When Mom's not home...

Everyone on the Potty Train! Choo Choo!

The Neff Parents are proud, and overly joyed, to announce that their wild thing is officially on the Potty Train!  Choo Choo!

I'm so proud of her.  There's a lot in the old-lady-at-Walmart-in-the-diaper-section saying: "Just wait until their ready.  They practically train themselves."

Amen creepy-slipper-lady.  Amen.

At least her robe was tied shut.

And good job Kembry.  Really.  I mean, we're already spoiled enough that she is so...how the Brett says, "Enchanting."  (Seriously, he said that.  Cute huh?)  But she really did just train herself.  She was ready.  She knew what to do.  And she DID IT!  And is still DOING IT! 

All the mothers out there can feel my joy literally seeping out of the computer as they read this.  It feels a bit like an electrical shock, but the good kind.  There's a good kind?

Kelly Out (of diapers!  yes!)

Planned Obsolesence: The Fight Continues

So here's an update with my ongoing battle to fight "stuff".

IT'S HARD!

Update finished.

Just kidding.  But really, this has been a very, VERY, difficult fight for me.  I had no idea how much I loved and worshiped STUFF.  Especially now with the Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas Holiday's coming into play.  I love decorations, candy, little bowls for candy, little decorative plates for the bowls that hold the candy...the list goes on.

And goards.  Is that how you spell that?  Sure, why not.  What is it with goards that makes me want to just...buy 'em all up and put them on my table, so that I'll just have to take them off everyday for dinner, and then find storage place for them at the end of the year...really, they're a pain.  BUT I WANT FIFTY.  Any therapists out there looking for a lost cause?  Ya found one!

And Christmas ornaments.  What's the deal with wanting four million different, shiny, pretty, sparkly ornaments?  I must have them!  Alas, though, I will not give in so easily to STUFF.

I've even been struggling with grocery shopping.  Do I really need this item?  What if we don't end up eating it in time (yogurt, milk, cheese, etc) and then I just have to throw it away?  What a waste!  This battle with STUFF has really made me step back and consciously watch what I'm doing.

All in all, I've saved a butt-load of money and storage space.  Not to mention helped my posterity (hopefully).

Oh, and a really NEAT update: our recycling bin has reached it's limits every week.  Our garbage can for the last three weeks has had...hold it...wait for it....ONE BAG of garbage.  I had no idea how much you can actually recycle. 

I'm really greatful I stumbled onto that video.  Thanks to Kaci, Brad Call's wife, whose really funny and keeps a fun blog.  I hope it's changed me for good.

Kelly Out

Friendship

"Friendship needs no studied phrases

Polished face, nor whining whiles

Friendship deals no lavish praises

Friendship dons no surface smiles

Friendship follows natures diction

Shuns the bandishments of art

Boldly serves truth from fiction

Speaks the language of the heart

Friendship favors no condition

Scorns a narrow-minded creed

Lovingly fulfills its mission

Be it word, or be it deed

Friendship cheers the faint and weary

Makes the timid spirid brave

Warns the eary, lights the dreary

Smooths the passage to the grave

Friendship, pure, unselfish friendship

All through lifes allotted span

Nurtures, strengthens, widens, lengthens

Mans relationship with man."

I don't know who wrote this, but I've had it memorized since I was twelve.  I know I've found a good friend when peices of this poem come to mind as I just sit and visit with them.  So, thanks friend, for sitting and listening to my grumpy grumblings when I know you have so much more on your plate without me.  Thank you.

Kelly Out

P.S.  I also love the one that goes, "A good friend will stop you when you're about to go off on someone.  A best friend will walk beside you, giggling 'Someone's gonna get it!'"

But why?

Here's the thing: "Do as I say, not as I do" isn't gonna cut it with the Neff brood.  "But why?" will be on my sons eternal records, under the heading "Ways in which I tortured my mother".  Also on that list, I'm forseeing, girls.  But let's not cross any questionable bridges until we're forced at gun point. 

"But why?" is a question that will, without a doubt, follow me to my grave. 

The first place I go whenever I'm struggling internally with external signs of insanity due to motherhood: prayer. 

First step: beg for mercy.  Please, please make him stop.  I don't know.  I DON'T KNOW THE ANSWER, Lord.  I just don't know.

Second place I go whenever I'm struggling internally with external signs of insanity due to motherhood: prayer. 

I take it back!  I take it back, please stop testing me now!

Finally, I go limp.  Acceptance sets in.  Reality clicks.  I let the Spirit take over, and all seems to fall into place.  I begin to realize that when my son asks, "Why is the sun by the moon today?" that he doesn't want to know about the orbit of the earth, that we're on a tilted axis, and that his mother has NO IDEA what any of this means.  And I gratefully realize that I only have to give him the simple answer: "It changes every night."

Judges?  YES!  The answer is accepted, and a new string of questions is presented.  The kid needs to go into the CIA and torture.  I mean, if the CIA did that kinda stuff.  Which of course they DON'T!  Right...

And the Spirit reminds me, daily, hourly, minute by minute, every second, that he learns just like me.  Just like the rest of us.  Line upon line, precept upon precept.

Kelly Out

A Strange Decision

I've always kept a written journal. 

The year I worked in the Family History Department at the Church Office Building, I really felt  an awe and a love for written experience.   I got to handle century old journal pages, histories, birth records, death records, etc., and it was a wonderful experience.  I really felt connected to the hands that carved those letters. 

But I hate writing.

My hand cramps, I go too slow for my own thoughts, I mispell and have to cross out, it gets sloppy.  Sometimes I cry and it smears the page.  Sometimes I completely skip words, and it's not like I can backspace or insert the word I missed.  And I'm pretty sure the people who read it will wonder if it was a 7 year old writing, my handwriting is that bad.

But all of this I think is what will possibly make it that much more special for my posterity to read. 

Then again I've really enjoyed keeping an electronic journal.  Like, REALLY liked it.  I don't have time, or the urge, to do both anymore. 

I'm torn.  What do you do?  Do you hand write, type, or both?  Or none of the above.  Do you beam thoughts into the sky where a gigantic database stores all your experiences.  That would be cool. 

Anywho, I really appreciate the suggestions. 

Kelly Torn
I mean Out

The Goose is getting fat. Yum.

Since Christmas is only like...what...70ish some odd days away, I'm beginning my ritual of excitment.  I don't care who judges me (Breeeeetttt).  So today I'm settling down on the couch with a heating pad and four of my favorite Christmas movies.  Starting with "Santa Clause: THE Movie", oldie but goldie, followed by "Scrooged" (Bill Murray was old THEN, is he still alive NOW?) then "The Family Man" and to finish off a wonderful Get-Set-Christmas-Here-I-Come marathon, "Mixed Nuts".  Possibly the greatest, most hilarious Christmas movie made to date. 

And then in about 60-ish some odd days, I'll start the Christmas shopping =)

Kelly Out