Penny is an Ewok?
To be honest, other than the pastime of dressing dogs up as Star Wars Characters, I feel as much in the dark about what's going on in my life as a lot of people who live very far away from me. Which is a little silly since I live with myself. I can say that I feel amazingly loved since Kizzie read my last blog and has made me coffee TWO mornings in a row now. That is one of the most fabulous things ever. It makes me want to unground her from the ROTC trip to see Iron Man 3 tonight. But Josh's disciplinary standards aren't as easily swayed as mine. The one factor we have weighing heavily on our side is that Josh was secretly excited about seeing Iron Man 3 tonight as an unsolicited chaperone. It would be easier to argue him out of the grounding if I could remember why she was grounded in the first place and make more efficient excuses for her. Or maybe Josh and I can just go and chaperone other Cadet Corps kids unsolicited. It is somewhat frustrating to not be able to remember why Halle and Kizzie are grounded but be capable of reciting names of the entire line of woolen mills tribute blankets for Pendleton, or the 7 distinct BKE gals denim fits we stock in the store right now. My theory is that I only have so much room in my brain and anything that doesn't have to do with the thankless task of parenting feels like a better use of space. And about parenting, and thanklessness...
Is it just me or is Mother's Day the second biggest letdown of the year next to Valentines day? Actually, since I married the Man of My Dreams, maybe it's the first biggest, considering I got a RAD tattoo and dinner at the Cowboy Tree Dinner House or whatever it's called this year for V-Day. My theory is that Mother's day only gets good when either A) you have a rich and performance-oriented husband who dresses up his overachieving gifts and acts of service as the ideas of several ungrateful children, or B) your kids get old enough to feel guilty for everything they've done for you and they have money with which to show their remorse. These are best case scenarios since I am fairly certain that I fall under category B by now with my mom, but probably demonstrate an amazing level of fail every year at Mother's day when her card is three days late and I am still giving her homemade coupons for free yard work and a neck massage that I never intend to fulfill. Actually this year I feel pretty good about the fact that I outdid even my own gift giving panache for Mother's day and I can't wait to hear the gushing. (you're welcome, Mom)
It is my firmly held theory that Mother's Day, like Valentines day, Secretary's day, Father's Day and possibly even Easter are just deeply embedded ploys that we have fallen prey to over the last several decades. They are masterminded by Hallmark and American Greetings, whom I hope are facing their demise with the advent of self-expressive stamping, paper making and scrapbooking designs from home. These holidays were created with the diabolic intent to turn every human relationship into a landmine of destructive possibility. These are the annual days when we are reminded that our kids are selfish and don't give a darn about the woman who birthed them violently and painfully, or the man who breaks his back 365 days a year to keep food on the table and designer jeans on their self-absorbed rear ends. Our lack or prior planning is rubbed in our face when aforementioned children see their jerry-rigged, half-assed easter baskets that lack the shining glory of the Neighbor Kid with the giant purple stuffed rabbit. I mean, so what if I split a bag of Christmas jelly beans that I found in a drawer 4 ways into paper sacks for easter baskets? It's the thought that counts? And how have we escalated to the expectations of breakfast in bed or lavish date nights regardless of the inability of offspring to prepare more than crunchies for breakfast and the perpetual restraints of a designer-jean-taxed budget? It's time for a holiday revolution, where rather than heaping inevitable disappointment on the top of unreasonable expectation, we are motivated purely out of the competitive desire to be the Best Giver Ever. I believe that birthdays should be an opportunity for the celebratee to give gifts to everybody that has put up with them for the last howevermany years. Why do they deserve presents for getting born? They should be rewarding the loved ones that tolerate them through the years (especially their mom)(but if we could change this tradition AFTER June 12 that would be great). And Valentines day, if we must have a holiday to celebrate romantic love, should be nothing more than a night of requisite foot rubs for the ladies and intimate provision for the oft-deprived man - the one night that headaches and all other excuses are moot. All this flowers and chocolates stuff is ridiculous. Everyone knows that a foot rub is way better than chocolate. Although it is my vote that we do away with any specific day for this and make it a way of daily living. Yes, these un-holidays should be reformed. Christmas is great just the way it is, but maybe with more decorations. And of course Halloween is fine. I am so full of great ideas that it is amazing I can even focus on real life. Not that I do.
But as far as updates on my life go... we are still moving. Not sure exactly what our living situation will be yet, but we will be outta here June 15th. It has been decided. It is bittersweet, because I do love this place, especially with the sun shining and the mountains standing guard over bend like big snowy angels. But I am starting to get so excited about living life with my family. Cousins growing up together the way it was meant to be from the start. Friends that have known my kids since they were running around in red capes and cowboy boots. Neighbors who holler offerings of cold beer across the road, three front yards and a chicken coop. Sun faded big wheels parked in front of my driveway of unknown origin. A 5th dog who tries to pretend he's always been part of the pack when it's dinner time. Walking to the river and not caring what we're late for. A cozy, messy fireplace that keeps us either raging hot or frozen stiff in the winter time. Boxes of peaches, cherries, apples... A piece of ground with our name on it, the Weston name, that Russians or Koreans or Talibanis or Zombies or mean landlords can't take away from us. A house that makes us crazy while we make it Exactly What We Want. I am looking forward to that. And mother's day, which is already awesome if Kizzie makes my coffee again. What more could a mom want? #footrub
This Pendleton mug is designed after a blanket called "Female Storm". Strangely appropriate.