90 minutes in Heaven

I'm feeling a little bit itchy.
The problem is, it seems to be an unearthly, supernatural itch.
How does one go about scratching that?
I mean, really?
It started I think because Rachel, my most very favorite hair girl ever, has been working at a new shop in Reno.  And that new shop shares a parking lot with a psychic.  More than once, I've caught myself sneaking peeks out the salon window at that psychic's front door. 
Do people really go in there?
Wouldn't it be fun to just walk in, plop myself down on the chair and bare my palms to the world for reading?
But, I'm a chicken.
And what would that cost?
And what I secretly would be wanting to know is how does one become a psychic?  Maybe that is the one thing that I'd be a natural at?  Seeing as how I haven't quite figured that out yet. Oh - and I'd want to know the story of my life, naturally.

So, what's a girl to do?  Start some homework.  Not psychic homework per se but maybe a little supernatural studying.
I've seen every episode of Dead Like Me.
You haven't (gasp), better queue those up on Netflix.  You will enjoy them, I promise.
I thoroughly enjoyed The Five People You Meet in Heaven and One More Day (both by Mitch Albom), although neither of those are real life.
I am fascinated by Akaine Kramarik and her artwork and Stephanie Nielson who was in a plane crash and given a choice on living or passing on.
And did you know that I have a cousin who drowned when she was 4 but is alive today?

I just finished 90 Minutes in Heaven by Don Piper.  It is the true story of Don Piper who was in a car accident and was declared dead by the EMTs at the scene.  Since other people were also injured on scene and legally his body couldn't be moved until the coroner came and declared him dead,  he was left unattended by medical personnel at the scene of the accident.  A minister who happened to be stuck in the traffic backed up by the accident asked if he could sit with the man even though he was dead and pray over him.  As he did, Don came back to life.  The book details the physical and emotional trauma that accompanied his return to life and his recovery.  Among other injuries, Don lost 4 inches of the femur bone, which is arguably one of the strongest bones in the human body.  Lost, as in a big chunk was missing, not to be found anywhere at the scene of the accident.  Most of the book details the process of how the doctors grew the bone back, but also how the accident changed his life.  It is proof that things happen for a reason, even the bad things in life.

I guess when I picked this book I thought it would more about those 90 minutes in heaven and less about the time after he came back to life here on Earth.  It was a good read, slow in places, but good.

But, I'm still a little bit itchy.

Any suggestions?

Ready or NOT

I might have to quit hanging out with my favorite blue hairs on Saturday (AKA the knitting club).  Crazy things happen around my house whilst I am gone.
Or, is it that the boy is TRYING to get fired from watching his own children. I'm not sure what happened during nap time this past Saturday, but there wasn't very much sleeping going on.  And lets just say that there is quite a bit of photographic evidence that may be used against Burrito later in life.

But, the real reason for this post.  This is what I came home to:


As his mother, I am both proud of his accomplishment (he is after all, 2 yrs old) and terrified (he is after all ONLY 2 yrs old)

Blessed

Mother's Day in Review:
*Ran 5 miles on a new path, I think I'm in love with it.  Sharing the trail with cottontails and peacocks, the smell of sagebrush in the air, and NO cars.
*There were flowers of the coffee filter, color spot, and carnation varieties.
*The kids gave me the perfume (DKNY Fresh Blossoms) I've been begging for - I love it!
*Blueberry waffles for breakfast AND ribs for lunch - it doesn't get much better than that.
*Preschool tea party, complete with girly dresses, curly hair and a chocolate fountain.
 (And I think my mother's inability to take a good picture is rubbing off on me.  In my defense it was really bright out that day)

*I got to spend the evening with my mama.  As my children grow I have so much more appreciation for her.
Her patience
Her nurturing
Her generosity
Her love.
And she had FIVE little ones to look after.

Just don't ever ask her how to spell something.  Because she'll tell you to look it up in the dictionary.  Which would be do-able, IF you KNEW how to spell it.

No Fear

This is my No Fear Child

Perhaps that is why she's already got two broken arms under her belt.  Last weekend, we spent some time with the SoCal Woolseys which also included some motorcycle racing.

That's Ben and Evan competing in the same heat (or whatever they call individual races these days).  Emma was uncontrollably excited from the second we got to the races.  She was sad she didn't get an arm band bracelet (because she was free, and lets face it....she's stick skinny, it would have never fit her).  She absolutely HAD to sit in the bleachers and watch every race even if no one we knew was competing in it.  She waved.  She cried when we walked down to the pits because she was missing the race.  She genuinely asked how is it that motorcycles fly when they get to the top of the hill. 


She asked her daddy for a pink motorcycle.


She took notes while Ben prepped his bike:

She spent the afternoon hanging out with Ben in his room and when she'd soaked up enough cousin time, she re-emerged with a special request.

