I really dislike sweating at night. Which is bad, because apparently, I live in THE CENTER OF THE SUN. Slap dab in the middle, people.

Grrr.

Now I must peel myself from this chair, and crawl deep into my air conditioner. No, don't stop me. It's the only way. Trust me, I know what I'm doing.

I'll see you next Fall.

My day is full of little things to do - wash the bottles, fold laundry, mail letters, write in my blog... it's enough to distract me from the imminent incarceration that hangs over my brother's head.

This was Luke's response to our electric bill this month. Yikes.

Here are a few more I snapped today:

Drool.

Yeah, being a family of five will do that to ya.

Oh, alright already! It's happened yet again! No matter how often I try, there is no possible way we can keep bananas in this house. They brown, literally, before my eyes. And there's nothing that ews me out more than a soft, wimpy looking banana. Gross.

So no bananas in my house ANYMORE, unless they are hanging on my wall and doing the samba. Yeah, that's right. The samba.

Me wants. Oh how me wants.

*I love the two running out of the bag. Sweet.

We're fans of the pop-in. Some people aren't, I know - but our policy is, if you're in our neck of the woods, don't even worry about calling. Just pop-in. Since we don't get out of the house much these days, it's great when the people come to us.

But what are the odds of having three pop-ins in one night? Friday evening, three of Patrick's friends from school came by to hang out. One of the girls who stopped by, Hannah, recently got back from a trip to Europe. She backpacked it all over the place, including Libya, where her family is originally from. Her dad came to the US on a student visa and just... stayed. I don't blame him. From what she said, it sounded pretty scary over there. Anyway, I asked her if the language barrier was difficult, and she replied that it wasn't because she spoke Arabic.

So, of course, here comes my inner child, rushing forward enthusiastically.

Inner Child: She can speak another language? Aw COOL!! Get her to say - "the walls are yellow".

Me: No. Absolutely not. We're not seven years old, you know.

IC: Please? Pretty please? You never let me do anything.

Me: She'll think we're stupid! She probably gets asked to do that all the time, and we're not gonna bug her! Just be cool!

IC: *pouting* Could you at least ask her to say a dirty word in arabic?

Me: Unbelievable. You need to go back where you came from, right now.

IC: You used to be fun, you know. We got to do all kinds of stuff. Remember when you learned what "caca torra" meant? That was awesome.

Me: I know you may find this hard to believe, but I am not interested in accumulating any more foreign swear words. Now sit down and be quiet, or else!

IC: Or else what? I'm not scared of you.

Me: You should be. Wait, what am I doing? I'm not arguing with you anymore. Go away. I've already missed a good fifteen minutes of what she was saying just having this ridiculous conversation with you!

IC: Hmph.

My innerchild then stomped off, glaring at me over her shoulder until she was out of sight.

Aside from the occasional mumble offstage, she was relatively quiet for the rest of the evening.

She did come back out to eat some yummy baklava, and by then had forgotten all about dirty arabic words. That's one of the nice things about my innerchild. Along with her penchant for sweets, she also has a short attention span.

So. Now you've met my innerchild.

And with that sentence, I have to wonder if I'm blogging just a little too much these days.

Wow. Busy week, people. I'll hit the highlights, since I haven't been able to blog much this week.

1. More pilates, more kicking of my butt. However, I realized yesterday that my body is starting to comply, albeit grudgingly. I still can't put my foot behind my head, but we all need to dream, right?

2. Our old babysitter- she's not actually old, but she doesn't babysit for us anymore- she came by and watched the kids for me for a few hours Thursday. Holly is such a sweetheart. She took them on a picnic, and they all nearly perished of heat exhaustion. The heat index was like 110, and I'm not kidding. Too hot to do anything! But it gave me a few hours to run some errands, and wish that I was shopping instead.

3. Got caught in a downpour when I was jogging yesterday. The first few drops, I was all "yay!! Mother Nature is cool!" Two minutes later, Mother Nature was not cool. She was trying to drown me. And don't think I'll forget it, either. Next time Mother Nature needs something from me, well, HA. I shake my fist at you!

