From the Dinner-maker

I am in the midst of my annual identity crisis. If you are a stay at home mommy, you might experience the occasional identity crisis too.

What good am I? What do I have to offer the world? Why is there yogurt all over my couch?

Usually these questions come when excellent things happen with my hubby and his job. I feel so proud of myself. I catch myself saying things like “we got a promotion” or “we got four job offers this week.” Then I have to step back and realize that, although I might be the brains behind this whole operation (wink), it was actually Ryan and his super amazingness (not to mention the help of Heavenly Father, who always seems to have our back) who “got the promotion” or “got four job offers this week.”

And then I think things like, oh no, I am just the dinner-maker. And while dinner-making is important, my chicken fajitas are not going to put our cubs through college or boost my resume'.

And then I think things like, oh no, I am turning into a human accessory. I am here to wipe bums and then stand next to my husband looking cute while he excels in his career.

Ryan, who is basically the best thing since Chicken Express, would never make me feel this way. He supports me and inspires me and treats me like a goddess (whenever he is not teasing me mercilessly). No, it is me who makes me feel this way.

I hope it does not sound like I am minimizing my job as a mommy. Or that I am sad. I am not sad. I am actually very happy and blessed like it's nobody's business. I love supporting my family. It brings me joy and I am good at it.

I just want to feel like I am valued outside the home too, that if heaven forbid something horrible happened, I’d be able to step up to the plate confidently and do what has to be done. Also, my cubs are not going to be cubs forever. Then what?

So, while it seems that I may be neglecting my blog lately, what I am really doing is working through my crisis. I’ve been pressing forward with my book. I’ve been reading books on grammar. I’ve been trying to excel at my current job. I’ve been packing (more on that later). All of these things seem to bring me a sense of accomplishment.

And one day I am going to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. And I am going to be great at it, you’ll see. Till then, I am going to continue learning and growing, and hopefully I’ll happen upon myself along the journey.

Bethanyisms (Salivary Juices)

I remember specifically the moment I first heard the term “salivary juices.” It was in my seventh grade English class and my teacher was grumbling about how she hated when students chewed big wads of gum and their “salivary juices” spilled out of their mouths and onto their desks.

I chuckled to my seventh grade self for two reasons:

First, because only a dorky teacher would say “salivary juices” instead of the customary “spit.”

Second, because I was always spilling salivary juices regardless of whether there was gum in my mouth or not.

I drooled sometimes.

I can’t lie; this malady continues to plague me.

And it almost ruined my life once…


Ryan and I were dating and had just spent a good half an hour cuddling (making out) in his super hot sports car. I opened the car door (to de-fog) and rested my head on his shoulder.

Gravity can be a tricky booger sometimes—stapling us to the floor, causing body parts that are supposed to be “perky” to not be, drawing large quantities of fluid from our mouths onto objects that would much prefer to be dry…

My mouth had only been open a titch but, by George, you wouldn’t believe the amount of “salivary juices” that poured out. Pints. Gallons. Mother Niagara actually called me up a few days later asking for guidance.

I tried to slurp it back up before it met its target, but that was be like asking a flash flood to kindly turn around and go back from whence it came. The spittle funneled down Ryan’s arm and pooled in the center of his leather-upholstered bucket seat.

While not privy to the exact expression on my face at the moment, I would imagine it looked similar to this:



I was horrified. I didn’t want to meet Ryan’s eyes. I was certain he’d break up with me forever and demand I repay all of the cash he had ever spent taking me on dates, including all the money he’d spent in gas... with interest.

That’s what I would have done.

I finally mustered the courage to look at Ryan. He was silent and rather expressionless for a moment/eternity. Then a weird noise came out of his mouth. I strained to make sense of the noise. Could it be? Was he… laughing?

Yes.

He was roaring with laughter. He thought the drool was amazing. He thought it was hilarious. He thought I was hilarious. He loved me. He wanted to marry me.

So I started laughing… I mean, it was kind of awesome. I’d drooled before—tons of times—but never to that magnitude. I should win some sort of award.

So Ryan and I laughed and laughed… the kind of laughter that wrings your esophagus and makes you gasp for air. I even fell out of his car onto the freezing pavement and rolled around for a little while.


