Where to Start?

Where to start? That is the overwhelming question. I better just put something down fast because I'm already embarrassed at how long it has taken me to start a blog. I'm almost positive I'm the last one on earth to catch on...or maybe just the last Mormon Mom. And that's okay with me because I am who I am and I have nothing to prove to anyone, right? (I'm sure Neal is rolling his eyes at this exact moment. "Poodah, (he'll say) You really probably shouldn't come across so strongly." At which point I'll retort with something like "I'll be who I want to be and that's that." Neal will then conclude with "Okay, but you might rub people the wrong way." That's a typical exchange when I start talking a little too much (according to Neal.) I'm telling you this because I decided that if I do a blog it's got to be more for me than for anyone else. That means I've got to be brutally honest without exposing too many family secrets. Although, for those of you who know me, you are well aware that there aren't exactly many of those "secrets" left. I will, for Neal's sake, try to be a little discreet. (Emphasis on "little") Love you Neal! Hee!Hee!

Neal is out of town for 8, yes, 8 days. I guess this isn't anything I'm not used to but that doesn't mean I still don't miss him. When he is home he's usually so tired from having started the day at 5 a.m. that he'll talk to me as he sits on the recliner with his eyes closed. That's right, closed. Do you know how frustrating it is to eagerly anticipate Neal's arrival all day long only to have him sit across the room from me and carry on a conversation with his eyes closed? He tries to convince me that he is, in fact, listening but when his responses become delayed I know it's time to hang it up and let the poor man go to sleep. "It's only 8:30 and he barely walked through the door" I tell myself. "I need time to connect with him and unload all of the days events." But, alas, my efforts are futile. Neal is off in a different galaxy and I'll be fighting another inward battle based on whether I should pity him or pity myself. Usually I pity him which doesn't make me a saint because if you saw the poor man you'd have the same compassion. There are, however, dark nights that I get frustrated to the point where I have to call my Mom. She'll answer the phone and I'll say "Hi Mom" with my nose clogged and my voice an octave higher than usual. (Pause) "What's wrong?" she'll ask. And then I'll have my sob session for the next 30 minutes. Nothing about the situation changes but I always feel a million times better when we're done. How exactly does she do that? My Mom always reminds me not to overlook my sacrifices because I put in equally hard days as a (virtual) single Mom. I try to convince myself of that but I've pretty much concluded that Neal definitely has it harder physically but I have it harder emotionally. So I guess that means we're both usually fried by the end of the day. That is precisely why I dread the bedtime routine. Why do the boys think it's time to play chase as soon as you announce it's scripture time? Why do they always seem to get the giggles during family prayer? I swear that 8 out of 10 times Neal or I will have to flick Britton and/or Devin on the head to remind them to be reverent. And WHY is it 10:00 at night right now and Britton is still babbling to me about his book? I have to separate the boys, you see, because they share a room which simply doesn't work at bedtime. As a result, Britton is in my bed now and "reassuring" me that the sound of my typing won't impede his ability to fall asleep because he'll sleep with a pillow on his head. How sweet, I know, but there's ALWAYS something to say. Frequently I announce "It's time to think your thoughts inside of your head." That tactic typically only works for a few minutes but I refuse to stop trying. Those few moments of golden silence are nothing short of blissful. Recently, Neal and I went out of town and had my friend babysit our kids for us. When we got back the first thing Angel said was (referring to Britton) "Man! That kid asks a lot of questions!" Finally, validation. I thought it was just me that was thoroughly worn out from answering questions incessantly every day of my life. "What's the difference between diesel fuel and regular gas? How do they make the gas?" Eyyy! I suppose he gets it from his father who can't simply walk through a Home Depot without picking the brain of an employee. Neal is an actual bonified brain picker if there is such a term. For example: Neal will be meandering through, lets say, the tile section and happen upon an unsuspecting victim...I mean...employee. The next thing I know-- "How do you do this, how do you do that? How do you do this and that with this?" Are we planning on tiling anything? No. Neal simply wants to know EVERYTHING about EVERYTHING. Maybe that's why he can do so much around the house. If that's the case then I suppose it has served me well.

Well, Britton has finally fallen asleep and all is silent which means it's time for me to crack open a book and enjoy myself. Until next time...
(Be sure to view pictures below!)