To visit my brand spanking new blog at http://togetherforgood.wordpress.com.

This will be my last post on this blog, and at some point in the future Notes from the Princess will be removed. If you subscribe by email, you will continue to get updates, but if you use RSS or a reader (or some other subscription form that I don’t understand) you will need to update your information.

I am so excited about my new blog– can’t wait to see you there!

I just wanted to write a quick post for my two readers to let you know that life has taken an interesting turn for us. We have been told that we have to be out of our house by the end of September and so we are currently in the process of working multiple jobs, sending our older son to kindergarten, and trying to figure out a move.

We fully believe and trust that this is God’s plan for us, and that His way is perfect, even when we don’t get it (which, honestly, we really don’t). This year has been really hard for us but we have seen God’s faithful hand in everything that has happened. We are trusting His promise that “all things work together for good, to them that love God.”

Anyway, my blogging may be a bit hit or miss over the next several weeks, as we try to pack and consolidate a house worth of stuff into what will most likely be a much smaller space. Also, I am working on some big changes for my blog and I’d really like to get them up and running soon, so I might have to work on that instead of actually writing.

We would certainly appreciate your prayers as we follow the path God has put before our feet. He knows the end of the path, but we can only see the steps we are taking right now. We are certainly learning to trust Him more every day.

I will leave you with a haiku, just to add some artistic flair to my blog.

Life sure is crazy
That probably would explain
Why I’m neurotic.

Neurotic, Attention-Seeking, and Lazy rolled into one! I'm the total package!

I have recently become active on Facebook, and when I say active I mean obsessed. Seriously, social networking sites are evil. They suck you in with promises of reconnection with long-lost pals and next thing you know you’ve spent the last half hour mindlessly watering someone else’s fake garden. It’s very, very sad.

One of the many highly beneficial activities I have enjoyed on Facebook this week was taking a Personality Test. I answered 100 questions about myself, and then it analyzed my answers and told me what kind of person I am and where I stand among the rest of the world.

Seeing the truth about myself out there in black and white (well, actually, in a pretty five-colored graph, but still) has been, shall we say, a bit of a shock. I mean, I always have known I’m a spaz. But– according to the Facebook Personality Profile, I am 66% neurotic. Here’s what the profile actually says:

This trait refers to the way you cope with, and respond to, life’s demands. Approximately 91.9% of respondents have a lower neuroticism raw percentage than yours. From the way you answered the questions, you seem to describe yourself as someone who tends to be more self-conscious than many. Based on your responses, you come across as someone who can find it hard to not get caught up by anxious or stressful situations.

Did you catch that? I am more emotionally unstable than ninety-two percent of test responders. I am completely incapable of functioning! It’s a miracle I don’t just explode right now– because life is pretty stressful at the moment and I’m 66% neurotic!

But wait, there’s more. I’m also very extraverted (I’m sure this comes as a shock). According to the test I am more extraverted than 95% of the rest of you. Which explains, I’m sure, why I am sharing my neuroses about my neuroses in my public blog. I can’t help myself. Emotional instability plus extreme extraversion is a dangerous combination.

And, as if my noisy psychopathic tendencies were not enough, I am also extremely not conscientious. I am less conscientious than 98.5% of the general population. If you want to know what that means, it means I never finish what I start, I’m completely unorganized, and that I’m a big slob. Now, the facebook survey tries to make it sound nice– like being zany and impulsive is a good thing. Maybe it is, when you’re not a wife, mother, employee, and, you know, a grown-up, but I think perhaps that I take it a bit far.

So– I am obnoxiously public with everything, including my lack of emotional stability, and I never accomplish anything. Sigh. This whole thing is about to make me more neurotic, I think. The positive thing is that I am reasonably agreeable and open to change and differences. Do you think that makes up for my big mouth, my emotional failings, and my lack of conscientiousness?

Honestly, reading this kind of did depress me a little. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t know these things about myself. I know I have a hard time controlling my emotions, and that I do struggle with getting things done, and that I really really like to be the center of attention. But I’m not sure this is completely accurate, either. Sure, the survey did a great job of pointing out my weaknesses. But it knows nothing of my greatest strength, which is my Savior.

His strength is made perfect in weakness.

That’s right, folks. My impulsive, neurotic, loud and obnoxious self is just here to make God look better.

I guess I can handle that.

