Resisting the dream fit of Pajama Jeans

It must be a characteristic of ADD that even when I go to sleep to get some needed ZZZ’s , surely I am able to do something else at the very same time and therefore, I am a big dreamer.

Only problem is in my dreaming, I am no longer directing whatever bunny trail my brain wants to scamper off to see & do. Sometimes, it is a thrilling adventure to go to sleep but whenever I am revving up for something of importance, my fun dreaming stops and it seems to become conference time for me, myself & I. It is like my brain knows there is no more time for wasting on frivolous dilly-dally dreaming that I am Augustus Gloop who has once again “accidentally” fallen into a chocolate river.

Yet, in my continuous life-long pursuit of being a better time manager, my brain is actually so headstrong determined to knock off just one more “to-do” item on my never ending “things- to-do” list, that I am convinced my brain uses my dreams to try & finish up certain un-finished thoughts started while awake , that merit more noodling time. But because dreaming itself is that weird unexplained detention that no one has figured out yet, I must also deal with the random uncertainty of how my continued thinking plays out on the inside of my sleeping eyelids. Last night, as I drifted off thinking about all I need to get done for the Kenny & the Christie Chrew, which covers the long suffering remodel of our home, my church responsibilities & my civics page-Not On This Watch and all that is connected there…I did as I always do, whined to the Lord that I need at least 24 more hours added to every day. And then I dreamed I owned a pair of Pajama Jeans. Hmmm.



Ok, I have thought about Pajama Jeans before, but I thought it was an open and shut case. Now, I don't know if I have a deep seeded fear that I actually need Pajama Jeans and my dream was a premonition because of the 2012 election season or if my dream was to warn me I have become far too comfortable with allowing myself to fall asleep in whatever I happen to be wearing. Maybe dreaming that I own a pair of Pajama Jeans is God’s answer to my whining about needing more time. But whatever the reason for such a dream, to give in to the selling point of convenience of Pajama Jeans has been a personal prideful “Glamour Don’t” for me ever since the first time I ever watched a Pajama Jeans commercial. So today I now have to wrestle with why I dreamed about me in Pajama Jeans. I don’t have time for this personal nail biter today….really, I don’t.



It should make complete sense for me to want or even need Pajama Jeans, given their marketed roll-out -bed-dressed-for- the day potential for increased efficiency. After all, a common practice for me is to drink Odwalla Superfood during especially bang it out busy episodes of my life. It’s kinda like drinking an Ensure to ensure I eat when I am so psyched-out- superdeduper- running-with-my-hair-on-fire busy & the normal intake of nourishment just eats up way too much of my time and gets on my last nerve. Personally, I am really looking forward to the day my dream will come true that was instilled in me by my gum chewing mentor, Miss Violet Beauregard of Charlie & the Chocolate Factory. Because of her moxie & chance encounter with the brilliant inventor, entrepreneur & marketer, Mr. Willy Wonka, I know what I want in a gum product. I long for a gum to chew that is no ordinary gum, but a new gum which by chewing will also feed me a 3 course meal, plus dessert. However, my dream gum will be perfected and not leave me with the resulting nightmare appearance of being one big bloated bruise as it did for poor little Violet. First of all, varicose veins are that same lovely shade of blueberry, so that must be addressed. And obviously, by the look at my home, I do not have any have any Oompa-Loompas at my beck and call to either dejuice me, or roll me from one room to the next so I can take in all 3 C-SPAN channels. No Oopma-Loompas, but I do have my children whom I already provide plenty for them laugh and mock behind my back. I am a bit picky that my ideal dream gum be just that, ideal, & not require legal-ease small print of a trillion side effects. So, if I am going to be satisfied, if anyone on the producer side of the somewhat still free market is listening to my demanding inner consumer‘s quest, I suggest you remember too, the forgotten business for dummies principle that used to be required to be taught in Business 101, that the customer is ALWAYS RIGHT! If you can handle that truth, here is what I am dreaming to purchase:

I need a yum in the tum meal replacement gum that when chewed will produce a vivaciously nourished, Pilates sculpted picture perfect me. Please do drop the blueberries and add cinnamon instead so I will project a toasty warm light brown glow and you will have one very happy customer.


As for Pajama Jeans, if I were to be outfitted with such, what’s next? I guess that all “Depends” on the outcome for me to be sold.

Yada, Yada, Yada, Let's Talk About Facebook to Slammin Princess Phones~How The Enlightment of Everchanging Communication Cults Help Change The World"

Communicating does bring on a certain cultish behavior in our society....we worship the object that does our communicating for us, we are slaves to however it beckons to us, we trust it will NEVER fail us and we are so lost when it does, and we either bolt to the next trend that is supposed to help us talk even more OR we refuse to just move on from our favorite outdated talky tool.

The talking gamut is jammed like a museum with Facebook, Yearbooks, Scrapbooks, Origami For Letter Writers, Slam Books, Slammin Princess Phones, Cell Phones, Franklin Planners, Palms, BlackBerries, Email, ChainLetters, Holiday Family Letters, Blogging and Twitter Tweeting. Ponder on that....then think quick! Can you name the 2 of the above items that I have not dabbled in or become outright obsessed with as a way to exchange dialogue with? HMMMM....give up?

