The School of Hard Knocks .... Part II

You know they say the sequel is never better than the origional... I'll see about that.
we have had a lot of ups and downs  and round and rounds this year...
After france we moved to N. Africa. Once we moved here, we decided that it was too late to get our kids into the school year so we finished the year in homeschool, but it was light.
We decided on national school for the girls. I mean, it was supposed to be half french and half arabic and they had already learned french so this should be easier than when we moved to France right?
We found out it was only 1 hr a day of french... 90% arabic. and the arabic they would be learning would be one type, but the teachers don't speak that, they speak an all together different type of arabic... and none of those are the language of the people who live there. Confused yet? me too.

we started asking questions about what the girls would do during the day and what alternative do they have to islamic studies... nothing... well not nothing. they would throw all 3 of them into the library during that time... with no supervision. ok...

Then we asked what kind of tutoring they could get. None. oh and the school gets its funding from the government, we don't want you messing up our arabic test scores with your kids who know no arabic... so your 7/8th grader... she'll be starting in 3rd. Your 3 and 4th grader: Kindergarten. But Nyla... she's good to go at 4 years old.

Then we got the girls tested to find out how they were doing academically... just to find out that Ada most likely has a learning disorder that we haven't diagnosed yet.

So, here we are again. Just like old times... but different. not a 4th and kindergartener, but an 8th, 4th and 2nd grader... yes we had to change grade levels around.. but C'est la vie (nope didn't lose my french in the process).

So here's Ella:She enjoys language , but not listening to her mom. She IS a tween. She'll be starting out in 8th grade (skipping a grade) to see if she can handle it. On the side she'll be working with her mother at the english school and taking the tribal language of the region. one cool kid.

This is Zoe: sporty, spicy , fun. She is preparing herself for 4th grade. Don't let her fool you, she is a hard worker and can't wait to be the top of her class (although, she's the only one IN her class).

 Then there's Ada. What a looker. When she's not rolling around in the sand with the locals, she's getting ready for 2nd grade. Mostly to catch up in subjects she struggled in. She wants to be a "cooker" when she gets older and can't wait to perform for anyone who wants to enjoy.Go Ada.

Then there's Nyla. What a firecracker. She may be 4 but she's got 3 sisters worth of spunk. She'll be starting at the local National school. She'll learn how to spell, read and write this year. they start em earlier and earlier. Love that kid.

And let's not forget mom and dad. We are both starting language school #2 this week. Thankfully they are not in the same class so that they feel the overwhelming urge to compete with each other. School for ALL!!!!

Well, that's us. Can't wait for this year to begin... tomorrow.

Evolution of (womanly) torture

I’m not one to tell others what to do, but if anyone is planning to torture someone, I have a perfect product to get the job done. The Me Tenda… makes your victim tenda’

So at some point in history, the powers that be said that a woman should be hairless. I’m sure there was a good reason (sorry girl, I can’t tell if you’re fat or your hair is just fluffy). I’m sure women were brilliant, but some man said, cut it off… so we began to shave. But shaving must be done every week if not every day. It’s a pain in all women’s side. And leg. And lip, and armpit.

And women don’t just deal with the man remarks, we now deal with other women. You know, the women who only have to shave once a week and it comes in fine and blond, they suddenly notice if you miss a patch (come on you miss that patch on the back of the ankle, or behind the knee .. or or or, on top of the knee where you can look like you blindfolded yourself, took a butcher knife, played piniata on your knee and that’s when you’re taking your sweet time and paying attention to “detail”). Those women will point out  in public, no doubt, because they must be “encouraging “ you to work harder, daily, instead of say, having a life.

*sigh* I might have a little hair on my legs. I have been known to be called a wooly mammoth by those sweet girls who have perfectly shaped eyebrows, oodles of money for a personal assistant, and a manicure that never seems to be chipped. I’m sure they were loving me into humiliation for the sake of my health and safety… oh what? Hairlessness isn’t for my health.. oh…

Ok so, one day some woman said, “this shaving thing must stop!!” She was smart enough to know that daily sacrifice to the leg gods needed to end, but in a fit of pms , I’m guessing, she decided to use tweezers to rip out each individual hair because it keeps you from having to do the job as often. Yes. Yes, that’s true, but are you kidding. So a man stepped in when she wouldn’t stop nagging about the pain of plucking her hair.. he invented… the epilator. A device consisting of dozens of tweezers stuck on a rotator that plucks multiple hairs out of your leg at the same time in a “fast” fashion… I don’t care how fast it is, you might as well tell me that you’re gonna waterboard me because I’m holding my breath and gasping every 3 seconds as I contain the pain because my kids are in the next room and they are all girls. One day they too will have to choose what type of torture they prefer because they too have my genes of black lion mane hair on their legs.

I’ve tried other types of pain.

