Trashy daughter is a trendsetter!

I wish I’d known what a trendsetter Roger Leroy was before I posted about her eating trash at church last week.

I’ve always described her as living to the beat of her own drum. She is a quirky kid with her own unique personality.

When I received several emails about her eating trash and people asking if we had seen Oprah’s show on “freegans” we weren’t even sure what people were talking about so we had to find out.

I’d really never thought of her as a trendsetter. Until now.

Read why she is a such trendsetter here on Oprah’s show recap.

Roger Leroy isn’t ready to join the freegan movement and doesn’t necessarily like to be labeled. She said she already knew she wasn’t a trash eater even if Wizzy called her one. She just chose to use her resources like freegans are doing.

I think if she does decide to become a freegan, it will be a good thing. I won’t have to worry about her taking care of herself. I’m all about life skills.

I didn’t realize, until now, how the skill of retrieving things from our own home trash seconds after I put them there would be something that would benefit her later.

Come to think of it, The Grunter set the precedent for grabbing things out of the trash right after I put them in–you know that old saying:

“One person’s trash is another person’s treasure.”

They always seem to find treasure in our trash (and sometimes the neighbors’ trash). Then they would try to convince me of how much they needed what I had just thrown away. Maybe they can go dumpster diving together.

I hope they bring home some nice things for their mom and dad.

They are smart, these kids of mine.

Oh, and I almost forgot to show you what she and her Daddy brought home from the church trash on Saturday night.

Roger Leroy is a freegan

Call me if you need any buns…

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Husbands and housework

Have you heard? Groundbreaking news about the relationship between men and a mop and their universal primary love language:

Physical Touch.

I hope our tax dollars weren’t used to fund this report. They could have just asked PhilBillPaul. He learned the value of mopping the kitchen floor and doing laundry early in our marriage.

1991 was a banner year for us when I made a few suggestions that I felt would really benefit our marriage:

  • Relax and decompress on your drive home in traffic, by yourself, in a quiet car with no one saying “Hey Daddy Hey Daddy Hey Daddy.”
  • Walk in the door ready to grab one to three babies and spend quality time with your children.
  • Be grateful that I am here to provide childcare for you all day while you worked hard outside of the home because I was working hard all day inside the home. (aka the hardest job on the planet.)
  • If you don’t agree with any of the above suggestions, please leave and go live in your car because I don’t need a grown-up baby to take care of and I’m keeping the house.

He decided to stay.

He’s a great dad.

He cleans. He cooks. He does laundry. He is tired.

But who isn’t? This parenting gig is hard work for all of us.

We parent together. Because that’s our job since we *planned* to have four children.

If you have a husband, this article might interest you.

Click here to read more about housework and a happier marriage.

If you have a husband and need reinforcements; this book was mentioned in the article, could be helpful and even better, it is written by a man.
I haven’t read it but I like the title…

The Lazy Husband: How to Get Men to Do More Parenting and Housework

Forget perfume and roses. Give me a man in an apron with pine-sol and a toilet bowl brush. Woo-hoo!

Let me know what you think and I dare you to comment on how the housework division of labor is going at your house…

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The Black Hole, Part Seven

I’d like to call this the “final” post of my series on The Black Hole.

But I also know that would be a big mistake.

It is ten months after the ordeal that was my spring, summer and part of fall of last year.

I have since found a new holistic gynecologist. He dropped obstetrics some years ago and his focus is on women and hormone balance.

You can check out his website. He has a lot of excellent information on the site. I found the “Resources” page very helpful and printed out a lot of reading material even before my first appointment. It has been a fresh starting point for me and you may find some information that could help you or someone you love.

Having a doctor who is proactive and orders blood work and actually schedules an appointment to go over the results is a welcome change. Sending a postcard or telling you “someone will call” if there is anything to discuss just doesn’t meet my needs.

A annual exam, a pat on the back and a bill to pay is no longer enough for me. Maybe it shouldn’t be enough for any of us.

I can tell you that having a doctor who sits down with you and goes over lab work with you personally and actually listens to you is a giant step in the right direction.

Yesterday was my third appointment with him since September. I will see him again in four months. It is an amazingly good feeling when you know you are headed in the right direction and you have a doctor on your side.

It’s like we’re managing my care together. Frankly, that is what is suppose to happen when you go to the doctor!

Some people might even refer to this as excellent customer service. What a rare thing to find in the medical industry these days.

I don’t have a solution or a cure. I know I’m still prone to depression especially if a boulder gets in my way. I’m not offering medical advice to anyone. You will have to do your own research and find treatment that works for you.