Guys, don’t ever go in hot lava, okay? What? It’s not funny, that stuff is really hot and it could kill you. I’m serious! It’s NOT funny! do you think it would be funny to die? Because that stuff will kill you! Stop laughing, it’s not funny! Why are you laughing? I’m serious! –Ryan, age 5 1/2

Because this morning at work we had the kids all ready to go on a field trip when we realized that two of the girls didn’t have their lunches so my coworker had to go make them. And then while we were sitting there waiting and the kids were getting louder and louder someone yelled “MEGAN HAS A NOSEBLEED!” and I had to go stand in the bathroom and try to get Megan’s nose to quit bleeding all over the place, and then I had to disinfect and was and scrub and sanitize and clean clean clean the bathroom so as not to contaminate the rest of the dear little children.

I’m not going to blog tonight because it took us twenty minutes to get all the children into the vans due to multiple carseat and seat belt malfunctions. And also because when I stopped to fill my boss’s van up with gas I accidentally used our spending money debit card and drained it of all our spending money for the week (yeah, that put about four gallons of gas in). And on the way to the park there was annoying music on every single station and I had the three loudest children in the universe riding with me. One was mine. And also there was road construction and I hate road construction.

I’m not going to blog tonight because once we got to the park and got settled down to watch the kids play on this huge awesome playground Tristyn kept running us and telling us there were poison bees and wasps and hornets and we had to leave right now because they could kill you with one sting. And also I had to take several children to the bathroom in quick succession because the one we usually use was locked so I had to take them to the other one.

I’m not going to blog tonight because after we’d been at the park for half an hour Clayton started crying because he had been stung, and while we were fishing out ice packs from the lunch boxes Brayton came up and said he’d been stung too. And then just a few minutes later Jesse came and said he had been stung, but I think he wasn’t.

I’m not going to blog tonight because once we got Clayton and Brayton and Jesse calmed down and decided to have lunch and got all the kids settled in the picnic shelter, Andie came up to us and was pale and crying and said her stomach hurt really bad and after we called and someone was coming to pick her up she started feeling fine and eating her lunch. And also because I had to use the park toilet. And there was no soap. And while we were sitting there eating four kids from another daycare also got stung by wasps.

I’m not going to blog tonight because while we were on the walk by the beach that we were forced to take because we couldn’t play on the playground due to the wasps, there was goose poop. I hate goose poop. And then when we decided to take the kids down by the water and let them wade for a few minutes before we left Ryan almost fell in and he got his shorts wet and then Mason did fall in and soaked his clothes. And then when we were sitting at the picnic tables putting our shoes back on I saw a baby bird on the ground that fell out of the nest and it made me sad.

I’m not going to blog tonight because when we got all the kids to daycare to have rest time, Sammantha put her hand in front of Michael’s mouth and Michael bit Sammantha and Sammantha started to howl. And then while I was sitting in the room with the resting children people kept coming in and making noise, and also the other teacher deserted me and so I had to sit there by myself even though I really had to go to the bathroom. And also the book I started while I was sitting in there was weird and I’m not sure I like it.

I’m not going to blog tonight because when we finished rest time and told the kids to line up Sammantha started crying and yelling and we couldn’t figure out what her problem was. And then when I was trying to figure it out Preston told me they couldn’t find Sammy’s (very expensive, have to be shipped to France if they need warranty work) glasses. And then after I found them and figured out that Sammantha had fallen asleep and didn’t want to fall asleep because it was still light out and therefore thought a meltdown was appropriate, my co-teacher told me I should go apologize to Preston for snapping at him when he told me about Sammy’s glasses.

I am not going to blog tonight because when I got home and dinner was just ready to go on the table we realized that there were no hamburger buns. And also I lost Art’s allergy medicine and he could hardly see because his eyes were so watery and itchy. And there was no ice cream in the house and the pharmacy closed half an hour before I got there to get more medicine for Art.

I am not going to blog tonight because I have had a very long, very tiring day and I am going to go watch TV with my husband.

And you will all just have to deal with it.

1. However stupid it is, you can most certainly have a huge fight about it.

2. Just because he has his father’s face doesn’t mean he didn’t inherit his mother’s control freak personality.

3. Your heart is always big enough.

4. Their heartbreaks break mine.

5. Those kids’ shows I used to think are cute really aren’t.

6. Bedtime is beautiful.

7. The days are long but the years are short.

8. Laughter really is a pretty good medicine.

9. You can lead a boy to the toilet, but you can’t make him aim.

10. That thing they say, about your heart walking around outside your body, that is true. 100% true.

————————————

For more things our children have taught us, check out Absolutely Bananas.