I waxed… I actually like it. 1 hour, rip it all off and the dead skin to boot. It stays off… well for like 3 weeks, then you go back… but man 100 dollars later, I’m hairless and broke and red-skinned and walking funny. And if you live in florida, you can then go to the beach and cry for a while when you forget and saltwater hits it. Periodically I’ll just rub lemon juice in the wound (sarcasm noted)… but when you account for longest –lasting, price comparable ways to remove the monkey growing on your leg, you might choose this. I WILL say it’s also a conversational piece. I have been known repeatedly to share my faith with the waxer right when she gets to my bikini line because maybe she’ll do it faster or atleast we will all be distracted.

Another lovely way I learned my lesson was by fire. I have done the laser hair removal… imagine someone calmly loving on you, placing a cool compact on sensitive areas like lip or bikini, and then ZAP!!! You’ve been blinded by lightning which struck on your private area with a fire that sinks in all the way to your uterus , all while they soothe you with the sounds of waterfalls and Kenny G coming from the sound system. And as soon as you reach out to scream that God came back for you piece by piece, the light is gone and you’re left with the smell of burning hair and another cold compress. And if you’re really lucky like me, you’ll have a laser-er that probably isn’t certified (wondered why it was so cheap) and you get burned a couple times right in the V-jay jay. Come back every 3 weeks for 6 months willingly and you’ll get the picture.. and this only guarantees your hair to be gone for 10 years max… or for me… 1 year.

Threading: some lady in Asia said, “tweezers! Ha, I can do the same thing with dental floss for cheap”. Somehow they can hurt you good, make you look great, and degrade you by telling you how ugly you are all at the same time… enough.

Laser epilation: the worst thing I ever experienced. They stick a wire, into each pore where hair comes out, one by one, and light it on fire once it’s in there…

Sorry, I blacked out for a minute… but they claim that this form of treatment, once every hair has been gotten… obviously takes some time, will last a lifetime.. I don’t know. After 3 hairs, I slapped the lady and she said, maybe it wasn’t for me.

So now back to the beauty I bought. I lived in Paris for a year and a half and didn’t know the word for wax, and when I did learn it, I couldn’t afford it. I kept seeing adds for the epilator everywhere and it seemed like everyone I asked said, “yah… I do /did that.” I should have taken note of their pause. I researched good ones and bad ones since you can get them for 20Euros or 500… I found one called the ME… it was highly rated and was an epilator and a home-laser-hair removal system in one. It was on super sale at the “best buy” in town. So I went for it, shelling out a 100 euros, thinking of all the money I’d be saving in the long run as after 10 uses, my hair wouldn’t come back for years!!!

Well, you gotta get past the first time. I mean, wow, I refused for anyone in my family to be home because the crying, and stopping, and wiping of my brow took hours to finally get just half a leg done. My husband came home and said, “only up to your knees? You doing the laser?” Seriously, one thing at a time. Took me a month to get up the nerve to laser that half a leg… Every time, I get the look from him, “ you gonna try your upper leg soon? Your bikini… “ I’m gonna duct tape him down soon and just do his chest… it doesn’t have much hair… then we’ll talk about new forms of torture for next time he makes a comment.

So, I hope this was helpful as you choose what would be a good form of leg hair removal…

And yes, I’ve tried Nad’s sugaring, nair (found out I was allergic the hard way)… but never tried the pinterest coffee grounds suggestion… maybe when I’m feeling masochistic …

My mom and French

About a month ago I was asked to write an essay for french class . Some of you asked me to translate it into English. Keep in mind I'm not sure on ANY of the dates, I had one night to write it and I... took liberties. Also, I'm at like a 3rd grade level at french... be kind.

" Recount in the past tense the biography of someone who you feel is important (and then there are some criteria)

My mother was very important to me. She shared the good news with 100s of women. She made 1000s of gifts with her two hands. She had changed my life with her example of how to be a real woman.
Jane Logan was born the 21st of February 1945. While studying geology, she learned how to sew. She practiced this art for many years. In June of 1980, Jane opened a store where she taught sewing and sold sewing products. That year, she learned "smocking" (sewing between the pleats of a piece of clothing) and she also gave birth to me.After many years, she passed the store to another person and began a biblical study called BSF. She was taking these courses when a friend asked if my mother would like to teach the class. She was a techer for the next 7 years. In 1990 she became the distributer for BSF until her death.
I also took classes with BSF when I was younger. I told my mother that I had liked the study, but it was no longer possible to continue. I had wanted the papers for children that BSF had but they had told me it was not allowed. After the death of my mother, I was helping my sister arrange her affairs when I found 3 notebooks. My mother had made 1 notebook for each of her children containing all the biblical studies for children.... my children. She had done things like this for everyone. She loved to put forth the love of Jesus to anyone who needed it.
At her funeral, Most of BSF had come. Some did not know her. Others had known her her entire life, but each person there knew that she loved Jesus and them. We sang her favorite songs and laughed because she died in bed, sick, but NOW she ran in heaven. It was marvelous. Jane Logan Mixer was indeed unforgettable.

