you're tempted to comment here about all the fun "field trips" home schoolers can go on, please review the rules for wearing short shorts. They apply here also).

 

5. Bra Etiquette: Missed my post on it? Read it, learn it, live it, and avoid becoming this woman:

 

Or, worse, this woman, who I'm pretty sure is an anorexic hooker even though I saw her eat pizza and did not see her engage in any illegal activity, although this bra infraction bordered on indecent exposure:

Let this be a warning that it's but a short descent from tacky bra strap exposure

to internet accusations by strangers concerning your.eating habits and chosen line of profession.

 

 

Because I'm THAT Mom Now...

I am not a home schooling mom.

I mean, aside from the fact I have a child currently attending school at home, I am not a home school mom.

Because you know who they are, right?

Those moms who are too afraid of what their children will/won't learn if they send them to public school. Those moms who think their children are so special no one could possibly know how to teach them better than their own mothers. Those moms who are always, ALWAYS with their kids because that's who they are. They're moms.

You know who their kids are too, right?

Those kids who try to horn in on adult conversations. Those kids who don't know how to raise their hands when they're in a regular educational setting. Those kids who are just a little off because they live in a bubble where they don't get teased or pushed or ignored by anyone other than their own siblings. Those kids who are always, ALWAYS called weird because that's what they are. They're weird.

We all have those stereotypes, right?

But guess what. If you're a mom with a kid, each of you has a little of that home school thing in you. So be careful how harshly you judge because it just might be you some day. And I know what you're thinking. I used to think "never" too.

Maybe this will help change your mind though. Here's what we did for Girl 1's first day of home school:

Because, you know, we've got to get those P.E. hours in.

Plus, after crying for three days straight*  because every step I took left me on unsteady, unfamiliar ground, I got a rejection letter from my perspective publisher,** followed by some other bad news.*** At that point I couldn't even cry anymore. There was only one thing left to do:

I needed some time with my village.

So there was no way I was missing Bethany's Boogie Boarding Birthday Bash. Did it matter if it fell on the first official day of The Great Home Schooling Experiment? No, because I'm a problem solver. Home school books haven't arrived yet? P.E. hours and therapy needed? Take G1 along and Boom! Problem solved.

You know what other problem's been solved?

I found the smile that's been missing from G1's face for a while.


* Cross not a crier off my Who Am I? list, along with not a home school mom.
** That's right, I'm just going to slip that in there like it's no biggie. Because, at this point, it's not, but in lieu of flowers feel free to donate to Brittany's Retail Therapy Fund. Nordstrom gift cards will be accepted.
** Too personal to share, but nothing to worry about. Unless you're me of course.

Happy (sort of) New School Year...

So, my kids start school tomorrow.

Two-thirds of them, anyway.

Last year at the this time began The Year of Brittany and it was awesome. Maybe not so much for some (one) of my kids, but it was for me. My youngest started first grade which meant six hours a day (mostly) of me time. Six hours a day to heed the voice in my head whispering write, write, write! And swim, bike, run!

Sure that voice got annoying because sometimes I just wanted to sleep in or sit on the couch and watch a lot of bad TV. But it wouldn't shut up. It had been drowned out for a long time by kids and a husband and dirty floors and endless laundry. Then, suddenly, the three loudest voices were gone for much of the day and I could hear that little voice again.

And it sounded a lot like...

 me.

I'd kind of forgotten who that person was. Or maybe I was really getting to know her for the first time. And, you know what? I liked her. A lot.

Don't get me wrong. The Year of Brittany wasn't all typing/swimming/biking/ running and smiles. There were no unicorns and rainbows. Just a lot of hard work.

And maybe some neglect of important things (i.e. not floors and laundry). But still a good year. For me.

Here's the thing though. When I turned in my finished manuscript to the publisher, I forgot about it. When I crossed the finish line of my triathlon, I felt only relief, not elation.

I'm proud of those two accomplishments, I really am. I don't regret the time and energy I put into writing and training, but the question I had to ask myself after I finished both was whether it was worth it. Did the cheers and congratulations make up for the time I'd taken away from my family?

I honestly don't know. But the voice is gone now. It's not driving me to finish that second manuscript I've started or to start training for another race.

And I don't miss it like I thought I would.

This school year is going to be a much different year. Girl 2 & 3 will return to their public school tomorrow while Girl 1 stays home.

On Monday Husband and I both step into the dark abyss of The Unknown (a place neither of us is super comfortable entering) as he opens his own law firm (hooray! in a scary way) and I start home schooling Girl 1 (I just heard a collective gasp from all those who know me and my lovely, headstrong daughter personally).

