I'm a tad O.C. and A.D.D.

In all things I do, outrageous or fantastic... blame my gypsy soul. 


O.C. and A.D.D. 

I've started a half dozen blogs in my time. I've left each one hanging. I want to blog. I LOVE to write. I just can't pick a topic. I want to post IDIM (I Did It Myself) crafts, and amazing accidental recipes, and funny things that my kids do, and songs that I've written, and fights and lovely things I pick and find about/with my husband, and random rants and raves that fill my head on a daily basis. I dream of my name in lights as one of those mom-bloggers that gets famous because she's hilarious and creative and supermom. (Yeah, a far cry. I know.)

I've started blogs about much of the above. But I'm done with all that. See, here's the thing. I'm a tad O.C. and A.D.D. 

O.C. = I don't think I'd classify as having a disorder, but I'm definitely obsessive compulsive - but only about things that don't really matter. I've often wished that I'd be O.C. about having a clean house, or keeping my kids faces clean (though I do have my moments with both of those), but no. 

Instead, I keep all my canned food categorized with labels facing out (I mean, who DOESN'T do that, right?!), and my dishes and silverware are completely organized. If you help me unpack my kitchen (which I've done 14 times in the last 13 years - no, we're not military. We're gypsies.), I will wait until you leave then re-unpack my kitchen. No offense, I'm just O.C. Mainly about my kitchen, it seems. 

A.D.D. = First, I know it's ADHD, not ADD. But I say A.D.D., and I'm right in my little world. I'm pretty sure if I saw a doc, I'd be diagnosed with Adult Attention Deficit Hyperactivity - need to grab coffee and vaccuum the living room. 

See? I can't help it. Some blame it on multiple pregnancies and motherhood. But I've been a scatterbrain since high school or before. I find it a stretch to have a conversation about one thing. I usually deviate at least, oh, a dozen or more times in any conversation. And I'm okay with that. It's because I'm emotional and a knowledge and fact-seeker, you see? 

If you say "So, my mother-in-law gave me this dresser," I'll say "Cute dress, by the way. So, what ended up happening on Thanksgiving when she blew up on you?" It's not that I don't care about the dresser. I do. And we'll get back to that. It's just that "mother-in-law" triggered another conversation, and I want you to know I listened and I care. Yeaaaaaah. That's it. 

ABOUT ME

All that being said, there are a few things you should know about me. I write like people are going to read this. I write to my imaginary audience, of which you are a part - unless you are a real person, reading this, and then - I actually have an audience of one member, which is great. 

*God

I'm a child of God first. Yep, I said it. Religious mumbo-jumbo and "God is so good to me" lullabies may end up making their way onto my blog. 

*Husband

I'm a wife to a heck of a man, Geoff. (That's a pseudonym to protect his identity. His name is actually Jeff. I usually refer to him as Husband.) He has a crappy job that allows me to stay home with the babes. No, literally, his job is crap. As in, cow manure. He works for a manure compost company, which recently relocated us to a tiny little town on the Texas/New Mexico border. Texas side. When his new plant opens, he'll slowly pull himself out of manure and in to cattle feed (Sweet Bran, working alongside Cargill, for those of you ag types out there). 

Geoff and I love each other like crazy. But we also yell and fight. I'll never pretend like either of us is the perfect spouse. People who do that give me a bit of a nauseous knot in my throat. As do people who always bash their spouse. I like happy mediums (no, not cheerful fortune-tellers. Finding a smart balance. THAT kind of happy medium. But I bet cheerful fortune-tellers are cool, too). 

For future reference, when I call Geoff's job "crappy," I say it with great endearing love and respect. He's been our sole provider since I left work upon the birth of our second child, and he's incredible. His job is a grand blessing, it just so happens that it also allows for all kinds of "crappy" connotations. :)

*Chilluns

I'm a stay-at-home mom to three beautiful children. They're perfect. Brilliant. Exercise complete control over attitude and manners, especially around company. They test at genius levels, and I never, ever have to raise my voice at them. Hahahahahah! Just kidding. 