4. I am starting a small sewing project (because I just have too much free time!). It's a mini-wedding dress for Wrenn. No, she's not having a mini-wedding. But she's been wanting a dress to play in, and dear sweet Grandma, told her, Oh, Mommie can make you one! I'll buy the material! Mmm. My response, Oh, Wrennie- you can have a new flat screen tv and ipod, because Grandma is buying me you one!! Anyway, it's a simple pattern, and won't take me long, and she'll have hours of fun in it, so why not?

5. Am drooling over the new HP. Anybody done yet? You know my policy on buying books, but sometimes... dangit. I hate the wait! It will be ages before the library has an available copy. If I sit here, pitiful, will it make you hurry up and finish so I can borrow it?

6. Look what I got this week, for no reason in particular. Props to the other half!

7. I made a tape, for running. I got tired of the cd jumping all over the place, so I busted out the walkman. Oh, okay, I didn't bust it out. I wasn't exactly thrilled with the proposition. You know how hard it is to even find blank tapes in the store? I had to ask the salesman, and he was all laughing under his breath at me, the jerk. I feel so... eighties. And not the part we all think of with great nostalgia, like banana clips or legwarmers. It's so bulky, I can barely keep it hooked to my shorts, and I'm not sure, but I think I actually got pointed at the other day! Wah. Upside though- even though the music was sort of slurry sounding, I totally got my groove on. (which, incidentally, may be the actual cause of the pointing, now that I think about it.)

8. Okay, time to go make lunch. Enough bloggie for now. Will attempt to write something substantial this weekend, and not just bulletpoint my week. However, I also attempt to get out of my pajamas before lunchtime every day, but that doesn't always happen either. C'est la vie.

Um... okay. Here's the deal. I track hurricanes. I've never denied my inner geek, so you shouldn't be surprised at that oh-so-fascinating revelation. I'm there all the way, from the tropical depressions to tropical storm, to full blown hurricanes. The National Hurricane Center website is on my favorites list, for crying out loud. Me = nerd, I know.

Anyway, the other day, I was following the track of Hurricane Dennis after it made landfall, and read the following: "The carcass of Dennis is now located at such and such coordinates"...

Wait a minute. The carcass?

Sheesh, guys. That's a little heavy, isn't it? The bloated remains of a hurricane have once again washed up on the shores of North America. The body of Hurricane Dennis, a category 3 storm, was discovered yesterday by local weatherman. Officials have not commented on cause of death, stating only that the circumstances are "highly suspicious". This is the first hurricane this season to find death on American soil, and officials have issued an international warning to all hurricanes visiting the area.

I mean, I take hurricanes seriously, I really do. But I'm not setting up a trust fund in their memory.

Silly meteorologists. You guys are too much.

Tonight at dinner, I asked Wrenn what kind of birthday she wants. It's still a few months away, but I like to have plans in my head, and what kid doesn't like to talk about birthdays? As I expected, she wants My Little Pony. I was discussing with Patrick that we may need to have it at the park or something because we don't have a lot of room at our house, blah blah blah.

In the middle of our conversation, Wrenn says rather matter-of-factly, "I'm inviting boys." She doesn't even look up from her dinner, just keeps right on eating.

Egads. She doesn't like them yet does she? Boys should be icky for at least another couple years, right?

Yeah, too early for that business. I think our little genius just figured out that the more people at her party, the more presents she'll get.

*insert big sigh of relief*

That was scary.

...thy name is Digital Camera.

Remember Mrs. Ruby and Rufus? They showed up at the park Saturday, and smart me had my camera. Yip!

Rufus, the neighborhood mascot.

Two at the top.

