My stepdaughter is not the healthiest of kids. Honestly? If she is not loaded up with mucus I'm surprised.
We believe that she, like Hub, has asthma and that it is reactive to allergens. Personally, I think it is mold. Much the same way Hub develops Wheeze-a-palooza whenever he visits his mother's house, Princess tends to develop nasty, phlegmy coughs whenever she has spent any length of time in their house.
More reason for her to not be in over-indulgence central...but I digress...
So, every time she spends any time at their house, she starts coughing like a 3-pack a day smoker. It's gross. Plus? There's not a whole lot we can do to help her. More often than not, she's not "ill" in the sense that we could give her antibiotics or something. She just gets more breathing treatments and some cough medicine before bed.
We have also discovered another exacerbating factor. And this discovery has shocked me with its weight. I had no idea that such developments occurred so early in life.
We have discovered that when she hacks up her considerable mucus, she does nothing with it....and this lack of dealing with it leads her to gag. Usually late at night while she's in bed. Which is fun for all involved, with the cleanup and sheet changing and late-night laundry.
So, Hub then has to have a conversation with her. "Princess (he uses her real name - Gertrude), if you cough something up, you need to either swallow it or spit it out."
Who knew that "spit or swallow" was determined so early in life? Because really, you can't just leave it sitting in your mouth or it will so make you gag.
She still hasn't gotten this concept. And her sitting with a bunch of phlegm in her mouth? Is also making me gag.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
So My MIL Drugged My Husband and Other Christmas Happenings
Christmas this year was quite the experience. As usual, we had to have several different Christmas celebrations.
My Father-in-Law's family is all in North Carolina. And they drive down every year to visit the family. So, they come visit us before hand so we can open gifts with them and send the NC gifts with them. That was the weekend before Christmas.
Then, we have my Mother-in-law's family. She is one of 5 sisters - 4 out of 5 of whom have multiple kids. And some of the kids are starting to pair off & have kids. So this celebration of 40 of our closest family members takes place on Christmas night in the great-grandparents' 2-bedroom house in the ass-crack of West Virginia. Seriously, I think I heard banjos on our drive in...a few miles down the dirt road to their house.
The fun part? Happened on Christmas Eve. My MIL's house is, um, not fastidiously cared for. When re-doing upstairs bedrooms? They knocked out a load-bearing wall. And they had some roof leaks which left the boxes in one room green and fuzzy before they got around to fixing it. So, yeah, they're a little blase' about stuff.
Hub also has asthma. His asthma was great in Arizona. Never saw the man use an inhaler once in the 2 years we lived there together. Once we got here? The inhaler came back. And whenever we visit his mother's? Wheeze-a-palooza. We think it's the mold.
So, we show up Christmas Eve to do our family gift exchange with them. Almost immediately upon arrival, we are plied with wine. Ok. I'm fine with that. A little bit later, Hub walks in with 2 pills. "What are you taking?" I ask.
"My mom gave me some allergy pills..." he says, washing them down with the wine.
"Ok, probably good since we forgot your inhaler."
About 45 minutes later, we head out to the porch so Hub can have a cigarette. He looks a little off. "Are you feeling ok?" I ask.
"I feel a little dizzy." He says. "I think it was the wine..."
"One glass of wine & you're dizzy? Puss." I scoff.
After a few minutes he says "I really don't feel well...I feel really light-headed & dizzy..."
At this point, MIL's expression changes a bit. She excuses herself. She comes back & informs us that she may have given Hub her anti-depressants instead of allergy medication. Being that she keeps them both in the same bottle & all.
WTF.
By this point, Hub is laying in my lap all non-verbal. He has mumbled that his heart is beating fast & he's short of breath. We call the emergency nurse line & they tell us we need to get him up & walking around.
Oh, and if he stops breathing or collapses, we should go to the ER.
WTF?!
He doesn't want to walk around. He's nauseated and wants to stay horizontal and immobile. Also? He hates going to the doctor.
I inform him that he will either get up & walk around with me...or I will enlist the aid of his grizzled old redneck Vietnam vet stepfather to wrastle him into the car and he will go to the ER. "Don't fuck with me," I tell him. "You're already poisoned, you won't be able to put up much of a fight...."
So, we walked around the block several times. He started feeling a little better.
I knew he'd be fine when he started arguing with me on the way home.
Oh, and I got a neat head cold for Christmas. Pfft.
My Father-in-Law's family is all in North Carolina. And they drive down every year to visit the family. So, they come visit us before hand so we can open gifts with them and send the NC gifts with them. That was the weekend before Christmas.
Then, we have my Mother-in-law's family. She is one of 5 sisters - 4 out of 5 of whom have multiple kids. And some of the kids are starting to pair off & have kids. So this celebration of 40 of our closest family members takes place on Christmas night in the great-grandparents' 2-bedroom house in the ass-crack of West Virginia. Seriously, I think I heard banjos on our drive in...a few miles down the dirt road to their house.
The fun part? Happened on Christmas Eve. My MIL's house is, um, not fastidiously cared for. When re-doing upstairs bedrooms? They knocked out a load-bearing wall. And they had some roof leaks which left the boxes in one room green and fuzzy before they got around to fixing it. So, yeah, they're a little blase' about stuff.
Hub also has asthma. His asthma was great in Arizona. Never saw the man use an inhaler once in the 2 years we lived there together. Once we got here? The inhaler came back. And whenever we visit his mother's? Wheeze-a-palooza. We think it's the mold.
So, we show up Christmas Eve to do our family gift exchange with them. Almost immediately upon arrival, we are plied with wine. Ok. I'm fine with that. A little bit later, Hub walks in with 2 pills. "What are you taking?" I ask.
"My mom gave me some allergy pills..." he says, washing them down with the wine.
"Ok, probably good since we forgot your inhaler."
About 45 minutes later, we head out to the porch so Hub can have a cigarette. He looks a little off. "Are you feeling ok?" I ask.
"I feel a little dizzy." He says. "I think it was the wine..."
"One glass of wine & you're dizzy? Puss." I scoff.
After a few minutes he says "I really don't feel well...I feel really light-headed & dizzy..."
At this point, MIL's expression changes a bit. She excuses herself. She comes back & informs us that she may have given Hub her anti-depressants instead of allergy medication. Being that she keeps them both in the same bottle & all.
WTF.