They are beautiful. A blonde, a red-head, and a brunette (yes, they're all by the same dad. :| ). They really are smart and usually very well-behaved. They're also real-life kids. They wear clothes that don't match, and their faces get dirty. They have these incredible (and sometimes frustrating) little minds and ideas, and I LOVE them! They don't dress in Persnickety, Olive Juice, Matilda Jane (though I'd give an arm for a line of any of the above. I love clothes, we're just green. We want to only shop at thrift stores... or at least I'll tell myself that until I can stop window-shopping these sites and actually shop at them.)

My "As" are a true delight, but, because I'm O.C., I do find myself raising my voice at them more than I should. Nonetheless, we have a lovely, lovely life. And I love them like I never thought I could love a smack of little people. (A smack is actually a group of jellyfish, but it's probably the coolest name for a group - ever, so I'll apply it here, to my coolest little group - ever.)

Their names are sponsored by the letter "A" which was unintentional, until the A #3 was born. The first two were already As, so we kind of had to not deviate. I fought for the name Hazel for our third, but Husband declined. Also in the running were Opal and Pearl. He said no. 

*Learnin'

I have a degree in Restaurant, Hotel, Institutional Management from Texas Tech. GO RAIDERS! (I put my "guns up" as I said that, aloud. My kids are looking at me like I'm crazy.) Before you say that's an easy degree, know that I chose it because I love it. I love the service industry, and I'm good at it. I'll run something someday, but that'll have to wait til babes are grown and I'm able to clean the poop and toothpaste off my hands (I have toddlers. Don't ask.).  

*Additional information that is none of your business but I'm going to tell you anyway to help you see a bit of who we are. I am NOT a material girl, though I would like to be sometimes... 

We've never bought a house. Yep, we're perpetual renters. We'll buy someday, but right now we're a one-income crap job family, and we're happy moving around like gypsies to find what we like and don't before building a multimillion dollar dream house. 

I drive a beat-up, dented minivan. I hate minivans. And minivan drivers. And I have one, and am one. Yeeeeep. Alas, it was given to me before the birth of our youngest, and I wouldn't trade it for the world. Hahaha, just kidding. I would. But for now, it is a blessing that I give grit-teeth gratitude for every time it starts! (About 8 times out of 10.)

*Fun Little House

We laugh. We jump on the trampoline. We talk about the manure-lined air in our little town. We ride our bikes to the post office and park. We do crafts when I get a wild hair. We have a dog (Jake), a turtle (Littlefoot), and two guinea pigs (Lucy and Lego - or Diego, depending on my son's mood). We go to church every Sunday.

And we have a fun little house. (see what I did, there?)


WHY HERE, WHY NOW

Basically, my sister, the lovely and creative author of That Cat by the Bar blog (http://thatcatbythebar.blogspot.com/) - who also happens to be the one who gave me my all-telling "blame my gypsy soul" shirt pictured above - has been urging me to quit trying to pigeon-hole my thoughts into one blog. I believe her last command was "don't start a specific blog. Too hard to pigeon-hole yourself. Just do a blog that can be rants, raves, recipes or ridiculously cute stories about the kids! But do it already, the world néeds your writing!" 

(Yes, I realize I just used "pigeon-hole" twice in that paragraph. I don't even really know what that means... I also realize that my sister put an accent on the first "e" in "needs." It's the proofreader in me. Whatev. It gives it some flavor.)

So, here we go. Let's see if I can obsessively compulse over this blog, and focus some of that a.d.d. where it might do me some good - namely, an outlet that people can choose to read, or not to read, so I can stop clogging up my Facebook with Notes and status updates that probably annoy much of my "friend" population. 

Mainly, I want to document my mind, so that, some day from now when I'm long gone, my kids will have a glimpse into who their mother was - the good, the bad, the happy, the ugly, the wonderful, the magical, the lame, the tired. I want them to know it, and to have it in writing. 

Happy reading! Cheerio! (No, I'm not English. I mean, I speak English, but I'm American Texan. I just decided, right now, that I like the word "cheerio", so I'll probably use that as my signature good-bye line until I a.d.d. my way out of it.)

Cheerio! 
Jessica

(Etymology of "pigeonhole" - which I just found out is actually one word, not hyphened.
pigeon +‎ hole.
Originally literal hole for pigeons, later similar compartments for papers, then extended metaphorically in verb sense of narrowly categorizing or deferring.)