Key words: Don’t miss them – for you.

I’m just one woman who wants to tell the truth and stay real.

I’m feeling so much better. About once a month or so, The Black Hole calls my name and sometimes I still crawl into bed for the day. But it is nothing like last year.

I’m getting back “the me I used to know” which is not necessarily “the me before the head injury” but rather; it is “the me who is in a much better place.”

Depression is an insidious, real disease. It can creep into your life and try to slowly strangle you.

Maybe your family misses the signs.

Maybe your mother and father grew up in the generation where they weren’t allowed to “be depressed” and they were expected to “get over it” and you were taught the same thing.

Maybe you don’t have a Luci or Ann or a friend who will rescue you.

Maybe you think it’s a sign of weakness and you keep telling yourself you just have to “snap out of it.”

I’m here to tell you it is real. And sometimes you can’t just “snap out of it.”

I really want women to not feel so alone. I want them to know we are so much more alike than we are different. I want us to stop hiding from the truth about life and coping so we can help each other when one of us slips into The Black Hole.

Let’s help each other move boulders.

Let’s throw each other a rope.

Let’s save each other.

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The End…for now.

P.S. My heartfelt thanks to all of you who have read through each post on this *depressing* subject and for all the comments and personal emails. It really means a lot to me. Stay tuned for a new series next week I’m calling “Little Lessons.” This series should be a lot more FUN than The Black Hole.

If you missed parts one through six here they are…

The Black Hole, Part One
The Black Hole, Part Two
The Black Hole, Part Three
The Black Hole, Part Four
The Black Hole, Part Five
The Black Hole, Part Six

I’m still considering condensing it all into an ebook ;)

Lord, please help my trashy daughter

Wizzy couldn’t wait to tell me this Sunday night when she got home.

Roger Leroy has been eating trash.

She rushed into my bedroom to tell me how gross her twin sissy is.

As I mentioned, Roger Leroy cleans a large church near our home on the weekends. Wizzy is required to help her since she is still on “lockdown” from the principal’s phone call incident.

Here’s Wizzy’s version of what happened–I’ll give Roger Leroy time for an optional rebuttal next week…

Wizzy said “She called me into another room with an excited voice like she found something really cool.” The cool thing she found was a bread tray left in one of the Sunday School rooms.

“Look what they left for the janitors!” Roger Leroy exclaimed.

Wizzy said “Eww.” When her twin popped a slice of raspberry bread in her mouth, Wizzy was so grossed out that she had to leave the room. Roger Leroy called her back and said the lemon bread was much better than the raspberry.

On to the next room. Oh, pay dirt. (no pun intended)

She found fruit in a plastic container on top of the trash can. (Which I pointed out is technically IN the trash, it was just on top because the trash can was FULL.)

Yum, cantaloupe. (I didn’t even know she liked cantaloupe.) She licked the kiwi and didn’t care for it. She grabbed the lone grape and ate it.

Next, she spied a jug of orange juice on the floor next to the trash. Apparently her snack of bread and fruit had made her thirsty. She swigged the last bit of juice down. Wizzy thought she was kidding until she “heard it swishing in her mouth.” (These are Wizzy’s words, not mine.)

All these years of parenting. All these years of teaching. All these years…how did we get to this place?

Maybe I could understand this if she was scouring the trash for vegetables because of the deprivation and serious shortage of greens at our house.

Then again, I still don’t think I would understand…

Noble job: Cleaning the church.

Not so noble: Eating the trash at the church.

TiredTwins

Cleaning the church and eating the trash makes for two tired twins.

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Lemonade Stands &
Young Entrepreneurs

Just another fun-filled weekend at the Humphreys house coming to you in two fun-filled posts…

On Saturday, Scary Baby and a neighbor friend set up a lemonade stand at the edge of the road in our front yard.

I learned about their little business venture after it was all set up and they had sold several cups of lemonade.

When she excitedly brought in the pile of cash they had collected, I had a few questions.

Me: Did you make the lemonade yourself?
(no siblings were home at the time to help)

Scary Baby: Yes

Me: Did you use Kool-Aid?
(I was pretty sure there was none in our pantry.)

Scary Baby: No, I made it myself!

Me: With what?
(I also know there are no lemons in our house.)

Scary Baby: With water, sugar and lemon juice. (rolls eyes)

Me: Eww, how much lemon juice did you use?

Scary Baby: As much as I needed.

Ask a stupid question…

This is what happens when she is unsupervised.
Thankfully, no paint cans or rakes were involved in the lemonade stand.

To the neighbors who purchased the homemade lemonade–my apologies.

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