My former self

Even a year ago I was a completely different woman.
I was a girl who read, but maybe only right before bed. I drank atleast like 2-3 cokes a day. I couldn't pass a fast food restaurant I didn't like.
I loved parties. I had to throw em, go to em, host em, organize em, have em for no reason. I love to entertain.
I loved to sew. every day, all day, it took my stress, it made me creative, it was a way to teach my girls, and encourage others.
I loved a good craft. Tell me there was a craft show and my juices started flowing. I couldn't help it. I promenaded down the isles of joann's, ac moore, hancocks fabric, Michaels... the thought of it makes me smell nastalgia.
If you knew me longer than a day you probably heard me ask, "is there anything I can do for you?" It was like a catch phrase, I couldn't help but ask and then of course do my darndest to follow through.
I loved kids. Of all ages. I wanted to teach them, listen to them, soak them in , laugh with them.

A lot of things have changed. I still love a good coke, and france produces the tastiest. But I read a lot. I have gone through more books in one year than ... well, a really long time. I rarely have time for fast food, but I CAN get food fast, if I plan well.
But when you live overseas and everyone is on a budget, parties can be hard. I try to be a good hostess and make snacks for people "just because" but it almost insults them. I mean to them , who has time for that? am I showing off? And when I threw a birthday party, it was cheap. I mean a couple bags of candy and popcorn and some glow sticks... but to them I was showing them up. "you lifted the bar too high" they said. Now I'm not saying that it wasn't fun and they didn't have a good time, but I expected people around me to relax... to feel at home. And that wasn't the case.
And I live far away. My apartment is small and people don't like to ... idk, get out?
See school is stressful here. It's a guilt thing. We've been told this lie that we have to be superwoman or we aren't good enough. And when you pull something off... it's a slap in the face to all those who couldn't.
So what used to be a release to me. a stress reliever, a mind distraction, is a burden.
Crafts are expensive and time consuming... and when you study and cook and homework all day, well, I don't know bout you, but I don't like to clean up after a craft before I go to bed. And there's no such thing as inspiration and dare I say, craft stores...
on top of that, i thought I would take MAYBE a year off from sewing , sell my machine and get a new one in a new country, including bells, whistles, and a european plug. But a year later, there's no machine and I won't get one for AT LEAST 6 more months.
have you ever had stagnant creative genes... pretty sure they're atrophying, or atleast crying out in agony. I can hear them... "make a purse, a blanket, I'd even make... barbie clothes, ok maybe not! Maybe just a coozie. Can we sew by hand? is that a possibility?"
And then there's the fact I'm learning to speak french on the job... I don't even know if I can say, is there anything I can do for you... let me think. "Est-il n'importe quoi que je peux faire pour toi?"


I will never remember THAT on the spot...
So what do I have that still makes me... me?
I'm sarcastic. I'm a better listener. I do it before I speak now too. Instead of caring for the masses, I try to think on a one-on-one level. I'm looking internally too, instead of drowning it out with other "things".
Some days I wonder why HE put me here and what good could come from the choices i've made or why are things so drastic... but maybe it's time to put a listening ear to that one too. no, I'm not who I was and the more I think about it, I NEVER will be again. home will never be home again. friends move, relationships change, monkeys might start flying... but I'm still HIS creation. I'm still ME. so what if I cry now (whaaaa) I'll get over it. and then I'll pull my big girl pants on, maybe put on a french scarf because it's time to have new "normals" and be the best ME I can be... til next year.

deps and death

I've written a lot of things on depression and there is so much to understand that I can't even tell you all of them. This week was a bad one for me, and it's hard for Johnny to understand, communicate, and even talk to me during a time like this.
Then I saw that Robbin Williams died. It broke my heart. I have to write about this.
He was an amazing man. He WAS funny, but there was so much more to him.
I once watched a Lifetime movie on his life (about the time of Patch Adams coming out) and of course I was on the edge of my seat.
But the more I watched the video-ography, the more I could see that he was depressed. That was the day I started pr*ying for Robin Williams.
See, I can totally understand. He was funny, but he had absolutely no outlet for sadness or anger or even a normal day. Then add depression into the mix. That is why I think he branched out into what dreams may come and law and order... he wanted to vent his dark thoughts, but people criticized him.
See, supposedly I'm funny too.
When people hear me complain or even talk like I'm having a hard day, people automatically walk away from me. They want me to lift them up. They want me to be funny. Then when you add depression into the mix, I feel like I've REALLY let them down. I should have hid it better, I should have held it in.
his movie Photoshop was a way for him to be sad by only acting sad. It's the same for Chanda Pierce. It's the same for a lot of people. Actually, the funnier a person is , the more I reach out and love on them.
We need to let those who have deps let it out. Don't walk away. Don't pity, Don't frown... just acknowledge and then remind them of awesome things... mourn with those who mourn, but also rejoice with those who rejoice...
The news of Robin Williams broke my heart because I don't believe he ever found Hope or the Truth. But instead of just saying depression is a cruel lie... take action. Be a light to all those around you, stranger and otherwise. Say a kind word. Point out the worlds beauty. Give a reason for thankfulness for themselves. Even a smile.
Make sure Robin Williams doesn't happen again!

