We interrupt this blog . . .

I know I just posted last night, but I was lying in bed crying myself to sleep when I suddenly realized that today is the day I've been so afeared of all month. The 15th. The Ides. That middle place between the beginning and the end of March, of which they tell us to BEWARE! And I can see why. It really is a hard knock day. SOOOOOO DARN HARD because my 13-year-old son has to make a huge decision by tonight. Either way he chooses, he loses. One thing or another. But he also wins. One thing or another.

Why does life have to be such a give and take? When we lived in Hawaii there was no give and take, there was only take(-what-you-get) and grumble. In Utah we have choices and opportunities. It's so much work to have choices and opportunities.

We've spent the last week teaching our boy how to make a hard choice--gather all the pertinent information, write down the pros and cons, and then starve yourself silly while asking the universe to lend a hand. I don't think he got the starve yourself silly part because he pulled a package of Saimin noodles out of his pocket during Sacrament meeting. I kid not. He would have eaten them too had I not smacked him upside the head.

He's been kinda uncharacteristically weird like that all day. Like when I went upstairs and the phone rang. And it was him. Downstairs. Wondering if I could bring him down a glass of apple juice on the rocks.

I think his love language is "Acts of Annoyance."

The hard thing about hard decisions isn't in the making of the hard decision, it's in living with the hard decision. Sacrificing to make it happen. You get me?

I've had a hard year, peeps. A very very very hard year--full of endless cycles of uncertainty and confusion and change and discomfort. Did I mention it's been hard? It's been the hardest year of my life since last year.

But you know what? There are people out there who have it harder than me and my son put together. People who are making even harder decisions. And living with them day in and day out. I can't think of any right now, but I know they're out there.

Oh, I just thought of some. The people who are serving our country by going into other countries and fighting for our right to make hard decisions and to take-what-we-get and grumble.

Annette Lyon just published a book about it called Band of Sisters which follows five women who help each other get through their hub's deployment. And, bless her little best-selling-author heart, she's even working with a charity that helps children/families with deployed parents.

I think it's called The Flat Stanley Project.

I take that back. It's called the Flat Daddy Project.

The Flat Daddy Project creates life-size photos of a deployed parent from the waist up that the family can have as a physical presence of some sort to represent the missing parent. Some families take their Flat Daddy everywhere—to the grocery store, to church, to soccer games, even trick-or-treating.

How cool is that?

It only costs $50 to have someone you lub flattened. Maybe a little more if you want to drive the steam roller yourself.

Let's all go in on one together. Who should we buy? Jack Johnson? Jack Bauer? Or perhaps someone . . . a little more . . . sparkly?

Hee hee

This isn't a joke, peeps, so stop giggling. This is fo' real.

But, for the record, I did have a friend, Colleen, who lubbed Obama so much she got herself a flat daddy of him when we were in Washington D.C. together.

Do you think anyone would pay for a flat mommy? They're probably not in high demand, but I'm available if they need a model.

But seriously, I personally dig the whole flat daddy idea and not to put any peer pressure on you guys, but I'm going to go donate to the cause right now. Follow me over to find out more and to see the photographic evidence that they wouldn't let me steal for my blog. Just click on this link (Flat Daddy). You can donate as much or as little as you like.

Race you there!