By this point, Hub is laying in my lap all non-verbal. He has mumbled that his heart is beating fast & he's short of breath. We call the emergency nurse line & they tell us we need to get him up & walking around.
Oh, and if he stops breathing or collapses, we should go to the ER.
WTF?!
He doesn't want to walk around. He's nauseated and wants to stay horizontal and immobile. Also? He hates going to the doctor.
I inform him that he will either get up & walk around with me...or I will enlist the aid of his grizzled old redneck Vietnam vet stepfather to wrastle him into the car and he will go to the ER. "Don't fuck with me," I tell him. "You're already poisoned, you won't be able to put up much of a fight...."
So, we walked around the block several times. He started feeling a little better.
I knew he'd be fine when he started arguing with me on the way home.
Oh, and I got a neat head cold for Christmas. Pfft.
Monday, December 20, 2010
An Unwelcome Visitor...and a (swear-laden) Rant
This past weekend was a bit of a crazy one for me. I'm likely not in the minority, being that there's some sort of holiday or something coming up I think.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Antlered Up
So, Kristin over at Taming Insanity has an antler contest going. While I can't compete with the cute kids/pets/modes of transportation already posted...I do have antlers. This is probably about as much of me as you'll ever see.
Also? I may or may not have inadvertently taken a picture of myself in an embarrassing (should it leak to the public) state of undress. Don't ask why I was taking antler pictures in any state of undress. Ok, Ok, I wanted to take the picture before I took a shower and wilted my hair & removed my makeup. This was a late-breaking idea.
Sigh.
I blame Kris. It was accidental, altho obviously not an original accident. Like Kris? Mine was immediatelyforwarded to my entire adress book sent to Hub deleted.
Also? I may or may not have inadvertently taken a picture of myself in an embarrassing (should it leak to the public) state of undress. Don't ask why I was taking antler pictures in any state of undress. Ok, Ok, I wanted to take the picture before I took a shower and wilted my hair & removed my makeup. This was a late-breaking idea.
Sigh.
I blame Kris. It was accidental, altho obviously not an original accident. Like Kris? Mine was immediately
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Random Bits & Boobs...er, Bobs
Today? Is going to be a random day. I don't really have a whole post in mind...but I have a few odds & ends rattling around in my head that I feel like babbling about. And Hub isn't available. So I guess you (my 7 loyal readers) will be the ones subjected to my random babble today.
Enjoy!
Whenever I have to pee in the middle of the night, but am too stubborn to get up and pee?
Enjoy!
Whenever I have to pee in the middle of the night, but am too stubborn to get up and pee?
Monday, December 13, 2010
So, tell me about your pregnancies...
Sometimes? This blog is my own little social experiment. I become curious about things, even things I'm not obsessed about...and I can post about it here to pick your brains.
Ahem**.
Ahem**.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
*This* Could Get Me a Baby!
Ok, so don't hate me...but I'm doing a meme. I'm doing a meme for a giveaway. Because this giveaway? Could get me pregnant!
Ok...stay with me here...
In the 1 in a bazillion chance that I won this giveaway (pay no attention to the reality of the odds...)? I would so get enough sperm that I would have to get pregnant. No fertile woman could be exposed to the amount of sperm to which I would be exposed if I won this giveaway and NOT get pregnant. True story.
Ok...stay with me here...
In the 1 in a bazillion chance that I won this giveaway (pay no attention to the reality of the odds...)? I would so get enough sperm that I would have to get pregnant. No fertile woman could be exposed to the amount of sperm to which I would be exposed if I won this giveaway and NOT get pregnant. True story.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Me vs. The Universe
Before I get started, I found a nifty new (to me) blog yesterday. I laughed heartily at the handful of posts I read & because I'm a humor whore (along with being a comment whore and a pumpkin whore), I went ahead and followed jillsmo's blog Yeah, Good Times. Lo and behold, I was the 100th follower. So today I mosey over to read her post and lil ol' me is in her blog because I was her 100th follower! Head on over & check her out, because she is funny! I likes me the funny.
We now resume our regularly scheduled blog post.
Anyone laughing at the "regularly scheduled" part? Will be punched in the junk. My hormones are all whacked. It is not wise to antagonize the hormonally imbalanced woman.
We now resume our regularly scheduled blog post.
Anyone laughing at the "regularly scheduled" part? Will be punched in the junk. My hormones are all whacked. It is not wise to antagonize the hormonally imbalanced woman.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Gratitude & Crap - Epilogue
ADD Moment - I hope I spelled epilogue right.
I had intended to blog with all my gratitude in life throughout the Thanksgiving holiday. However, I discovered that having a computer at my disposal makes blogging easier. I determined that I was not going to write a blog post via my Android touch screen phone.
I had intended to blog with all my gratitude in life throughout the Thanksgiving holiday. However, I discovered that having a computer at my disposal makes blogging easier. I determined that I was not going to write a blog post via my Android touch screen phone.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Gratitude & Crap, Day 2
In my continuing effort to "embrace gratitude" in my life, I am doing a series of posts, conveniently during the week of Thanksgiving, to express things for which I am grateful.
I am grateful that I can almost walk normally today.
I am grateful that the story of my dumbassery and klutz has provided much amusement for friends and family.
I am grateful that I can almost walk normally today.
I am grateful that the story of my dumbassery and klutz has provided much amusement for friends and family.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Gratitude & Crap
I was visiting over at Go, Pop, Go!'s blog today & he gave me an idea for blog posts this week.
ADD Moment: Ok, seriously. How am I supposed to punctuate the possessive here? Should it be "Go, Pop, Go!'s" or "Go, Pop, Go's!" Grammar fiends...help me here. I will lose sleep if this remains unanswered!
This week I'll be posting on what I'm thankful for.
ADD Moment: Ok, seriously. How am I supposed to punctuate the possessive here? Should it be "Go, Pop, Go!'s" or "Go, Pop, Go's!" Grammar fiends...help me here. I will lose sleep if this remains unanswered!
This week I'll be posting on what I'm thankful for.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Flipping Stuff Off
Ok, I haven't done Friday Flipoffs in a while. But I'm feeling crabby and cantankerous today. Plus? I've got shit to flip.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Hormones? I hate you.
Hormones suck. That is all.
Ok, no. That's not all. If that were all? This would be a Tweet. I'm not that hard up for blog posts that I'm resorting to five word posts.
Not yet, anyway.
Ok, no. That's not all. If that were all? This would be a Tweet. I'm not that hard up for blog posts that I'm resorting to five word posts.
