She was born to a lovely Queen who fell immediately head over heels in love with her and vowed to give her anything her heart desired. The Queen loved Princess Lauren so much, in fact, that she spent an entire weekend hand-stamping these flowers on the walls of her royal bedroom.

It was a room fit for a Princess, and was loved and cherished by the Queen’s beloved child for many, many years.

Then one day, Princess Lauren exclaimed, “OMG! I so totally hate these flowers!” It brought the Queen much heartbreak to think that her beautiful little child was no longer charmed by the quaint garden on her walls. She tried ignoring Princess Lauren, then bargaining with her, and finally pleading in desperation — all to no avail. The Princess was determined to have a “Teenager Room.” The Queen was devastated.

But being a doting, loving parent, The Queen bravely began to cover the lovely flowers with a coat of bright blue paint. In the process, she created quite a mess, dripping paint on every surface of the room. Frustrated, she gave up and determined that she would need to pay someone to do the job for her. She was, after all, a Queen — what did she know about painting??

Then one chilly December day, she met a fine Knight in Shining Armor who swept her off her feet with his gallant gestures and penchant for sushi. She was charmed and before too long, invited him home to the castle to see where she lived. When the Knight came upon the half-floral, half-blue bedroom, his eyes narrowed and he asked what on earth had happened. The Queen regaled him with horror stories of being covered in paint and shuddered as she explained that she had given up on the room altogether. The Knight laughed and informed her that he was, in fact, quite talented at painting and would gladly repair the room for free. The Queen was no dummy, mind you. She said, “Yes, thank you!” and left it at that.

Months later, the Knight and the Queen were becoming a couple. They spent nearly all their free time together and finally got up the nerve to say the word “relationship.” It was lovely and the Queen was enjoying herself very much. But alas! The room remained in its semi-painted state. The Queen was embarrassed to ask the Knight what happened to his offer, so she just kept her royal mouth shut. Since then, the Queen has come to understand that the Knight is something of a procrastinator, but will always get to the task at hand if you wait long enough.

But I digress.

Just days before the Knight was to leave for battle in the Land of Texas, he surprised the Queen by announcing that he would be painting the Princess’ bedroom that day. The Queen left to address her subjects and figured that when she returned, she would see a little progress if she was lucky. Imagine her great surprise when she saw this:

It was a beautiful bedroom with hand-painted clouds on the ceiling and a lacy canopy under which the Princess could lay her royal head. To Princess Lauren, it was the ideal “Teenager Room” and worthy of the loudest squeal of approval. But to The Queen, it was so much more. It was a kind gesture from The Knight to her beloved child, and it made her fall in love with him even more.

And they all lived happily ever after.

The end.

And then they left me.

When I went through my breakup with CCB, I came as close as I’ve ever been to a nervous breakdown.  The rug had been pulled out from under me, and I was utterly abandoned.  I nearly lost everything that mattered to me — my daughter, my home, my job.  The depression was so oppressive that I could barely make it through a single day.  But somehow, I did.  I held fast to the frayed strands of my life and hoped that something would snap me out of it.  My dear, wonderful friends were the ones who did that for me.  They loved me and supported me and told me I was better than my current circumstances.  And slowly, I began to repair my soul, piece by piece.

But my peace — my comfort — my words.  They didn’t return.

Is it possible that I can only write when I’m content?  That unlike so many great writers, depression only serves to silence me?  I suppose that’s okay, and I should be grateful for the ability to write whenever it is gifted to me.  But oh, how I miss it when it’s gone.  How easy it would be to cope with life’s trials if I could find the words to express myself.

And yet, they always return.  My words are always in the background, sometimes dust-covered and neglected, but always there.  Waiting for me to trust myself and use them again.  Truly, what a blessing to know that they can and will return.

So what has changed, you ask?  What has brought my words back to life?? Well, I’ll tell you…

First, a kicky new car, 100% paid in full and belonging ONLY to me!

Next, an adorable daughter who is becoming a lovely young lady before my very eyes…

And last but not least, love…

Yep, that’s Music Man. Bein’ all Rockstar and sexy. He’s going to kill me when he sees this, because he doesn’t like that picture at all. But I do, and isn’t that all that matters?? I mean, it’s my blog, ya’ll… I can do what I want!