Posters, with pretty girls in swim suits, perched upon motorcyles for her own room.  Preferably Blondes.

I kid you not.
I don't think Burrito would object to that either.

Chats through the rearview mirror Vol I

As the kids get older I find myself forgetting the funny little way they say things or the wild, imaginative stories that come out of their mouths.  So these are for me, to remember, and maybe you will find them funny too.
Emma: Mom, can I have your pencil sharpener when you die?

Me: You mean the one I've had since I was 8 that gets pencil shavings everywhere?
E: Yeah.
M: Okay, but what if Bobby wants it?
E: No, I asked for it first. He's gonna need to find his own pencil sharpener.

~~~~~~~~~

Scene: Lowe's little kid craft area

Me: Sorry I messed up your project Emma. I can't get the nails out but we can take it home and I'll fix it there.
Em (with arm around my shoulders): Its okay mom. I won't feed you to the goblins, today.
Me: Today?! As in that's strike one?

~~~~~~~~
Scene: Early Morning Car Ride to Daycare
Em: Can I have a piece of your toast mom?
Me: Sure
Em: Can you NOT tell Aunt Lala that I'm eating this so I can have breakfast again at her house?
Me: Giggling quietly, in my best Hobbit voice But what about second breakfast?

Same ride - different kid (this one is really only funny if you know that I (And my daddy) put butter on everything, and I mean everything:
Burrito: Mom, Did you put butter on this toast?
Me: Yes
Burrito: Why?
Me: Because its delicious
Burrito: Oh, Okay. (said in my Oh, Okay way - intonations and everything, but wait, maybe that means he was mocking me)
~~~~~~~~
Em: Mom, after this goldfish dies.  Can I get a new one?
Me: Sure
Em: I think I will name him 'Heaven'.


to be continued....

Proof that Girls ARE better than boys

To the tune of anything you can do I can do better

How many Woolsey boys does it take to wash a motorcycle?

Three, apparently.

But, how many Woolsey Girls does it take?

We really ARE that good. 

I'm back from vacation.  It was a looong week.  Good mostly, but hard to have the kids off their routine so much.  Let's just say that naps may or may not have occurred most days.  With the emphasis on NOT.  Which creates wild children, which creates a teeny-bit grouchy mother.  We had a good time, got some sun, had some good laughs. 

I'm still sorting through pictures.

I'm sure you'll see some here.

A Thousand Splendid Suns

A Thousand Splendid Suns was up for voting a few months ago in Book Club but it did not get picked.  It came highly recommended so I decided to read it away.
I liked it.
I really liked it.
Don't tell Flavia.
I think it might stay on the favorites list for a long time.

I have neither read nor seen The Kite Runner yet but it is on the to-do list as well.
If you saw Slum Dog Millionaire and liked it, chances are you will like this one too.

The book chronicles the lives of two Afghan women, Mariam and Laila.  It is divided up into sections.  First, Mariam's story, one of growing up as a bastard child and being shunned because of it.  Then being married off at age 15 and the trials she must endure as a second class citizen in the marriage.  Second, is Laila's story.  Who leads a normal life until she is 14 years old and finds herself orphaned when both her parents are killed during her country's civil war.  She finds herself wed to the same man (Rasheed) as Mariam.  The third section details the lives of both women during their time together.

The story spans several decades and ends in the mid-2000's.  I found myself disturbed and re-awakened to the fact that there really are still places in this world where women do not have basic rights like we do here in the United States.  I, in no way, would call myself a feminist but it disheartens me that in some places a man may say "I divorce you" three times and it is so, but a woman would have to go through years of legal proceedings to end a union.  Or that a man need only say something against a woman and it is taken as fact in a court of law no matter how much evidence is provided by the woman.  I have never in all my literary trysts  silently root for the untimely demise of such a horrible person like Rasheed.  But I did.  I found myself thinking that if a person was allowed to get away with such atrocities then this world would really not be worth living in.  And I was satisfied with his punishment in the end.  (Oops...I just spoiled it, Sorry Timbra).

As a side note: I noticed something very similar between this book and Escape.  Both books involve women in polygamous marriages and domestic violence.  Both books involved women who were not happy in those marriages and did not love their husbands.  And both books detailed how the wives did not get along and were constantly causing trouble for each other.  Why?  Why would they do that to each other.  I find myself thinking that they would have been sympathetic toward each other and the traumatic experiences would bond them together like sisters, such as can happen among siblings who have abusive parents.  In Escape, that never happened and in this book it eventually did happen, but it was years in coming.

My favorite quote from the book is:
"Like a compass needle that points North, a man's accusing finger always finds a woman. Always."
It has quite a bit of truth to it I think.