Not yet, anyway.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Confessions of a boring average chick
Ok. Ok. I have so enjoyed reading everyone else's confessions, I thought I'd jump in here with my own. Which are probably pretty dull.
Also? My last two posts have no comments. Which makes me a sad panda. Perhaps I need to focus on something besides my maternal stress.
So, without further ado...confessions of a boring chick.
1. I'm a natural blonde.
2. I'm a bit of a control freak.
3. I am blind as a bat.
4. I secretly wish I could be on What Not to Wear so I could blow 5 grand on really nice clothes for myself.
5. I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up.
6. I'm a pack rat that wishes she were a neat freak but doesn't know how.
7. I think being a pack rat has often paid off for me.
8. Also? Procrastinating has worked out well for me on many occasions.
9. I really like nice things but am too cheap to buy them.
10. I love to bellydance & fantasize about actually being good at it.
11. I only wash my hair every other day.
12. I am an anti-establishment tattooed metal mommy who secretly wishes she could be a stylish June Cleaver. With tattoos. Who listened to metal while baking cookies.
13. I have a Britney Spears song on my mp3 player. On purpose.
14. I could watch Wolverine & Victor Creed fight it out all day. Throw in Jack Sparrow? & My life would be complete.
15. I have an amazing amount of completely unrelated knowledge in my head.
16. I may or may not have been a raging "herb" user in my 20s.
17. I like herbs better than alcohol.
18. I can eyeball almost anything. Well.
19. I envy people who know how to be stylish.
20. Sometimes? I'm just a little too lazy to be really accomplished. I'm not a "go getter."
21. I could never be a good SAHM.
22. I'm a total perv in my head...but no one on the outside would ever know it. Um, except you people reading this...Ahem.
23. I like unusual things. Everything is more amusing with extra eyeballs & tentacles.
24. I believe that cooking a steak beyond medium? Is blasphemy.
25. I have never cheated on anyone. I could have. But never have.
26. I am addicted to Criminal Minds. It's my crack.
27. I wanted to be a profiler way before most people knew what profilers were. But I am too empathic. I couldn't stomach it.
28. I am still going to shop at Amazon because I desperately hate going out to Christmas shop.
29. I was a floutist through college.
30. Drumlines? Still make me hot.
31. Powerful things? Also make me hot.
32. I desperately wish I still had a close girl friend, but I don't have the time to maintain a proper friendship.
33. Push-on bathroom faucets? Make me stabby.
34. I am also addicted to chai lattes.
35. It took me an hour to come up with 35 "confessions."
If you have made it this far? I admire your attention span.
Also? My last two posts have no comments. Which makes me a sad panda. Perhaps I need to focus on something besides my maternal stress.
So, without further ado...confessions of a boring chick.
1. I'm a natural blonde.
2. I'm a bit of a control freak.
3. I am blind as a bat.
4. I secretly wish I could be on What Not to Wear so I could blow 5 grand on really nice clothes for myself.
5. I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up.
6. I'm a pack rat that wishes she were a neat freak but doesn't know how.
7. I think being a pack rat has often paid off for me.
8. Also? Procrastinating has worked out well for me on many occasions.
9. I really like nice things but am too cheap to buy them.
10. I love to bellydance & fantasize about actually being good at it.
11. I only wash my hair every other day.
12. I am an anti-establishment tattooed metal mommy who secretly wishes she could be a stylish June Cleaver. With tattoos. Who listened to metal while baking cookies.
13. I have a Britney Spears song on my mp3 player. On purpose.
14. I could watch Wolverine & Victor Creed fight it out all day. Throw in Jack Sparrow? & My life would be complete.
15. I have an amazing amount of completely unrelated knowledge in my head.
16. I may or may not have been a raging "herb" user in my 20s.
17. I like herbs better than alcohol.
18. I can eyeball almost anything. Well.
19. I envy people who know how to be stylish.
20. Sometimes? I'm just a little too lazy to be really accomplished. I'm not a "go getter."
21. I could never be a good SAHM.
22. I'm a total perv in my head...but no one on the outside would ever know it. Um, except you people reading this...Ahem.
23. I like unusual things. Everything is more amusing with extra eyeballs & tentacles.
24. I believe that cooking a steak beyond medium? Is blasphemy.
25. I have never cheated on anyone. I could have. But never have.
26. I am addicted to Criminal Minds. It's my crack.
27. I wanted to be a profiler way before most people knew what profilers were. But I am too empathic. I couldn't stomach it.
28. I am still going to shop at Amazon because I desperately hate going out to Christmas shop.
29. I was a floutist through college.
30. Drumlines? Still make me hot.
31. Powerful things? Also make me hot.
32. I desperately wish I still had a close girl friend, but I don't have the time to maintain a proper friendship.
33. Push-on bathroom faucets? Make me stabby.
34. I am also addicted to chai lattes.
35. It took me an hour to come up with 35 "confessions."
If you have made it this far? I admire your attention span.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
I'm won't eat my young...
I won't. I won't. I won't.
I hope.
Lately I've been having mommy issues. I posted recently about my stress from adding my stepdaughter to our household. But it's more than just that. Kinda.
While she is there, for however long that may be, I must find a way to deal with the situation. While I much preferred the full-time family consisting only of Hub, Boo, and me? That is not my reality now. Like it or not.
So, that being said, I'm having some real issues dealing with the situation. I feel like I'm Evil Fire-Spewing Demon Mommy more often than not.
I am fairly old-school in the sense that I have rules (and by I? I mean the royal "I" of Hub and I...) and I expect them to be obeyed.
At least make an effort to obey.
Could you pretend to obey?
Jesus, at least try to make it look like you're obeying.
Dammit.
I try not to sweat the small stuff. I try to be relatively laid-back as long as no one is doing anything illegal, immoral, destructive, or inherently dangerous.
When I explain rules, I try to explain the general principle
(no playing on the stairs!)
and then try to close the loopholes
(that means no jumping on the stairs, no sliding down the stairs, no bouncing down the stairs, no throwing anything down the stairs, no rolling anything, no dropping anything - by "accident" or on purpose, no tossing anything. Do not play on the stairs in any way!)
CYA is important with kids. They're like little lawyers. They will find the loophole and exploit it.
I've learned to be consistent with discipline (about 98% of the time...I'm not God after all) and I have also learned (and am fervently trying to teach Hub) not to threaten things if I can't follow through.