We’ve been dating for almost six months, and although neither of us wanted a relationship, here we are. And we are to-the-soul, ‘aren’t-we-disgustingly-happy’ happy. Lauren loves him because he’s silly and tickles her. And I love that my two favorite people are becoming best little buddies (picture tweaked with iPhoto, ya’ll — they don’t really look like that!!):

He feeds and waters my guinea pigs and dogs when I forget. He makes sure I have enough cash for lunch at work. He spends hours tracing my arms with his fingertips until I fall asleep. He drives hours without complaining just so I can see Them Crooked Vultures in Vegas, then soothes my angry temper when I spend half the concert staring at the stupid girl who is dancing and preventing me from seeing my beloved Dave Grohl!! And when my temper flares up and I’m inches away from decking her trailer-park butt and she gets her boyfriend involved because she’s askeered of me, he silences her punk-ass boyfriend with one look that threatens “You don’t even want to mess with me, kid” while I get the delicious satisfaction of seeing them flee from us in terror. He is The Awesome, people. He’s sweet and bad ass at the same time. He’s funny and makes me laugh every day.

Music Man, in a nutshell, was totally worth the wait.

The first fourteen years of my life were spent in a tiny town of only 500 people. Wikipedia now says it’s over 800, so they’ve apparently had a population boom in the past 28 years. I lived in a small house with a huge lot on a tree-lined street, and spent my days roaming the entire town, which was no bigger than my current neighborhood. In the summer, my Dad assembled the pop-up tent in the backyard and we spent our days playing Barbies in it, or when that became boring, riding our bikes all over the surrounding countryside. We didn’t come home until it was dark and my Mom was okay with that. We never locked our doors and we slept with the windows open. I fell asleep to the sound of crickets with a cool summer breeze blowing over the bunk bed that my sister and I shared. We didn’t consider ourselves to be missing out on anything by living in such a small town. Our little grocery store pretty much had everything we needed, and if it didn’t, the “big city” was less than a half an hour away.

When I was fourteen, my Dad took a job an hour and a half away in a much larger town. We delighted over the fact that fast food restaurants and a movie theater were now just minutes from our house. Instead of living in the city proper, my parents found a hundred-year-old farmhouse just outside of the city limits on a narrow country road. It was in that house that I spent my teenage years, full of angst and hormones. I spent hours lying in the grass in the backyard, listening to the wind rustling through the corn field at the edge of our yard. I loved the quiet and the solitude there. We had neighbors close by, but it seemed as if we were all alone, surrounded on all sides by corn and soybean fields. We still slept with the windows open, although the pig farm a mile away made that relatively unpleasant at times. That house was quaint with its narrow stairs and painted-shut windows, and it’s still a frequent destination in my dreams. Last night, in fact, I dreamed that I lived there again, and was watching my daughter run down the grassy lane next to the corn field while I swung lazily in the hammock in the backyard.

When I graduated from high school, however, I couldn’t wait to move to The Big City. It was there that I learned how to navigate traffic and hang out at a mall. As my career blossomed, I found opportunities in even larger cities, and before I knew it, the rural life was far behind me. I liked living in the suburbs of a big city and didn’t miss the country at all. Or so I thought.

But nine years ago, when I built this home with my then-husband – the home that I still live in today, and the only home my Lauren has ever known – it was imperative that we get as far out of the city as possible. Because of my job, I couldn’t move far enough away to be in the country, but we went as far as we could. Our neighborhood is nestled in the crook of the mountains on the southwest side of the valley. My commute to work is 45 minutes each way, but it’s worth it to be in such a quiet area.

And yet, it’s not the country. I miss sleeping with the windows open and listening to the crickets chirping. I miss the fields of corn and the tranquility. I wish my daughter knew what that life was like. And because the country runs so deep in my soul, I try as hard as I can to make our home a tranquil place. My daughter knows the feeling of cool grass between her toes and the scent of lilacs in the spring. She knows that the best place to star gaze is lying on your back in the middle of the yard. She knows how fresh the house becomes when the windows are opened and a cool breeze runs through it. She is as country as a city girl can be.

And that, my friends, is a beautiful thing.

