Saturday, December 26, 2009

2009 in Review - as told by my Facebook Status Updates...

Okay, here it is people...
This is the closest thing you'll get to an annual Christmas Letter from the Goble Family.
These are the highlights of 2009 - as they appeared in my Facebook Status Updates.
Perhaps reading this will give you a glimpse into the crazy world that is my life.


Heidi is troubled. Jack (age 2) just told her he's going Mountain Climbing in Hope's room after he builds a big campfire under her bed. Should I be worried?

Heidi is not crazy.

Heidi just heard her son speak the 8 most dreaded words in the english language: "Mom! I dropped my poop in the tub!" Gotta go clean it up. Crap. (No pun intended).

Heidi rocked her sweet little Jack-Jack to sleep tonight. A rare treat, now that he's 2 years old; one that I will hold onto forever.

Heidi is torn. Happy cuz Jack sings in perfect pitch. Sad b'cuz he sang the song "I Wanna be like Other Girls!" (from Mulan 2) at full voice in the middle of Target.

Heidi has a sweet little girl. She's reading stories 2 her baby brother while he sits patiently on the Big Boy Potty waiting for the potty to "hurry up and get here."

The Tooth Fairy was up cleaning the house till 1 AM and forgot to leave Hope money for her tooth. I'm out of the running for Mom of the Year. Again. Sigh...

Heidi can't believe she was overlooked for Celebrity Apprentice.

Heidi helped a stray dog find his mama & the dog put his tongue in her mouth. Awesome. Then she walked in the door & was greeted by a big pile of cat barf. Fantastic.

Roses are red violets are blue. I’m really sad cuz Jack “dropped his pooh."Tulips are pink; daisies are navy. Oh Heaven help me–the pooh looks like gravy.

Heidi found the remote. Jack wanted to "give it a bath" Was able to pull it from the jaws of Mr. Bubbles just in the nick of time. Alert downgraded from red to orange

Heidi started filling the tub for Hope's bath. The phone rang. I started chatting. And I kept chatting. And I forgot that the water was still running. I remembered it 20 minutes later. This is the cleanest my bathroom floor has EVER been. Sigh...

Heidi was unable to find Jack's missing shoe. We are now in talks with the directors of the movie The Man with One Red Shoe - Jack will be starring in the sequel - The Boy with One Green Shoe. His stage name will be ShoeLess Jack Goble.

Heidi doesn't like anyone or anything before 6:00 am.

Hope and I just spent 10 minutes browsing the Staples catalog and talking about how much we both love office supplies. Sigh... My cup runneth over.

Um, yeah... My 7 year old daughter gave me this weird look. I asked her what she was staring at and she said, "Give me two minutes and I can fix your hair so that it will stop looking wrong."

Don't shush me.

Heidi has a renegade chin hair. Stupid aging process.

Hope has discovered Full House. I covet your prayers.

Heidi drinks Pop. Not Soda.

When life hands you lemons.... throw them at people you don't like.

Heidi is in love with her husband.

My 3 year old little man Jack has somehow managed to stop both toilets. I have to drive around the corner to Taco Bell to use the restroom. Perfect.

Heidi is sitting in a living room strewn with toys - seriously, toys EVERYwhere... and her kids are playing with an empty laundry basket. There's a lesson here.... I'm sure of it.

There's something profoundly beautiful about lunch from Del Taco.

Heidi is experiencing the anonymity that only Starbucks can bring...

Jack has been standing in front of the bathroom mirror combing his hair for 20 minutes. He's 3.... Apparently his hair is kind of a big deal.

My 7 year old daughter just called me by my first name. This development troubles me.

You know you're out of shape when you start running and realize that you need a sports bra for you butt. Sigh...

Heidi is now officially a fan of the x-games. I heart Travis Pastrana...

Jack rubbed his nose on my shoulder and left behind a gigantic "treasure." I look at him and begin to voice my irritation. "Jack - you left a booger on my shoulder!" He looks at me and says, "but Mom - it's the booger of justice!" I'm wearing it proudly, people. I'm wearing it proudly.

