My Epiphany

While I was listening to the radio the “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” song came on. My mind began to think about the lyrics and I began to feel appalled that Christmas infidelity was being promoted. That disgusting woman, tickling under Santa’s beard? And the child, just thinking how funny it would be if Daddy saw all of this. So sad! Shame on that harlot! I was sickened and angry when it suddenly occurred to me; it was Daddy dressed up like Santa! And then I felt like an idiot, which feeling was confirmed when I told Frankie the story. That’s my confession.

What is your favorite Christmas song?

Really?

I have unnatural phobias and I rock back and forth when I panic. I need psychiatric assistance and chemical intervention. This is old news. Live in the now!

So, one of my neurotic triggers is the conjunction of the words “bed” and “bug.” Recently, I was listening to talk radio as I drove home from dropping Darby off at school. It is weird for me to listen to talk radio because I am acutely aware of the negative impact it has on my mental state, but for whatever reason I turned on the station of doom and gloom. In His infinite wisdom, God had me hear the following as I passed the public library that Darby and I visit weekly. “Mesa’s main public library has been closed due to a bedbug infestation.”

You have got to be freaking kidding me right now.

Upon my arrival home, I ripped the sheets off of each of the beds and fought the urge to rock back and forth as I searched for signs of the intruders. Nothing. Thank you, Heavenly Father.

The following day, my back began to itch. Now, multiple sclerosis is just brimming with sweet little surprises, including phantom itchy spots which, for me, always manifest on my back. I had Frankie look me over to make sure that there were no red marks or anything that might otherwise explain the phenomenon, but there was nothing. I was grateful that it was just the ms itch and I went about my day. When I woke up the next morning with 9 red spots on my back, I was less calm.

After much research, Frank was sure that there was nothing to indicate that we had brought home the plague of the public library. You know, except for the 9 bug bites on my back. I, however, was less convinced. I searched Darby over and she was clean. Frankie was not itching. I bounce back and forth between Darby’s bed and Frankie’s bed all night (notice that I have no bed that I claim as my own), so it didn’t make sense that they were fine and I was wrecked. Anyway, the spots were getting worse and Frankie suggested that I go to the doctor.

Poor Frank. It was his birthday and we were sitting in the doctor’s office together. I, of course, was rocking back and forth on the exam table as we awaited the verdict. The medical assistant asked why I was in that day as she readied the blood pressure cuff. I told her I had bug bites or a rash and we weren’t sure what it was. I then asked her, “Do you sort of want to wash your hands right now?” She laughed and said, “Well, it’s not on your arm.” I’m sure she washed her hands upon leaving the room. I mean, you say the word “rash” and you want to wash your hands. And she was touching rash-girl, so I can’t blame her.

It was taking a long time for the doctor to enter the room and Frankie said that they were probably all outside playing rock/paper/scissors to see who had to look at the girl with the rash. That made me laugh so hard! That Frankie can always diffuse a situation.

When the doc entered the exam room, he said, “You know, I have to say that when I walked in here, you were both smiling. That almost never happens when I walk into an exam room, so thank you.” When I told him about the itch and the mysterious bites, he said, “You have shingles.” He then looked at my back for half a second and said, “Yeah, you have shingles.”

Freaking shingles? Are you for real?

I promptly asserted that Frankie was my only sexual partner so there was no way I could have an STD :). Luckily, the doctor knew I was kidding. Shingles is adult chicken pox. If you had chicken pox as a child, the virus lives dormant (usually) in you for the rest of your life. It can manifest again in adulthood as shingles if you are elderly or have a compromised immune system. My injection is an immune suppressor, so bingo. Mystery solved.

Frankie said, “Hillary, of course you have a disease that causes another disease!” He sure has to put up with a lot.

Luckily, you cannot pass shingles to anyone who has had chicken pox or the vaccination. Frankie had the pox and Darby has had the vaccination. Phew because you know I would have had a break-down right then.

I had to cancel the birthday babysitter because it would just be irresponsible to expose her and her children to the possibility of chicken pox, especially not knowing their vaccination history. Frank was a trooper, though. What a good man.

But, I must say that because I was sure we had acquired a pestilence of Biblical proportions, i was even extra happy and relieved to find out it was just shingles. My dad said, “That doctor was probably really curious about how happy you were that you just had shingles!”

True story.