1. Origami For Beginners...no, no, no, sorry, I have to yank that one after all. Looking back to my tadpole years, I used to fold up paper into these fun little finger thingies that were numbered on the corners. These amazing works of paper art would also serve as a makers of assured destiny for my friends, all based on whatever number was chosen. Then in Jr. High and High School, the skill of writing 2-4 letters per class period was one I mastered very well at the simple request of a"Write Me" as my friends and I would scurry down the halls before that darn tardy bell would move us along our day. Those notes of vital importance had to be folded just so...it was a security measure disguised as intricate art...Martha Stewart could have taken a lesson in stationary folding from us and we never needed her special folding bone tool either!



Ok....so which one are you still guessing? What is the one thing, the one option I have not yet added to my portfolio of yakking mediums? Give up? I am a Tweeter virgin. What in the Sam Hill am I waiting on? Tweeting has to beckon to me the way Facebook did for about 2 years & so I am playing hard to get.


Honestly, "tweeting" has a weird genesis with me that is not a fond memory. It was the first week of November of 2008. Anyone remember what was going on in the world? I was loosing way too much shut-eye....and what did I do to relax? I roamed all over the weird unknown channel offerings the night before the election until I landed on a channel that openly promoted itself as a liberal outlet. I felt like a spy! I felt ticked! I felt like I may never sleep again from worry! I felt beaten before the election (I know, I know, I know... I admit I was totally in that river of the Nile, saying "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swim, swim...") because it was an ominous reality check that from a technical position, my candidates of choice were not engaged with young new voters. It was here that I heard the word "tweet" for the first 2 times in my life. One person wanted young voters to tweet what was going on out in the field as a way to rally the troops and another was a Black Panther who wanted tweets on all things racial on election day. It was a very sick feeling of defeat that left me incredibly cross and even blaming myself for the final outcome to some degree. That is just about ridiculous to many that I would feel that burdened but be of good cheer, I am using this blog to officially get over it already.

But before doing that, let's take things down a notch or too...and have a little fun, shall we? Let's troll through the deserts of our minds as we look back at all the ways we have tried and tested to simply speak to one another. We are a funny & persistent bunch.

Some notables from my personal archives:

• SlamBooks ~ A spiral notebook with a sign-in page and number assignment for your VBFFs, as in "Very Best Friends Forever!". Each page had a different title and participants were to sign their number and their well thought out response to that title.

For example, one page might read something like this for me in 7th grade:
"Would you consider scraping someone's head with your nails as a way to get attention?"

"#7. Better Get Cha Some! Like totally, ok? Oh my gosh, when I see Coach fur shur he'll think like I am so way funny and cute when I scrape his head! Ummm, what if this turns out to be a total gag-me with a spoon moment & like, I get Coach's scalp skin under my nails! Oh My Gosh, that would be so grossy-gross! I am not using my nails, no way! My metal goody hairbrush will do the the trick! This is going to be so tubular!" By the way, can I like borrow someone's kissing potion lipgloss? Love Ya'll Like A Sister!

• Slammin Princess Phones~mine was baby blue and slept in my bed every night....and slammed like no other.


• Yearbooks~I spent time this summer with my best friends from school, Devon, Heather and Trina, scouring over the pages of Aquila 1984, all I can say is what were we thinking? And I could say it again and again and again...Truly, the miracle of sharpies has made it possible to even show my yearbook to my children.
• Cell Phones~well that really started with pagers. But when I got my first brick, someone called me a rich yuppy. I remember feeling like I had arrived and promptly went out and spent $250.00 on Serengeti sunglasses to look the part. What a gullible idiot I was! But then a merge of information and dialogue starting taking place thanks to....
• Franklins, Palms, Blackberries~ all tools of the trade to organize all of my life complete with who to talk to and what hour of the day to schedule talking. I still have my Dooney & Burke Franklin binder that my boss gave me as a new sales rep. for LS & Co...and now I get all Kenny's hand-me-down electronic organizers. Still need to load that Palm device & use it just once, after all, Sparky has had it charged up for me going on 3 years now. I find that he taunts me with that "crack"berry and so I steal it when he drives, looking up random stuff on the Internet while we run errands together, because I can. Whenever Kenny does finally get an IPhone...I will be a force to be reckoned with again~minus the stupid sunglasses purchase!
• Chain letters, Family Holiday letters and Scrapbooks~sharing vehicles of intimidation. Really, I promise that I do want to partake in the catching up and bragging on my kidlets, & I swear I am planning on forwarding 2 prs. flip-flops or recipes at some point of life to 20 of my closest friends. Surely, I must scrapbook at some point because there are tubs reaching the ceiling that are filled with enough scrapbooking supplies to stock a Hobby Lobby. In tandem with all of the really cool scrapbooking stuff I own is the reason for scrapbooking. Also stacked to the ceiling are mementos from just about every day of my children's lives. The history of 4 kids ages 6 to almost 15...all waiting on me. Plus, if you have ever sent me a card or given me a billion dollar check, I have it in a bin, box or bag, also begging to be immortalized in a scrapbook. Or crapbook as Sparky likes to say. All I know is I have gargantuan guilt thanks to such gorillas on my back. Oye-Vay.
• Email.~I hate email...more like e-stale. In a word....BORING!
• Facebook and blogging~ For a rookie writer, these 2 forums are honestly, extremely addictive for me. Sometimes, I admit, I beg for an intervention. But most of my time it is like sticking me in a shoe store and saying "Wear all you want LeLe...after all, you must wear shoes!" If I were a guy, it would be the equivalent to working for ESPN. However, this summer I had no laptop....do you know how much I can get done if I am not attached to this appendage???? Is there no mercy of balance???? For someone who tauts free agency as a gift, I am an admitted zombie in the zone when it comes to using this compilation of metal & magic to communicate with just about anyone I have ever met in my entire life. What a cool time to live because we can talk about so much...for so very long...until someone needs me to do something, like be the mom! Oh, is it 2am already?