My sweet baby,

Your head nuzzled into my neck feels like a lazy Saturday morning. I bask in the scent of your warm skin, the texture of your fuzzy hair, and I want to etch those sensations into my heart. I love the way you get as close as you can to me, your weight a drowsy hug that stills me and calms me. You are more beautiful every day, perfect in a way that I will always remember. I live for your shy smiles and timid glances, they are treasures. Thank you for being the baby you are, and for being my dream come true every day.

Love,
Mama

Luke, deep in thought.

What my idea of fun is not: Three hours in a government office with 3 very unhappy and bored children.

TGIF, people, cause I got nothing left.

At the dinnertable tonight, it occurred to us that we may be lacking in stimulating conversation topics.

Patrick: I had the most boring dream last night -
Shannon: Wait. Uh huh. No way, mister. We have to try a little harder than that.
Patrick: Yeah, you're right. (laughing)

Sadly, there wasn't much else to discuss, and I find myself wondering just what his dream was about.

-sigh-

What's behind the curtain today:

Today, Luke has his six week checkup, and all you mothers know what that means. Shots.

Poor baby. I hate it, I really do. Sometimes being Mama is a dirty job.

(as a side note, Luke is actually two months old, not six weeks. I'm averaging a two week delay on everything these days.)

Okay, I borrowed my sister's pilates dvd a hundred years ago, and finally broke it out today.

Oh.my.gosh.

Who knew that such a mild-sounding word could so thoroughly kick my butt? Am I that out of shape, seriously? I mean, I knew I had a little work to do since having my baby, but what happened today was downright embarassing! My body just doesn't bend that way!

I've heard pilates really helps tone though, so I'll stick with it (in the privacy of my home where no one can view my shameful inflexibility.) The tape also has a little yoga, so I'm just one step away from my favorite word. Sweet.

I've also made some changes in my diet, namely drinking water all day instead of iced tea (wah). And I've cut out my snacking. I'm a comfort eater unfortunately, so I have to really watch that. This three kids thing can drive you to find comfort where you can, and I have to consciously walk away from the pantry. (And the liquor. And the pills. Kidding.)

I'm also jogging a few times a week to get my cardio in, when I can. It's a little harder to get out of the house than it used to be, so that's sporadic. I also have to carry my stupid cd walkman around when I run, and the cd jumps all around and my arm gets numb. Ipod, people. Shannon needs an ipod.

Anyway, there you have it. If the pilates doesn't kill me in the next few weeks, I'll let you know how that works out. My downward dog was looking pretty good by the end of the tape, so maybe there's hope for me yet.

Don't even ask me about my mountain pose, though. Just don't ask.

Wikipedia intimidates the heck out of me, and I don't know why.

In a dark office in the basement of the FBI, Mulder hung this poster.

That is where I am right now. Desperately wanting to believe, afraid to, afraid not to. Not in UFO's, no. But in something equally intangible... the ability to change.

I'm talking about my brother, whom I've written of before. This last trip home afforded me the chance to see him, and I'm glad for it. We had some pleasant moments, and then a not-so-pleasant one. A big arguement turned into an ugly family feud, and resulted in an entire afternoon spent avoiding each other and nursing our wounds. But eventually, we talked. Really talked- the kind you have in the shadows, until three o'clock in the morning. The kind that makes you cry because you say things that you've been needing to say forever. The kind that gives you hope, sends you forward, and makes you sad.

He's weeks, maybe days, away from leaving, either to jail or to a bootcamp. I don't know which yet.

And it's hard on his big sister. Hearing his late night confessions, his remorse, his longing to have a future-- it hurts. Because I want that, too. I don't want to think of him there, even after all the heartache his actions have caused. Knowing that I was hugging him for the last time when I left, well, the tears come just remembering it. I don't want this for him. But his choices led him here, and he knows that.

He told me that he's finally realized what he wants in life. Just to be a husband, and a dad. I see that in him when he plays with my children. I see the person he wants to be. His choices have kept him from that, each surrender to temptation has moved him farther away from those things. He said it finally hit him, that he's been giving up that happy future for this miserable present.

I want to believe.