Heidi changed the sheets on Hope's bed yesterday. When she got in bed last night, she laid down - and then sat straight up and demanded, "WHY do my sheets smell weird?" (Bigh sigh....) Because they're clean, Hope... because they're clean. Apparently I need to do laundry more often.

Heidi was attacked by an insanely freakish and ultra aggressive spider. It was a bitter fight - the spider was maimed, then killed. I emerged from the battle unscathed (except for the fact that I almost peed my pants because I'm terrified of spiders). Victory is mine.

Jack brought home a "pet" beetle. Its name is Niles. Oh, the freakin' humanity....

Heidi loved waking up in a house that was nice and cool, and filled with the aroma of coffee brewing. So peaceful.... until Jack started chasing Hope through the house with his Bob the Builder Power Sander (complete with obnoxious noises) screaming "Hope stand still, I wanna fix you!"

Mom, are we there yet? No. Mom, are we there yet? No. Mom are we there yet? No. Mom, are we there yet? No. Mom, are we there yet? Sigh...

Team Hope&Jack running successful offensive plays against Team Mom. Team Mom about ready to forfeit when Team Hope&Jack go for a Jack-to-smack-Hope-then-scream-for-mom double play. Out of control Team Mom storms the field as Referee Dad calls a Technical Foul on Team Hope&Jack. Team Mom puts Team Hope&Jack to be early. Final Score: Team Mom: 1. Team Hope&Jack:ZERO. Winner takes all baby, winner takes all...

I stood there - overcome with emotion. My heart was racing, my palms were sweating and I was fighting back tears of pure joy. It was an incredible moment. And there it was. Standing before me like a beacon of light - full of hope and promise for the future. I knew in my heart that the search was over. I had found the answer... I was in..... The School Supplies Section of Target.

I hit the back of my head and it's a little tender. Hope saw me rubbing my head and wincing. She asked me if the eyes on the back of my head were bothering me. I told her they both had pink eye and they hurt so that's why I was rubbing my head. Is that bad?

I’ve always been able to stand my ground. Until now. I have become weak. I have become a conformist. I have become.... A Twilight reader.

Heidi just danced in the rain.

I didn't know that pedicures involved power tools. the sweet liitle lady asked if I wanted "kalla remoova" to which I said yes. And then this sweet little lady looked my feet, shuddered and reached for her portable power sander. The sweet little lady is now red faced, scowling, sweating and speaking Cantonese to her friends in a somewhat aggressive tone. They are laughing. She is not. Im not either. Sigh...

Okay - let me start with: Don't judge me. This morning I stubbed my toe big time. It hurt so bad. As I was yelping like a wounded puppy, hopping around on my good foot, holding my shattered toe in one hand and covering my mouth with the other hand, Jack (who was watching the whole thing with big ol' eyes) asks, "Momma aren't you gonna say a bad word now?" Remember: Don't judge me.

Public apology to the woman whose car I tried to steal today. Our cars looked the same; but yours was a lot cleaner, hence the appeal of your car over mine. It's not like I was going to take it w/o saying anything. I’d have left a note with directions to my car so that you'd have a new car too. I thought that running at me while screaming "stop trying to steal my car" was a bit harsh but hey. No hard feelings, right?

We're at Target - Jack's in the back of the cart. He saw a woman blocking the aisle and yelled "Move it or lose it, Bozo!" Horrified, I scolded him & asked him where he learned to talk like that (BIG mistake on my part). Imagine my chagrin when he replied, "You said it in the car on the way here." The bozo-lady cut me me a dirty look and walked away muttering about "parents these days." Sigh...

Heidi got to spend some much needed time with her family today. ADDED BONUSES:Scary Carnies, Cheese Fries and hearing her son pray for the "mean little girl" who pushed him down at the carnival; his words were, "Momma, I don't know how to pray for her. I just want her to be nice. But I'm not sure Jesus can do that cuz she was really mean. What if she pushes Jesus down too?"

B4 we leave for the restaurant I ask "Hope, do you need to go to the bathroom?" No. We get to the restaurant, waiting for a table "Hope do you have to go the bathroom?" No. Right after we order, "Hope do you have to go to the bathroom?" No. Food arrives. It's nice and hot. The fork full of yummy, cheesey, potato-ey goodnees barely touches my starving lips.... "Mom. I have to go the bathroom." Sigh...