Now back to my serious side. Want to know why I was so cross with myself back in November? It was BFB & BB (before Facebook and before Blogging) for me. I was already so over email as a an effective way to reach out. So, I let APATHY just plop right down in my life and it brought it's BFF, COMPLACENCY to join us for Slacker-Fest. And yet, our country and democracy is so important to me, so my actions (or lack of) did not make any sense, especially given that I like sharing my views, I like asking questions and I like learning from others, especially when it comes to politics. I crave the equality, the responsibilities, the awareness, the doing that comes along a healthy tenet of being an American citizen. By 2004 I had engaged & my focus was to improve my children's school district, so I cannon balled right dab in the middle of the School Board election and helped elect not just 1, not just 2 but 3 candidates. In 2006 & 2007, I poured my heart, soul and husband into a school bond election because I knew it was what my children needed from us to do for them. Never mind that I thought I might collapse from exhaustion and have the physical scars of being drug down a retention pond by my Portuguese Water Dog while grass rooting on the phone with the head of our local Chamber of Commerce. My purpose was before me and I was a doer to the best of my abilities. That era let the genie out of her bottle and I became a better person because of it. Not everything I touched turned to gold...my zealot passion for PTO's that are ethical and true to purpose, is still my personal holy grail!

But with the election of 2008, you would think I could have been found doing all that I should to support issues that are fundamentally a part of who I am....you would think I would have used my marketing experience for all it is worth...you would think I could have at the very least, talked to my peers more to encourage myself and encourage them to get involved. You would think I would have made myself available and tapped into the heavily populated pool of young adults I am blessed to be surrounded with well before election day. But no, my fair share did not go beyond taking my kids with me when I went to vote. Shame on me. But I am forgiving myself.

I want to close this post with another post. I have permission to share the following by it's author, whom I only know as a blogger named "Keep The Change" who posted on a 8/13 thread from Glenn Beck's link from Fox.

Keep the Change says:
August 13, 2009 at 8:24 pm
"Everyone keeps asking this question so here is a little true story for all of those who wonder how this man became the leader of the free world. I have a college age daughter. She is a conservative on most issues, but has a very loving heart and accepts as friends, those who are also good people, regardless of their political beliefs. One day she overheard me exclaim “How on earth did this man become president?!”“Well mom, if my friends are any indication let me tell you that, (The following are not real names)Stephanie voted for him because he was just ‘Sooooo adorable’, Jeffry voted for him because he was taller than Mc Cain, Joe voted for him because he likes basketball and Lauren voted for him because she just liked feeling included in the whole blackberry/texting thing.” These are all students in a very prominent college. I know most of their parents and they would be appalled to know the methodologies of their child’s selection for the highest office in the land. People, teach your children well, the other side sure is!"

I think what this blogger said is profound and underscores what I also know to be true.

After the initial comment, there is some follow-up from me and others, which you can look up if you are so inclined by copying/pasting the link here:

http://glennbeck.blogs.foxnews.com/2009/08/13/the-radicals-on-the-left-want-you-to-shut-up/comment-page-1/#comments

Suffice it to say, the exercise of forgiving myself is more than building a bridge and leaving my mistakes behind, crossing the bridge means = learning from my mistakes. In this case, not going back to the other side of that bridge where my nemeses known as APATHY and COMPLACENCY wait to drag me under the bridge, WILL enable me to "change" the outcome of my family's future. "Hope" fully, you get my point.

I love my children and this God-given country of ours enough to choose the better part of what I can offer from this day forward, by being the "Talking Do-Er".

One goal I have as an engaged mother is to include talking to and with my own children about my role as a citizen, thus teaching them along the way. I know it takes more than just telling them who I vote for, it means I really do need to explain the essentials of my political idealogy that guide my path, much like the North Star. Maybe then when my life here is complete, my own children will remember me to the liking of how Maria Shriver eulogized her own beloved mother, as "Momentum On Wheels" rather than someone who just liked to hear herself speak!

_______________________________________________________

"I Finally Get The Parable of The 10 Virgins, A Mother's Tribute"
Oye Vay. My blue spell has had me vexed in a bad way. Guilt on the other hand, is the color of brown, like a big brown boulder. When I have a big brown boulder strapped to my back because I can't keep up with what would take 16 Flyingmonkeymothers to keep up with, well, tacking on "Mother's Day" to my list is just cruel. Truly, the thought of taking the time to take this day off was NOT my way of relaxing. Recently, I stated that by the end of this May, the risk is high that I will spontaneously combust, leaving a pile of blue and brown ashes. April & May are 2 months that I schedule myself to dread, these 60 days are just naturally overly busy, no? Such whining contradicts with all that I love about this season, I love to garden; I love the symbolism of Spring; I love the Savior and I love being told by my children "Happy Mother's Day, Mommy, you are my very best mommy in the whole wide world!...Here are your hug, kiss and chore coupons for the year...use them wisely!"