I don't bluff.
Unfortunately? I kinda suck at discipline, in the sense that I'm just not very creative.
I was a very obedient kid. I didn't like disappointing (or angering) my parents. I got spanked a few times as a kid, got grounded a few times when I got older, and eventually (because I am an introvert and had virtually no friends and grounding was therefore kinda pointless) my parents took things away from me. Not a whole lot of creativity in my punishment background. And really? I wasn't punished that often because I didn't do much to deserve it. I saved most of my idiot behavior until I was an adult.
Hub? Was beaten. If he was being disciplined? He got "spanked" with various inanimate objects (switches, belts, etc.). He spent a fair amount of time being beaten by drunk father-figures as well. That didn't work out so well for him over the years. And it didn't keep him (or his brother) out of trouble. At all.
So our backgrounds are not offering a whole lot of useful information from which to draw.
I do make a strong effort to reinforce the positive. I have a psych degree. I know all about behaviorism. Reinforce the positive, punish the negative (well kinda, but I'm not going to argue the various forms of positive and negative reinforcement vs. punishment, how & when each are to be applied, etc. If you want that level of anal specificity? By a book on behaviorism.)
But dammit, they just don't seem to learn. We go thru the same stupid things over & over. Getting punished for it every time. And. They. Still. Keep. Doing. It.
Gaaaaahhhhh!
And my God, do they push my buttons.
I don't want to be the parent with those kids when we go out. I refuse to shop with both of them anymore because it's just too horrendous. Princess has her own special behavioral problems I discussed before. On his own? Boo is very well-behaved. With both of them? Everything goes to hell.
Perhaps it's just because I have 2 kids that are only 10 months apart. Perhaps it's because Princess has some serious behavioral issues as a result of her early childhood. I don't really know why. I can't quantify every variable.
But I do know that it is wearing on me.
I resent having to always be angry and disciplining. I resent that I no longer look forward to seeing them after work because they are so damn frustrating. Consistently.
I want my sweet Boo back. The one that is polite and isn't constantly trying to push buttons (he does this on purpose for his own amusement because Princess always whines to the occasion. Always.) The one that asks me science questions and wants to learn. The one that will talk to his mommy instead of squealing and grunting at her. The Boo that I knew for 4 years and still know every other weekend.
I want to find they joy I used to have in being a parent. I want less frustration when I go home at night. I don't want every night to be a tortuous countdown to bed time.
This situation is kicking my ass. The bad mood resulting from the constant frustration brings guilt. Guilt that I am so angry with the kids. Guilt that I sometimes scream at them when I've already asked a dozen times & they haven't listened. Guilt that Hub bears the brunt of the bad moods & the moods aren't even his fault.
I'm tired of feeling guilty. And I'm tired of being angry. But I can't just let them run wild. They have to learn and understand the whole concept of consequences and accountability. I refuse to raise spoiled, entitled little brats.
Does this require so much constant frustration & guilt?
Anyone...?
Bueller?
Bueller?
I hope.
Lately I've been having mommy issues. I posted recently about my stress from adding my stepdaughter to our household. But it's more than just that. Kinda.
While she is there, for however long that may be, I must find a way to deal with the situation. While I much preferred the full-time family consisting only of Hub, Boo, and me? That is not my reality now. Like it or not.
So, that being said, I'm having some real issues dealing with the situation. I feel like I'm Evil Fire-Spewing Demon Mommy more often than not.
I am fairly old-school in the sense that I have rules (and by I? I mean the royal "I" of Hub and I...) and I expect them to be obeyed.
At least make an effort to obey.
Could you pretend to obey?
Jesus, at least try to make it look like you're obeying.
Dammit.
I try not to sweat the small stuff. I try to be relatively laid-back as long as no one is doing anything illegal, immoral, destructive, or inherently dangerous.
When I explain rules, I try to explain the general principle
(no playing on the stairs!)
and then try to close the loopholes
(that means no jumping on the stairs, no sliding down the stairs, no bouncing down the stairs, no throwing anything down the stairs, no rolling anything, no dropping anything - by "accident" or on purpose, no tossing anything. Do not play on the stairs in any way!)
CYA is important with kids. They're like little lawyers. They will find the loophole and exploit it.
I've learned to be consistent with discipline (about 98% of the time...I'm not God after all) and I have also learned (and am fervently trying to teach Hub) not to threaten things if I can't follow through.
I don't bluff.
Unfortunately? I kinda suck at discipline, in the sense that I'm just not very creative.
I was a very obedient kid. I didn't like disappointing (or angering) my parents. I got spanked a few times as a kid, got grounded a few times when I got older, and eventually (because I am an introvert and had virtually no friends and grounding was therefore kinda pointless) my parents took things away from me. Not a whole lot of creativity in my punishment background. And really? I wasn't punished that often because I didn't do much to deserve it. I saved most of my idiot behavior until I was an adult.
Hub? Was beaten. If he was being disciplined? He got "spanked" with various inanimate objects (switches, belts, etc.). He spent a fair amount of time being beaten by drunk father-figures as well. That didn't work out so well for him over the years. And it didn't keep him (or his brother) out of trouble. At all.
So our backgrounds are not offering a whole lot of useful information from which to draw.
I do make a strong effort to reinforce the positive. I have a psych degree. I know all about behaviorism. Reinforce the positive, punish the negative (well kinda, but I'm not going to argue the various forms of positive and negative reinforcement vs. punishment, how & when each are to be applied, etc. If you want that level of anal specificity? By a book on behaviorism.)
But dammit, they just don't seem to learn. We go thru the same stupid things over & over. Getting punished for it every time. And. They. Still. Keep. Doing. It.
Gaaaaahhhhh!
And my God, do they push my buttons.
I don't want to be the parent with those kids when we go out. I refuse to shop with both of them anymore because it's just too horrendous. Princess has her own special behavioral problems I discussed before. On his own? Boo is very well-behaved. With both of them? Everything goes to hell.
Perhaps it's just because I have 2 kids that are only 10 months apart. Perhaps it's because Princess has some serious behavioral issues as a result of her early childhood. I don't really know why. I can't quantify every variable.
But I do know that it is wearing on me.
I resent having to always be angry and disciplining. I resent that I no longer look forward to seeing them after work because they are so damn frustrating. Consistently.