I think Heavenly Father orchestrated that series of events just for a good laugh. I mean, I’m pretty comical when I get anxious and I like the thought of giving my Heavenly Father a good belly laugh. I believe that humor is a gift.

So, do you have anything gross and contagious?

Love and Marriage

Lately, Darby is very interested in marriage. That is a little disturbing, but what do you do? So anyway, she keeps choosing a husband, then changing her mind. She was going to marry Thomas, but she changed her mind. When Frankie asked her why she changed her mind, she said, “Cause he’s kind of mean and I don’t think he’d be a good dad.”

Isn’t that interesting? She is choosing a spouse based on the kind of father she thinks he’ll be? Man, my girl is on it!

So, she decided that she’d marry Cooper. I must say that she has good taste in boys; both Thomas and Cooper are darling. But there is a problem. Cooper wants to marry Anna. This doesn’t seem to hurt Darby’s feelings, so that is good. I can’t figure out why Cooper would choose Anna over Darby, but maybe that’s just because I’m Darby’s mom. Probably not, though. Darby is way cuter and cooler. There, I said it.

So the other day, Cooper and Darby are swinging on the swings before school (you know I hover, so of course I am there) and out of the blue, Cooper says to me, “I’m going to marry Anna.” I said, “You are?” and he replied with, “Yeah. Cause when you get married, you get to push pie in the person’s face and I want to push pie into Anna’s face!”

Mystery solved. And therein lies a microcosm of girl/boy relationships. Darby chooses a husband based on his potential for being a good father and Cooper chooses a wife based on whose face he wants to push pie into.

Later, I explained to Darby why Cooper wants to marry Anna. She was surprised that people push pie (or cake) into the other person’s face, and then she looked worried.

“Does Boston know that?” (Boston is a little boy in her class). I said that I didn’t know and she said, “Well, don’t tell him that or he WILL want to marry me!”

Aw. Young love.

Fear Revisited

Whoa, guys. Whoa. I know we’ve talked about this before, and we’ll talk about it again, but I am freaking scared of lizards. I can trace it back to an incident where, as a child, I was mercilessly attacked by a massive gila monster with red eyes and sharpened claws. It ran at me on two legs, like a raptor. The blood and carnage seemed endless and I prayed for sweet death. At least that’s how I remember it. It might have just been a regular lizard running out from under a bush and startling me, but how can we determine the truth after all these years? Anyway, I was going to shred a box full of papers that has been sitting in the garage for an unforgiveable amount of time (best afternoon of Haley’s life, right?!) and as I moved it, a little lizard came running out from behind the box. I started having flash-backs and right before my post-traumatic stress set in, I remember saying in sort of a growl, “Whoa!” and then I ran inside and locked the door. The growl is what surprised me most. That was strange and I’m super glad that Frankie was not there to hear it. It was definitely not a turn-on.

Aside from that, all is well. The Darb is enjoying kindergarten and kicking butt (literally---she had to sit on the bench during recess for the sake of the other children’s safety). I am really proud of her. My semester is off to a slower start as my math class is self-paced, so naturally I have yet to look at it. My English class is a memoir writing class and that is fun since I can’t get enough of myself. All the essay ideas I have, though, seem to revolve around poop, underwear, or a mixture of the two (intrigued?). I am pretty immature at my ripe old age of 31. Frankie is doing great and we are just waiting for a cool down out here in mesa. I am usually pretty good with the heat (you know, I stay indoors or go swimming, so it is no big deal for this princess), but after the last few weeks of “excessive heat” warnings, I’m getting pretty sweaty.

I guess that’s it. Are you still awake?

Baptism By Fire

Actually, my most recent baptism was by water. In the pool. Performed by Darby. I figured it was okay since she doesn't hold the proper authority, but I'm going to feel really bad for all of you if when we get there we find out that she actually does hold some type of authority.

I didn't encourage it, for any reader who is feeling particularly judgey today. She just did it, with her hand in the air and said, "We love Darby." Then she dunked me. And I felt strange; powerful.

Just kidding.

I did take the opportunity to teach a lesson or two, in case anyone thinks I'm going to hell for allowing it. Then again, I've been baptized twice, so I don't really think that I can go to hell, sucka!

The Grudge

When I am finally debilitated by my multiple sclerosis, wearing a diaper and being pushed around in a wheelchair, I'm going to remind Darby of the comment she made to me today.

"Mom, that dinner was disgusting. And so are you."

For real? That hardly felt necessary.