So what in the Sam Hill was my deal? What could make me feel all blue & brown? Why am I allowing these blue & brown feelings to shackle me & steal my joy to the point that I have NOT been myself for several weeks?


Ummm....I can't tell you right here. Well, I can, just not via the internet medium. To do so, would be in a word, stupid.


Ugh, this particular season has been harder to navigate than others I have survived. Why? Well...like I already said, that's not a bloggable subject. It's not that it's private, it's just not bloggable...because really, it's not anything funny or uplifting, but it is discouraging. Now, if you and I have talked in person, chances are good you are sighing with relief that I choose to not blog the details of what pains me right now. And if you and I have not spoken about the "Why" to my recent cause of angst?
....Just trust me on this one.

Consequently, I am not at my writing best....or as Kevin says, "scribble-scrabble". The joy I normally feel when I am internally urged to write was tabled. There has been no time for writing, since writing for me, is a seemingly single treat of serendipitous escapades.

You can always tell when something negative has my hyperfocused attention. I lose 5-10 pounds. My eyes have that glazed over.."Hello...Is anyone in there?" look. For me, I can always tell when something has a hold because as much as I would like to sleep, sleep I cannot.

I cannot sleep because all I want to do is put on my big girl drawers, grab a shovel & start building the bridge from ...."a difficult and painful place to be stuck" to a"good choices begating good feelings" destination. Such was the case of this Mother's Day morning at 2:38am. I laid staring at the ceiling, then the wall, then the doorway, then the bathroom, then the bookshelf, then my desk, then the TV. My laptop escaped my stares....it lay quietly safe in the living room.

I thought about getting up and snagging some much needed pewdur (another Kevin word) time...but another tell-tale sign of me being "in the zone" is apparently I take subconscious leave of my favorite cult known as Facebook. However, this facebooker has ADHD, & the last thing I need, most of the time, is any more snap. I knew better than to touch my laptop with if my goal was to catch even just a few zzz's.

The thought of penning all that was riding my nocturnal brainwaves showed up on my ticker-tape but a wise voice firmly reminded me in my listening ear that such stimulation was not on the agenda at 2:39 am.

My sorda read here-and-there books beckoned me from the bookshelves next to my bedroom door to the point that I allowed myself to be tempted. Making out titles in the dark, I thought, "how weird that I am seriously considering writing for more than just the love of it in the near future, and yet, personally, I really do not love to read"...OUCH! Reading tends to make me tired and I get bored easily...another ADHD thang. Perfect choice for my zombie state, right? Wrong. It would have backfired as I kept reaching for my many Stephen Covey's and all the other leadershipish type books, crud.....Negatory Ghost-Writer....I'd been like an alcoholic bellied up to the bar with any of those reads....not what I needed. I needed sleep for the love of Petey.

So I moved past the bookshelves...to the doorway...to the living room feeling relief as I picked up the remote. My justification came from the surety that watching the latest mobster bio, or another history piece on the fall of the Roman empire, or C-SPAN, or the umteenth documentary on addictive substances, I would drift off to "LaLa LeLe Land" so grateful for my blessings. Skipping and dipping through the gazillion U-Verse channels, I actually landed in the spiritual range of channels that I very often find myself. I am fascinated by Potter's House, Rod Parlsey, some blond pastor femme fatale who makes Joyce Meyer look like a evangelical powderpuff and the H-town team, Joel & Victoria Olsteen. Finding the jovial nun on TV reminds me of "The Sound Of Music" ( I relish the scene where the nuns must confess to the Reverend Mother that they snagged some needed engine piece to the Nazi's cars! What a savory sin to cough up!) and she is so charming to me. I often wonder if any of my Catholic friends watch this Sister and smile.

With all the spiritual banquet I have to offer myself via the telly, my very favorite place to fall asleep is BYUTV. Not because it's the boring equivalent to Ambian, but because when something is genuinely troubling me, like what has troubled my heart and mind of late, nothing soothes me more, relaxes me and helps me gain needed perspective like finding a great talk being given on BYUTV. (Note to self...do this at the first sign of trouble....rather than waiting a month!)

Mother's Day morning at 3am I watched a talk by someone whose name escapes me right now, and she was speaking about the amazing, those named and un-named, women found in my scriptures. The gospels of the Old Testament & New Testament of the Holy Bible teach of incredible women of faith beginning with the beloved Eve, who I would love to wish a "Happy Mother's Day" to. While there are only 3 named women in the Book of Mormon, the very human Sariah, the willing Abish and the maligned Isabel, there are 2000 valiant young striplings who openly gave due honor for their committed mothers. In the Pearl of Great Price we are able to learn so much more of courageous Eve. And, in modern day LDS church history, there are women who sacrificed much more than just their silks and china for their beliefs, such as Emma Hale Smith & Eliza R. Snow, who are forever mine to look up to in the Doctrine & Covenants.

Letting my blue and brown issues fall to the floor, I fell asleep as my mothers of yesteryear rocked me to sleep.

My own Mother's Day has been improved dramatically in recent years by the likes of Marjorie Pay Hinckley, Sheri Dew, Anita Canfield, Mary Ellen Edmunds & Julie Beck, who are all in my current fav five of healthy and worthy examples of motherly women.

In my world, there are many, many, many women who are gifts with their presence. Lucky me. Perhaps you are a mormon mama too or perhaps you are not of my own faith, regardless, do you know I look up to you and adore your shining example? You may have children whom you did not give birth to, you may have babies yet to come here, or Heavenly Father may have yours by his side while you pine to see them again. You may have a gaggle about you or you may have just one. With so many of your maternal choices to help me along my way, making me a better mommy for Dylan, Derek, Cade and Kev. Thank you for showing me why the Lord could trust each of you in these tender yet crucial positions. Charles Dickens wrote, "Tis Not A Small Thing When Those So Fresh From God, Love Us". I believe this completely!

I love that I am a teachable soul who is placed in the midst of women of character, spunk, and dogged determination to make this world a better nest for their little chickadees. By providing a world where our babies learn well why they must spread their own wings in order to survive the fall of their maiden flights, they will have much to sing about while they soar again and again.

From this day forward, Mother's Day will be more than just a date to get through & I want to sincerely celebrate it from now on. Only, not by designing a new line of mylar decorations to fill a niche in the Hobby Lobby market. It is a day that my own mother-in-law should have her feet kissed by me for giving me her son, thereby changing my life to a life worth living. I want to celebrate motherhood because it gives me the chance to be just like the Candy Man and make the world a better place for you and me. I want to look at the calendar in April and May with wiser eyes....enjoy the journey.....and be of good cheer. If I will choose to love the mayhem, my children will understand I wanted to be their mother, I signed up for this job & would sign up again with a willing heart and knowing mind. Being a daughter of God, the role of mother is sacred to me. Looking forward, if my children can recount without a shred of doubt that they each are the very oil in my lamp and if they show their wives that know how to clean a toilet, then I'll be confident that I did accomplish all that was really supposed to be on my to-do list as a mom.

Wow...I think the blue and brown funk is leaving the building....GOOD RIDANCE!

Multitasking At My Best Means Writing and Sleeping At the Same Time"

"I'm so tired, I haven't slept a wink. I'm so-oo tired, my brain is on the blink"...I love how The Beatles take me from one end of the spectrum to the other with this great song. The words are just dragging & dragging, then it revs and boom! I'm slapping at my steering wheel. This is a quintessential analogy of how the need to sleep is both a burden and a beloved pleasure in my world.

Par for moi, I cannot make up my mind. Right now...I really love going night-night. In fact, I would love to crater right this very second. However if I did and kept right on typing...that would too weird, even for me.

You may already be aware of this, but I have been known to fall asleep while typing or writing...or even talking for that matter.

Such a practice may have an impact on what job or jobs I end up pursuing in the near future. (Please see the last blog post titled "My Dream job Was Knitting Caps Out Of Dryer Lint& What Do I Want To Be When I Grow Up?" if you want to give me your opinions of what we are mulling over) Perhaps establishing some controls to prevent "sleep chatting" from ever taking place again would be prudent. I CANNOT allow my alter ego to go on convincing me that there is just no rest for the weary & that going without sleep repeatedly is a necessary evil & that I will eventually catch up, so buck up!

This multitasking oddity might be contrived from having started over too many times in Genesis to the point that I keep re-reading that certain part about "In the beginning" & my prideful self proclaims "I too can do it all in 6 days and then I will rest"! Certainly flawed and certainly not omnipotent, admittedly, I am just a mere mortal, who loves to climb into bed, bone tired at 8:30pm and crash by 9ish! I soooo relish those rare occasions!

But alas, I know me & when I am really focused...I mean HYPERFOCUSED on some crucial undertaking, then sleep is such a pain in my back side & such a waste of my precious time. Nevermind that by being well rested, surely I could increase the quality and production output of whatever will not wait another 6-8ish hours...nevermind that I get loopy & punchy & cannot complete a sentence....there are just those times when I am too excited about what I am doing and CANNOT wait to get back to it. Do I fret about my other responsibilities which are still on my plate...Indeed Not! Whatever I choose to do in my life is only chosen to somehow benefit my entire family, hence everyone of the Christie Chrew pitches in when the radar is on & the sights set. Roses may be trying to "bloom beneath our feet" but the Christie Chrew has a job to do too!

However, reason simply must trump enthused rationale these days in my post 40+years of wisdom & waning immaturity. Because when I hit the wall and start conversing while REM-ing...it is NEVER a good thing. The finished product might be awkwardly funny....but it is a considerable gamble. Please, no one would ever be so foolish as to hire..."Mrs. Needs No Sleep"!

The real genesis of this bad habit started when I was a youngin'. I would lay in bed and chat away with myself and my 2 imaginary friends, Kay & Lori, for hours. Then when I was a teeny-bop, carefully, slyly, I would sneak my light blue princess phone into my bed at night to talk for hours to a fellow teeny~bop, probably Trina, Devon, or Heather, and I was like all "totally gag me with a spoon & groady to the max; wow, that is so rad maybe it's even, like, totally tubular...for sure..." then I'd flatline, wake up to the laughter on the other side of the phone and actually be groadied out to the max from drooling all over myself!