I want my sweet Boo back. The one that is polite and isn't constantly trying to push buttons (he does this on purpose for his own amusement because Princess always whines to the occasion. Always.) The one that asks me science questions and wants to learn. The one that will talk to his mommy instead of squealing and grunting at her. The Boo that I knew for 4 years and still know every other weekend.
I want to find they joy I used to have in being a parent. I want less frustration when I go home at night. I don't want every night to be a tortuous countdown to bed time.
This situation is kicking my ass. The bad mood resulting from the constant frustration brings guilt. Guilt that I am so angry with the kids. Guilt that I sometimes scream at them when I've already asked a dozen times & they haven't listened. Guilt that Hub bears the brunt of the bad moods & the moods aren't even his fault.
I'm tired of feeling guilty. And I'm tired of being angry. But I can't just let them run wild. They have to learn and understand the whole concept of consequences and accountability. I refuse to raise spoiled, entitled little brats.
Does this require so much constant frustration & guilt?
Anyone...?
Bueller?
Bueller?
Monday, November 8, 2010
Coming out of my cave
I'm the kind of person who likes to hovel up in her own little quiet cave, away from people. I'm not terribly social. I can be, if I must. I'm generally quite personable & most people like me.
But I am not very social. This is my preference. I find extensive social interaction to be draining. Then I want to retreat back into my cave with my pointy stick and poke at anyone who disturbs me.
That being said, I enjoy the connections I make through blogging & Twitter. Perhaps because these interactions are more on my terms. I log in when I have time/the inclination to do so. My phone does not alert me when I have new emails or new @s...despite the fact that it is set to do so. Ahem. I have not "fixed the glitch" because I find that it works for me.
After nearly 5 years of motherhood, however, I am discovering that the connections I am making with other parents? Is way helpful.
I don't often go looking for help. I really prefer to do things myself. Ask Hub about this.
But I've discovered that raising kids? Is not as straightforward as it might appear to an outsider. Sometimes, I become very stressed about a situation, thinking I'm failing miserably as a parent, only to discover that most kids are like mine & most parents are also unsuccessful with such situations. Or discovering that other parents also have to let things slide sometimes (*cough*cleaning*cough*putting away laundry*cough*).
I have been holding myself to an unrealistic standard. And sometimes I have been holding my kids to an equally unrealistic standard. This whole parenting thing? Is confusing. Having other people around to let you know that you're not completely tanking as a parent? ...Or support you when you do occasionally tank as a parent? Most helpful.
So, to all of you who are with me on this foggy, pot-hole laden, sniper infested marathon through the jungle of parenthood? A hearty thank you!
Oh, and could we get those little paper drink cups filled with vodka occasionally? Water isn't cutting it for me.
But I am not very social. This is my preference. I find extensive social interaction to be draining. Then I want to retreat back into my cave with my pointy stick and poke at anyone who disturbs me.
That being said, I enjoy the connections I make through blogging & Twitter. Perhaps because these interactions are more on my terms. I log in when I have time/the inclination to do so. My phone does not alert me when I have new emails or new @s...despite the fact that it is set to do so. Ahem. I have not "fixed the glitch" because I find that it works for me.
After nearly 5 years of motherhood, however, I am discovering that the connections I am making with other parents? Is way helpful.
I don't often go looking for help. I really prefer to do things myself. Ask Hub about this.
But I've discovered that raising kids? Is not as straightforward as it might appear to an outsider. Sometimes, I become very stressed about a situation, thinking I'm failing miserably as a parent, only to discover that most kids are like mine & most parents are also unsuccessful with such situations. Or discovering that other parents also have to let things slide sometimes (*cough*cleaning*cough*putting away laundry*cough*).
I have been holding myself to an unrealistic standard. And sometimes I have been holding my kids to an equally unrealistic standard. This whole parenting thing? Is confusing. Having other people around to let you know that you're not completely tanking as a parent? ...Or support you when you do occasionally tank as a parent? Most helpful.
So, to all of you who are with me on this foggy, pot-hole laden, sniper infested marathon through the jungle of parenthood? A hearty thank you!
Oh, and could we get those little paper drink cups filled with vodka occasionally? Water isn't cutting it for me.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
WTH did I do to my hair...?
I'm hopping into Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop this week since I have a good story for prompt #4 A hair disaster.
I was probably 18 at the time. I had decided that I would dye my medium blonde hair black for Halloween. I got the temporary black dye - the kind that says "Washes out in 6-8 shampoos!" right on the box. My hair was long enough that it actually took 2 to get it all, but I got it all. And it was pretty cool.
But then, about a week or so later (yeah, about a 6-8 shampoo period), the black was not washing out the way the box claimed it would. My hair was now a sickly blackish-green color. Dammit.
Kept waiting for it to wash out. Just became less black, more green. DAMmit.
So, using color wheel technology, I bought a nice red/brown color to counteract the green. Added this to my hair. Was WAY redder than the box claimed it would be, but ok. At least red is a naturally occurring hair color. I bought semi-permanent this time. I wanted slower-acting color change until the green had plenty of time to realize its defeat!
But as time went on, the brown began washing out of the red/brown color. And my hair was becoming quite orange. Rather carrot-like, in fact. Dammit.
Again, I apply my color wheel technology and I buy a nice ash blonde to counter the orangey red...but not go so far as green. This color did the job. But promptly washed out in 6-8 shampoos. Son of a...
I got another box of ash blonde, hoping that by the time this one washed out, most of the orange would've come with it.
Nope.
Now, I threw in the towel. I went to a salon. $100 later, I had my "root color" which is essentially a light brown. I was told to return later to get the blonde highlights put back.
When I returned, they put a plastic cap on my head (reminiscent of my great grandmother's plastic kerchief thing she used when it rained...) and proceeded to use something resembling a crochet hook to pull out pieces of hair from beneath the plastic cap.
Mind you, my hair was probably mid-back in length. Pulling little strands up through a plastic cap? Is not going to end well.
While I did get my blonde back, it cost me like $200 and resulted in like 2 days of conditioner-laden combing.
Beyond a couple of minor kool-aide bang-dyeing excursions, I have never again messed with my hair color.
I was probably 18 at the time. I had decided that I would dye my medium blonde hair black for Halloween. I got the temporary black dye - the kind that says "Washes out in 6-8 shampoos!" right on the box. My hair was long enough that it actually took 2 to get it all, but I got it all. And it was pretty cool.
But then, about a week or so later (yeah, about a 6-8 shampoo period), the black was not washing out the way the box claimed it would. My hair was now a sickly blackish-green color. Dammit.
