In Lieu of Vacuuming

I started to write a post instead of vacuuming through my house, my usual Friday routine.  Prep the house for the weekend, you know.  While I'm at it I might even throw in a couple batches of laundry.  The swim suits are starting to mildew.  But this happened inside my head on the way to the post.  For your enjoyment:

RIM:   You misspelled "lieu."  And "vacuuming."

CIM:  Yeah?  Well you misspelled "misspelled."

RIM:  What?

CIM:  Made you look.

Give Me a Minute

I set the alarm and got in bed. 

All bound and determined to get some sleep and then get up early to blog.

RIM thought this was a very wise and reasonable plan.

But after almost a week of listening to myself think, I could hardly sleep over the noise in my brain.  I am hoping this will quiet a few things in there.


This may take a minute...I keep telling myself to just take it slowly and pull out one thought at a time, but I am quite paralyzed by the mess in my head.  A spring break recap, Easter, the 12th blessing, adventures in driving, my nonplussed moments, mothering, and all the rest.  CIM is nearly drooling at the bounty.  I will do my best.

Head Colds and Other Stuff in my Head

I've had a cold for two days and that is two days too many.

nighttimeSevereHotLiquid.jpgAfter a bad night last night and a long, painful day today, David insisted that I take some cold medicine before bed.  He gave me the "Nighttime stuff" as it's normally supposed to help you sleep and wake up feeling better.  Apparently I am not normal, but that will hardly come as a surprise to most of you, because it's a bit past eleven and I feel more awake than I have all day.  Lovely. 

(It might interest you to know that CIM thinks the "Daytime stuff" got accidentally mislabelled and packaged in the "Nighttime stuff" box.  But RIM would like to point out that CIM also thinks that the worldwide obsession with Purell is also going to lead to the next major pandemic.)

CIM:  Well, don't say I didn't warn you.

RIM:  (all supercilious eyebrows)

CIM:  I'm just saying.

I missed Young Women's tonight.  We were going horseback riding for our combined activity.  Just before it was time to leave, I went in to put on some make-up (I didn't want to spook the horses).  By the time I had finished that job I was exhausted.  I walked back into the family room and had to sit down and rest.  Admittedly it is quite a job to get me looking presentable, but even this seemed a bit extreme, so I called for reinforcements and stayed home.  Other than a couple of family vacations, I think it's maybe only the second or third time I've missed Young Women's in two-and-a-half years.  (The "inside-me's" are now battling it out, fighting over feeling guilty for not being there and feeling content that the rest of the population was not exposed to my head cold.  However, I'm not sure which voice is "reasonable" and which voice is "crazy" in this discussion so I will spare you the gory details.  It's not pretty.)

Did you hear I'm getting the mother-of-the-year award?  Last night Ethan came in our room to ask for help because "water wouldn't stop coming out of his nose."  I have no recollection of this.  Olivia found him crying, wandering the house and after helping him blow his nose, tucked him in bed with her.  And then this morning Caleb came in and yelled in a panic, "Mom, get up! I'm going to be late for the bus."  I asked him why he didn't wake me earlier.  He said he did.  I did not hear my four-year-old, my alarm, or Caleb the first two times.  But I swear I heard Dave every time he rolled over and started snoring.  I kept nudging him all night, wiping my nose and readjusting my pillow.  I could have sworn I didn't sleep at all.  There is, however, quite a bit of evidence to the contrary.

RIM:  (shaking her head in shame) 

CIM:  Don't look at me like that, I already know I've scarred them for life.

RIM:  (a pathetic little sigh)

CIM:  Does scarred have two "r's"?  Oh, yeah, otherwise it'd be scared.

RIM:  (disdainfully huffy) They're probably that too. 

CIM:  Does this mean I have to give that award back?

Inside My Well-Coifed Head

I have to speak tomorrow at our Stake Relief Society Mini-Conference.  I went to Target and bought a dress (I know, I know...this is why I'm the fashion laughingstock of my family, but seriously I needed laundry detergent anyway.)  I got my hair colored today (a must).  And I got my handout made.  Clearly, all the most important things are done. 

Oh, wait.  I do still need to figure out what the heck I'm going to say for forty minutes!

David rolled over this morning and asked, "So, are you ready for your spiel?"

My spiel?  My spiel?

Then he said, "Spiel.  That's a strange word.  Maybe that could be a word-of-the-week."

"Yes," I thought, prickling up, "That is a strange word to use for your WIFE'S TALK!  You act like I'm hawking magic fruit and vegetable juicers on QVC."  He got a reluctant, grumbly kiss on his way out the door.

This morning I overheard RIM and CIM  arguing.

CIM:  I need to go to Target and find some jewelry.

RIM:  No, you need to stay home and work on your talk.

CIM:  But I want to look fabulous. 

RIM:  You're not going to feel that way tomorrow when you stand up there with nothing to say.  That will not be pretty, no matter what you're wearing.

CIM:  Do you think I should get something red since the dress is black or is that too 1987?

RIM:  You bought your dress at Target.  It's a little late to be worried about what fashion statement you are making.

CIM:  (a little hurt) You know, I never feel better about myself after talking to you. 

RIM:  Tell me about it.

The FUN in DysFUNctional

Okay, I have issues. (Incidentally, one of them is my overuse of the word “okay.” I have already started two posts with “Okay…” When I was student teaching, my professor came to evaluate my teaching and the only feedback he gave me was, “You use the word “okay” a lot. Try something else.” I said, “O-kaaayy.”)

Another of my issues is this. I have conversations with myself…well, actually two of my selves: reasonable inside me and crazy inside me. Whenever crazy inside me starts talking in my real life my husband always says, “Let’s make you a sandwich,” or “When was the last time you ate?” (I have blood sugar issues, as well. Tends to make me bit unreasonable.)

Anyway, here is our conversation last night after typing the Plagiarism blog:

CIM: That blog doesn’t make any sense to anyone but me. I think I better go push “unpublish.”

RIM: It’s fine. Stop freaking out.

CIM: Everyone is going to think I’m a dork.

RIM: (under her breath) You are a dork. (And then out loud) No one’s going to think that.

CIM: Ha! I heard that.

RIM: Of course you heard that. We share the same brain.

CIM: I’m pushing “unpublish” and you can’t stop me.


CIM: What? Aren’t you going to stop me?

RIM: I was just trying to think if we have any chocolate in the house. You need a little fix.

CIM: Why do you always have to go there? Can’t you just listen to me for once…I might be right one of these days.

RIM: (only eyebrows)

And right now, RIM is saying, “You’re not really going to put this on your blog, are you?” And CIM is saying, “Just watch me!”