So today has turned into an “indoor” day. After spending the morning doing housework and playing with Lauren, I was ready to relax with some online Texas Hold ‘Em. I’ve been perfecting my game because the next time CCB and I are in Vegas, I plan to clean house! (Side note: Everyone laughs hysterically when I tell them that, but I’m already up to $1.6 Million chips online, so I am confident that I’ll do just as well with real money. Stop laughing!! Sheesh.)

In any event, I decided we could have a little computer time this afternoon. Lauren’s laptop is set up just a few feet away from mine in our office, so she was able to go online and play her cute little games while I played mine. She chose Club Penguin, which is the most useless game I’ve ever seen. You apparently create penguins and name them, dress them up, furnish their igloos and basically walk around and talk to other penguins. There are also games that you can play, but the whole thing is just a huge Arctic time suck, if you ask me. Which means, of course, that it is Lauren’s favorite game. Lucky me.

So there we are… Mommy is calling and folding and groaning because she was counting on that river card to complete her straight and it was NOT a Jack after all, and Lauren is happily humming away as she plays her little penguin game. And then she began to ask me for my advice.

Lauren: “Mom, should my penguin wear the pink skirt or the white one?”
Mom: “Hmmm… I think the pink one.”
Lauren: “No, I want the white one.”

Lauren: “Mom, should my penguin go to the Ski Hill, the Dojo or the Beach?”
Mom: “I think the Beach.”
Lauren: “No, I want to go to the Dojo.”

Lauren: “Mom, should I buy a blue Puffle or a purple one?”
Mom: “How about a purple one?”
Lauren: “No, I want a blue one.”

Lauren: “Mom, should I play Thin Ice or Astro Barrier?”
Mom: (sigh) “Thin Ice??”
Lauren: “No, I want to play Astro Barrier.”

And then Mommy’s head exploded. The end.

“N” spent the entire time with me, corralling wayward 7-year-old girls and trying to stop the neverending-oh-for-hell’s-sake-what-are-they-crying-about-NOW tears. We later estimated that 80% of our girls burst into tears at some point over the weekend. For things such as “I lost my Dream Box!” and “She has my pillow!” and my personal favorite, “SPIDER!” I consider myself to be a fairly patient person, as I’m sure “N” does as well, but by the end of the weekend we were both a little snippy when the water works began. Sue us.

“C” on the other hand, was the lucky one who got to go to work during the day and only join us at night. Unfortunately, that also meant that she had middle-of-the-night latrine duty because “N” and I had HAD ENOUGH! Thanks, “C”, for letting me sleep.

The weekend began innocently enough, with “N” and I loading our respective cars with enough provisions to last us a year, and driving up Provo Canyon to the beautiful Trefoil Ranch. It took us a while to get from the gates of the ranch to our actual campsite, and much to my dismay, it was like 400 miles up a steep rocky hill from the lodge. A hike that we probably negotiated upwards of 3,000 times a day. Ok, maybe I exaggerate a little. It was really only 1,000 times a day. And I don’t know if I have mentioned this or not, but I am not what you would call “Physically Fit”. I am, in fact, squishy and soft. CCB likes me that way, and Lauren thinks I’m fun to cuddle with. But Squishy and Soft do not lend themselves well to “hiking up a damn mountain a billion times a day”. I think it’s safe to say that I was tired.

But I brought my Ambien, and after all was said and done the first night, I climbed into my sleeping bag, zipped myself in, and waited for the pill to kick in. I don’t remember anything else that night, but apparently there were many trips to the bathroom with the girls, and also a wet sleeping bag/pillow/stuffed animal incident (from a water bottle, not man-made) that required intervention by the other two women in my tent while I snoozed blissfully away. Apparently I was so sound asleep that I was making moaning sounds. (This is not a surprise to me — I have been told that I talk and moan in my sleep on occasion.) I assure you that these moans are not in any way associated with the quality of my dreams (if you know what I mean), but they probably appear that way. When “N” and “C” overheard said moans, they tried to wake me up and tell me that I was making noises. I think they are big liars, too, because they insist that I told them that I was having sex dreams because “my honey doesn’t live with me”. I think this is false, and entirely unlike me, but they maintain that I said those very words. And they apparently laughed hysterically for upwards of ten minutes when I said them. Whatever.