Kept waiting for it to wash out. Just became less black, more green. DAMmit.
So, using color wheel technology, I bought a nice red/brown color to counteract the green. Added this to my hair. Was WAY redder than the box claimed it would be, but ok. At least red is a naturally occurring hair color. I bought semi-permanent this time. I wanted slower-acting color change until the green had plenty of time to realize its defeat!
But as time went on, the brown began washing out of the red/brown color. And my hair was becoming quite orange. Rather carrot-like, in fact. Dammit.
Again, I apply my color wheel technology and I buy a nice ash blonde to counter the orangey red...but not go so far as green. This color did the job. But promptly washed out in 6-8 shampoos. Son of a...
I got another box of ash blonde, hoping that by the time this one washed out, most of the orange would've come with it.
Nope.
Now, I threw in the towel. I went to a salon. $100 later, I had my "root color" which is essentially a light brown. I was told to return later to get the blonde highlights put back.
When I returned, they put a plastic cap on my head (reminiscent of my great grandmother's plastic kerchief thing she used when it rained...) and proceeded to use something resembling a crochet hook to pull out pieces of hair from beneath the plastic cap.
Mind you, my hair was probably mid-back in length. Pulling little strands up through a plastic cap? Is not going to end well.
While I did get my blonde back, it cost me like $200 and resulted in like 2 days of conditioner-laden combing.
Beyond a couple of minor kool-aide bang-dyeing excursions, I have never again messed with my hair color.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
A difficult situation
I write this post with the fear that I will be causing strife in my home. More often than not, my husband does not read my blog. But sometimes he does. And while I believe I have said everything that is in this blog to him (I firmly believe in honesty in a relationship), pouring it all out at once may not have positive results.
But I write because I have to. If I keep my feelings bottled? Bad things happen. I have been struggling for a while now and I am hoping that you, my 7 loyal readers as you all have in the past, can offer me some insight or advice that might help me make some progress with this situation. I am trying to do the right thing...but what is "right" has become a little bit fuzzy....
The past few months in our household have been difficult ones.
Last April (the week of our Honeymoon, actually), we got custody of Hub's 5-year-old daughter (aka Princess).
She has always been a bit more...um...high maintenance than my son (aka Boo). To be fair, Boo (who is 10 months younger than Princess) is a very well-behaved little kid. Very low maintenance on the whole. So understand that I have been, perhaps, a bit spoiled on the child-rearing front.
Getting custody of her was not my life's ultimate dream. She had generally not made a good impression on me with her histrionics, and I found our weekends with her (pre-custody) to be very stressful and tiring.
Again, to be fair, I think just adding another child to the mix is an instant chaos inducer. And chaos makes me twitchy. Me no likey the chaos. I do not wish to lay blame at her feet for all of my stress related to the situation. Some of it just had to do with managing another kid. I think any parent of 2 or more kids will attest to the fact that going from 1 to 2? Is a big deal.
My hope had been that if we had Princess full time, some of our structure, routine, and discipline (all of which she had previously been seriously lacking) would kind of smooth things out a little.
Yeah. It hasn't. At all, really. Some things have gotten worse.
Princess has some issues that I'm worried about, for her sake, for ours, and for her influence on Boo. She steals rather frequently, she lies a lot (even when she has clearly been busted), she manipulates, she believes she is entitled to whatever she wants, she destroys toys (hers most often, but too often the toys/possessions of others), she throws obnoxious fits when she does not get her way (and has been known to purposely break things during said fits), she gets angry and hits Boo (often without remorse), she destroys most things she touches, nothing seems to make her happy, and she complains c.o.n.s.t.a.n.t.l.y. about everything.
Pretty much anything Boo does, in her eyes he's doing it wrong. If he moves wrong, says the wrong thing, looks at her, points in her general direction, hums, plays his own way, laughs at something she has not deemed funny (seriously), etc. I mean nearly anything he does. And she will yell at him for it. Pretty much anything we do or buy for her? Isn't good enough. More complaining/whining/etc.
This is not the example we set in our house. I'm aware of the influence we as the role models have & we monitor our behavior closely. This? Is not a monkey-see, monkey-do thing. At least not from our household.
I realize that to some extent this kind of behavior is "normal" in a kid, altho I can't imagine even a fraction of her behavior being tolerated by my parents. The idea of me trying to pull this with my parents? Gives me the shivers. ::shudder:: But this kind of behavior isn't rare, or unusual, or even "not the norm." If she is not doing one or more of these things? We are pleasantly surprised.
It is that constant people. Seriously. And trying to manage/discipline that? Is frustrating and exhausting. Constantly.
Now, Boo is not blameless. I do not put him on some pillar of perfection, because he is not. He can be really frustrating at times. He is also a boy, so when he finds something that gets a rise out of Princess, he will exploit it. Which, since she complains about everything, is not a difficult endeavor.
Most nights when I get home from work, I spend the entirety of their remaining waking hours mediating arguments and sending them to their rooms because I can't stand the constant agitation. I've tried explaining, I've tried ignoring (i.e. depriving them of the attention for their behavior), I've tried requesting nicely that they stop, I've tried yelling when repeated requests go unheeded, and finally? I have just started punishing with time-outs to their bedrooms. Get along, or go sit by yourselves. I'm tired of it.
She complains. Boo provokes. She complains more. He keeps up with the provocation. She starts yelling at him and occasionally this has escalated to her kicking or hitting him. Meanwhile, I'm trying to get the dogs out, cook dinner, make lunches for tomorrow, and (insert whatever other miscellaneous tasks that need doing before tomorrow here).
Hub's relationship with her has suffered as well. The atmosphere in our household when she is gone? Is monumentally different.
This leaves me with some internal struggles.
1. If we continue to have custody (which is a real possibility), how will this affect our relationship, our family, and Boo? It has not been a positive experience thus far. At all. What if I have to cope with this for another 13-15 years? I love my husband. Tremendously. I do not marry easily. She is part of the package. That is something I have to accept. And I painfully want for it to be easier to accept.
2. I feel tremendously guilty and selfish for feeling the way I do and for wanting her to go back to her mother. Hub has accepted and treated Boo like his own. The love he has for Boo? Is obvious. It breaks my heart that I am unable to do that in return. I am very principled, so rules and expectations apply to all...but I cannot create an emotional attachment where none exists.