At some point in my life, unbeknownst to me, I was appointed the family historian. As a child, I had a “mind like a trap,” as my mother would say. I remembered everything. Which year did we get to ring the dinner bell at family camp? What was the name of that one roller coaster at Great America– you know, that one? Who was Laura’s best friend in third grade? Ask Erin. My parents willingly exploited my memory, and it became a family custom, whenever a date or name or dress color was in question, to “Ask Erin.”

Today, the whole family is together for our one weekend of the year, trying to fit twelve months of laughter and memories and family drama into two and a half days. My parents’ small house is filled with people– half of whom are under six. There is noise and movement and laughter and wiggles and tears and lots of hugs to go around. “Erin,” my mom says suddenly, “how old were you when–?” I look at her blankly. “I have no idea.” My sister is confused. “But you always know!” Not today. (In fact, I can’t even remember how this conversation actually went or what the question was, that’s how bad it is.) Once upon a time, I could remember everything. Today, not so much.

I have a theory about the parts of my brain that seem to have been mind-wiped in the last few years. Actually, I have a couple theories and they both blame my children. As a mom, my brain is so full of my children. Birthdates, weights and lengths and heights, first words, likes and dislikes, shoe sizes, allergies, favorite toys, potential hiding spots for favorite toys, friends’ names, teachers’ names, their names, my name– all these things get crammed into our brains, along with schedules and shopping lists and phone numbers and where I set the keys, until there is just to room left. At which point, my brain just loses some of the information that is irrelevant to the daily task of keeping track of life. Information that is irrelevant pretty much always, except when my mom turns to me and wants to know who it was whose foot went up in the air when she got baptized at our old church. This theory, that my brain just got too full and so it started an automatic erasure program, is probably the truest and most logical.

However, I do have another theory, and it is my personal favorite. I am convinced that when Ryan was born he stole my phenomenal mental powers (note: slight sarcasm has just been utilized). He remembers everything, especially that word I didn’t mean to say or the story he wasn’t supposed to overhear. He is his generation’s family historian, I am sure of it. Twenty years from now, someone will turn to my elder son and say “Ryan, what year was it when Grandpa got into the wading pool to play with the kids?” And he’ll say, “Oh, that was when I was five, right before I started kindergarten, so– 2008.” And everyone will nod and agree and remember that moment, except for me. Because his powers of recall were stolen from me, I tell you. I’ll be lucky if I can remember my own name twenty years from now.

Which is the reason I am writing this at all. It seems my memories fade all too quickly these days, replaced by school supply lists and playdate information and how many seconds you’re supposed to scrub your hands when you wash. But I don’t want to forget these moments, when I am together with all these people I hold so dear and precious. I want to remember.

I want to remember the sight of Ryan’s bleached-blond hair amidst all the brown-haired cousins.

I want to remember the feel of two nephews and one niece all trying to pile into my lap for a kiss and a snuggle.

I want to remember the taste of the s’mores my sister and I make as we have a little heart-to-heart by the grill in the backyard.

I want to remember the sound of five little children laughing and talking and playing and settling in so comfortably as a family, even after a year apart.

I want to remember the serious look in AJ’s eyes as he solemnly agrees to my claim that I am the most beautifullest Auntie in the whole, wide universe.

I want to remember laughing till I can’t breathe, listening to my mom and sister tell stories of all their misadventures.  Let me tell you, if I had half the crises they do, this blog would be the funniest place on the internet.

I want to remember Megan’s sweet-smelling hair pressed up to my cheek as we hide under a blanket from her brother.

I want to remember the sight of Sammy determinedly trying to fix the plastic race track, in spite of his older cousin’s decided opinion that someone only three and a half can’t do it.

I want to remember Drew, as the boys are posing for pictures with the little brothers sitting on the big brother’s backs, solicitously asking Ryan if Sammy is “sitting on your private parts?”

I want to remember sitting in lawn chairs as dusk settles around us, singing “Total Eclipse of the Heart” with Laura.

But mostly, mostly I want to remember that in 2008 Dad got into the wading pool with the kids and had a water fight with them. Because this is an answer to a specific prayer I prayed a couple months ago, when Daddy was having heart problems and not responding well to his treatment.