Even though there have been plenty of “salivary juice incidents” since then, Ryan occasionally reminds me of that special moment when I almost drowned him in his own car.

I also like to remind him that 50% of that spit was probably his.

Were You Watching?

Here's my favorites from SYTYCD so far:

Beautiful fabulous dancer and sister in the gospel.
Love that brace face! Dances amazing considering his mass.
I love that she dances with her face, too. She is a dancing piece of art.
What's not to love?

Easily the most talented of the bunch. Needs to amp up the off stage personality.

Honorable mention. Her hair is the star of the show!

I loved Kerington and Twitch's dance last night! I cried a little. What did you think? Who's your favs?

When Four Round Brushes are Not Enough...

Thanks for capturing the moment, Babe!

"Why My Grandma is Better than Your Grandma..."

Bethany Ink

I’ve given it a lot of thought and prayer and now I know that it is the right thing to do.

I am getting a tattoo.

Before you get all “your body is a temple” on me, know this: it will be a very classy subtle tattoo, not like the gigantic boats and unicorns you commonly see nowadays. No, I daresay that this tattoo could be smiled upon by such tattoo highbrows as Angelina Jolie and Kelly Osborn.

My inspiration for this tattoo comes from a local Mexican eatery called Los Amigos. It has excellent salsa, great service and basically puts the “chimi” in chimichunga. But it’s not the food that motivates me (you thought I was going to tell you my tattoo would be a taco, didn’t you?). No, my inspiration comes from the building itself. On the exterior of the building is a gigantic mural of Los Amigos. What I am trying to say is that there is a painting of the building… on the building. GENIUS!

So, I’m going to get a tattoo of myself on myself. (Post-Crest White Strips, obviously)

This idea is great for several reasons. First off, if I am ever in a horrible accident and my face is disfigured beyond recognition, all the coroner would have to do was reference my tattoo. Secondly, you know how some tattoos stretch and wrinkle with age? That wouldn’t be a problem with my tatt. Don’t get me wrong, it would still warp and change, but it would age with me and therefore, would always be an accurate and current depiction of myself.

Now all need to do is decide where on my body I want to get inked. Hmmm, so many interesting places...

I bet you’re wishing you thought of the idea first, huh? Don’t worry, I won’t be put out if you also decide to get a tattoo of yourself on yourself. Just make sure to reference my name somewhere on the tattoo.

SYTYCD!!!! Hooray!

Want to be in my super cool club? It is the best club in the world! It is the SO YOU THINK YOU CAN DANCE club.

All you have to do is tune in (on FOX at 7:00) on Wednesday nights and be greatly entertained. Then, occasionally write me and let me know who ya love and who ya hate.

Never seen the show before? Tonight is the perfect night to start! You'll love it!

Sign up for my super cool club here!

Grandpa's Boy!

We were so lucky (blessed) to have the Grandpanator come to visit this week! Doug was overcome with giddiness. I was too, but my giddiness is not manifested by running around in circles and throwing books and toys at people's heads. It was fun to watch my daddy-o playing the same games with my cubs that he played with me when I was a kid.

Here's some extra fun pictures!

"Is this a wiggle finger or a tickle (torture) finger?"

"No, you're wrong! It's a TICKLE FINGER! AHHHH!"

"Man, this Grandpa Guy is pretty fun!"

"Look Mama Bear! I can sit all by myself!"Just me and the cubs.

... And I promise, I did donate 50% of my DNA to this little albino.

Prepare to be Blinded

Sorry about my leave of absence. I’ve been extremely busy for the last week… bleaching my teeth, you know.

Have you seen the commercial with Jessica Alba talking about how she knows what she wants and what she really wants is for her foundation to match her skin? Well, what I really want is for my teeth to match my eyeballs.

The bleaching has been a process, I can tell you that. My gums feel as though I’ve been gnawing on Dippin' Dots (the ice cream of the future) for seven days straight. All in all, however, I am satisfied with the results.

Here’s the before shot:


No, there is not a cob of corn in my mouth. Those are my actual teeth.


And here’s the after:


And here’s a Crest White Strips Raptor: