[This is NOT the Winner of Club 17 post.  That’ll be in a few more days.] 

I’m wrapping up a very informal, ultra private celebration. What is that, exactly? Well. It’s been fun. I set up a hot pink ipod on a speaker right next to the bathtub and grabbed some little bath gel things in the shape of whales. So cute. Do you know the kind I mean? They’re clear, small, and they dissolve and give the bath a burst of moisturizing stuff. Fun. These were green whales. Which seems odd. They should have been blue whales. But anyway. They were also stubborn, and took over an hour to actually dissolve, and I refused to help them out by squishing them. It was a loooong bath. 

While soaking, I painted my toenails navy. Then one smudged. So I started over, and went with purple. Loooovely.

The playlist for this particular bath included:
Elvis — Are You Lonesome Tonight? (oh yeeees! Gloriously so, Elv, since the kids are gone)
Franki Valli — My Eyes Adored You
Dwight Yoakum — Honky Tonk Man
Oak Ridge Boys — Bobbie Sue (of course there’s an explanation, but it’s not that interesting.)
Eddie Rabbit — I Love a Rainy Night (am i the only one who loved that album cover? it caused me to fall in love with the 5 o clock shadow. it was a short phase.)
Prince — Kiss (yes, of COURSE i pretended to be Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman and air kissed. It was totally that kind of bath)
Metro Station — Kelsey (it’s just funny)
A whole bunch of songs that I downloaded because they have my mother’s name in the title. Now. This is a good idea if you’re giving your mother an ipod, and want to add a few unexpected songs. However. It is VERY important to edit out the songs that make it sound like your mother is evil. Oops. Deleting those soon. Every time one of the evil ones came on, I sunk below the water, bugged my eyes out, and alternated between giggling and gasping at the horror of some of the lyrics. How can those little song previews leave out so much negativity?! Deleting. Deleting. Deleting.
The Mavericks — What a Crying Shame
Willie Nelson — Shotgun Willie (i just like it when he twangs, “shotgun willie sits around in his underwear…”)
Bon Jovi — You Give Love a Bad Name
Black Crowes — Hard to Handle
Eva Cassidy — Over the Rainbow
Lyle Lovett — Long Tall Texan

So how long was that bath? More than 2 1/2 hours. Plenty of time to learn something utterly disgusting about the green whales. After the bath water cools, the moisturizing liquid within the whales actually transforms into a solid. A white solid that sticks to your entire body exactly as if you had shmeared yourself with Crisco. Did you know that? I had no idea. The discovery of being coated in a lardlike substance REALLY takes away all the appeal of those little whales. Never again.

So the purple toenail painting, Crisco wearing bath was a celebration because… my book is out! Julie emailed and told me she saw it on Amazon. I thought she was mistaken. I had no idea. I checked. Surreal.The next day a copy arrived from Capstone (the publisher). It was tied up with a chocolate-y brown ribbon. It’s prettier than I expected.It took less than 5 minutes for me to find a mistake. On the last sentence of the About the Author page, it reads “A Love for Larkspur” is his first novel. Did I write that? Uh, probably. Did I approve that? Definitely. My photo is there on the page. I look like a girl at least. But then there’s a description of all my non-girly hobbies. Mudding. Kickboxing. Etc. And then the ‘his first novel’ phrase.  Well. Apparently I had a trannie moment. That’s what every first time Christian author wants. A trannie moment. In print.

So when an author’s book comes out, there’s a certain expected response.  She (0r he, as the case may be) should publicize.  Ask others to do the same. Etc.   i just caaaan’t.  It’s taken me days to even write this!   

There’s a huge part about writing that I’ve never been comfortable with, but just always assumed I’d get over when the time came.  Except I haven’t.   When you write, a huge amount of yourself ends up on the page.  Flaws, biases, insecurities - all those things I don’t often point out to everyone.  It’s all there.  I know.  I tell y’all most of that stuff anyway.  But it’s in a very deliberate way.  And this is different, somehow.  

So I should tell you to all go and buy one.  To tell your friends to do the same.  But if I’m really being honest with you, I’m quite afraid that this was all some sort of mistake and it - and I - completely stink.  I keep remembering a time in elementary when I was sooo excited about Show and Tell.  I was a VERY shy kid, but for some reason I was excited that day about whatever I’d brought.  And when it was finally my turn, I changed my mind and told myself that what I’d brought really wasn’t that great after all, and that no one would be interested in it. I stayed in my seat and just shook my head no when the teacher asked if I had something to share.   

I’d still really like to just shake my head no and keep it to myself.  It was ages ago that I signed a contract with Capstone saying I’d get out of my chair and share.  The day was coming, of course, when it would arrive in a chocolate-y brown ribbon and a friend would tell me what websites it was listed on…  I thought I’d be ready. Who wouldn’t be ready for that…? This is my proverbial Big Break.  It bothers me to think how ungrateful it must seem to not be playing the role of excited author/marketer.    

I have a friend who likes to say, “It is what it is.” I hate it when he says that.

I sort of thought that by the time I was this age - and published - that I wouldn’t be such a trainwreck of insecurities and would hardly resemble the shy elementary kid I used to be.

I wonder why I thought that…It is what it is.

I didn’t forget. Really.  The internet simply did not want to cooperate tonight. We’ve been switching from pc to macs, and the transition has been… bumpy.  For some reason tonight we had 5 computers in our bedroom on.  At one point there were THREE laptops in my lap, trying to access internet.  Two of those swayed and swaggered their way closer to computer death.  The other three are new and better not even think of following suit for a long long time.

I got to take my big truck out tonight to ‘mud!’  How fun!!! It’s been raining a lot, which is a requirement, of course. But it’s a little TOO wet.  The puddles are too liquid-y.  The mud just splashes all over the place, and I prefer for it to rain down on me in giant clods.  Well. There’s always tomorrow.In case you were wondering, no. Of course I do not go mudding with my mother. J-Mom is very cool, but in a cautious, poised, elegant sort of way that does not involve reckless behavior.  Although she did DRIVE my big ol’ truck the other night. So cute!  

I used to strive for that same cautious, poised elegant thing she has going on.  Pfft.  Then I realized I am 1) a total klutz 2) weirdly drawn to the Reckless 3) am all about the adrenaline that accompanies lots of things that are simply not elegant. 

Book stuff:  Mmmm. No idea. As usual.  But thanks for asking!  Last I heard it was ‘at the printers.’   How long does that take?  No idea.  I didn’t want to ask.  So I didn’t.   I’m excellent with avoidance like that.  

Other stuff: We roadtripped to welcome my sister to the state, and to drop off J-Mom for awhile.  Met with old friends and I got all silly/social-anxiety-ish.  I do that.  But it was reeeeally great.  There was no reason to get all silly/social-anxiety-ish, but then again, there almost never is, but knowing this never ever manages to prevent it.To Whom It May Concern: Sorry. I haven’t checked email in ages.   

On with the show.  I went shopping at a way cute store for this month’s winner!  Darling little paper thingies tied up with pretty bows, and a bath thing that is too hard to explain, but i tried it today and loved it.  No. I didn’t try the one I’ll send the winner. Ew! I tried one that i’m keeping for me. So to be that lucky winner, just do your monthly self breast exam that of course you should be doing anyway.  Then you leave a comment on this post saying you did.  Done.  That easy.  Yay for you!  

I’ll check back in a few days and announce the winner. All questions can be answered here.  And also?  The really cute little button advertising Club 17 can also be found there.  If you’d like it, it’s yours.

*another technical glitch.  really, this evening could not have been complete without another one.  for some reason i can’t link to the post with all the answers and the buttons.  If you google holymama bse, it will come up first.  if you reeeeeally want it.         

1.  I’ve been long gone - haven’t even turned ON a computer in weeks.

2. I’d like to blame my mother for this.

3. Except that it is VERY tacky for a grown woman to blame her mother for her own actions.

4. But ya’ll!  My MOM is here!

5. She lives in Australia, and comes to visit twice a year, and now is one of those times!

6.  The shopping!  The SHOES!  The conversations and dreams she has that revolve primarily around handbags!  LOVE THAT!

7.   Mucho chocolate consumption.

8.  We’re working off the calories with laughter.

9. Yeah, that’s what I’m telling myself.

10. Caden-4yr calls her ‘Fanmother,’  since ‘g’s are hard for him.  I call her J-Mom, and you can too if you’d like.

So, the random winner for the BSE-er of June is….   Emily!    She just got a very pretty in pink new blog, so be sure to go say hi!

PharmacistMike made an excellent point in the comments. It was one of the more entertaining comment sections we’ve had on these posts.  Men, check your testicles.  (Did that sound a little like, “gentlemen, start your engines?” it did to me.)

And just in case you’re not going to go read, fine. Here a few highlights.  Becky got married, Stacey is pleased to be a woman, and had a great progress report, Cmerie (who just got a cute haircut) was inspired to post a funny story you just have to go read (in comments), Shalee provided a fashion report and bluepaintred also had a positive report. 

Soooo. It took me longer than usual to get around to this!  I’ve BEEN. BUSY!!!! In a good way! 

Yay!

I’ve been finishing up the last of the final edits before my book could go to the printers.  And it did!  It’s officially at the printers. Wherever that is.  How exciting!!!!