The second day at camp was filled with activities (line dancing, anyone???) and more tears. At one point, “N” and I were perched near the fire pit at the lodge, which proved to be a lovely spot for people watching. I found it quite interesting that there are essentially four types of Girl Scout Leaders:

1. Super-cute crafty Moms who tie dyed t-shirts for all her girls to wear, and found color-coordinated bandannas to match.

2. Enormously overweight Moms (I am talking 300 pounds-plus) whose only activity is in searching out a place to sit down. I do not include myself in this category, for the record.

3. Very masculine Moms. I have never seen so many potential Lesbians in my entire life. It became kind of a sport for “N” and I to guess whether a given Leader was a woman or a man. The whiskers made it hard to tell.

4. Us and those like us. AKA “The Normal Ones”. I think it goes without saying that we were the minority.

The last day at camp, we were awakened by the sound of rain on our tent roof. At first, it was relaxing and tranquil. And then I realized that it was turning our entire campsite into a Roman Mud Bath. I have been home for five days now and have taken approximately 45 showers and baths, but I am still finding dried mud in assorted places. Oh, and let us not forget the rogue caterpillars who hitched a ride to the suburbs with us.

All in all, it was actually a splendid time. I bonded with my sweet little Girl Scouts (yes, even the ones who cried hysterically half the time) and killed more spiders than I have seen in a lifetime. I discovered that my dear Lauren is not willing to kiss and cuddle her Mom when friends are around (and that I can embarrass her without much effort at all). I also discovered that a cold Diet Pepsi with Lime in a camp chair with caterpillars in your hair is a pretty relaxing thing, believe it or not.

Oh, and I also discovered that camping is a LOT more tolerable with Ambien. AND good friends to share it with.

The End.

On the cover, I wrote “How will Miss Butterfield spend her summer?” and tried to make it all cutesy with a lopsided bow:

Then inside, I pasted fun summer ideas along with a little envelope in which to slip the gift card into.

Here are the individual pages and the corresponding gift cards:

BARNES AND NOBLE

COLDSTONE CREAMERY

MEGAPLEX THEATERS

OLIVE GARDEN

BATH AND BODY WORKS

Isn’t this the most adorable idea? And the best part is that I can save these images on my computer, and in just a few minutes, duplicate this gift for next year’s teacher. And the one after that, and the one after that… Really, until I find another cuter idea, this will be my go-to teacher gift! So simple!

So as I opened the door, the scent drifted out and made me smile. I quickly let the dogs out and then rushed back in to her room to inhale it some more. As I climbed into her bed to cuddle her, she stretched and opened her eyes with a few frantic blinks. Then as my face came into focus, she smiled a sleepy smile and stretched out her arms to me. I love when she wants to hold me in HER arms, because there is nothing more comforting than having your baby’s arms around your neck and your ear against their chest, listening to the constant sound of their heartbeat, reminding you that they are safe and they are well.

I pressed my nose to Lauren’s neck and took a deep breath in, then said, “Oh, Lauren. Momma loves how yummy you smell.” This made her giggle, of course, and she said, “What do I smell like?” I couldn’t put it into words, but I tried. “It smells a little like cinnamon rolls and vanilla and sweet flowers,” I said, and Lauren rolled her eyes dramatically and said, “Ewww, that’s stinky!” We cuddled a little bit more and then Lauren decided that her full bladder was more important than Mommy-time, so she got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. I stayed in her bed and called out to her, “See? Your room still smells like you even when you’re gone!”

At that point, Lauren returned to the bedroom and began to sniff around like a bloodhound. Her face crinkled up and she said, “I don’t smell anything that smells like me, Mom. All I smell is celery!” I laughed, but she was quite serious. She nodded and said, “Ever since I was a little kid, my room has always smelled like celery.”

Oh, so THAT’S what it is!

I’ve mentioned before that I have a mild dental phobia (in that I can’t handle the jacked-up grillz, ya’ll) so you can imagine how distressed I was to see my cute little kid turning into a Snaggletooth. Ugh. The tooth had to go! I tried to be aggressive with it, but as it turns out, Lauren has a dental phobia of her own (in that she is completely freaked out at the idea of anyone yanking a tooth from her head and making her bleed.) Go figure.