Go to bed

8:30: Ella, go to bed. I know it's hard for you to fall asleep, so I'm giving you time to calm down and read... kisses, hugs, goodnights, sleep tights, pr*yer, love you, door cracked.
9:15: ella comes out to pee. Comes in the living room on the other side of the house. "sorry, I just had to pee. I'll say goodnight now."... kisses, hugs, goodnights, love you... off to bed
9:35: I see a shadow walk across the house. "who's up?" Ella: it's just me. It's really bright in my bedroom, so I'm going around the house turning lights off. Can I turn the light off in the room you're sitting in "no, I'm in here, if you don't like the brightness, close your door" Ella" it's too hot. ok I'll go to bed now.
9:40:Ella: I forgot to kiss you goodnight when I went to my room a minute ago, I'll do it now
"You've already kissed me three times now. I love you, but you have to go to bed. Stop getting up."
Ella: I'm done. I'm off... kisses, hugs, love you, shove to her room.
10:00 Ella: I can't sleep.
I try to ignore, but she stares blankly at me for 5 minutes and wins the staring contest.
"of course you can't sleep. You keep getting up. If you'd just lay there, you'd fall asleep. Why don't you read your book."
Here comes one of 2 answers; Either she finished her book, or it wasn't entertaining enough so she can't read it.
"well, it is 10 pm. Really you should fall asleep or you'll never wake up in the morning."
Ella: ok, well, I love you.... I begrudgingly kiss her AGAIN, and say, please stay in bed.
ALL IS QUIET.
until 11:15: Ella comes into my room: I have to pee. Is it ok if I go?
"well, if you don't go, you'll be up all night thinking about it right?"
Ella: yes
"so why do you have to tell me you have to pee? I mean, you'll go whether I give you permission or not right. Just go... and go to bed!"
Ella is in the bathroom so long I forgot she even woke up.
11:45: Ella: ok night I love you...
 "don't kiss me. just pee. go to bed. stop getting up. you're worse than your 3 year old sister"
Ella: I'm so tired. I love you.

7am: "ella get up."
7:15: "ella get up."
7:30: "you have to get dressed, or you'll miss breakfast and I'll have to start dragging you to school"
8 am: "you have 10 minutes "
8:10 Ella: will you braid my hair? you promised last night. you did Zoe's and Ada's...
"yes, because they woke up"
Ella: well, you talked to me all night, I couldn't go to sleep.

And so the cycle continues the next night....

Yes, I'm uber holy

Josh is in the middle with the beard. He seemed to enjoy the party at our house!

I know, you look at me and see a freak with a super gift... called hospitality. This past week, I took a lesson in stupidity hospitality.
How to take your talents to the next level:
1. Have a common last name. This allows for everyone to call you or ask for you by said common last name and someone will just give up your personal information without blinking twice. For example: the last name Campbell. Someone could just show up at your school and say they're looking for the Campbells and There might be a person at the school who just hands over your phone number. (don't I wish I was still a Mixer now?)
2. Have an unsuspecting spouse. Yes, someone who takes EVERYONE at their word. For example: there might be a husband who believes every time he logs on to the computer that he has won the lotterie or that a poor defenseless African man needs money wired to him. Now, this husband might get a phone call from someone claiming to know him and ask for room and board at your house. and without a second thought, he might say yes (to his defense, he saw my face and said, "let me talk to my wife and I'll call you back")
3. Play 6 degrees with your spouse. For example: If your wife asks who this guy knows at your school, you should just say something like "I remember talking to person A who knew person B and said they might visit sometime this year and need to bounce medical ideas off of me" I don't know who this could be, but it might happen, you never know.
4. Agree to disagree, until you get to the hard part, asking questions. I mean, For example, you might argue back and forth at the validity of a hypothetical situation (person A and B) and insist that the husband call back the man and find out who he REALLY knows and who gave your # to him. This is  hard and pride hurting, but it's humility (another awesome gift)
5. When you find out that this person knows absolutely no one that you do, that you had a common last name, but STILL asks for a place to stay for 3 days, don't question it. For real, it's a hurting man who needs shelter. Your kids safety is in His hands , right? plus, it's a small apartment, you'll hear if anything happens.
6. Pick him up immediately. Don't waste time with cleaning or thinking, that'll just make you doubt your hospitable nature. Bring him in.
7. Throw a party that night. Invite him. Have him meet all your other friends and find out that he is 6 degrees to someone in the room.
8. The next morning, be sure to leave him in the house alone all day. Give him a key. Don't question anything valuable, or keep him from eating your peanut butter cups. you've already shuffled all your kids so he can have a room alone, why not the crown jewels too.
9. Have another party, in town, which you pay for him to travel with you because you don't want him to feel too cooped up in your home.. Give him breathing space. Buy him a train ticket.
10. Breathe. You've achieved a true level of hospitality. Everyone survived and he even left you a nice note. You trully are blessed.