I have no idea how much longer until I get to see it, but I’ll let you know.    

If all of you just got a thousand notifications of new posts from me, um.  Sorry.  I needed to update the links in every post that mentioned Total Transformation and that kinda took awhile.  Who knew there were so many?  Anyway. I think I’m done now.

Have you done that BSE yet?

As I type, a spider awaits certain death on the ceiling above me.  It’d be easier if we didn’t have huge ceilings that form an upside down V, and if the spider were not at the highest point of that upside down V. But whatever. 

At least it is not a snake.  Yesterday, it was a snake.  Not on the bedroom ceiling, of course.  In the backyard.  I ran in the house screaming for Mike, who was busy painting Caden-4yr’s room.  I told him of the snake with an expression on my face that clearly indicated he was expected to morph into Snake Terminator.  Pronto.  Perhaps that assumption seems a bit archaic in its gender roles, but I have no trouble with fully declaring that The One With Testicles Must Kill Snakes.  And spiders.  Please. 

Before yesterday, we’ve never had a snake, and so there had been no need to previously negotiate the Snake Terminator role.  (Therefore, it is rather impressive that it was all done instantaneously with the expression on my face, don’t you think?)  Not that this saved us any time.  Mike needed to wash his hands.  He’d been painting.  And apparently, Snake Terminators must have sparkling clean, hygienic hands to get near their subjects. 

Surgeons do not wash their hands as thoroughly as Mike did. 

However.  Then he donned boots (with shorts), and went to face the snake, who was stupid enough to hang around in the same spot for the entire time Mike washed and rewashed his hands. 

Since he was wearing boots with shorts - and holding the largest pair of BBQ tongs ever created, of course I took pictures and called the boys to watch through the window. 

Snake Terminator (with very clean hands, and boots - with shorts) prevailed.  We cheered.  We took photos.  I ushered the children away from the window when the snake needed to pass on from this life.

It was all very exciting, and Seth-2yr and Caden-4yr yelled ” NAKE!”  for what seemed like forever. Seth-2yr’s tongue did ’nake imitations all night.   Adrenalin ran high, and suddenly all of us were a bit jumpy about anything unexpectedly brushing up against us.  Mike and the boys looked up the ’nake on the internet and determined it was a mildly venomous but not deadly variety.  Blech.   

I am SO glad I do not have testicles. Even with them, I could not possibly wear shorts with boots.  Never.

Which brings me to the real point of this post. If you also do not have testicles, and do have breasts, then please do your monthly self breast exam. Pronto!  Then leave a comment on this post saying you did so, and then you are eligible to receive a fantastically cute  rainbow assortment of bath gels.  I think there are 7 or 8.  Very cute. 

Snake Terminator has slayed the spider.  Yay!

So I’m going through one of those (numerous) spells where I avoid the phone, writing here (or anywhere else), and I haven’t checked my main email inbox in 2 weeks.  I do that.  No big thing. I’m fine. 

Hope you are as well.

See you tomorrow. 

(Really.)

This morning the boys and I piled into the car, and Ethan-8yr immediately made a face and said, “Yuck! What’s that smell?” 

I don’t have much of a sense of smell, and didn’t know what he was talking about. But i DO have a phobia of gross, forgotten sippy cups lingering under car seats.  I asked Ethan-8yr to look for an old cup. 

He diligently searched the car, and then said, “Oh!  Yep. I see it.”

“A sippy cup?”

“No.  Just an old beer of Dad’s.”

….?

Um.   Last I checked, Mike didn’t drink.  Last I heard, he wasn’t really big on drinking and driving, either. 

“Uh? Ethan-8yr?  Could you hand it to me please?”

“Sure.  Gross.”  He hands me an unopened can of Mr. Pibb and makes a face.

“Uh…that’s Dad’s, but it’s not beer.  I think it’s kinda like Dr. Pepper.   The wrong drink came out of a coke maching the other day.”

“Oh!  Like Dr. Pepper?!  CAN I HAVE IT, pleeeeeaAse?”

“No. And what was smelling so bad?”

“Oh, probably just Seth-2yr.” 

In all fairness, sweet little  Seth-2yr did not smell bad (at that particular moment).  If that conversation had lasted even a few moments longer, I’m sure Caden-4yr and I would have been unintentionally maligned as well.

This morning Ethan-8yr and Caden-4yr collided in the hallway.  I couldn’t see it, since they were around the corner, but I could certainly hear it.  It was clear that Caden-4yr had been the one who got hurt.  He’s pretty tough, so his yelping in pain got Ethan-8yr’s attention very quickly. 

“I’m sorry, Caden-4yr! It was an accident!” 

Pause.  

“Here, why don’t you punch me in the Twinkle Spot?” 