Then once in my twinkies, I was the passenger of a fellow Levi's associate Mary Helen, who was gratefully, the driver. While she was booking to our next stop, I was to pen our findings at the last mall we spiffed and then "Umph, umph, whoa!...what happened?" I woke myself up to my Mary Helen's howling laughter at me, me drooling on her seatbelt & me scribbling all over my very cute chambray sailor britches.

In recent years I have managed to garner a reputation from composing emails that I was awake for when I started typing but not so much by the time I hit "send". This phenomenom has taken place during such stints as the election campaign which I help run for Lisa N. & 2 other school board members; my tenure as Young Women's President at my church & again while dabbling a rhyming diddy for a baby shower invite I created for Chris & Anna L., only to conclude that I must have truly concocted some kind of bizarro invitation because after reading it, Mike S. asked if I had listened to Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon" over & over again in my youth.
(BTW, yes to that last question, I still love to listen to that classic release! But not while I am trying to communicate! Good night, I can't have any pudding... I mean I can't concentrate on talking and listening to Pink Floyd at the same time! I know my limitations!)

The picture of the book posted here is proof is another fine example of my talent for muiltitasking by corresponding and catching a few Zzzz's simultaneously.

I gave this exact children's book to my darling Ad (pronounced A.-D.) several years ago. At the time she was our treasured babysitter on a full time basis and she was simply amazing. Kidlet tossing his cookies? No worries if Ad was on the clock. Need dinner cooked? Chef Ad with Le Menu was at my service or even better...she would go through the drive-thru for me with my debit card only to end up paying for the order herself after I gave her the wrong pin #. Sadly, Ad fell short of attaining perfection when she gave my then toddler his very first Diet Dr. Pepper...in his bottle & ruined him. But I digress.

Due to my genuine regard & appreciation for Ad's nanny abilities, I really wanted to cement my impressions of her on the inside cover of this book and present it, with love, that beautiful Christmas morning.

Only...it was already Christmas morning when I began to write.

As best as I can make out from the picture of the inside cover...I wrote the following:

"Just like a fish to the sea I have found myself more and more impressed with your abilities withe our lack on a vehicle...and thaht date were _____________(long pause) you have the "pip" if the day you will need to ask somewart------What????Oh my, I fell asleep. Gotta go-I love you! Leah"

You know I was not in my right mind if I signed something that personal with a salutation other than "LeLe".

Nighty Night!

"What Do I Want To Be When I Grow Up" & "My Dream Business Was Knitting Caps Out Of Dryer Lint"

What to do....what to do....what to do....

My first job as a Flying Monkey Mother is to be the mother I need to be to my 4 monkeys...I mean...my 4 sons. I signed up for my gaggle willingly & I intend to do this job full-time to the best of my abilities.

Stop laughing.

However, after some personal reflections, Kenny & I are satisfied with the reasons to take a leap of faith and take the thought bubble of again being gainfully employed to the next level. My spare time these days is spent at the perpetual job fair that goes on in my head asking myself "What do I want to be when I grow up?"

This ADD thing is kinda cool at times! It has help me come up with a long list of options for us to mull over. Given the way my brain works, I invent stuff constantly or come up with another way to do things. The J.O.B. possibilities are intriguing for someone who as a young girl, knew two of my dream jobs included knitting caps out of dryer lint and making furniture out of whittled landscaping bark.

This particular blog snippet is your golden opportunity to help shape the next chapter in our lives by offering your feedback to my pile of employment ideas by giving me your feedback, no matter what it might be.

What are my talents to offer potential employers and/or customers? I walked away from that chapter of corporate life with a love & firm understanding of:

1.Customer Service

2. Sales

3. Marketing

When it was time to halt my 15 years of retailing that ran the spectrum of production, delivery and point of sales of products, I may have left Levi Strauss & Co. but my skills did not leave me nor did they get put on hiatus. As the last chapter of my life has unfolded, to my surprise, I have applied those 3 acquired tools to some very unique experiences that have come my way since being at home full time. Now, not only do I still love the dynamics of customer service, sales & marketing, these personal strengths have become refined and authenticated in my own real world.

I need to be home-based. Period. It is my schedule that will have to change. My first priorities, all 4 of them....are still my children. The older they get, the more they need me here at home when they are home. Thus, the desire to go into law enforcement is just not realistic.

Stop laughing.

Yes, I need to establish a actual home office ...but I have done it before and I can do it again.

Yes, I may need school for a few of the brainstorms below.

Yes, I realize I will have less time to volunteer. But I know the in & outs of volunteering now and know I can still contribute.

Yes, I know this change would mean less time for my millions of home projects...but the dirty truth is that my home improvement projects demand 2 critical elements to see completion dates: $ for a hired hand(or 2 or 3 or 4) and $ for materials. Watching HGTV and DIY for hours on end only confirms to me constantly that I have the need & ability to create...but I have found no cash in the attic.

HMMMM.......

What I hope you will do is give me some solid feedback either here or via email on my list of ideas for me, Kenny and the my boy chrew to noodle on:

• Getting into politics (not me in an elected office...but going to work for what I believe in, maybe Glenn Beck needs field support and just does not know it yet!)
  

• Looking into positions with The Tomball Chamber of Commerce (I love my town!)
  

• Writing on-line newspaper column/magazine complete w/ classifieds

• Starting a consulting company for parents in school districts....encompassing the education foundation ideas we had to put on ice for TISD this year

• Starting a customer service consulting firm.

• Becoming a professional gardener (really...the goal would be a "Master" Gardener)

• Representing companies whose products I personally love & use
  

• Developing an on-line personal gift service

• Earth Quest Dino Park Marketing (I have 4 boys that think this idea totally rocks!)

Did I leave something out?

Penny for your thoughts!

****Special Edition Posting: My Best Friend's Obsession With Expired Dairy Products

Why does someone who claims to love me routinely try to poison me with expired dairy products? For someone so knowledgeable...Carolyn once tried to convince me that unopened whipping cream that expired in August could be used because it did not smell and had only been opened recently. When did this take place? Thanksgiving a couple of years ago. Me and Kev know differently though. We learned the hard way that "no smell" can indicate spoilage past the point of the tell-tale smelly soured sign. And I can still taste that nastiness on my tongue. Kevin really had a hard time believing whipped cream could be the stuff of merriment for children of all ages for a very long time. I got over my fear of whipping cream all too quickly.

Then there was the time that her daughter, Alli, who was 8 when this next episode happened, sat down with me to enjoy together our bowls of cereal one morning when Carolyn was in the hospital. She had her sugar coated crunchy, puffy fluff and I had the expensive granola from some family owned grain mill snuggled up in the hinterlands of some Utah mountain. Alli and I simultaneously took that first bite together. Right as the granola rolled around enough to let me get my gagging reflex to completely take over, Alli beat me to the verbal observation and said "This milk taste funny". I said, "Ya think?" as I hauled to the sink to scrape the grit and chunky milk out of my mouth. I then had to explained her mother was trying to kill me.

I have made it a practice to check the dairy any time I get ready to cook in the Edmond kitchen and if Carolyn is around, the fur flies. But I win and pitch anything questionable. Just ask her sister, Cathy.

However, I think Carolyn has moved on from dairy and on to any food items normally and wisely found store at proper temperatures in the refrigerator. She asked Kenny just last December "Do you think it's any good?" as she held up an unopened package of bacon that she discovered under something in the pantry. She was not real sure how many days it had been there...When Kenny was able to speak again, he told her 'NO!"...and then she attempted to reason with him because bacon is cured...and surely that counted for something....

Since we did not end up with food poisoning....you can conclude that Kenny overpowered Carolyn and pried the unopened pork out of her hands and properly disposed of the pig.

HMMMMM......maybe she is trying to tell me something????When it comes to Carolyn, I often describe myself as a "stray cat she fed at the back door once".....Oh dear, the insecurity is setting in already.

What In The Sam Hill Is A “Flying Monkey Mother?"

Here is the skinny version~

It's All Relevant

Starting with this particular snippet will explain much. Perhaps. Maybe this post will just increase my ability to baffle. Some have responded to my choice for a blog title with a big fat "Duh" while others have expressed perplexed "huh???"

A Flying Monkey Mother is an acronym slogan I tooled with the help of my own monkeys to define who I am last October and would have loved to produce different ways to wear my slogan prior to the presidential elections.

I actually sent a version of this in to a certain person I have been known to casually stalk in my spare time…except he had just disappeared from CNN and I’m quite sure that the transition to Fox is what kept him so busy that he never got to my email.

“F” is for….Former corporate sales scum for a well known brand of clothing whose name starts with the letter L & this Co. literally exists to "cya" (cover your assets!)“L” is for….Loyal to my God, my Country & my Family, Nuff Said! “Y” is for….Yellow sponges who sing, dance, cook, wear clothes & lack good judgment make me belly laugh out loud!“I” is for...Ingenious & dedicated shopper who is, at this present juncture, not shopping thanks to current events, dang it! “N” is for….Not currently on any corporate payroll, but working way harder at this gig than any other gig I have ever had before motherhood! “G” is for….Generation ME~EX'ER ala 1968 (one foot in a disco platform and one foot in a black & white checkered Van, explains why I appear slightly off-balance and displays my range of shoe style affections.) “M” is for…. My kids would really love me more if I would sign them up for very sport known to man kind & I refuse to cave! “O” is for…. Offended by philosophies of those who willingly choose to be unaccountable enigmas in our country! “N” is for….Never going to live down embarrassing mishaps that seem to happen to me! “K” is for…. Kicked many & most of my own bad habits but alas, perfection is not even on my radar! “E” is for….Eternally remodeling our home & am admitted project junkie; foolishly optimistic that a day will come when the funds are found! “Y” is for….Your average adult female with ADD who enjoys swapping that out for OCD during a crisis but also known as a yard junkie when the weather warms.

That's all of the skinny version.

Want the detailed not-so-skinny version? Ok…you asked for it…..

After hearing my blog title, dear friend Anna-Lisa disclosed to me her fear of freaky monkeys...namely the ones from "The Wizard of Oz". Bingo Anna, you nailed my source of inspiration, rather the keeper of the monkeys.

