A Pocket Full of Wishes.

Today as I have been teaching the cute kids at my school about test anxiety, I have used my now infamous "gas pump" story as an example of what happens when one's brain does not get enough healthy food and sleep.
I think it's been rather impactful. I've never seen so many five year olds shake their heads in disgust.
I kinda wish that day wouldn't have happened, and right now, I kinda wish lots of things.

I wish I wouldn't have tried to cut-off the 70 year old man who wouldn't let me merge on the freeway. Ya, he might've been a road hog, but I didn't like the way I felt after I honked at him in his church clothes. I didn't like it when he shook his fist at me either.

I wish I wouldn't have stayed up until 1:00 am last night watching Lost. But, seriously people, that show is crazy good. The dreams are crazy too: Stranded + Aliens + Psychological Manipulation + Zac Efron (He's just always around) = Quite a Night.

I wish walkers and heart tests and Cheerleading teams didn't cost $3000. Though, worth every penny for what they bring to me in return.

I wish Abby would stay little enough to hug her mom in front of her friends forever.

I also wish Abby would let me ramble more and not cut me off with, "Umm, okay mom, you can be done with the talking."

I wish someone would knock at my door and tell me I've been chosen to be on a new show about how people clean your house for free every week.

I wish I could eat like Deakon.

I wish I could kiss his face right now, and watch him blow me a kiss back.

I also wish Deakon's favorite show was more like Grey's and less like Yo Gabba Gabba.

I wish someone knew where I could find denim patches to fix my favorite jeans that ripped.

I wish denim patches were in style.

I wish I saw my husband more often than the hours of 9pm-1am. Although, I am extra lucky to have a guy who is not ashamed to do whatever he needs to do to keep us afloat.

I wish for free Diet Coke at work like my friend Julie. (Seriously, Julie. No job could be better than that.)

I wish this weather would stick it out.

I wish Kyle Korver would make a bunch of three point shots tonight and shut-up all the haters.

The end...I could go on forever....Any wishes I have forgotten?

The Spring Break "Theory"

I love Spring Break.

Well, actually, I love a "break" from almost anything.

This year, the weather did not cooperate in giving my much needed break from Winter weather, so I decided to take a break from other things instead. Things like laundry (not one load), cooking dinner, and if I dare admit it, washing my hair. I would've preferred a break from the frost, but one takes what one can get, right?

I think I may have let my brain go on break also, because I am quite sure I didn't do a whole lot of productive thinking. In fact, I don't think my brain has come back yet. Today I drove away from the gas station with the entire gas hose still connected to my gas tank. It broke, and lots of people laughed and shook their heads at me.

I did remember to get my coke though...

Anyway, last week during our "break," we did a few fun things and enjoyed Easter. Here are the pictures.

We ate at Hires:

We Went to the Children's Museum:

(Deak had had it after about an hour.)

(Yes, Deak is kicking the Bunny.)

We Jumped and Dyed Eggs:

We Had a Hunt:

We also saw Hannah Montana, made lots of yummy things, and Ab went to a baby animal festival.

Now....BRING ON THE BREAK FROM THE COLD!

(And let's lose the break from my brain.)

Immodest.

My daughter asked me what "immodest" meant today after picking her up from school.

I sat there a second, looked at my gorgeous, pure, little girl and her darling outfit, and knew instantly why she had asked.

This morning we had a little bit of "Spring Fever" in our home, and I told Ab she could wear her cute new Easter shorts, new flip-flops, and a sleeveless shirt.

Hence, the immodesty question.

In my usual rational fashion (ha ha...), I immediately questioned her as to which friend told her she looked immodest - to no avail. She wasn't going to tell me this one. So, I laid off a bit on the NYPD Blue character and let her know the definition of modesty. I said that one might choose to wear clothes that don't show a lot of our private skin areas. I told her that her arms were not private skin, and she looked beautiful. I let her know that I would buy her clothes that I felt were modest and appropriate for her. A little while later I explained some about why I choose to wear the clothes I do, and I why I feel it is important to be modest.

But, I was pissed. Not at the child who used the term, but at the parent who failed to teach it appropriately.