Which made me think….well.  Maybe Mike forgot to use anatomically correct words in his talk the other day… 

And while I considered this I heard Caden-4yr say, “Well. Okay!”

And I stopped pondering the vocabulary of my children and then shrieked at them to stop, and then somewhat calmly explained that you NEVER invite someone to punch you in the Twinkle Spot (this needs to be said?), or anywhere else for that matter. Then I outlined how it is better to reduce the total number of injuries, accidental or otherwise, than to simply make all the injuries EQUAL among them.  And I forgot to correct the vocabulary and didn’t give it a second thought  until right this moment.  I suspect I’ll have a chance to get around to that tomorrow.  

Seth-2yr has had a fever and a sore throat.  He’s moped and been miserable all day.  So tonight I was VERY surprised to hear him laughing hysterically.  He was in the bathtub with Caden-4yr, who was screaming “MooooOOOOoom!”  Interesting combination of very loud, conflicting noises coming from that bathtub.  One brother totally deliriously joyful, and another panicked and needing help. 

I ran in and found Seth-2yr, laughing harder than perhaps he’s ever laughed, and Caden-4yr - a stricken look of horror on his face. 

He was covered in vomit.

“Mom.  Look what Seth-2yr did! It is uh-skuss-ting.  I am uh-skuss-ting.”

“Oh! No.  You are not disgusting.  Um. You just have a lot of throw up on you.”  Riiiight. Realizing how ridiculous those statements were, and how suddenly thankful I was that i have an almost nonexistent sense of smell, I just covered my face so Caden-4yr wouldn’t see me smile. 

Then we both came to our senses and started washing him off.  Well, not Seth-2yr.  He laughed and pointed, and tried to re-enact the moment of drama in case I had somehow missed the greatness of what had transpired.   

Poor Caden-4yr.  He got smashed in a hallway collision, coated in Projectile Style Sick, and he didn’t even get the consolation prize of punching anyone’s private parts.       

I have a loose policy of ‘no nagging.’  Mike hates nagging, and I usually dislike myself when I fall into it.  So instead I ask him to do whatever it is I want done, and then do it myself if he won’t.  Works for us. 

Very rarely there are exceptions.  When it came time to start having  the series of talks on  body parts/functions/how things work/sex , I talked with Kim-14yr.  We talked more than she wanted to. We had books.  We had more talks.  And Mike assured me that with the b0ys, he’d be the one to take the lead.

So I asked him to start that process, especially with Ethan-8yr.  (although, at the TIME of the request he was Ethan-7yr.)  Mike agreed.  He bought a book on how to talk to your kids about such things.  I think he even read it.  It lived on his side of the closet, and every Tuesday and Friday morning I’d go to get his dry cleaning organized and I’d see that book.  The sight of that book bugged me greatly, since it was a fantastic reminder that he hadn’t just TALKED TO THE KID.  So I started leaving little notes on the dry cleaning slips and tucking them into his drawers.  These were charming surprises, I’m sure. Really endearing. 

I think the first one read “You said you’d do this months ago.”  I tucked it into the How to Talk to the Kid book where it wouldn’t be missed.

Another month passed.  The next note, also on the dry cleaning slip read “JUST DO IT” 

And then another month. 

Why didn’t I just follow my own policy and do it myself?  Because I REALLY want the boys and Mike to have the ‘we can talk about stuff’ relationship, and this seemed a milestone in fostering that.  

The last note read, “Please talk to him by Friday.  Address whatever issues are preventing you from doing it by then and get it done.  Please.”

I didn’t really think he would.  And yuck!  That escalated from nagging to ultimatum. Gross. 

However.

Friday night Mike and Ethan-8yr had a conversation.  YEA!!!

Perhaps it had been awhile since Mike read the How to Talk to Your Kid About This Topic Your Wife Thinks is Sooooo Important book, or perhaps he hadn’t fully addressed whatever was preventing him in the first place.  Maybe he was just nervous. 

I really don’t care, because he did it, and that makes me VERY happy.

But for whatever reason, Mike started the conversation a little on the vague side.  “So… Ethan-8yr.  Do you know the differences between how boys and girls are made?”

I know.  Isn’t that cute ALL BY ITSELF?  Oh, funny. 

Ethan-8yr said, “Sure.  God made girls with longer hair. They think different too.  And they walk differently.”  Then he does a dramatic, prissy walk, complete with alternate shoulder thrusting and swiveling hips and says, “Especially if they’re practicing for a runway.” 

Well.  I’m sure that cleared things RIGHT up for Mike.  How he kept a straight face through that, and THEN transitioned to the intended direction of that discussion is beyond me. 

And what girls does he know who are ‘practicing for a runway’ and why does he even know what that means?!