I was Mean Mom today. I hate that. The truth is, after four days of rain, we've got a severe case of cabin fever.

Sigh.

Sometimes, I feel like a good mom. I read stories, I take them to the playground, I make sure teeth are brushed. I've got most of that covered. But occasionally - like today, I'm just not a good mom. I'm impatient and selfish, and just want them to be quiet. I want to take a bath without fifteen emergencies in the other room. Ya know?

I know logically, that my mother wasn't perfect. Certainly, she had impatient moments and occasionally spoke more harshly than was necessary, right? But I don't remember her doing that. Today, after I left for work, I thought about my attitude with the kids, and thought to myself, "sheesh, I hope they don't remember this particular day." I was not happy with myself.

I want to appreciate this time with them. Their youth. Their sense of fun and easy happiness. I know that one day in the future, it won't be this way, that the hurts and pains and realities of life and growing up will creep in on them-- and these days are gone. They'll still be great kids, and still happy, but not the way they right at this moment. So, it really bugs me when I go and blow the chance to enjoy it just because I'm not in the greatest mood.

I think I'm reaching a critical stress level. I'm finding it more and more difficult to "bounce back" from things and I'm not sure what to do about it. The things that usually help, like blogging, just aren't doing it for me. I'm trying to figure it out and I got nothing so far. I need refreshment. Renewal. Something...

Posting has been bleak, and infrequent here at APOG, I realize this. The truth is, I can't promise much different at the moment- so I'm going to take a little vacation. I may write here and there as the mood takes me, but for all intents and purposes, I'm on hiatus till the blues have lifted. Wish me luck, and check back in occasionally because I am NOT shutting APOG down. We all just need to get away sometimes...

But save my seat, k? I will be back.

Oh drat. I knew it would happen. A craving for a beautiful, vine-ripened tomato sandwich, with mayo and salt and pepper-- that you have to eat over the sink because it's so juicy it drips all over the place.

In January.

Won't someone please explain this to the one in utero that keeps demanding it? It won't listen to me.

As a side note, at first, I typed "hormonos", which tickled me.

I woke up this morning to find my (nearly) two year old wearing only his diaper, a pair of sandals, his winter jacket and dad's ski cap.

Heh? I could have sworn he was in pjs when he went to bed last night.

The funny part was that you could tell he thought he looked pretty awesome.

I hate to be emotional. I don't want to be one of those people, those emotional vampires that are to be avoided at all costs. I don't want to be needy, I don't want sympathy, I don't want to make this about me. But I can't be fake either. I can't get on here right now and not write about how I'm feeling.

I've written about my brother-- just that once. It was a good thing to do. It helped people in our family start talking and working through things. It didn't, of course, solve the problem, but I was optimistic. But drug addiction is a topsy turvy road, and right now I'm at a low point.

I can feel myself slipping away again. I've misplaced the Thing That Makes Me Me, whatever that is. It happens slowly, innocently, like it always does. I just get Busy. How can I not be? With two young children, a full-time job, pregnancy, and a husband in school--- it is inevitable that from time to time I forget myself.

It happens first when I stop reading. I can't get myself to a library for some reason or another, and my brain dulls a little. People Magazine fills my 5 minute voids, and I get depressed. Brad and Jennifer? Oh who the heck cares? And yet, the less I read, the less I want to read, and my mind settles into a sickening apathy of academia.

Then, I quit writing. I can't "force" inspiritation, I can't pencil it into my schedule, I can't make it fit my pace. I don't have the luxury of catering to it's demands at 2 o'clock in the morning-- so I putter out. I sit here, facing a white screen, cursor blinking expectantly at me, and nothing comes. I question myself, am I finished? Is this it for me? Have I finally tapped out?

But I know the answer to that. No. This is not it for me. I am not finished. I am not tapped out. I just have to turn around, backtrack, follow my steps to where I veered off. I've done it a thousand times, and I know I'll do it again a thousand more. That's the life we lead, especially as women. We take care of so many things, sometimes we forget to take care of ourselves as well. It's not just reading and writing, it's anything that makes you you-- whatever is yours alone.

I told a friend recently, if you are not taking care of yourself, then you can't take care of the other people in your life like you should. I absolutely believe this is true. It's not a matter of indulging your own selfish desires and neglecting their's. It's about being the best you, so that you are the best mom, the best wife, the best whatever. I am not just this person who does the laundry or makes meals-- anybody can be that for these people I love. I am more than that, and I need to give more than that. They deserve more from me than just the roles I fill. And I want to BE more. The only way to do that is to be healthy and happy with yourself first. As "Dr. Phil" as that sounds, it actually is true.

With that in mind, I think I'll head over to the library tomorrow, and submerge myself in words that move my blood. Strange how I find myself in pages of other peoples stories... how getting out of my life and into theirs is like going home. But that's another post.

Ya know--I feel better already.
I guess the books weren't the only things long overdue.

Wow. I nearly bored myself to DEATH looking at spoon rests on ebay. *shudder* Close call, that one. I really need to find some more stimulating activities.