But you know what? It doesn't really matter if I do, or if I don't. If he truly means it, he can't waste time trying to convince everyone he's reformed-- he just has to do it. There's no point in saying the words, because we've heard them before.

So, he's here, at the end of the path his sin and addiction have led him to. He must pay his dues, face the consequences. But, my prayer is that the end of this path will be the beginning of another. One that is filled with rich blessings, and happiness, and peace. One that he walks with a good woman, toting round and bright babies. One that he will be proud of, take joy in, and be worthy of. One that is empty of regrets and shame.

I want to believe.

And I can't. Not completely, in his words.

But I can believe in something, something far greater than Trey's assurances or promises. I can believe in God's assurances and promises. He hears my prayers, and even in the midst of trial and pain in our life, He has not forgotten us. There is a reason, there is hope.

In Jeremiah 29:10-14, God addresses the Israelites, who are slaves of Babylon. I send these words to you now, Trey, for you are no less a slave to your sins and addiction, though you went into your servitude willingly.

This is what the Lord says: "When seventy years are completed for Babylon, I will come to you and fulfill my gracious promise to bring you back to this place. For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you," declares the Lord, "and will bring you back from captivity."

God wants us to believe, too. He just didn't make a poster for it.

I got my clean on today. I mean, really got it on. I put my hair in a practical, yet trendy, ponytail, and got bizZAY. Floors, walls, tubs and cabinets-- I showed no mercy. I wasn't this way as a kid, you know. My mother can attest to that fact. Just call her. Seriously. She'll tell you, with little or no prompting. I didn't mind letting the laundry pile up - or cups sit in my room until they sprouted legs and ran into the kitchen to scald themselves clean. Poor mom. Gross. And those dishes were in therapy for years, those dirty little things.

But now, I can't stand for things to pile up on me. I long for the sweet smell of Murphy's Oilsoap. I adore clean counters and tidy junk drawers. I am downright giddy over a sparkling bathroom, and if I can catch my reflection in the faucet handles, I get verklempt. It's so nice to have a clean house, my mood improves and I feel productive and optimistic. I don't like putting it off until later anymore-- and believe me, I used to take great pleasure in putting it off. I was the epitome of procrastination. But one day, it just clicked. I'm happier when my space is tidy. I don't necessarily enjoy the work more, but the rewards are definitely worth the effort. Wait a second--- this is one of those Life Lessons, isn't it? Cool!! All that stuff my parents said was relevent!!

Aw, Shannon grew up! They should make an afterschool special about my journey to cleanliness. It really is a touching story.

Anyway, that was my Saturday, in all it's glory.

And..... Publish.

Brilliant. That's a wrap, people. Good blogging, well done. See you next week, and don't forget to see wardrobe on your way out.

Here are just a few images of the last several days. (click the link for more)

Ten days. Some of them on the porch, rocking and swinging. Some of them on couches, listening and learning. Some of them on the front steps, crying and laughing. Some of them at the table, smiling and eating. Some of them in the backseat of the car, giddy and giggling. Some of them at the creek, wet and relaxing.

Ten days to say hello and goodbye, ten days to live outside myself. Ten days to see the past, ten days to remember my place in the world. Ten days to frame my memories, ten days to feed my soul.

Home, sweet home.

More blah blah blah tomorrow. Shannon sleepy now.

I live, I live!! I'm in the middle of what has turned out to be the "Calories? Who Cares!" Vacation. I've eaten more home cooking in the last five days than I have in my entire life! Remember the celebrating post? That might have been a tad premature. I did manage to get the zipper up... so technically, I guess they still fit. I don't regret one single bite, though. If JLo can get away with it, so can I. Nothing wrong with a little junk in the trunk, right?

I don't have time to write more at the moment, but I did want to pop in to tell you that I survived the 3.5 hour trip with the 3 kiddos (all by myself, mind you.) I only cried once - which is pretty darn good.

Hope everyone is enjoying their 4th of July break, and I'll write again, if I can ever tear myself away from the dinner table.

You may now continue desperately missing me.