There was one night, after a conversation with my very discouraged mother, that I realized my dad was in pretty bad shape. And I began to wonder if my kids would grow up with him in their lives. As I laid in bed that night, I prayed that God would heal my father and encourage him, and that my kids would have Grandpa Cobb in their lives for many, many years to come. I prayed that they would have sweet memories of my dad and special times with him.

Let me say right now that I believe God answers prayer. Shortly after that phone call and that sleepless night, Dad turned a corner. And now– now he’s sitting in the wading pool, surrounded by his five young grandchildren, dumping water on any who venture close, and being dumped on– five against one. He is drenched; he is cold; his lip is puffing up from a smack with a bucket. He is having so much fun, and he is so happy. So are we. Never mind the tears in our eyes. Mom, Laura, and I are showing our happiness in true family fashion, with red faces and tears and laughter at the same time. I want to remember this.

Later on, Dad is engaged in the all-important family tradition of making ice cream with the grandkids. They are lined up– five little sun-baked bodies with that one blond head sticking out amid all the brown ones– putting ice in the machine under the supervision of Grandpa and the ever-watching eye of the camera. Dad thinks it’s morbid that we’re all taking pictures of him “like I’m on my deathbed.” But no, these are not pictures taken in a sense of hopelessness, or morbidity, or even bittersweetness. They are all about life– life, and family, and love, and hope, and joy. They are all about remembering this precious moment– this answered prayer– this poignant picture of God’s unfailing faithfulness.

And I never, ever want to forget.

If you participate in the book experience this week and would like to share, please feel free to leave your link in the comment section. I will add it to the bottom of my post.

Also, this week we have a special addition to the Book Experience: sound! So be sure to listen to their sound bites which are under a couple of the pictures.

This week we delved into the happy and fun world that is Hi, Pizza Man! by Virginia Walter. My mom gave this book to Expert Book Experiencer Stinky a year ago, and we continue to enjoy its silliness. (Speaking of silliness, the boys were in a very weird and slightly naughty mood when I took most of these pictures, so they’re a little, um, quirky.)

In this book, a child uses her imagination to decide what she would say if, instead of the Pizza Man, a different sort of creature came to deliver her pizza. To the cow she says “Moooooo, Pizza Cow!” and to the dinosaur she says “ROAR PIZZA DINOSAUR!!!”

After we read the book, we thought of some other creatures that might deliver our pizza and what we would say to them. We decided that the silliest would be Tacky the Penguin, and that we would say “What’s Happening, Pizza Tacky!” if he delivered our pizza. Then Expert Book Experiencer Bubs informed me that he would give Tacky a “hearty slap on the back,” which is word for word from the Tacky books and made me giggle.

Once we had had this conversation, the boys got to draw an animal delivering a pizza.

Expert Book Experiencer Bubs chose a Pizza Pig.

You can see that the Pizza Pig has a curly tail and a snout. The square on his back is the pizza. Ryan also practiced his writing skills and wrote “Oink Oink, Pizza Pig!” Also, apparently the pizza pig has eyebrows. The kind that run in our family. Poor, poor pizza pig.

Expert Book Experiencer Stinky made a Pizza Bumblebee.

Notice the yellow and black stripes, and of course you can see his eyes, nose and mouth on the bottom. The pink things around the edge of the Pizza Bumblebee are legs, but he said they are the “legs of the doorway” and not the bee’s legs. And also the door can move around on those legs. For the record, I will not be visiting any house ever that has a creepy centipede-legged moving doorway. Back to the Pizza Bumblebee: the big pink stripe is the pizza box.

Following our artistic experience (which greatly disappointed Expert Book Experiencer Bubs because it did not involve cutting and gluing, which are his requirements for a project), we decided to make some lunch. And what else would we have but pizzas?

We made them on English muffins and I pretty much just let the Expert Book Experiencers do their own thing.

I love Expert Book Experiencer Bubs’ look of extreme concentration here.

And Expert Book Experiencer Stinky is pretty intense about the pizza making as well.

Notice how Expert Book Experiencer Stinky multitasks– adding cheese to his pizza while enjoying some pepperoni at the same time.

And finally the finished yumminess:

Hi Pizza Bubs!

Hi Pizza Stinky!

Expert Book Experiencers Stinky and Bubs give Hi Pizza Man four thumbs up.

Apparently pizza makes them hyper.

Yesterday’s post was an exciting examination of everything I am not. Today’s post is all about my dearest friend, my better half, the love of my stinking life.