Actually, it probably wasn't that bad. Josh (I don't know his last name) ended up being a pretty stand up guy who actually was a doctor on his way to Africa but needed visas. We found people to vouch for him eentually and my girls weren't afraid of him. Now, how do I teach them about stranger danger... next blog.

If the sweedish chef were French

That would be me. I have to be the messiest cook in the world. Every time I cook noodles, they are all over the kitchen. I can't break an egg without it drooling all over the counter... and flour. Let's not talk about flour.
So I've really been trying to keep up our tradition of making pancakes every saturday once we got here. I went online and searched for the french names of the ingredients (no, my girls do not like crepes). I have gone to 3 stores and STILL cannot find all the ingredients.
Our school was offering a french cooking course every friday (mainly to know  the words found in french recipes), so I jumped on it. HOW FUN. I love to cook, and I get to make french pastries. Win-win.
I showed up today and we labeled ingredients. Then we read (in french) the directions. Then she split us up into groups of 3or 4 to make our first dish: profiteroles (creme puffs). Of course , all the beginners were in a group together, but we actually made the best batch thanks to Sonia, our portugeuse grandma. They were great! I am going to love cooking class...
So I took the oportunity to ask my teacher where I could find baking powder. She couldn't understand me. I thought maybe I was pronouncing the word incorrectly, so I repeated it and then asked other students to help me. She really had NEVER heard of baking powder. She tried to tell me to get yeast. I kept telling her no, but when she finally walked away, another girl told me what the problem was. THERE IS NO SUCH THING HERE. and baking soda is only for cleaning. She said that's why french people love cookies so much from america is because they don't have anything like that they can make.
Then the girl disappeared and returned with a new can of baking powder that someone had mailed her and told me I could have it... sniff sniff... I'm gonna love it here (and perhaps teach a few things myself)

Bravest girls in the world

I can't tell you how proud of my girls I am. I never would be able to do what they are doing right now. We went on saturday to visit the school Ella, Zoe, and Ada would be attending. The liason met us out front and gave the tour and tested the girls to find out what grade they would be placed in. Ada cried, Zoe did well, and Ella gave the America answer of "English is the most widely used language" to a READING comprehension test (the answer was Chinese due to the amount of people who live there).
Ada was placed at the school even though she was way behind on math, and the youngest student to learn french there. Zoe was placed in 2nd grade even though she's way behind on math. And Ella is in the highest grade, and is well on her way to the college (middle school).
Day one came. I really didn't know what to think as we were walking there (in the rain no doubt). We were supposed to drop them off at the gate and run for our school so we could drop off Nyla and get to class without being late. How can I drop my girls off at the gate of a school they've never been to. I can't walk them to class, and they can't even ask where to go.
When we showed up, everyone was standing outside, staring at us. The gates opened.
There my sweet girls were. They wrapped their arms around each other, and walked together into the school, arm in arm.
I cried. How could I not? I've never seen such bravery.
We came back at lunchtime , though.
2 hours of party in the middle of the day, and no school on wednesday.
All in all, it is going well. Ada cried a little, but the only other american girl there waved at her, and her day was made right as rain.
Today we dropped them off, and girls were actually standing at the gate calling Ella and Zoe's name.
"It's boring." they say, but then again, 8 hours of no one being able to talk to you or you understanding what they say or teach can do that to you.
They do enjoy English class. "They can't say the TH in sixth" "They were writing and crying" "They all ask and write down things for me to read and answer"
I'm so proud of my girls. France is looking up.

My girls on their first day. 50 and rainy, but all smiles

my girls school work... Ella Aced her test. Zoe practices math and Ada practices cursive

Warm fuzzies

It's been a while: sorry.
I wanted to mention that this Christmastime, I had 2 of the better compliments I've ever had in my life. These compliments weren't about the way I look and I don't think the people who gave them to me even realized they were complimenting me. I feel like I walked away like the Secret Life of Walter Mitty... better for life and wanting life to be better.
For Christmas my aunt brought over a couple friends. We are always happy for guests at the house and these ladies fit right in. One lady came up to us and let Johnny and I know that they read our year end letter. Then she said, "Whoever wrote your letter is a very talented writer"
That doesn't seem like much, but it was to me. I really try to think about how I want to convey my thoughts... I  write a lot like I think, but I either want to convey an emotion or get straight to the point. It was a sweet feeling to hear someone appreciate that effort.
Then the next day I went out with my sister in law. We were just talking and chatting about what we thought we would be when we grew up and did that change etccccccc...
Then she said, " you know, I see you being famous for something you did being you [rather than being a famous actress or something]. Can you imagine me being an activist? or starting world peace? or even just helping out in N. Africa and it affecting the world.... that was an amazing compliment to give me that kind of potential.
This season of life has been hard with moves and setbacks. But I have hope for the future and sweet friends (and strangers) along the way that have given me potential. I can't wait to see what happens over the next year!