And THAT is why I am going to lay the guilt on her as thick as I can. I'll follow that story up with the one about the 71 hours of labor that I suffered to bring her into this world. Then I might fall out of my wheelchair and fake my death for a few days, just to drive the point home.

I'm going to title my parenting manual, "Love and Logic? That's Crap." What do you think?

(for the record, i'll probably actually just cry about it later. please tell me your kids are mean to you, too!)

Pay It Forward

That's right. This is the worst movie EVER. So, the kid dies? For real? I fracking hate this movie. And YOU...why didn't you warn me?

Inalienable Rights

Happy 4th of July! We spent the day as any red-blooded American would have; swimming and eating ourselves into a hot-dog coma. Of course, we came to just in time to eat apple pie, but went right back to our comatose state for the rest of the day. It was glorious.

We all know that I don’t do hamburgers. I have a strong aversion to hamburgers (except for In and Out) and the thought of squishing that gooey, sticky flesh in my precious hands to form them into patties sends my hand-washing OCD into freaking overdrive. But hot-dogs---now THOSE are something worthy of our founding fathers' assertion to the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

What I want to point out right now is the different calibers of hot-dogs. I stick only with Ball Park and Nathan’s. Those of you who brave Bar S dogs, well, I just don’t know what to make of you. Anyway, my theory is that we eat Ball Park hot-dogs mostly because of the heart-attack risk of Nathan’s hot-dogs. Once we’ve eaten Ball Park dogs until we are so full we want to die, we then indulge in Nathan’s hot-dogs, welcoming the probability of cardiac arrest. Man, those are delicious hot-dogs. Their taste is unparalleled in the hot-dog sphere. And when you bite in and scalding grease shoots into the back of your throat, you know you’ve got a good one. And some form of bypass in your future.

What is your dog of choice and how did you spend your 4th? (and no disrespect to the founding fathers and all those who fought for their freedom---I am fond of and grateful for those rights.)

Blowfish

Blowfish and Guppy Love are my favorite shoe brands. Blowfish is to Guppy Love what Gap is to Old Navy. Being the cheapskate that I am, my closet is outfitted with more Guppy Love than Blowfish shoes. I am what I am. Anyway, upon my "buy one get one 1/2 off" visit to Famous Footwear, I happened upon not one, but two pairs of Blowfish boots, one in Darby's current size and one in the next size up.

I almost passed out, overwhelmed by pure joy.

I bought them both---two pairs of AWESOME boots for $30. Slap hands!

I am not sure what I did to merit this good juju, but I'll take it. Name brand, not hand-me-down shoes in Darby's rotation? Unheard of! The picture is of the pair that she can currently fit in and her next size up is grey. I have the exact same boots in black, only in my size (a splurge on a good MS news day. I deserved them).

Go ahead, tell me how ragingly cute are these boots!

You're Not The Boss of Me! (a near death experience)

Don’t tell anybody, but I actually really enjoy running. I don’t do it a whole lot because upon leaving the air-conditioned confines of our homes here in Arizona, we burst into flames. There are very few days when spontaneous combustion is less of a threat and we are in the very last hours of that whimsical week. So, in an effort to get one last chance to go running and to allow Darby to do something fun (for once), we went for an outing with her taking her scooter and me taking my chevro-legs. We only run in the neighborhood to the west of ours because if we were to mozy around in our own neighborhood, we would surely get shanked. Not really, but the other neighborhood is a mile-long rectangle and that is convenient.

So, as soon as we enter our track, we hear a little voice shout out, “Darby!” It is Darby’s nemesis. In an effort to CMA, we will call him Sweet Baby James. Darby and Sweet Baby James love and hate one another. It is a very complicated 4 year old relationship. They are in preschool and primary together and while they have to sit together and talk to each other, it usually results in insult-slinging and eventually comes to blows. But, in this moment, they were friends and super pumped to hang out together. I didn’t want to keep her from getting to play with a friend and I didn’t want to hover, so I sat on the sidewalk on the other side of the street and just watched them run around together. To an outsider, I just looked super creepy. They played and chased each other with a humongous stick (can you believe I allowed that? I’m growing as a parent!) and when they started playing in the neighbors’ yards and sprinklers, I decided it was time for us to go. They had been playing for probably 45 minutes and we had a pretty busy day ahead of us. So, we moved on and finished our outing.

