Hope4Peyton

I am so excited to get this move under way…if by excited you mean I nearly break down into tears at the very thought of having to start stuffing boxes full of our belongings.

I have been so productive lately…if by productive you mean I spent the better part of two hours on Google so that I could finally figure out how to download the ringtones I had on my first Blackberry to my second Blackberry and can now have all my friends call me to tunes I liked five months ago, but am really tired of now.

I am a wonderful mother…if by wonderful mother you mean I totally forgot to prank my other two kids on April Fool’s Day, which sort of left one feeling like I was just picking on her to be a real wretch.

Wow, I’m totally getting into spring cleaning time…if by cleaning you mean staring at the dirt and thinking “WHY? I’m just moving in a couple months, I’ll have someone do it when it’s empty”.

I’m looking forward to swimsuit season getting underway here in Florida…if by looking forward you mean making sure my flask is clean so I am fully armed to drink heavily throughout the entire trying-on portion of our visit to Feel-Like-A-Sausage-Land.

Next week is our spring break…YAY!…if by YAY you mean not having to get up early and wrestle the kids into the van, no homework and a long extended trip to see family and friends…oh wait…that actually IS a YAY!!!!

I knew if I did this long enough, something would work out.

My anger level is an ELEVEN!

My fury burns with the fiery hot passion of a million suns.

I fart in their general direction. Their mothers were hamsters and fathers smelt of elderberries.

I hope they all wake up tomorrow with their faces sewn to the carpet.

GARRRRRGGGGHHHHH!

I had to call Tampa Electric this morning to find out why I have a $600 bill!  Oh yeah, you read that right.  $600.

Do you know what they told me?

It was really colder than expected in February, and you know it costs more to heat a house than to cool it.  It was under 50 degrees, like, a lot of days, really cold, you know. Even though it’s three times your normal usage, we just have to assume it’s correct and I can extend your due date by five days.

Dude. Seriously. Do you speak any language that non-gibbering idiots can understand?

I grew up in the north…I mean NORTH!…Indiana and Wisconsin…and I don’t ever remember my mother asking my father to cough up a kidney so they could cover the utilities.  Not even once.

If it were possible to reach through a phone line and just kick someone in the forehead, I would have found a way.

Why do I blog??

It’s a question that’s been floating around, asking people to define the reasons what drives them to share so much of themselves to the Internet….to bare your soul to strangers.  It’s probably been floating around as long as people have been self-publishing their thoughts…long years before I ever started.

I blog because I always loved to write.  I dreamed of a book with my name on the front and my picture on the back.  My words filling the space between and sharing my thoughts and imagination.

But that’s not why I started blogging.

I blog because the sense of community is incredible.  I can honestly tell you that one reason I’m finding the upcoming move to GA so much easier than I thought I would is because I’m taking a built-in group of people with me.  I already know how much I will be missing the friends that have been family to us for so long, but I also know I won’t be alone there.  I may be a hermit that never leaves the house, but I won’t be alone.

That’s not why I keep blogging.

I blog because, for whatever reason, I can tell you ridiculous tidbits of information about my family and you think it’s funny too.  You keep coming back and caring about the good and bad and goofy and heart-felt.  I love my kids, I want to share the wonder I see in them with the world…and YOU listen!

THAT isn’t even enough to keep me blogging.

I get an email from the mother of a newly diagnosed little girl.  Her tears were so obvious in her words, the pain and fear stirring every memory.  The news of another child going home on hospice fills me with a blackness,  I struggle with the anger and helplessness that the news brings.  The strength and fierce fight in these children, the passion with which they attack the cancer that attacks them…the families that are existing day to day.

The diagnosis’s, the survivors, the relapses, the deaths, the victors, the losses, the families, the understanding, the ability to reach out and tell another parent they’re not alone in it, the opportunity to tell people who might never otherwise know about it.

There it is.

MY reason…MY purpose.

Movies have sparked many an interesting conversation between Peter and myself.

In-depth Googling of historical events to see how far a film took creative license.

Whether Chris Farley was funnier than John Belushi.

Peter looking over at me with a leer and letting me know, “You should consider getting one of those outfits”, during the “Happy Gilmore”.

Me looking over at Peter with a grin of my own and saying “Just think of the possibilities”, over the scene in “300” where the Spartans come rippling down the mountain in their little battle gear….*cough* diapers *cough*.

(Oh HAI, boys! You want cookies? I got some right here, come on in.)

Pirates vs Ninjas: Who’d win?

But tonight, we watched “The Happening”, and I’m just going to go ahead and let you know that it’s two hours of your life you’ll never get back. Just say NO.

You can thank me later.

There’s a scene in this movie (and I have friends that will testify that this is an issue for me) where a father leaves his kid with some friends so that he can go back and look for almost-positively-for-sure-100% dead wife.

This is the point where I poke Peter and tell him, “You do know the rule here, right?”

He’s all, “Huh, crazy lady?” <—maybe not his words, but definitely his expression

“If there is ever a reason that YOU are in charge of the children and I am more than likely dead or left to fend for myself, you DO know that you’re to just take the kids and run, right?  There shouldn’t even be a thought process, you take the kids and get the hell out of dodge. I know that these weirdo things never really happen, but just saying it did and it was the end of the world and aliens attacked or trees really did start fighting back, YOU take the kids and run. Right?”

“Sure.”

Ok, then, we got that cleared up.

As the movie finally ends (which I watched thinking maybe there would be some redeeming twist at the end since it IS a M. Night. Shyamalan movie, but NO, just more making-a-point FAIL) I just decide to make sure ONE last time that Peter got the only part of this movie that mattered at all.

“Hey, babe? What’s the right answer? Me or the kids in life-threatening situation?  You know it, right?”

“Yeah, got it, I’m throwing you under the bus.”

And THIS? Is the way my anniversary ended.

Love is in the freaking air, people!

I had this post in my head, but the plague apparently ate it.

Replaced it with a pain so big it blots out the sun.

Stomach: not so good either.

Someone please get Dr. House on the phone?

Dying here.

My anniversary? EPIC Fail.