First World Problems

Dear Nestle Purelife Water,
     I appreciate that you don't want to shortchange me on my bottled water that I pay more for than a gallon of gas. You fill your water literally all the way to the lid which is much appreciated. But, because of your environmental conscience you decided to use less plastic in your bottle making, creating a more flimsy bottle. Every time I open your water, because you thought so much about my money and my health, I squish the bottle, shooting water out the lid and all over my pants. Please kindly, help the economy by hiring a person to take one sip out of each bottle for me so that I don't create a situation in the car while I'm driving.
thank you for all your consideration,
Ali Campbell

My refrigerator has buttons on the front that allow me to choose the temperature for both the freezer and fridge side. these buttons are on the same panel as the buttons for the ice and water dispenser. My children constantly turn the fridge to 32 degrees, causing everything in the fridge to freeze over including my organic spinach, ruining it... arg

my bananas don't last long enough.

My family wants to buy presents that I don't need for Christmas.

I really like the as seen on tv section of the store: it really might  make my life easier for 29.95. Why can't I get a job?

Pinterest: why do people pin things  that they want to wear but don't own or afford....

Microwaves are too slow.

I hate having to wait for the Dr.

I hate how many pills my family takes.

Facebook: some people...

Fruit comes year round... I don't even know what's seasonal anymore.

I have too many books.

Why does AMC not allow me to watch walking dead on HULU?

I'm behind on once upon a time...

The funny thing about all of these things is that people , we really do complain about things all the time that we don't realize we are privileged  to have.... Thankfulness. It's a mindset.

dear dumb diet diary

So there is advice out there from the powers that be that says keeping a food journal is good for you. well, if that's right, then keeping a log of how I'm doing on this diet will give me catharsis.
This was my first week.
I have to eat 5 of their meals a day and make one of my own. I atleast had some variety: eggs, chicken, beef, fish...
I had my struggles: someone  talked me into cheesecake (ok partly myself), I had to go to five guys for my mom and NOT eat their fries, and then there was the struggle of THIER FOOD.
Let me introduce you to my nemesis: the mustard pretzel stick...
it's deceiving, it's called a pretzel, but actually it's just mustard flavored , protien powder laced dirt that's been glued together. I bought a box of it. 7 bags come in a box, and since I paid for it, I have to eat all of it... UUGGHHH. So every day I choke down these delicious cracker type things... Good thing is: they make me completely not hungry.
Here's my unicorn: the peach mango smoothie. I have made this thing every night this week. I can not get it QUIIIIIIIte right. Sometimes it tastes watery. Sometimes it tastes chunky.
So how did this week go:
drum roll please
I lost 6 lbs!!!!
My plan this week... going out of town... dang I want some french fries!

By rock bottom, I mean fat bottom

I love a good cookie (just call this before picture)

I have hit rock bottom.
I will never tell you how much I weigh. Why? Imagine this: My supportive loving husband of 12 years is sitting with me a couple months ago. I haven't had the guts to tell him how much I've gained in over a year. Then I can't take it anymore. I need help because I weigh just too much... surely, my wonderful , amazing husband can encourage me in this endeavor ( and for the most part, to his credit, he has tried to help me and encourage me) but as I tell him how much I weigh, his response... "WHAT!!!??? Are you kidding me? How did it get this bad?"
well.... ok. I think I'll just keep things to myself.
My motivation has been nothing. I really just want french fries every day.
I've gotten to the point that I don't really care about food... it hurts to eat, it makes me sick, but I keep shoveling it in.
I hate exercising. I've been trying to do couch to 5k... it hurts to run. I'm so heavy.
Ada climbed in bed with me a couple days ago and said I was so comfortable and fluffy.... hmmm.
So I finally called my aunt who's been on this medical progam for the past couple months. She's lost over 20 lbs and seems incredibly happy.
I am now part of the Medifast system... AHHHH. I swore I would never do a program. I really want to eat healthy on my own, but I've hit a time in my life that it seems like I just can't do it.

Zoe trying to help me figure out what some of 

these veggies look like

What I'm hoping to happen:
I want exercise to be easier. Running is painful when you're heavy.
I want to work with my depression. Let's  reverse this cycle from downward to upward
I want to eat healthier and get a boost at the same time
I want to play with my kids
I want to fall in love with healthy foods (my sister can make a salad sound like chocolate cake)




The reason I chose this one
I hate weight watchers because I hate counting.