I'm in the middle of scolding Jack. "Jack, that was not very nice - you don't throw a fit to get what you want! You have to liste..." he interrupts my tyrade with "Momma, you're so pretty. I love you." That was the end of the conversation. And I took him out for ice cream. Is that bad?

We all have our own brand of crazy.

I'm reading Jack a bedtime story. We're all curled up in his rocking chair. It was so sweet... While I'm reading, he keeps sniffing the air. At the end of the story I lean into his face, kiss him on the nose and tell him that I love him. He sniffs the air, looks deep into my eyes and says, "Momma, when you talk, I smell feet." Goodnight Jack.

The rule is simple: When I'M singing and playing air-drums while driving my car, I look cool and unbelievably talented. When anyone ELSE sings and plays air-drums while driving their car, they look stupid.

Heidi woke up this morning, looked in the mirror and could do nothing more than thank the Lord for the miracle that is make-up.

Heidi caught Jack picking his nose and stuffing the boogers in his ear. My feelings are mixed. On one hand, I'm grossed out. On the other hand I'm hopeful that the reason he never does what I tell him is because he can't hear through the wall of snot in his ears.

Jack told me that he's going to marry me. And Evie. And Lexi. And Tamila. Apparently, he's big on having options.

People waiting for the fireworks at Disneyland have no regard for my personal space protocols. I had to initiate personal space plan delta-delta-tango: I asked Kurt if he'd gotten any ointment for his rash (really loud) and stood back and watched the people step away from us. Hopefully I won't have to execute beta-beta-Charlie. We may end up on the news....

I'm not obsessive. I'm not, I'm not, I'm not.

The magic is gone... Hope is running around in circles making strange gurgling, gutteral noises, Jack is screaming that he wants more sugar cookies, Kurt is standing in the middle of the kitchen with a blank stare on his face, the cat is hissing at the tree and I'm hitting the egg nog early. Yep. It must be Christmas Eve.

Today was a day spent with my FCC family - singing, laughing and celebrating Christmas. It was an incredibly uplifting time. I am blessed - I am thankful. Merry Christmas everyone!

~Can't wait to see what 2010 brings!~

Saturday, December 19, 2009

Christmas Confession: Part IV

This one may cost me some of my friends....

I am surrounded by stunning, beautiful, gorgeous, non-fat friends, family and co-workers.


I feel chronically full-fat and unattractive around all these beautiful people.

Obviously the solution is quite simple: diet and exercise.

But, seeing as how I pride myself on my creativity and innovative thinking, I decided to take a new approach at dealing with my feelings regarding my appearance.

Instead of focusing on myself, I've begun focusing on everyone else (after all, it's not good to be so self-absorbed).

So how is focusing on everyone else going to improve my appearance?

It's simple.

Here's the gift I gave all my beautiful, gorgeous non-fat friends and co-workers.

I plan to continue with this type of gift-giving for the next several years.

P.S. If you're a friend of mine and you DIDN'T receive this gift from me, it's not because I think you're full-fat - it's because I ate yours.

Friday, December 11, 2009

Christmas Confession: Part III

I'd just woken up. It was early, cold and dark.

I staggered to the bathroom and stared blankly into the mirror.

Despite my crusty, sleep filled eyes, I saw it immediately.

Sticking straight up from the top of my head - all thick, curly and wiry.

My first gray hair.

Oh.The.Freakin'. Horror.

Sadly I didn't have time to have a proper meltdown - I had to get to church. (Although I will admit that I didn't feel like being social and praisin' Jesus at that particular time. Hey, I'm just being honest. I think God can handle it).

So I yank the offensive hair out of my head, say a few choice words and throw the dreadful thing in the trash.

Flash forward to Sunday night.

The kids were in bed.

Kurt was asleep on the couch.

I was finally alone.

The time for my meltdown had come.

There was only one drug that could soothe the depth of my despair:


I needed it and I needed it right then and there.

Preferably in large quantities.

I scoured the house and couldn't find any.