Add to that a favorite aunt, sick with cancer, who--fortunately for me--lives nearby, and this year is looking more  like a Year of Others instead of another Year of Me.

And that's okay. My Year of Brittany taught me that I can do hard things, which is more important than a fleeting sense of accomplishment.

I'm going to need that education this year... but I think it's going to be a better year.

Bra Etiquette

Can we talk bras for a minute? And by talk I mean, will you listen (with your eyes, of course) while I rant?

Also, feel free to imagine my voice as old and judgmental because there's really no other way to hear it while you read this.

I'm old enough to remember when a peaking bra strap was akin to living in a van by the side of a river. My mother was always tucking straps back in for me or even pinning them when necessary and my friends and I did the same for each other when our mothers weren't around because none of us wanted to be known as "that" kind of girl. Because if a girl let the strap of her bra show in public, she was probably willing to let a lot more show in private.

Reputations were ruined by a disregard for proper bra etiquette.

Well, the times they have a-changed.

Famous people (and I use the term loosely here) feel comfortable not only going out in public, but also being photographed and viewed by millions of people like this:

You look like maybe you have something serious to say, but all I can think is:
 "I know those are fake, so why do they look so saggy?"
 You could be announcing that you've just found the cure for cancer and still, this is all I am going to think.

Really? Have we sunk so low that it's okay to match shoes and accessories to our underwear?
Isn't it bad enough that neon is back in that we shouldn't have to see your wrist, feet AND boobs encased in it?



I know this isn't a new trend. It's been fashionable for years to let a little sexy strap show. And if people would stop  there I could get over it. I mean, the word  "trashy" still flashes through my mind every time I see it, but that's my own issue, not the girls/women who follow the trend.

But yesterday things came to a head when I watched the lady parked next to me IN A BUSY PUBLIC PARKING LOT stand outside of her car, put her 3 hook, double D, nude bra on over her bikini top, take the bikini top off, THEN WALK AROUND IN HER BRA. FOR A LONG TIME.

And here's my problem with that:
1. We were at a lake with dressing rooms where she could have changed.
2.  She was not on the catwalk at the Victoria's Secret fashion show where it's acceptable to wear a bra as apparel as opposed to underwear.
3. Sure her bra covered more than her bikini top, but does this make it a suitable substitute for a shirt?
4.  SHE WAS WALKING AROUND IN HER BRA LIKE IT WAS TOTALLY NORMAL.

Clearly our society is in need of a little refresher course on UNDERwear and how to wear it. So, Crazy Bra Bearing Lake Lady, this is for you and all your cohorts (and also for my girlfriends who don't really need it but the bra lady told me to share it with you and I am nothing if not obedient when it comes to strangers in YouTube videos who want to make the world a little more classy).

Kids, Cows, and California Drivin'

I'm back (sigh) and I know you're dying to hear how the cattle round-up and calf showing went, so I'll tell you. In pictures. Because, you know, a picture's worth a thousand words and I'm really too tired to type that many.

Cattle Round-Up With Very Few Pics of Cows Because It's Hard to Be Both Herder and Photographer at the Same Time. Also, I Thought It Would be Impolite to Let Cows Get Away Since Our Hosts Depend on Them for Their Livelihood and Not Just Their Summer Entertainment...

Cache County Fair Calf Showing Wherein Girl 2 Wins the Show Stick. Cali Girls Represent!

See her scratching the heifer's belly?
That's what you do with a show stick

The stick is also used to get the cow to move
 her feet to the right position.

There she is with her ribbon and her prize stick which she will have little use for in California.
 I, however, will be using it as a Get-Out-of-Bed-Now/Keep-Your-Hands-Off-Your-Sister Stick.
Which you'll have to imagine because my attempt to Google a picture of such a thing failed.
As did this joke without the picture.

Girl 1 is more a cowgirl than a Cali girl.
Calves make her smile more than waves do.

You can only hear so much about how feminine and maternal

 a cow's features are before you get a little bored.





On our drive home I seriously considered packing up and moving to Utah. Mostly so I would never have to do that drive again--because I would already be there.

I also saw a sign just outside of Barstow that said:

End

Lane

Control

And I felt kind of bad because I didn't even know that lanes were fighting for their autonomy. Then I wondered why-- as long as we're trying to end things--we don't put an end to Reckless California Driving. We could make public service announcements that say things like:

"Driving a BMW does not make you impervious to death. Not that I'd care if you died, but it also does not make you impervious to killing other people who are choosing not to weave in and out of lanes while driving 120 mph."

or:

"Do you really want to play chicken with Death right now? Because you're a pretty short distance from Hell when you're in Baker, California."

Ahhh, it's good to be home.