For a few days, the plan was that she would pull it herself. She tried, bless her heart, but it wasn’t budging. She did look pretty darn cute trying to pull it, however.

Then my lovely sister, Jen, who is my parenting mentor, told me that she always used Baby Orajel on her kids and called it “Sleepy Stuff”. As in, it puts the tooth “to sleep” and makes it sooooo easy to pull. Heck, I’ll try anything at this point, so off to the grocery store I went to procure some Baby Orajel. We tried the magic potion and it did indeed make her mouth feel “awesome”, in her words, but she was still hesitant to pull. I was able to convince her to let me slip a loop of dental floss around it, but then she insisted on leaving it alone and walked around for a full hour with a string of floss hanging from her mouth.

Finally, I was tired of waiting. Under the guise of “removing” the floss, I gave it a swift yank and the tooth came out. I know what you’re thinking and yes, I lied to my child. I set a sneaky little trap and I got her. I know. I saw the look of utter betrayal in her eyes when she realized what was going on. But sometimes, a parent’s gotta do what a parent’s gotta do. And it was relatively pain-free. There was a hell of a lot of blood and screaming, but in the end, Lauren had to admit that it really hadn’t hurt that much.

Lauren has a cute embroidered pillow with a little pocket that the tooth is inserted into, so with all the pomp and circumstance that losing a front tooth warrants, we tucked the little tooth inside and prepared for the arrival of the Tooth Fairy. But there was a little tiny catch. Apparently, when the Tooth Fairy comes to Mommy’s house, she leaves a respectable dollar for the tooth. But when the Tooth Fairy goes to Daddy’s house, she leaves TWENTY DOLLARS. I guess because the Tooth Fairy probably stops at the ATM beforehand and doesn’t think to buy a pack of gum to make change or something. In any event, when we stuck that tooth in the pillow, I tried to prepare Lauren for the inevitable disappointment in the morning. I offered to stash the tooth “someplace safe” so Lauren could take it to her Dad’s in a few days, but she was too excited to wait. Even with the knowledge that she’d be shorted $19.00, this was a big deal. She did ask me if maybe the Tooth Fairy would still pay $20 due to the fact that it was her first front tooth. I had to give her a mini-economics lesson and explain that due to the recession (Thanks again, Dubya), the Tooth Fairy was probably going to be cutting back this year. She nodded and said, “I guess it can get pretty expensive giving every kid $20 for each tooth.” And then I reminded her to not mention to her friends how much she got at Daddy’s house, because maybe the Tooth Fairy didn’t bring them as much. I don’t think it’s a good idea to encourage First Graders in that manner, because next thing you know, they’ll be tying their teeth to doorknobs just to make a buck.

In any event, despite the fact that I lied to her face in order to pull it, and despite the fact that she only made a buck off of it, the whole thing ended up being a momentous occasion for my little girl. Can’t you see the glee???

• We had a lovely dinner sans Lauren at our favorite sushi joint, Tsunami, where I enjoyed my favorite Don Juan roll with the eel sauce that comes with it, and the sweet/spicy sauce from the DTH roll.  It makes your eyes roll back in your head, people… it’s THAT good.
• We discovered that Ryan Adams and Mandy Moore are engaged.  While we love, love, LOVE Ryan Adams, we’re scratching our heads over the engagement.  Partially because we heard they had broke up, partially because every picture we’ve seen of the two of them makes it look like Mandy can barely tolerate his presence, and partially because The Hell, Ryan?  You’re so cool and she’s so… Mandy Moore.
• We caught up on our TiVo’d episodes of Lost.  I know I say this after every single episode, but… um… WTF?
• We also saw this on The Soup that made us laugh our butts off:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FtX8nswnUKU]

• We had a great Valentine’s Day dinner party with Lauren and some friends.  I made something that is my monthly Daring Bakers Challenge, and I can’t discuss it until the designated posting day, but suffice to say it was YUMMY and you will hear all about it very soon.
• We played the new Wii that CCB bought me for my birthday (because I’ve been dying for the Wii Fit) and Lauren kicked all of our butts at bowling.  I’m not even kidding.
• Oh, and we may or may not have visited a couple of jewelers.  No big deal, nothing purchased.  But it’s a start!