3. I really want to have a baby with my husband, but the idea of adding a baby to the current situation? Kinda makes my skin crawl.
4. Are all girls like this? If Hub & I do have a baby, there is a very real possibility it will be a girl. Is she just a bad representative for females? I don't remember being like that...and if I'd tried? My parents would've beat. my. ass. Seriously.
I am not the only one with these kinds of feelings. Others have expressed things to me as well. And Hub's relationship with her continues to suffer.
I know that being a parent requires sacrifice. I know that it's not all butterflies and rainbows. One could argue that sometimes people don't like their own biological children. And then what? Would I want to send her away then?
I understand the point there, but I am also a firm believer in nature+nurture. There are things that are fundamentally hard-wired at birth. The dozen healthy infants thing? Is crap. Genetics matter. And they make a difference. Environment? Shapes how what is naturally there manifests itself.
That being said? If she were my biological child, her environment would've been much different from birth, and she would be comprised of altogether different maternal genes. Not necessarily better, but different. She would not be the same child, so it is not a fair comparison.
But it does play into internal struggle #4. Sometimes parents don't like their biological children. What then?
I'm scared, confused, stressed, frustrated, concerned, guilt-ridden, and anxious. I cannot force myself to like someone I don't like. I can be civil, but that's about it.
So now? I wait. And I hope.
But I write because I have to. If I keep my feelings bottled? Bad things happen. I have been struggling for a while now and I am hoping that you, my 7 loyal readers as you all have in the past, can offer me some insight or advice that might help me make some progress with this situation. I am trying to do the right thing...but what is "right" has become a little bit fuzzy....
The past few months in our household have been difficult ones.
Last April (the week of our Honeymoon, actually), we got custody of Hub's 5-year-old daughter (aka Princess).
She has always been a bit more...um...high maintenance than my son (aka Boo). To be fair, Boo (who is 10 months younger than Princess) is a very well-behaved little kid. Very low maintenance on the whole. So understand that I have been, perhaps, a bit spoiled on the child-rearing front.
Getting custody of her was not my life's ultimate dream. She had generally not made a good impression on me with her histrionics, and I found our weekends with her (pre-custody) to be very stressful and tiring.
Again, to be fair, I think just adding another child to the mix is an instant chaos inducer. And chaos makes me twitchy. Me no likey the chaos. I do not wish to lay blame at her feet for all of my stress related to the situation. Some of it just had to do with managing another kid. I think any parent of 2 or more kids will attest to the fact that going from 1 to 2? Is a big deal.
My hope had been that if we had Princess full time, some of our structure, routine, and discipline (all of which she had previously been seriously lacking) would kind of smooth things out a little.
Yeah. It hasn't. At all, really. Some things have gotten worse.
Princess has some issues that I'm worried about, for her sake, for ours, and for her influence on Boo. She steals rather frequently, she lies a lot (even when she has clearly been busted), she manipulates, she believes she is entitled to whatever she wants, she destroys toys (hers most often, but too often the toys/possessions of others), she throws obnoxious fits when she does not get her way (and has been known to purposely break things during said fits), she gets angry and hits Boo (often without remorse), she destroys most things she touches, nothing seems to make her happy, and she complains c.o.n.s.t.a.n.t.l.y. about everything.
Pretty much anything Boo does, in her eyes he's doing it wrong. If he moves wrong, says the wrong thing, looks at her, points in her general direction, hums, plays his own way, laughs at something she has not deemed funny (seriously), etc. I mean nearly anything he does. And she will yell at him for it. Pretty much anything we do or buy for her? Isn't good enough. More complaining/whining/etc.
This is not the example we set in our house. I'm aware of the influence we as the role models have & we monitor our behavior closely. This? Is not a monkey-see, monkey-do thing. At least not from our household.
I realize that to some extent this kind of behavior is "normal" in a kid, altho I can't imagine even a fraction of her behavior being tolerated by my parents. The idea of me trying to pull this with my parents? Gives me the shivers. ::shudder:: But this kind of behavior isn't rare, or unusual, or even "not the norm." If she is not doing one or more of these things? We are pleasantly surprised.
It is that constant people. Seriously. And trying to manage/discipline that? Is frustrating and exhausting. Constantly.
Now, Boo is not blameless. I do not put him on some pillar of perfection, because he is not. He can be really frustrating at times. He is also a boy, so when he finds something that gets a rise out of Princess, he will exploit it. Which, since she complains about everything, is not a difficult endeavor.
Most nights when I get home from work, I spend the entirety of their remaining waking hours mediating arguments and sending them to their rooms because I can't stand the constant agitation. I've tried explaining, I've tried ignoring (i.e. depriving them of the attention for their behavior), I've tried requesting nicely that they stop, I've tried yelling when repeated requests go unheeded, and finally? I have just started punishing with time-outs to their bedrooms. Get along, or go sit by yourselves. I'm tired of it.
She complains. Boo provokes. She complains more. He keeps up with the provocation. She starts yelling at him and occasionally this has escalated to her kicking or hitting him. Meanwhile, I'm trying to get the dogs out, cook dinner, make lunches for tomorrow, and (insert whatever other miscellaneous tasks that need doing before tomorrow here).
Hub's relationship with her has suffered as well. The atmosphere in our household when she is gone? Is monumentally different.
This leaves me with some internal struggles.
1. If we continue to have custody (which is a real possibility), how will this affect our relationship, our family, and Boo? It has not been a positive experience thus far. At all. What if I have to cope with this for another 13-15 years? I love my husband. Tremendously. I do not marry easily. She is part of the package. That is something I have to accept. And I painfully want for it to be easier to accept.
2. I feel tremendously guilty and selfish for feeling the way I do and for wanting her to go back to her mother. Hub has accepted and treated Boo like his own. The love he has for Boo? Is obvious. It breaks my heart that I am unable to do that in return. I am very principled, so rules and expectations apply to all...but I cannot create an emotional attachment where none exists.
3. I really want to have a baby with my husband, but the idea of adding a baby to the current situation? Kinda makes my skin crawl.
4. Are all girls like this? If Hub & I do have a baby, there is a very real possibility it will be a girl. Is she just a bad representative for females? I don't remember being like that...and if I'd tried? My parents would've beat. my. ass. Seriously.
I am not the only one with these kinds of feelings. Others have expressed things to me as well. And Hub's relationship with her continues to suffer.