My last hurrah!!! BB's classic ganache chocolate cake

I hate nutrisystem because it's all planned for you and they seem like they trick you with having food like burgers and cake when in real life you really shouldn't be gorging on those things
I like this one because it has some meals planned for you, and some you are forced to cook for yourself so you learn what's healthy to eat.
You have to go to weekly check ins to help you with any poor choices , weight plateaus, if you're going out of town strategies, etc.
It's backed by doctors... monitored etc.
The thing I hate: the price....
So You're gonna see me soon... as ada put it: When you get skinny, I'll miss the real you.
 Honey, the skinny me IS the real me!

This is most of my food for the next week... mmmm (feel the sarcasm)

Just when you thought I was capable

So, long story short, my mom has cancer. She's been doing good with everything til about 3 weeks ago. The thing about chemo is that it kills you to save you. Meanwhile, it's still killing you.
 So about three weeks ago, we were preparing to homeschool again, put the girls into sports and start our fall because Nyla's evaluation showed we will be staying in America for another 5 mo (which is fine). Ella's doing swim team and Zoe and Ada are doing ballet.
 I went shopping for school supplies, I was offered curriculum, I planned, and was feeling pretty good about everything. But then my mom got sick. Not her fault. She went into the hospital for a week and then back in again this week.
after praying and talking w my husband, we decided we needed a little less stress from teaching school, therapy and mom, soooooooo
 The girls got registered for school today. This is a humbling experience. We had to go in and explain that we couldn't prove where we live, drivers liscence doesn't work, we can't afford much... Pretty much were homeless according to the system.
School starts in one week. It's gonna be crazy! Ada has 22 in her class, Zoe: 34 and Ella :38. This will surely prepare us for something, but I can say that I'm thankful that I live in a country that my kids can go to school for free, last minute... And get a good education!
Just one more day in my crazy life!

please sir, can I have another (year)

So, I'm not so sure about this whole homeschooling thing.
Here's the latest.
Last year I homeschooled Zoe and Ella. It took a couple months, but I was right as rain with my 2 cirriculums (my fathers world, sonlight). come December , we thought we were done with schooling at home, so we had to sell the cirr. ASAP. I kinda didn't get the money I was hoping, but then again, a good family got them and i knew they would use it.
The girls went to a special school to get ready to go overseas, but when we didn't go overseas in March, I just finished up the year at home. "I mean, come on. You know we'll be in France by september".
Long story short and I'm sure to post all that on a different blog and news letter, we are still in Jacksonville. This does not upset me: I love my family and a little breather.
Our organization will not pay for homeschooling cirriculum this fall though. We will be in public school in france, so they don't see a point in paying for it in america when there's a free public alternative. I totally get that.
But in order to register for school here, we have to prove 2times that we live in our residence. We don't actually pay any bills here, dont have a florida drivers liscence etc... We can't change our residence because of our visa situation, so i have a dilimma.
Seems homeschool is a simpler viable alternative..
School Of Hard Knocks pt.2 is born again!!!
But this time we have new challenges.
*I'll be writing my own cirriculum . I do have money allotted for an online school (time4learning.com) but there needs to be a more personal interaction so  time to put my good skills to work!
*Ella told me that I'm not a real teacher because we take field trips and have real life learning and I don't make her do the same amount of worksheets that she used to do (even though she cries and screams every time I DO make her do those).... "a real teacher has a plan and schedule and something for me to do during down times".... hmmm challenge accepted. I have now not only a notebook plan but I have a board to post said schedule so the kids are NOT ALLOWED to deviate (but i am)
*I am now teaching Ella, Zoe, and Ada.... not nearly as easy
*I have to do a type of speech therapy homework with Nyla.... one more thing!
*I am teaching french to the girls (Which I 'm sure will seem like a joke once they get to france)
*I still have to have a life.
What's wierd is that I look at homeschool kids. of course there are good and bad with them... but although sometimes they seem socially inept (not all schoolers), they do have a great confidence that i want in my kids, that after a year, they still dont have.
so if I look like my hair is disheveled and I'm still wearing my jammies , it's a new fashion.
If my kids look like they've sewn their own clothes and kinda frumpy... they were the ones who wantedto learn how to sew this year at school
YAY SOHK

a chorus of tonedeaf little birdies

I am not an overly emotional person. Now that might humor my mother because I spent most of my childhood crying over every little thing, but through much mocking and shooshing I don't cry unless I'm by my lonesome.
And I hear about how people cry at commercials or cry because their kids are so cute when they sleep, but that's just not me... I cry cause I laugh so hard or I relive vicariously my painful memories of childhood bullies.
Then last week I went to a Ch*istian  arts camp. My kids did pottery, drama, blacklight, quilting, guitar, dance and much much more.... and then they learn some singing.
I sat in on practice on last friday for the production of what they learned.
These kids made me BAWL over and over again.
The sweetness of hearing children sing praises and the magnificence of thier G*d and not just sing because they had to, but mean EVERY word they sang, blew me away!
Then they recited scrip*ture. wow! They love Him and I remembered why I loved them so much...
then when all these kids saw me crying, they just kept touching me (stop crying miss ali) ... well, you know what happens when you touch a crying woman... they just KEEP crying harder... I looked like a crazy...
well if crazy is crying out of joy for the L*rd, then call me Miles Davis.
Thank you to all the amazing teachers who loved my girls and gave them interest in art of all shapes and sizes.... but most of all to DC and Kim for giving my girls a joy that I want.