Modesty is value I want to instill in my daughter, but more importantly, I want to teach her that what feels comfortable for her is okay, even though it might be different for another person. I want her to make choices due to her value system and comfort level, and not due to a religious set of rules one might be deemed to obey in order to be a good church going member. It is such a fine line really; a line that is crossed too often around here. A line that leads to judgement of others' levels of worthiness, and un-invites to neighborhood barbeques.

I know that I screw up a lot as a parent, and I know some of you will disagree with my opinion on this topic. I also know that I am not worthy enough to ever judge an other's intent of heart by looking at their arms.

Arms much like my six year old daughter"s.

Arms which were apparently cause for chastisement after eating her chicken nuggets at lunch.

Really, people...that's not what my value system is about.

No!!!!

I just came across this story and it broke my heart.

Apparently, due to our fantastic economy, Shriners Hospitals are going to have to close six of their facilities.

I would just die if they were closing the one in Utah. I do not know what I would do. Those patients in the six facilities are now going to have to be placed in other Hospitals in other states. It truly must be devestating for those families.

This is one of those times I wish I had an endless money pit.

Please pass the word along, and if anyone can, maybe think about donating.

My son is now walking and talking because of them. I can't imagine my life without them.

For the full story click HERE.

To Donate Now...

Click HERE.

Good Genes (I hope).

My mom turned 50 last week, and looks like she easily could be ten years younger.
My mom has always looked great, and taken fantastic care of herself. I remember watching her do her Jane Fonda workout tapes as a young girl, and trying to do the moves before I quickly lost interest and moved onto something that most likely involved eating. (Some things never change.)

After my mom was treated for Breast Cancer 7/8 years ago, she became even more involved in taking care of herself. She is now a gym Nazi, and spends nearly every morning of her week there...sometimes up to three hours. I don't need to say, because the pictures speak for themselves, but she is sure one fabulous 50 year old.

I sure hope it's completely genetic, and not due to countless gym hours.

We went to dinner to celebrate with her...and now she is off celebrating in the Caribbean on a cruise.

The Birthday Girl, and my sister Kelli.

The Cutest New Member of the Albright Clan, Crosby.

My Dad, Deak and Curt.

A real crappy picture of a really cute family...(Sorry guys).


Typical...

Riding the Saddle...

The girls thought Grandma on the saddle was hillarious, but Deak did not. He screams when they yell, "Yee - haw" and is nearly inconsolable. So, he went outside during this part of the festivities.

Happy Birthday Mom.

My Big Boy.

I've been trying to capture words to describe my feelings today, and none seem to be sufficient.

So, I won't write many.

This is my baby boy, who is doing his best to catch up with the world.

I watched him take his first steps without human hands supporting him today.

We were at Shriners, at a therapy session I nearly cancelled due to my crazy schedule and lack of ability to ask for help often enough.

He concentrated hard with his little tongue out, and laughed.

I sat back, watched and knew this feeling I was feeling right then was as close to heaven as I could ever get.

My boy is ready world.

Watch out.

Whole Heart.

Miracles happen.

I know with my whole heart they do.

After a few hours of testing this morning, Dr. Everitt, came into our room with a smile.

A smile even she was surprised about.

With the exception of today, each visit we have ever had with Dr. Everitt has given us similar news: The left side of Deakon's heart was getting bigger to compensate for the hole in the right side, and the hole was not getting smaller. Age "three" had always been the big number...the magic age where Dr. Everitt would decide which procedure to use to close the hole in Deakon's heart. She did not want to see his heart increase in size any more.

Dr. Everitt said hello to Deak, turned to us with her sweet eyes and said, "Guys...the hole is gone."

I was in shock. Deak had had a chest x-ray done at Shriners a few months ago which indicated the hole in his heart was still there.

Now it wasn't.

I told Dr. Everitt that I couldn't believe what she was saying..."I'm not quite used to getting this kind of news," I said slowly.

"I know. I am quite surprised too. I checked all his old photos to double check...the hole is completely sealed and the left side of his heart has returned to it's normal size."

"Wow."

I couldn't say more, the tears were too close. I turned to look at Blair...the tears were pretty close for him too.

Dr. Everitt then went on and on about how much she was going to miss seeing Deakon and his happy spirit. She was going to miss him because he never has to go back....EVER.

His heart is now perfectly whole.

(Deak with the blanket given to him from the cardiology unit today.)