Cry Pretty - Carrie Underwood

I'm sorry, but I'm just a girl / Not usually the kind to show my heart to the world / I'm pretty good at keeping it together / I hold my composure, for worse or for better / So I apologize if you don't like what you see / But sometimes my emotions get the best of me / And falling apart is as human as it gets / You can't hide it, you can't fight what the truth

You can pretty lie and say it's okay / You can pretty smile and just walk away / Pretty much fake your way through anything / But you can't cry pretty

Oh no, you can’t dress it up in lace or rhinestones / Don't matter if you're in a crowd or home all alone / Yeah, it's all the same when you're looking in the mirror / A picture of pain, so let it flow like a river

You can pretty lie and say it's okay / You can pretty smile and just walk away / Pretty much fake your way through anything / But you can't cry pretty

You can't turn off the flood when the dam breaks / When all your mascara is going to waste / When things get ugly, you just gotta face / That you can't cry pretty

           You can't turn off the flood when the dam breaks / When all your mascara is going to waste / When things get ugly, you just gotta face / That you can't cry prettyYeah, yeah, yeah, yeah / No, you can't cry / No, you can't cry / Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah / No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, woo / You can't cry / You can't cry pretty, baby / Oh yeah, woo, woo / No, you can't cry pretty, yeah

Joy

I have been in a mind quandary about something.
Joy.
I wonder if people really have Joy, or are Joyful, or know that feeling all of the time.
Or,
I wonder if instead people are faking it.
I kinda was thinking the later.
I think people are on auto pilot, and as part of the auto is the smile, not sparked by Joy.
But, guess what, I had a little bit of a break through in my hope for human kind.
or maybe, EmilyKind.
I am definitely in auto pilot. Get up, breakfast, lunches, kids out the door, Canyon homework time, paperwork, clean, ready, daycare, work, daycare, clean up, dinner, practices, games, scriptures, bed. Be happy, be interested, be auto pilot.
But last night at the end of that auto pilot there was a little crack into actual happy enjoyment. It was 8:30 p.m. and Carsons game in blackfoot was just getting started. No wind, no rain, no snow. By ten, he had hit a home run, and by 10:15, scored the running in. We hit Wendy's and got frosty's with the absolute best fries I've had in decades. Then for the next hour drive home, we dipped those salty, crispy fries in the frosty, and celebrated! It was pure Joy! The night I was anxious about because of the lateness, the drive, the cold, ended up to be one of the most favorite things I've done in awhile. So yes, there is bits of true Joy amongst the auto pilot.
Is it because I am mormon? Or because I am a mom? Or because I am the daughter of Vicki. Why do I feel this drive that life is supposed to be good  all the time. That Joy is supposed to ooze from us. That's not realistic is it? Why do we feel the pressure of that? I don't know. But, the better thing to know is that there are bits of Joy to be found, and that I don't have to run around feeling like I'm failing because Joy isn't found in the monotony of autopilot.
So there. That's all.

Box Elder Country Justice Court

 I understand, that my writing this will probably do nothing for my case, but I do want to plead my case. I know that in theory, I could come and plead in court, but not reality. I live in Idaho. I don’t have the time, nor the means. So yes, this is just for my benefit in writing this out. Will anybody else read this? probably not, but at least I will get my words out. I was traveling home yesterday. 5 hours into my drive, with 3 little kids in crappy fast traffic. My husband is at Norfolk Naval Base in a training that is kicking his trash, and I am left to manage the remains of our family on my own.  My daughter had a dance competition in St George, that was mandatory. Did I want to go? Hell no. Can I afford to drive 8 hours one way to do dance. No. Do I have any desire to do so? no. But, I am freaking trying to be a good mom.  The officer said I was going 91. He said, “the gal ahead of you was 87, and I let her slide, but then you were right behind her.” I did not think I was going 91. I did think I was trying to navigate traffic safely and get out of the way of those utah drivers. He cited me  for going 80 in a 75, and I now am to pay $120. I actually have had a good break down and sob. First time since my husband left. I guess it’s the straw on the camels back. I will pay the fine on my credit card that is $300 from its limit. I will go to work today as a social worker and remember that people have a story. I know that there are laws to protect us. I know that the police officer was doing his job. I did not and will not talk bad about the police to my kids. But, I now have to figure out a stupid extra $120. Life is really hard. 

Thanks for you time. I do not want a response.

Emily Petersen

This night.

I am tired.
Like, crawl up in a fetal position, and pull the blanket so high around my shoulders and bury my face so far in my pillow, that hopefully no one will ever find me, tired. I possibly am resembling funeral exhaustion. But, it is different. I actually can't crawl up in the fetal position and give up, or give in.
I want to.
I am only on day three, and I am failing.
I understand how mothers quit. They are tired. They are tired of the fight. They are tired of the fake. They are tired.
I actually don't know how to ask for help.
"hi, help me while I check out. Direct all questions, calls, concerns and criticism to somewhere else, forever."

Ulcers.