Rumbly in my tumbly: The best BBQ chips I've ever eaten in my entire life.

Smile on my face: I'm off! I'm off! For two whole days!

"Grr" in my growl: AOL and MCI having me on hold for 45 minutes today. Goodbye sweet cellphone minutes... I knew thee too little.

Icing on my cake: The gorgeous weather and a screen door.

Spring in my step: The choosing of at least one possible baby name, which shall remain a secret because I am just mean that way. Mwahahahah*evil laugh*

Giddy in my giddy-up: Patrick's laptop came in!

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That's all, folks. What, do you want a kidney, too? Sheesh.

I'm a bit put out with myself at the moment. As a matter of fact, I'm barely on speaking terms with myself. "Shannon," I said, "don't forget to to get the phone transferred before your move. Seriously, do it." But did I listen? Oh no. I did not. And now, I have no phone/internet until January 31st. Nice. Sometimes I feel like Homer Simpson lives inside me. (That would explain the 4 pound weight gain last week anyway--- enough with the donuts, Inner Self!!)

Anyway.

So. It's never enough that I just flub up. Now, I actually REALLY need to use the phone in the morning. It came to my attention sometime around lunch today that my child has pinkeye. So, not only did I NOT have a phone to call the doctor, I could also NOT alert my babysitter, who was showing up in just a few hours, unsuspecting of the gooky eyeball that awaited her. Oh yay. So, I meet her at the door and explain to her how incredibly sorry I am, and that I would stay home from work until my husband got home so she wouldn't be exposed. She let me use her cellphone to call work to tell them I'd be late.

Oh but there's more.

Because I had no phone, I had gone to a friend's house this morning to call the phone company and try to take care of it. (she didn't know I was coming, because I HAD NO WAY TO TELL HER and she was walking out the door - but kind enough to let me hang around and make my call.) After being on hold for 30 MINUTES, I finally gave up, and figured I would try later when I got to work. Which I couldn't, because I WAS LATE.

So.

Now I've not only flubbed up majorly, I've also paraded pink eye to the far ends of the earth. I'm SO sorry Debbie!! Reallllllllly. I hope they don't get it. If they do, you reserve the right to spread the next communicable disease to mine.

Since I have no way to call the doctor, all I can do is ANOTHER pop-in in the morning (since that first one went so well), and hope I don't have to wait for ten thousand hours in the waiting room, where-with my current luck, my child will be exposed to some much yuckier illnesses and well, you can imagine the rest. We'll all be horribly sick and no one will know until Jan. 31.

And I think my eye itches.

Boo.

I've seen a lot of weird things lately. Seriously. Like the lady today with toilet paper wrapped around her head, and tied in the front like a doo-rag.

Lovely. I especially liked the quilted design for extra absorbancy.

Sweet. Fancy. Moses. (to steal a catchphrase.) I'm tired. Bone tired.

We are completely moved into our new house, after a massive amount of frenzied activity this weekend. Actually, it was a very smooth move, I'm just pooped. Boxes are all unpacked, and though I have no clue where everything is, it's all put away. Yay! My mom and sister came down and I worked them like dogs. They were awesome. Ashley was the first casualty of our steps, however. Those things are tricky- they are all different sizes and she took a tumble. We wrapped her ankle, but she was still limping on it a day or so later. Hopefully she's doing better now.

I wouldn't know, since I neglected to get our telephone service transferred. Oops. I'll be doing that tomorrow, I guess.

The house itself is just so cute I want to pinch it's little cheek. It really is a spunky little place, and I'm very happy to be there. If I had a digital picture, you can bet I'd take some pictures and post them here. But I don't. I live in a world without a digital camera, and believe you me, I feel appropriately sorry for myself about that. *pouting slightly*

Anyway. It looks great, trust me.

Alrightie then. That's all I'm good for at the moment. More bloggie later.

The great thing about wearing your hair braided Indian style? Compliments from 7 year old girls.

"I like your braids," she whispered conspiratorily.
"Thank you," I whispered back.

Conversation with a Visitor:

Her: Where is room 505?

Me: That's on the fifth floor. The elevators are at the end of the that hall.

Her: What do I do when I get there?

Me: Ma'am?

Her: At the elevators.

Me: *stunned for a moment* Uh... just press the "up" arrow button...

Her: And?

Me: *mouth gaping* Just take it to the fifth floor.

Her: And how do I get there?

Me: Press the number 5. *still maintaining serious face*

Her: Thank you. It's all new to me...

Me: No problem.

I have absolutely no explanation for that little encounter!

I have to really think this one through before I write it. I want to say it right.

First, shame on the Christian who says one thing, and does another. So... shame on me. Because we all do it, at some point. Christians don't have the monopoly on hypocrisy, it's a trait of humanity, in it's entirety. As parents, we tell our children, you mustn't lie. But do I lie? I called in "sick" one day recently, because I needed to leave for a trip early. How's that? I am guilty of hypocrisy with my child.

