I’ve been tagged by my good friend, Ms. Cute Pants, to list seven weird/random things about me. It’s taken me a while to do this because even though I know there are numerous weird things about me, (1) I currently can’t seem to remember most of them, and (2) I’m not sure if I need people to know about them… and if they do know about it, then I don’t need to know that they know (am I making any sense here).

Ok, so here goes…

(1)  Growing up I wanted to be a secretary. Mostly cause I thought they got all dressed up and looked cute as they went about their business. The fantasy was in the dressing up and looking cute. I have since realized that not all secretaries get dressed up, only those who really want to impress their boss (wink, wink). If I didn’t have my husband and my kids, I might have held on to that fantasy (lol).

(2)  Recently an acquaintance mentioned that I am “as fertile as the Nile.” Interesting! Oddly enough, as a young girl I wanted to have six children. Now that I’m much older and wiser, I think I’m done with three. FYI, my MIL has six kids, all boys, ranging from 29 years of age (my husband) to six years old. She is one strong, brave woman.

(3)  Watching three kids, who range from 3 1/2 years to 3 months old, all day and all night long, has turned my brain to mush. So, when I am in adult company, I pretend to know what I am talking about and that I am smarter than I look. I think people are starting to see through my ruse.

(4)  The sadder part, I trained to be a math teacher but due to the current status of my brain I can’t even add past 1+1.

(5)  I love the smell of my babies’ breath… at least for the first six months of their life.  Smells of milky goodness (have I grossed anyone out yet)!  Once they start eating solid foods it’s not so pleasant.

(6)  When I was in the 9th grade I had an unfortunate accident with a cricket ball that broke off 3/4 of my front tooth.  I now have a crown attached to the reaming 1/4 of my tooth.  It’s pretty noticeable under a black light or when I go clubbing because the rest of my teeth glow blue while the fake tooth stays black.  I look like a retard with missing teeth.  Therefore I try not to smile too much when I go out clubbing.

(7)  I have quite a temper… to the point that when I get mad I want to slam doors, throw and break stuff, and sometimes even hurt people.  I think I inherited my rage from my dad and sadly, I think I have passed it down to Mark.  The good news is that time has taught me how to control this emotion, for the most part.  I hope I will be able to pass what I learned to Mark.

And just for craps and giggles…

(8)  Writing this post has drained what is left of the few brain cells I had.

Like I said earlier, I can’t seem to remember all the weird/random things about me.  Maybe I should consult with my husband.  I’m sure he can name several of my idiosyncrasies off the top of his head but, since I have fulfilled my part of this tag you won’t be reading any of it.  Too bad for you.  🙂

Sure I’d love world peace and all that other good stuff… but what I really want for Christmas is some liposuction, a tummy tuck, and maybe a breast lift.

William, I hope you are reading this! 😉

Carolyn, my mother-in-law, emailed me this story. I feel that it is one that speaks to the heart of all the mothers out there.

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I’m invisible.

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I’m on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I’m thinking, “Can’t you see I’m on the phone?” Obviously not. No one can see if I’m on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I’m invisible. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I’m not a pair of hands; I’m not even a human being. I’m a clock to ask, “What time is it?” I’m a satellite guide to answer, “What number is the Disney Channel?” I’m a car to order, “Right around 5:30, please.”

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude -but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She’s going … she’s going … she’s gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it.

I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, “I brought you this.” It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn’t exactly sure why she’d given it to me until I read her inscription: “To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.”

In the days ahead I would read – no, devour – the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern
my work:
* No one can say who built the great cathedrals – we have no record of their names.
* These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished.
* They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.
* The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, “Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.”And the workman replied, “Because God sees.”

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, “I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you’ve done, no sequin you’ve sewn on, no cupcake you’ve baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can’t see right now what it will become.”

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on.

The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree. When I really think about it, I don’t want my son to tell the friend he’s bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, “My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.” That would mean I’d built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, “You’re gonna love it there.”

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we’re doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

Finally had some spare time on my hands.  Not to mention I’ve been curious as to how I would look as a Simpson character.  I think I look pretty hot, if I do say so myself.  😀  What do you think?

Here is the original picture.

And this is what I look like Simpsonized.

Oh, and I’ve put myself in my birthday suit. That’s how hot I think I am!

For those of you who have time to kill and would like to know what you would like as a Simpson’s character, you may find this web site amusing.  Simpsonize Me.  Word of warning:  It looks like the site gets a lot of traffic, so you may have to refresh the page a couple of times before you get it to work.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and it may be necessary from time to time to give a stupid or misinformed beholder a black eye.
~Miss Piggy

With mother’s day around the corner, I found this story to be a worthy and hilarious addition to my blog.  My mother-in-law, Carolyn, sent it to me.  According to the email, it was written by Deborah S. Wallace.  Enjoy.

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So, we had this great 10 year old cat named Jack who just recently died.  Jack was a great cat and the kids would carry him around and sit on him and nothing ever bothered him. He used to hang out and nap all day long on this mat in our bathroom. Well we have 3 kids and at the time of this story they were 4 years old, 3 years old and 1 year old. The middle one is Eli.

Eli really loves chapstick, LOVES it. 

He kept asking to use my chapstick and then losing it. So finally one day I showed him where in the bathroom I keep my chapstick and how he could use it whenever he wanted to but he needed to put it right back in the drawer when he was done. 

Last year on Mother’s Day, we were having the typical rush around and try to get ready for Church with everyone crying and carrying on. My two boys are fighting over the toy in the cereal box. I am trying to nurse my little one at the same time I am putting on my make-up.  Everything is a mess and everyone has long forgotten that this is a wonderful day to honor me and the amazing job that is motherhood. 

We finally have the older one and the baby loaded in the car and I am looking for Eli.    I have searched everywhere and I finally round the corner to go into the bathroom.  And there was Eli. He was applying my chapstick very carefully to Jack’s rear end.  Eli looked right into my eyes and said “chapped.” Now if you have a cat, you know that he is right–their little butts do look pretty chapped. And, frankly, Jack didn’t seem to mind. 

And the only question to really ask at that point was whether it was the FIRST time Eli had done that to the cats behind or the hundredth.

And THAT is my favorite Mother’s Day moment ever because it reminds us that no matter how hard we try to civilize these glorious little creatures, there will always be that day when you realize they’ve been using your chapstick on the cat’s butt.