unikinis and cheeseburgers

A while ago I was on a plane with Johnny and we got separated in our seats, which was fine because I planned to read all the way home anyway, until the lady who sat next to me got in the plane. I felt like I had to talk to her. then I got to the point in our conversation that I now need to make a confession.
She asked me when I was due.
Yah, say what you want, but she was so confident in her question I really didn't want to sit for however long on the plane while she apologized and got awkward, that I told her.
Not that far.
We had a 30 minute conversation about said baby that I didn't know about.
Fast forward...
I took a medicine for about a year that had the side effect of making you gain weight. So i gained over 60 lbs (I hide it relatively well). Last week I bought new shorts for fourth of July. I had not one, not two, but 3 people tell me separately that the shorts that SHOULD have fit me were ... clearing throat... quite snug. not to mention the equally tight shirt that was "my size".
I about died... see I have lost some weight since changing meds a week ago, but just takes time... time sux.
On top of that there's the lack of motivation... cause really, why should i lose weight when J*sus is just coming back soon anyway...
so tonight in my depression I went and bought a new outfit... one that fit...
I can't weight to wear it :)



it's maternity. and no I'm not pregnant.
oh and I should be so confident in my belly that really I think I'm buying a unikini next... I've seen those ladies and they seem pretty happy.

Where the monkeys touch the banana

You're probably wondering where i've been.... where the ocean meets the sun?
nah... I've  been in crazy land.
Jacksonville has been interesting..
We've done a triathalon
I've lost 12 lbs
my mom has started a new chemo.
we're teaching VBS (surprise surprise)
we're homeschooling
Nyla can say mine (a lot)
Johnny's learning french
and I've been dealing with the sneaky deps again.

you remember them! I was doing ok until the end of march... I started noticing that I was gaining an exhorbent amount of weight and I was quieter than usual. I really thought everything was fine. I even considered whether I could stop taking my meds, when it snuck up behind me.
First Johnny mentioned I didn't seem right. Then I noticed I REALLY didn't want to get off the couch. I dreaded waking up or going to bed. I couldn't concentrate to teach the girls. Every day got worse.
It finally hit me: I have the deps again! BUT i'm on happy pills.
so This past week I went to a psychiatrist. she was real nice and even took my sarcasm
(Ali, have you fallen, hit your head and lost consciousness any time lately?
Not that I can remember! bum bum bum)
I even took a genetic test to help me find meds that help and wont give me ugly side effects (like a large belly)
so here's to the crazies of the world!
May the deps ever stay in the shadows!

people I don't trust

What's the saying? Don't trust a skinny chef.

well, I don't trust 2 different types of people
people who are incredibly fit, but whenever I talk to them, they're on their way to McD's.
and people who are incredibly obese, but only talk about clean living...

And while I'm on a rager...
why can't I stop eating... I'll tell you.
It's a habit like any other, but frankly, I can stop taking drugs, but I can't stop eating...
so now I have to learn to eat the right things, right? I can eat what I want as long as it's good for me,.... where's the good for me ice cream (keep in mind I'm allergic to aspertame which is in EVERY low cal everything.).

And really, why do my children only scream when I need quiet... ti's like they can sense it. or they see me on the phone and their first thoughts are, dueling seagulls is a great game.
And they have pms when I do... it's like sympathy pains.

ok I'm done.

weak hands

I'm useless in the morning... Don't ask me to open a tough jar or hold your hand... don't ask me to do your hair because it'll be pitiful. I have no grip, see. My hands wake up so weak, and it takes time for my hands to wake up. Does this make sense to you?
Well, today I'm in the car with my mom and she's opening a bottle of water... after a minute, she just stares at the bottle. It has one of those IMpossible tops. The ones I stare at in disbelief that I could possibly NOT be able to open a simple bottle of water... am I weak...... well, this is how my mom stares at the water bottle and I'm with her
I have weak hands?
I can't even do something so simple
I sit in the waiting room while my mom starts chemo today. While I'm in the waiting room, I see people coming in and out of the elevator, struggling with weak hands to name the least of their problems.
What can I do for them?
I'm reading Kisses From Katie and she sits in her home in Uganda and just pr*ys that she would be used, and she is...
I look around where I'm at and what can I do? I feel so.... weak
Then I go on to children's rehabilitation center for Nyla's speech therapy. I look around that situation and just see disabled kids of all kinds.
What can I do?
How do I love on these people?
But I think I'll just have to pr*y as Katie did.
Just let me wake up and love on them .... you work L*rd... what can I do for you? please just show me.
maybe it's like waking up in the morning, I just have to stretch and maybe I'll find my nitch