Because it's a human flaw, you will find it wherever we organize ourselves. Politics, education, business, and yes, church. The difference with this particular group though, is that Christians profess love and forgiveness and understanding. Hypocrisy isn't exactly a selling point for religion. We don't want to advertise how bad we can be, when we are trying to be so good. We are striving for more, we imitate Christ, we are "little-christs". He is the only One who walked this earth without the stain of hypocrisy; He is the only one who could because He was Perfect, and Blameless. We don't want you to see that we fall so short of His example, so we deny our hypocrisy. Our prejudices and self serving attitudes, our multitude of vices. It's really bad press for Christians. It just doesn't mesh with our agenda, which is the proclamation of a redeeming and loving Savior. Or does it? Is our message actually found in the very places we are ashamed of, in our weaknesses?

What in the world was Santa thinking when he brought my (nearly) 2 year old a set of drums for Christmas?

Coworker: "What's that?"

Me: "It's a book of logic puzzles."

C: *Blank stare.

Me: "You know, the kind where you have to figure out like what order the birdwatching club saw each species of birds, which person spotted them, and what color each bird was, based on a certain limited amount of given information and uh... hey, are you listening to me? Don't look at me like that!"

I am not a geek. I'm NOT.

Oh shoot. I am, aren't I?

Attention all units! Want to guestblog for me this week? I'm a bit bogged down with packing and cleaning, and eating. (Yes, you heard me correctly. I spend a great portion of the day on my new favorite activity, consumption of yummy edibles.)

Anyway, with the move less than a week away now, I need to take a break from APOG, but I can't bear to leave her empty. Step right up, folks. Take a swing at it. Drop me an email at apogblog"at"yahoo.com, and I'll set you up. Right after I finish this cupcake.

Okay, these two cupcakes. Quit hassling me.

Gotta love the old man who can play the harmonica with his nose. Then with his mouth. Then IN his mouth. Oh, and clack his false teeth to the beat of Jingle Bells. She says to herself, as she backs away slowly...

God bless us customer service people, God bless us all.

Once upon a time, something wonderful happened. (This tale brings tears to my eyes, friend.) My mom, that sweet angelic beautiful woman, found something special. A treasure. A magical, priceless thing that she brought home to her family- and changed our lives forever.

This recipe.

I don't know where or when she stumbled upon this jewel- but as soon as I was old enough to utter that great word, "MORE" - she knew she'd hit the jackpot. Every year on my birthday for as long as I can remember, she makes me a dish of Chicken Divan, and everything is right with the world for a few hours. So now, I share it with you, and insist that you print it out and try it right this very moment. You won't regret it. Go on, hit print. You don't even have to finish reading it, trust me. You'll love it.

Steamed broccoli spears (or cooked frozen for you lazy folks)
2 cups bite-sized cooked chicken (boiled)
2 cups cooked rice
2 cans condensed cream of chicken soup
1 cup sour cream
1/2 to 1 cup mayonnaise (depending on how much you like mayo)
2 tablespoons lemon juice
2 cups shredded Cheddar cheese (shred it yourself and it's MUCH yummier!)
1/2 cup bread crumbs** optional

Cook broccoli until crisp-tender; drain. Place chicken in a buttered 11 1/2 x 7 1/2 x 1 1/2-inch baking dish. Put broccoli on top of chicken, and top with the rice. Mix soup with mayonnaise, sour cream, lemon juice, and cheese; heat in saucepan until cheese is melted. Pour over rice. Top with buttered bread crumbs - if you want. I leave that off. Bake at 350° for 25 to 30 minutes, until heated through.

Chicken divan recipe serves 6... or just one hungry pregnant woman.

Enjoy! Feel free to post your undying thanks and adulation for this recipe-- and I will be accepting monetary gifts of appreciation if you feel so inclined.

Three women armed with industrial strength cleaners, paint rollers, and household tools that are illegal in three states, mounted a massive attack on my soon-to-be home this past Dec. 31. The women emerged from the battlefield 48 hours later, worn and weary, some having sustained minor injuries, but victorious over their enemy. The women were welcomed home with glasses of wine and various pain killers, and the celebrations continued until one of the women (who shall remain nameless) succombed to exhaustion in the midst of eating a slice of pizza. A health official has released her to light duty for the next few days.

The house, now whipped into submission by these brave heros, boasts beautiful walls of terra cotta, avocado green, creamy butter yellow, enigmatic heather grey, and fresh white trim. It is a palatte most pleasing to the future occupants. Rich, hard wood floors sparkle on demand, and 40's style fixtures gleam to attention. No speck of dust or grime remains (and believe me, it was way beyond simply "dirty"-- it was horrifying).

Seriously, the biggest, hugest thank you to my mother, Aunt Janet, and Mae. I am so grateful that you did this for me. I couldn't have done it myself (paint fumes/pregnancy) and you knew that and you stepped in without blinking an eye. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I know it was an incredible amount of work, and you did it all with smiles and laughter and generosity of spirit and I appreciate that. What great women I have in my family.

Pics to follow soon. Just wait till you see how cute this little house is! I'm soooo in love with it. *dreamy sigh*