I looked high and low. There was simply none to be found.

My mind was reeling - my desperation increasing with every passing second.

And then I saw it - sitting there on the piano, beckoning me. As soon as I laid eyes on it, I could hear the angels singing. It even had a special glow around it emanating from the Heavens as if the Lord was saying, "This is for you, my precious child."

It was...

The kids' Advent Calendar.

An Advent Calendar that was fully stocked with chocolates specifically selected to celebrate the birth of our Lord - which means they HAD to be stinkin' tasty. To taste bad would be a sin!

Yes - these chocolates had a Divine Purpose.

But tonight, they were going to serve a different divine purpose.

Evil Heidi and Heaven Bound Heidi immediately started duking it out.

Evil Heidi hissed in my ear "Heck yesssss those chocolatessssss are for you! You can give your kids Ssssssssmarties or something. These chocolates shouldn't be wasssssssted on children who can't possssssssssibly appreciate their beauty like you can."

Heaven Bound Heidi told me (in a voice that sounded like Mickey Mouse) "Think of the children!!! You can't eat Baby Jesus Chocolate that was created to teach children about God! He will smote you from above, for sure!"

But alas.... desperate times call for desperate measures.

The Evil of my first gray hair had to be rectified. And what better way to right the wrong than to treat it with the most holy of foods: Baby Jesus Chocolate!

I decided to take my chances - hoping that God would choose to spare me.

I ate every single piece of that Baby Jesus Chocolate.

And can I just say, that nothing soothes the soul of a troubled, gray haired old woman like Baby Jesus Chocolate stolen from a child's Advent Calendar.

Heck Yesssss.

Oh sure, there was guilt.

But there was also peace (after all, it was Baby Jesus Chocolate).

I've never felt so bad - and so holy at the same time.

Saturday, December 5, 2009

Christmas Confession; Part II

This actually happened last Christmas, but I'm just now at a place where I can admit it.

I'm big on taking pictures of the kids and then sharing them with the world. I like to capture as much happy stuff on film as I can - and then refer back to it when Hope is screaming that Jack is looking at her funny and Jack is trying to pee his name on the bathroom floor.

You know.... a sanity saver. Proof that pleasant times have occurred.

So last Christmas, I'm home alone with the kids for the evening. I wanted to do something fun, something holidayish.

I wanted to make some memories.

Good memories.

The kind you take pictures of so that you can prove to the world (and to yourself) that you have a happy, fun-loving, holiday-filled family life.

So I decided to make Christmas cocoa (complete with whipped cream, peppermint syrup and sprinkles) and then brought out a little wooden Christmas Tree that we could decorate with these fancy, handmade little wooden ornaments (a family tradition passed down from my Grandma).

I get everything set: cocoa, tree, holiday music, camera.

Everything is ready.

We commence with the holiday festivities. They're sipping their cocoa, the holiday music is on, I have my camera poised and ready to begin documenting the loving, fun-filled holiday family time between my precious son and daughter.

It's going so well. The cocoa's not too hot, the music's not too loud, it's raining outside, the little wooden tree was easy to put together, the kids are getting along - it was a scene that would have compelled Norman Rockwell to paint a picture of our family.

As I always do when I'm in these situations, I begin mentally drafting my acceptance speech for my now-certain Mother of the Year Award.

And then it starts...

"Mom, Jack keeps trying to take my ornaments."

"No I don't - they're mine, Mom - Hope won't share!"

Not to be discouraged by this minor bickering (after all, I don't have any documented evidence that this magical night took place yet), I reply gently with, "That's enough guys... Let's have fun with this, okay?"

The decorating resumes and in an effort to keep them from talking to each other (or to me) I turn the Christmas music up just a few notches.

The bickering starts up again.

"Maaawm! Jack's breathing on me! Make him stop!"

"Hope, Jack will die if he stops breathing. It would probably be easier if you scoot over a little bit."

I grip my camera a little tighter - beads of sweat begin form on my upper lip. I HAVE to get these pictures. The world must know that my family is perfect, thay the love to be around each other and that the holidays at the Goble house are nothing short of magical.

Cue louder music.

I turn my back to set my camera to the non red-eye setting.