In one of my jaunts around the blogosphere (I’ve been jaunting and frolicking around the wide world of mommy blogs a lot lately), I discovered this fabulous concept of My Husband Rocks Fridays. And I think this is just such a wonderful idea. So many women just gripe gripe gripe about their spouses. Well if he’s such a jerk, why did you marry him in the first place?

My mom told me a long time ago that one of the best pieces of advice she could give me is to never gossip about my husband or speak negatively about him to others. Yes, that is a challenge, especially for a person like me who loves to talk. A lot. But it is a great bit of advice. And I think that I, as the very blessed wife of a wonderful, godly man, ought to take as many opportunities as possible to brag on him.

However, my Fridays are already taken with The Book Experience with Stinky and Bubs, so I have decided to post My Husband Rocks Friday on Wednesday.

I am not the Princess of Conformity. I believe I established that yesterday.

So, without any further ado, I present My Husband Rocks Friday Wednesday, and

Ten Reasons My Husband Rocks

1. He gives plasma so that we can have spending money to buy stuff, go out for dinner, and do special things as a family.

2. He regularly makes dinner and loads the dishwasher.

3. He loves books even more than I do.

4. He calls one of the girls at his job Lumpy. It makes me laugh every time.

5. He has been making me laugh since we first met (ten years ago next month!) and he gives me reasons to giggle every day.

6. When I had a miscarriage earlier this year, he cried with me and shared my grief. (And he still found ways to make me smile).

7. He introduced me to the wonder that is the Starbucks Frappucino.

8. He thinks I’m attractive, in spite of the rather distressing weight gain I have experienced in the last year. (Brownie, anyone?)

9. He is an amazing daddy to our sons.

10. He puts up with me– and I am needy, annoying, loud, and a really bad housekeeper.

<— plus, we’re just such a cute couple! *adding for clarity’s sake and so everyone doesn’t get a very wrong idea, this is not our house. Our house is smaller, less pretty, and not surrounded by a big iron fence. LOL. This is the Harry S. Truman house in Independence, MO*

Lately, as I have been frolicking through the blogosphere during my nightly online wanderings, I have noticed a trend. One Hundred Things. Or One Hundred Random Facts about Me. Or some variation of that title. Followed by a list of, surprisingly, one hundred random facts about that blogger.

Well, I may be late to the party but I am always willing to jump right into the fun, except that I am not the Princess of Conformity. So, in the spirit of participating in bloggy fun while still maintaining my own unique identity, I present to you–

Twenty-Eight Random Lies about Me.

1. I am prone to frequent fits of shrill, maniacal laughter.

2. I am really a grumpy 75-year-old man sitting at my computer stalking mommy bloggers and wearing a tiara.

3. I strongly dislike ice cream.

4. Sometimes I just can’t help myself and I clean frantically for hours at a time.

5. My laundry is always done.

6. My children refer to me always as “Beautiful Princess Who Makes Our Dreams Come True.”

7. I have a faint Polish accent.

8. My favorite holiday is Armistice Day.

9. I know what Armistice Day is.

10. I am often mistaken for Michael Jordan.

11. I often dream that I had been born 200 years ago and could spend my life on an idyllic early-nineteenth century farm.

12. I take everything very seriously, especially this blog.

13. I have no idea where my son got his chatty streak from.

14. I am a total shoe snob. I have to wear my Prada stilettos to work every day or I fear the children will not take me seriously.

15. I am 100% sure that Prada makes stilettos.

16. Sauerkraut. Yum.

17. My husband and I met while backpacking across Europe. He was my guide but I couldn’t understand a word he said because my Japanese was really rusty at the time.

18. I absolutely love to read romance novels.

19. My article, “Fifteen Ways to Show Affection to your Pet Dinosaur,” won first place in the high school writing contest my senior year, and was later published in The Journal of Unusual Domestic Animals.

20. I have a life-sized tattoo of my husband’s face on my back.

21. I sometimes find it difficult to believe that I have accomplished so much in my twenty-two short years upon this earth.

22. I was once abducted by aliens who made me play “Camptown Races” on my recorder for 36 hours straight with only one bathroom break.

23. In my spare time, I moonlight as a fairy godmother.

24. I harbor deep feelings of resentment toward my ninth-grade French teacher.

25. I have unlimited time and therefore will keep making these up until I get to one hundred.

26. I have a weak spot for opera.

27. I’m not going to stop now.