"Fear is the path to the dark side." ~Yoda

No offense Master Yoda, but you are three feet tall, wear the same tattered smock day in and day out and live in a tree. You have a lot less to fear. My laundry load on the other hand...extremely scary. What's even scarier is that I spent more than six hours the other day doing nothing but folding laundry, and there was a new batch in the dryer this morning. I'm convinced we don't even own that many clothes. I think the laundry is now growing itself.

It's like those ridiculous trick birthday candles we always buy. After about the fourth time the flames come back, the jokes over, the birthday person is annoyed, and you're ready to just dump the cake in the sink.
Between never ending laundry or having to pull a star ship out of a swamp with my mind, I'd take the ship any day of the week. I'm sorry, what was that?...My geek is showing? Yeah, well, whatever.

Life in general has been a bit nuts lately which in turn has affected my blogging. Yet another thing to fear. As the days pass without a suitable update, I praise the invention of Caller ID. A week with no new post and I decline all incoming calls that say "Mom." She reminds me of Mike Meyers in that old SNL skit; Coffee Talk with Linda Richman?
"What? You're still not posting? Why not, you don't love your mother? You're out of topics? It's not that difficult. Here: the peanut is neither a pea nor a nut. Discuss."

Fear has also taken the form of my twenty month old who no longer naps, has become a finicky eater,(I resorted shamefully to feeding him a pudding Snack Pack for breakfast the other day) and has figured out in quick order, how to take off the doorknob protectors. He has been getting into everything. The laundry room, the pantry (for the sole purpose of either getting into food, or throwing food in the trashcan.) Closets, bedrooms and his own personal favorite, the bathrooms. He is drawn to the toilet and has determined that any consequence coming to him will be totally and utterly worth the two minutes of playing in it until I discover him.

We thought we were pretty clever for about twenty minutes after we installed the doorknob protectors. He couldn't get into anything, and was just going from door to door with this panicked and bewildered expression on his face. In my most loving and motherly manner I said, "Take that, punk."

He responded by figuring out how to take them off in no longer than half an hour. Sometimes, he just walks up to one, takes it off, throws it on the floor and walks away. I believe it to be the toddler equivalent of, "Who's the punk now?" Touche, Drew, Touche.

I suppose while I'm hanging out in Parent Rehab over here, it couldn't hurt to mention that we are also having an endless struggle with bedtime. It's kind of turning into the Taylor Bedtime Lottery. Some nights my firm no nonsense tone gets all four into bed with that small hint of fear in their eyes I so diligently work for. Other nights I pull my Sergent routine around 8:30 and it's all:

Hannah: Who is this clown?

Justin: I don't know, but she's blocking the TV.

Jackson: Can I have cake?

One night, I came across this scene in the office. I'm not sure, but if I had to guess, we could be doing better.

Let's see, what else? Did I mention that I'm training for a Half Marathon in like three weeks, (cannot wait for CA!) followed a week later by knee surgery? I'm also the YW Camp Director for my ward, along with Assistant Activity Days leader, Justin is in football, Jackson doesn't understand why he is not automatically in Kindergarten now that he is five, my brother is getting married in July, I started a Story blog, and oh, did I mention Drew doesn't NAP anymore??

I think about this time, Master Yoda would instruct,"Once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny, consume you it will." Hmmm...true, true...but at this point, I'm thinking if the Death Star is quiet and equipped with toddler proof bathrooms, I'm in.

I best go for now. I think I hear the laundry forming a Union.