I can't say that I have heard anything about ulcers since before 2000. Did they decide they don't actually exist? or is it that they are so common place anymore, that it's just a part of the actual make up of our bodies. You know, like, blood, bones, ulcers.  ?
I think I have them. My stomach is sick. and sad. and hurts. I'm pretty sure it's ulcers. My tears are too close to the surface to actually talk about the events of today, March 23. But, let me just give a quick overview of what could be contributing to my ulcers.
Carson.
-Failing English. No, I should correct that and state, Failed English. I am making him take it              online.
-Weird obsessions
-Lying to me about kissing his girlfriend.
-Getting texts from his friends saying they are worried about him, that he told them 'that nobody would care if he died.'
Skye.
-Kissing a boy in my house during lunch.
Daisy.
-4th grade girls drama, and the mothers that call me.
Creeden.
-His bad days that cause melt downs.
Canyon.
-Naughty. Defiant. Aggressive.
Church.
-Nursury, stressful, not rewarding, crying kids, runaway parents, getting so so little from church except a migraine.
-Visiting Teaching
-People judging my daughters short skirt.
-My older two do not love it. Hate it actually.
My House.
- I have to get it ready for someone else to live in.
My dogs.
-I have to get rid of them, and nobody wants them.
Cars.
Clients.
and, well, now I get to navigate this all on my own.
Ya, I have ulcers.

Focusing on the Now.

Last October Cody and I  flew to Massachusetts. Drove to Maine, then Connecticut, peeked at Rhode Island, and then back to Boston. Adventurous. Amazing. Fantastic. (I might love that word)
It was at that same time we found out that he had gotten hired for his new position at work.  Because of this, he would need some additional training,  6 months training in Virginia actually. He will be at Newport News Shipyard for a time, then Norfolk Naval. Adventure. Amazing. Fantastic!
In October I didn't really ever think the end of March would come. Seven months seemed like an eternity.

It's here.

We have gotten an apartment, secured a lease, picked the furniture, arranged the power. We have packed the boxes, and filled the suitcases. On Friday, I drive him to the airport, he boards a plane, and flys 2,362 miles away. He then picks up his rental, drives to his new apartment, and sleeps, without me, for 63 days.
In 68 days we will join him. That middle 65? That's where I can't let my mind go.
We have:
 Carsons basketball; practices and games. Baseball; practices, games, and tournaments. Speedcamp; two nights a week in Rigby, young mens,  and he is working everyday after school at the greenhouse.
Skyes daily practice, games, tournaments, young womens, and working at the greenhouse when possible.
Daisy dance; class two nights a week, technique one night a week, and competitions, every other weekend from here to ST GEORGE!
Creedens baseball; practice and games.
Every weekend between now and Memorial day, I will drive an average of 600 miles to competitions or tournaments. Actually that started 3 weeks ago with Boise, Poky, Twin Falls.
Should the time fly in that 63 days? Yes. Will I be going a million miles an hour? Yes.
Adventureous. Amazing. Fantastic. ?
I will do my best.
Oh, and my job. Yes, I will still be working, full time.

Then, at the end of those 63 days, the remaining 6 of our tribe will crawl in the car and drive the 2,362 miles to be reunited. Utah. Colorado. Kansas, Kentucky, West Virginia, Virginia.
Days at a time? Miles at a time? Hours? Minutes. If nothing else, by the end of this summer, I think I may claim the status of being an actual grown up.

But it will be the nights. The crawling into a cold bed, with no option of warm legs to put my feet on. No back to secure my anxious belly against. No arm around me to hold me tight.

So here I am. I will focus everyday on only the Now. That 63 days will have too many Nows that  will require my every attention.
Deep breath.
Adventure. Amazing. Fantastic!

Hiccup

Because I can't really find the right title for this post, I named it Hiccup, because it was an involuntary  chaos created in my brain that has just kept repeating.
It was Skye's birthday yesterday. We were so busy. No time for self indulgent awareness. I was at the grocery store, and the clerk was talking to Canyon, he was entertaining back. She then turned to me and said, "Is he your grandson?'
Hiccup.
"No. I guess I just started late."
Hiccup.
How in the whole amount of cosmic universe did this one clerk hit me with the line that plagues my insecurities?
I know that I am aging. I am telling Heavenly Father that every day, and the things He is asking me to do are indeed so hard because of this exact Hiccup.
Tell me lady. Is it the wrinkles by my eyes? or on my forehead, because, yes, I have them. In excess.
Is it the sun spots? I know. I even have them on my neck.
And actually, speaking of my neck, I have a little bit of saggy skin there. I am trying a variety of things, for the saggy, the sun spots, and the wrinkles. But yes, they are still there.
Hiccup.
we live in a really weird world.
Tell me lady. Because although it will be a really beautiful thing to be a grandmother-  right now, I am a mother, only. And a very insecure one that really doesn't know how to pull off the things that Heavenly Father is asking. Tell me, what is it in my appearance that has you question my age. I really will work on it.
Hiccup.