And then it happened. I'm not really sure who or what started it.

Hope is shouting, "Nooooooooooooo!" as her hot cocoa spills across the table.

Jack reaches for his ornaments in an effort to save them from the river of cocoa making it's way across the table at alarming speed.

He misses.

Instead of saving the ornaments, he drowns them in a new river of hot cocoa from his own cup while simultaneously knocking the tree and the box of the remaining ornaments all over the floor.

Hope starts yelling at Jack that he's making a mess, bends down to pick up the ornaments and smacks her head on the table.

She starts howling.

The Christmas music that was only moments ago providing us with our own lovely holiday soundtrack is now ironically blaring out that horrible song "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year."

Jack is crying and shouting over and over again that he didn't do anything.

I stand there, my feet frozen to the floor, powerless to stop the chaos, unable to accept the fact that my dream of documenting a perfect holiday memory is now an impossibility.

All is lost...

All I could think was, "I don't have my pictures yet. These rotten little mongrels robbed me of my freakin' Christmas joy photos."

Where's the stinkin' joy???

I snap.

I grab both kids by the ear and yank them away from the table. I slam my hand on the counter and scream at the top of my lungs:


The kids stare at me, their eyes the size of dinner plates.

They are gripped with fear.

They are completely silent.

The only noise in the room is that ridiculously stupid Christmas music, the dripping of sticky, pepperming cocoa creating a huge pool on my kitchen floor and my labored breathing.

But the kids are completely.... SILENT.

As in, they're no longer arguing, howling, screaming or crying.

See where I'm goin' with this?

I sieze what I know to be my only opporunity to salvage my dream, grab my camera and shout at them to say cheese and start snapping pictures.

I got my loving, happy faced family fun time picture!!

Of course, it's because the kids were paralyzed with fear, but you'd never know that from looking at the picture (as long as you're willing to overlook the sheer terror behind their eyes).

Now you know why I never post any videos of my family.

Sigh.... maybe this year will be better....

Addendum: I added the picture. There were several, but they're all pretty much the same (if you look closely, you'll see the terror behind there eyes - or at least a look that says, "Watch out for mom - she's got a camera and that crazed look again...).

P.S. I sincerely hope I am not alone in this sort of behavior... I'd like to think that there are other moms out there who are just as obsessive and neurotic as I am.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

The Dark Underbelly of Black Friday

I find this photo disturbing.

If you don't see what I'm referring to, look inside the cart - under the gigantic, heavy boxes. (click on the photo to enlarge it).

Only at WalMart...

Tuesday, December 1, 2009


Insecurity knows no boundaries. I struggle with it when it comes to my appearance, abilities, intellect, etc.

It can be pretty bad sometimes. Yesterday was one of those days.

I felt ugly, stupid, ugly, useless, ugly, worthless, ugly. Did I mention ugly?

In the midst of my self-loathing pity-party I walked into our living room and I heard my beautiful, 8 year old daughter singing a song called Mirror (by the band Barlow Girl) in her sweet little voice.

She didn't see or hear me walk in the room. I just stood and listened to her as she sang out every single word.

Mirror, Mirror on the wall, Have I got it?
'Cause Mirror you've
always told me
who I am
I'm finding it's not easy to be perfect
So sorry you won't define me
Sorry you don't own me

Who are you to tell me
That I'm less than what I should be?
Who are you?
I don't need to listen
To the list of things I should do
I won't try, I won't try

Mirror I am seeing a new reflection
I'm looking into the eyes of
He who made me
And to Him I have beauty
beyond compare
I know He defines me
You don't define me, you don't define me...

I was struck by the contrast between her words and my feelings.

When the song ended I slipped into my room, shut the door and the tears came.

I said a prayer that Hope would always believe the words of this song.

That she'll know that the beauty of who she is will never be limited to physical appearances.

That she will never let her reflection dictate her value.

That she will believe that she is fearfully and wonderfully made - that her Maker is perfect and doesn't make mistakes.

That she'll never doubt that she is loved unconditionally - regardless of how she looks, how talented she is or how smart she is.

And then I prayed that God would help me believe the words of this song as well...