On the way home, Darby said, “Mom, Sweet Baby James told me to stay there, but I didn’t want to.” I replied, “Well Honey, you don’t have to do what Sweet Baby James tells you to do.” And she said, “Yes I do, because he’s the boss.” I thought that maybe that was part of their game and I asked, “Well, why is he the boss?” She responded with “Because he is a boy, and boys are the boss.”

I stopped cold and a little part of me died inside.

“Darby, listen to me. Boys are not the boss of girls. Boys are not better than girls. Sweet Baby James is not your boss.” She said, “Boys ARE the boss, like Daddy. He’s the boss and he’s a boy.”

I see the underdeveloped logic. I do. My poor, sweet baby. I explained that our Daddies and Mommies are our bosses, but not because they are boys or girls, but because they are our parents and that Sweet Baby James’ dad was his boss, but not Darby’s boss and that boys are not the bosses of girls. She seemed greatly relieved and I dare say enlightened. No, empowered! We’ll make a feminist of her yet!

Crisis narrowly averted.

Penny Pinching 101

There is something that you should know about me: I am a sucker, SUCKER for exercise equipment. And infomercials. And especially infomercials for exercise equipment. So, you can imagine my angst when I saw an infomercial for “Leg Magic” about 2 years ago. My legs could use some magic and As Seen On T.V. products always live up to their claims, right? Alas, the apparatus cost $100 and I didn’t have that kind of cash to blow. Let’s be real---it was going to end up at Goodwill at some point.

Which is exactly where I found it! I went to peruse the Goodwill with my brother Nate and I saw my beautiful Leg Magic just sitting there, for a mere twenty bucks! I wanted to buy it, but I didn’t. After a few days, I was still thinking about it (which is my sign that it wasn’t just an impulse buy and that I did actually need it). Nate informed me that the next Saturday would be 50% off Saturday. Friday night, we made sure it was still there. Nathan put it up on a shelf for me, to sort of hide it. I was very nervous; what if it was gone the next day? I should just buy it now! But, the cheapskate in me couldn’t bear the thought of spending $20 when I might have spent only $10, so I anxiously awaited Saturday.

We were standing in line, IN LINE, at the Goodwill on Saturday morning before the store opened. I could see my Leg Magic up on the shelf in the back, but there were 15 people ahead of us! What if one of them was there for my prize? What if this was all in vain? The doors opened and we all flooded into the building. It was like Black Friday at Walmart. We were all headed toward the back of the store. Would I get there in time?

No, I didn’t. But Nathan did! He B-lined it to my Leg-Magic and as he passed me on the way back up toward the register, I was smiling ear to ear! I mean, it was a little embarrassing how pumped I was. I beat the system! I followed my big brother to that register grateful that he had looked out for his kid sis and made my Leg Magic dreams possible. And for only 10 bucks! After the fact, I read reviews for Leg Magic on-line. Everybody said that it was a really good piece of equipment, but that it was too expensive. Not for me, ladies! Not for me. Who is the sucker now?!!

You Give Me Fever

And not the good kind! Panda Express, my love and knife, gave me a healthy dose of fricking food poisoning. Never again, Panda. NEVER AGAIN. And for my Ecuas out there, Nunca mas jamas!

So, after barfing multiple times and laying on the bathroom floor, shaking and falling in and out of sleep (it was 2 a.m. and I was so, so tired! Why is it that the throw-ups never hit when you are well rested?) I was feeling angry that I had just cleaned the bathroom that day. And also, I was feeling grateful that I had just cleaned the bathroom that day! Being that close to a clean toilet is just so much better than the alternative. But, I knew that, being the germ-a-phobe that I am, I would be cleaning the bathroom again within the next twelve hours. I mean, I’m a clean person even when sick, but just in case. So, as I lay on the bathmat, reaching my hand up to wipe down the seat with a Clorox wipe, a new anger overtook me…

What a freaking waste of money!

Good to know that I am both neurotic and cheap even in the most dire of circumstances.

And then my poor Darby awakened and knocked on the bathroom door, asking, “Mom, can I come in?” That sweet little honey. No baby, no. You cannot come in.

Have you ever had food poisoning?

Busy Week

I know, I know. I’m a terrible blogger. Let’s move forward.