Totally Wicked
"The Wicked Witch of the West" and certainly the whole "The Wizard of Oz" experience is one of my most cherished memories as a little girl. My curiosity about the rest of the story with the green witch was peaked when she referenced her sister from the east. Those darling “Ruby Red Slippers” absolutely caught my attention and clearly influenced my inner soul love of beautiful shoes. But the slippers were not the only thing I took note of. The eastern witch also wore those very fun & funky red & white striped stockings, and her legs curled up like a fruit roll-up when her wicked westwardly sister tried to take the slippers off as her body was disappearing under the tossed house that landed on top of her. The whole scene had me begging for more as I craved to know the family dynamics between the 2 witchy sisters, the one from the east, the one from the west and everyone else in between. In the 1970's there was a Maxwell Coffee comercial starring Margaret Hamilton that would cause me to wonder how could this nice lady making coffee be that same green witch that haled from the west?

Enter Elfaba Thropp & her story defined in the musical "Wicked". Thanks to my dear friend Pat, I discovered Elfaba 2 years ago. Elfaba's story both mesmerized and impacted me so much that if there was ever a character I identified with, it is Elfaba, with her green skin and all. (At least the way she is portrayed on the stage. I tried to read the actual book once but it freaked me out just skipping & dipping through the text so I deposited the paperback in my dear friend, Kathie's lap. Kathie read “Wicked” and reported back that it was pretty weird.)
Elfaba, turns out, is misunderstood. Never mind why. It's complicated. But she stays determined to understand her own role and the roles of others around her. Her green aura is very appealing, even symbolic to me on a very deep level.

Enough psycho-babbling. Who has time for that crap?

Fast forward to October 3, 2008. While roaming the vast fields of flea market mayhem with the same Kathie from above along with our other partner in crimes & misdemeanors, Sara, I spied a cute pillow that stated "Don't make me release the flying monkeys on you!", causing me to spontaneously cackle outloud. Oh how I wish I had bought that darling pillow, ugh!

(Like I need more Halloween decor....)

Wanted: Slogan For A Hockey Mom For Palin Only We Don’t Play Hockey
Now fast forward to October 13th, about 3 weeks ahead of the most critical Presidential election of my lifetime thus far. An identity crisis relative to my circumstances at the time was rubbing me raw. My nerves were already raw from realizing way too many people were drinking the kool-aid & by golly I wanted to exclaim to the world who I was and WHY I would ever be compelled to have come to the conclusion of voting for the McCain-Palin ticket.

After hearing about a t-shirt that read something like "Special Needs Mothers For Palin", I began to try and brainstorm my own slogan. Then there was the yard sign I read that defined the family living there by saying something like "Gun-Owning, Country Loving, Devoted Christian Family for McCain-Palin". Crud, I wanted a yard sign with my own slogan to declare my idenity too! I have always longed to be known by another name other than my own anyway, so this made complete sense to me.

However, defining myself in simple terms simply was not possible.

“BLANK- Mother for McCain Palin!” LAME, LAME, LAME!

For a self-proclaimed marketing maven & maverick in my own right, I was BLANK. That does not happen often. But when it does, it is maddening.

I needed in-put on my description. Calling my friends was NOT an option. They often want to redefine me and I buck them every time. Kenny would just be completely compliant because he is no dummy but I was not trying to come up with a hallmark card though. I needed unbiased and profitable feedback. Who would be more inclined to define me than my own precious children?

So, I drank some of my own kool-aid and enlisted my own little minions after school on that day. What a delusional fantasy as they all were bouncing off the walls, running, screaming, squealing, and screeching in their usual manner. But later after they were all asleep, I took their own personal rambling descriptions of me as their mother and mixed in some loopy thoughts of my own & drafted the following definition of myself:

“F” is for….Former corporate sales scum for a well known brand of clothing whose name starts with the letter L & this Co. literally exists to "cya" (cover your assets!)“L” is for….Loyal to my God, my Country & my Family, Nuff Said! “Y” is for….Yellow sponges who sing, dance, cook, wear clothes & lack good judgment make me belly laugh out loud!“I” is for...Ingenious & dedicated shopper who is, at this present juncture, not shopping thanks to current events, dang it! “N” is for….Not currently on any corporate payroll, but working way harder at this gig than any other gig I have ever had before motherhood! “G” is for….Generation ME~EX'ER ala 1968 (one foot in a disco platform and one foot in a black & white checkered Van, explains why I appear slightly off-balance and displays my range of shoe style affections.) “M” is for…. My kids would really love me more if I would sign them up for very sport known to man kind & I refuse to cave! “O” is for…. Offended by philosophies of those who willingly choose to be unaccountable enigmas in our country! “N” is for….Never going to live down embarrassing mishaps that seem to happen to me! “K” is for…. Kicked many & most of my own bad habits but alas, perfection is not even on my radar! “E” is for….Eternally remodeling our home & am admitted project junkie; foolishly optimistic that a day will come when the funds are found! “Y” is for….Your average adult female with ADD who enjoys swapping that out for OCD during a crisis but also known as a yard junkie when the weather warms.

Had there been more time before the elections, I promise I would have made myself a t-shirt, a yard sign, a website, a pin, a bumpersticker and a sash proclaiming my proud and studied choice to support the now failed ticket using the acronym “Flying Monkey Mothers For McCain-Palin”

My kids are monkeys. And therefore, I am the flying monkey mother.

So there ya go.