What a Difference a Night Makes

I hope you know how much I love sleeping. I do. I do love sleeping and I do hope you know, I mean. Almost as much as I love dancing around my house while people aren't looking in my windows.

Guess what, I have to tell you a secret. Ok, maybe I've talked about this before I'm not sure but actually, now that I think about it, I think I've talked about this with my cousin Kjersten.

(L to R:  Ashley Oblad (my baby sister) Eliza (my sister who's a year younger than me) Eric (my cousin) Ryan (his brother, also my cousin) Taylor, (top right looking like a cholo of which he's not) and finally, Kjersten 

Isn't she lovely?  Look at that pose...that stare of confidence...(she's on the bottom right in the awesome tan vest) See the bangs in the next photo?

Cousin Rachel Christensen and of course, Kjersten with awesome bangs

I have to show the picture with the bangs because I bet that picture was taken around the same time I'd sit in my bathroom with her when we were younger and I'd curl her hair and sometimes I'd burn the skin off of her forehead. Like, a real burn. Probably needed to be treated at the hospital but whatever, this was the 80's. We were tougher. Oh and sometimes we'd make Kjersten sleep in our closet growing up but it was one of those closets that had sliding mirrored doors and we'd build her a bed on the floor with blankets and pillows then shut the doors almost all the way during a sleepover. I realize now it sounds really mean but it was pretty awesome I thought. No? Just me?  Whoops. But really, here's what she looks like in real life now. She's stunning:

Kjersten and her daughter Olivia

See??? No burn scars on her forehead from me and my crazy curling iron!  ANYWAY!  So Kjersten and I frequently talk about things in our lives that are weird. She's funny and makes me laugh like no other and at some point I don't remember which, I confessed to her that I talk to myself in my car. Not constantly. It will be a glance out the window and I will say something like "well that idiot needs a ticket" or something to that effect. Not because I'm really trying to talk to myself but because I always and I mean ALWAYS feel like I'm being watched in my car. Like there's a camera crew who's planted tiny FBI-type cameras in my rear view mirror, and then that there are 10 other ones somewhere hidden in my car somewhere. What I'm trying to tell you is that I feel like I'm being watched in my car. All the time. I do realize that some of you are going to google "Crazy Person Who Thinks People Are Watching Her In Her Car" (there, I did it for you) and see that the first hit is for "paranoia". Pshh. Whatevs. It's not a bad thing. I'm serious though. I don't enjoy doing it per se, and I don't always wear shoes in my car, but you can be sure I always make sure I have lipstick on. True story.

Anyway, one of the best things about talking to the "camera people" in the car about traffic or whatever, is that I pretty much always have kids in my car. Almost always. And often they'll be like "who are you talking to?" and instead of replying with something about "duh. camera people" I say "oh!  I'm singing. It's a song!" and then I have to pretend there's a real song about the stupid idiot woman who drives slow in the fast lane. You get the idea.

So I keep music on in the car all the time.

Ok where was I going with this story?  Kjersten closets, singing in the car, camera crews...ah yes!  I remember. K so last night there was this crazy wind and snow storm. It was insane. Mike and I had to go clear up to Salt Lake in it which wouldn't normally be a big deal, that's like 20 minutes, but because of the weather it took like an hour. And this idiot freakin semi truck kept passing me, then slowing down, then getting in my lane, then passing me again all the while splashing wet snow soooooooo hard on my windshield so we couldn't see at ALL, and I have to tell you, not only do I talk to the camera crew about the bad drivers, I kind of have Driving Tourettes. Which should not be confused with Christmas Tourettes wherein you say really bad words in front of your kids because Christmas is so stinkin' frustrating! Incidentally, I also have Laundry Tourettes which only affects me when I'm pregnant because wet clothes are heavy and I have a hard time bending down and over and up and down etc. with a baby on the hip and a baby in the belly.  Anyway, Driving Tourettes. I do say bad words sometimes (as Harper likes to say to people, especially people at church or the store or neighbors or whomever is within earshot "my mom sometimes says 'the shuh-shuh word.'") (get it? It starts with the "sh" sound. Use your imagination folks)

Anyway, it was Mike and I in the car and no kids so that's when the threats typically turn on. I grit my teeth and make really terrible threats against people who drive crazy. I'm one of "those". They're not yelling or screaming threats (hello, screaming on camera isn't sexy, my people) but gritting my teeth and informing them of the smackdown I wanna put on 'em is more my style.

Anyway me, threatening the truck driver. And look, I realize I won't ever hurt them, but in my mind I pull them over and it will be over. They'll be scared and I'll make them understand how stupid they've been. In my imagination I'm no pregnant mother of 6. I'm a b'dass who pulls the trigga, I don't press people button. It works out something like that in my mind, oh and then there's some sort of apology and then I get a key to the city and I get to wear something pretty and filmy to the ceremony they'll have for me.

Ok, I'm a bit delusional and what all of this has to do with the title of today's blog is...yesterday was terrible. Still is, but that's the thing. It was yesterday. Today I'm better, not great, but I'm not crying into my rear view window (now with more lipstick!) Instead I'm listening to music with my kids trying to teach Harper and Lola the importance of keepin' it real.