We had a busy and fun weekend! Aramie, Matt, and Kacy arrived on Friday night. It was the first time we’ve met Aramie’s new husband and it was great. He fit right in and feels like family already. For Frankie’s initiation, the brothers all got into bed with him to see how he’d handle it. I’ll never forget that moment, when I walked up the stairs (I was staying downstairs and Frank was staying in my room upstairs) when I walked up to the top step and peered into my bedroom. There was Frankie, sitting in my bed with a smile on his face, with Dustin on one side and Aaron on the other. For Matt’s initiation, he had to shake it. That is where you put 30 ping-pong balls in an empty Kleenex box and tie it onto your back. Then you have to shake and gyrate around until all the ping-pong balls fall out. It is hilarious and he handled it like a pro! He didn’t refuse or get all embarrassed or anything---he just did it and shook his way into our hearts :).

Brett and Corrine (my parents-in-law) also arrived on Friday for a cousin’s wedding. It is always so nice to get to spend time with them. On a side note, (and because only family who already knows the situation and the people involved look at this blog) the cousin was supposed to get married in the temple, but she and her fiancée ended up getting married civilly. I know we, in the church, are prone to raising and eyebrow at that sort of stuff and gossiping and blah blah blah. But I would like to point out how brave I think it is to admit a mistake and to take your lumps rather than go through the temple unworthily so that you don’t have to face embarrassment. It shows that those two really understand how important and sacred those covenants are and they fear God rather than man. I am so impressed by them and their decision to be honest and real. So many kids just keep their mouths shut about anything questionable, go to the temple anyway, and take it to the grave and I think it is despicable. Anyway, that’s that.

It was so fun to spend time with Brett and Corrine and Darby, of course, had the time of her life! She got to spend lots of fun time with grandparents and I know how much she loves to have them around. Corrine took lots of great pictures and those are the ones I’ve posted. It is spring break, so I didn’t have to go hide in my office and do any homework while we had company, so that was an added bonus. I mean, I probably wouldn’t have done that anyway (let’s be real), but it was nice not to feel guilty about it. Brett made our backyard look awesome and we’ve been spending more time out there! Frankie’s poor parents come down and work their fingers to the bone for us! We went to dinner and got to hear a few cool mission stories from Brett. I had to teach the Relief Society lesson at church with Corrine there, so that was nerve wracking! Frankie was definitely missing his family, so it was nice for him to fill that canteen a little.

The first couple of nights, Aramie and her family stayed here with us. Kacey and Darby got along so well! They slept in Darby’s bed together and I listened at the door a few times to find out if they were still awake, and they were and it was so sweet to hear them talking together until they fell asleep.

It was a really fun break and we’ll get Britney (Frankie’s sister) for a few days, starting tomorrow. I guess I’m not huge on updates, but that’s what this one was. Here are a few pictures and I’ll get back to my old ramblings soon enough.

Dustin Robert James Judd

We have a nephew! My little brother Dustin and his wife, Jessica, just had a gorgeous baby boy! He was born on Saturday, February 19th, and Nate, Haley, and I drove out to San Diego on Sunday and we got to meet our first nephew within the first 24 hours of his life. Dustin and Jessica did not find out the gender of the baby beforehand, but we were all confident that Dustin would create the first male offspring of the Judd kids. Little Dustin is so precious and such an angel and we have waited for him for so long. I kissed his tiny cheek and he smiled! I'm sure that gas was the catalyst and not my kiss, but I'll take it! Welcome, baby boy! We love you.

Bon Appetit!

This is not a meal that I made. Obviously.

I have been really interested in cooking lately. No. It is wrong to lie. Let me start over.

I have had to be more attentive to my cooking lately. As we all know, I have an on-again off-again relationship with my multiple sclerosis diet. As Nathan so appropriately put it, “The only thing worse than having MS is the MS diet.” Ain’t it the truth! But, it really is a great way to eat, health-wise. It is a total word of wisdom diet. Anyway, I have resigned myself to snacking on walnuts and yogurt, but my poor family is suffering. The adults are supportive, but Darby has yet to see the merit in healthy dinners. She says such darling things when dinner is placed before her. For example, “Mom, do you really want me to eat this?” and “Mom, that is disgusting.” She doesn’t even try the food before these utterances escape her lips and she still has to take 4 no-thank-you bites (great idea, Britney!). After she agonizes through those, she usually says, “That’s not so bad.” Of all the comments she has made regarding the dinners over which I have slaved, my favorite is the most recent. She sat down in her chair at the table and looked into her dinner bowl. “Is there diarrhea in this?”

It does a mother’s heart good to hear something like that.