I know that being a parent requires sacrifice. I know that it's not all butterflies and rainbows. One could argue that sometimes people don't like their own biological children. And then what? Would I want to send her away then?
I understand the point there, but I am also a firm believer in nature+nurture. There are things that are fundamentally hard-wired at birth. The dozen healthy infants thing? Is crap. Genetics matter. And they make a difference. Environment? Shapes how what is naturally there manifests itself.
That being said? If she were my biological child, her environment would've been much different from birth, and she would be comprised of altogether different maternal genes. Not necessarily better, but different. She would not be the same child, so it is not a fair comparison.
But it does play into internal struggle #4. Sometimes parents don't like their biological children. What then?
I'm scared, confused, stressed, frustrated, concerned, guilt-ridden, and anxious. I cannot force myself to like someone I don't like. I can be civil, but that's about it.
So now? I wait. And I hope.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Parenting, For Realz
When I was in my early 20s, my best girlfriend was in her late 30s. She has 3 kids and had been married a couple or 6 times. I've always admired her faith in love and marriage...if not her choices in men. At that point, I was recently divorced with no kids. She would tell me about things that went on in her life and I watched how she handled her kids.
I often asked her "do they hand out crack in the delivery room so you can keep up with those kids??" I was amazed at how much she did with them, how little she slept, and how high-maintenance kids are in general.
Imagine my horror when I discovered that there are, in fact, no stimulant prescriptions handed out in the delivery room.
What I did discover, though, is that with my role of "mom" came a sense of responsibility that outweighs stuff like sleep, illness, and the general sense of "I don't wanna." There's all this unimaginable love and protectiveness and stuff. Not to mention all these stupid principles I have that make me feel guilty if I'm not a responsible parent giving my best effort to nurture good, responsible individuals.
The things that get done? Get done because they have to be done. My inconvenience? Is irrelevant.
Poopsplosions must be managed. The unending step-sibling argument storm must be weathered (seriously, do siblings ever get along??).
When Boo gets up at 3:45AM, decides it's "morning," and begins getting dressed, I must haul my happy ass out of bed & get him back to his bed. Without waking the rest of the household. Except the dog loaf. It is impossible to get out of bed without rousing the dog loaf and inciting the 120 decibel ear flapping.
Lunches must be made, homework must be done, notes to teachers must be written (and if they are to be written legibly I must write them), appointments made, chauffeuring to be done, peace maintained, medication dispensed, backpacks assembled, "whys" answered, laundry done, meals prepared, punishment doled, and snuggles stolen.
Sleep is foregone. Showers are skipped. Privacy is eliminated. Money pours out like a blast from a fire hydrant. Corporate casual must be pulled from the wrinkled heap in the laundry basket that has been waiting for a week to be put away and hopefully has not been peed on by any members of the household. Grown up TV is relegated to illicit late-night viewing. The illusion of maturity must be maintained. Swearing must be curbed. Phone calls from angry teachers and parents regarding the swearing must be dodged. Sex is relegated to clandestine secret ops only to be completed by the most elite of special forces. The good snacks must be stashed to be consumed only during ugly AM hours or while engaging in illicit late-night television viewing.
All of this for the loving gratitude of my darling children. Ahhh, listen to the sound of that gratitude...
(crickets chirping)
"I don't like these pants."
"these shoes are too tight."
"I don't want to wear socks."
"but I wanted that one."
"I don't like that food."
"you're mean."
"I don't want to go to bed."
"how come you didn't get me that one?"
"I want that."
"I want that, too."
"he's looking at me! Make him stop looking at me!"
"can't you do that instead?"
"No."
"I don't wanna."
Sigh. You're welcome guys.
I think I'm beginning to understand the reason parents push their adult children to create grandchildren. It's not because they so love the pitter patter of little grandchild feet.
No.
It's revenge.
(insert creepy pipe organ music and maniacal laughter here)
I often asked her "do they hand out crack in the delivery room so you can keep up with those kids??" I was amazed at how much she did with them, how little she slept, and how high-maintenance kids are in general.
Imagine my horror when I discovered that there are, in fact, no stimulant prescriptions handed out in the delivery room.
What I did discover, though, is that with my role of "mom" came a sense of responsibility that outweighs stuff like sleep, illness, and the general sense of "I don't wanna." There's all this unimaginable love and protectiveness and stuff. Not to mention all these stupid principles I have that make me feel guilty if I'm not a responsible parent giving my best effort to nurture good, responsible individuals.
The things that get done? Get done because they have to be done. My inconvenience? Is irrelevant.
Poopsplosions must be managed. The unending step-sibling argument storm must be weathered (seriously, do siblings ever get along??).
When Boo gets up at 3:45AM, decides it's "morning," and begins getting dressed, I must haul my happy ass out of bed & get him back to his bed. Without waking the rest of the household. Except the dog loaf. It is impossible to get out of bed without rousing the dog loaf and inciting the 120 decibel ear flapping.
Lunches must be made, homework must be done, notes to teachers must be written (and if they are to be written legibly I must write them), appointments made, chauffeuring to be done, peace maintained, medication dispensed, backpacks assembled, "whys" answered, laundry done, meals prepared, punishment doled, and snuggles stolen.
Sleep is foregone. Showers are skipped. Privacy is eliminated. Money pours out like a blast from a fire hydrant. Corporate casual must be pulled from the wrinkled heap in the laundry basket that has been waiting for a week to be put away and hopefully has not been peed on by any members of the household. Grown up TV is relegated to illicit late-night viewing. The illusion of maturity must be maintained. Swearing must be curbed. Phone calls from angry teachers and parents regarding the swearing must be dodged. Sex is relegated to clandestine secret ops only to be completed by the most elite of special forces. The good snacks must be stashed to be consumed only during ugly AM hours or while engaging in illicit late-night television viewing.
All of this for the loving gratitude of my darling children. Ahhh, listen to the sound of that gratitude...
(crickets chirping)
"I don't like these pants."
"these shoes are too tight."
"I don't want to wear socks."
"but I wanted that one."
"I don't like that food."
"you're mean."
"I don't want to go to bed."
"how come you didn't get me that one?"
"I want that."
"I want that, too."
"he's looking at me! Make him stop looking at me!"
"can't you do that instead?"
"No."
"I don't wanna."
Sigh. You're welcome guys.
I think I'm beginning to understand the reason parents push their adult children to create grandchildren. It's not because they so love the pitter patter of little grandchild feet.
No.
It's revenge.
(insert creepy pipe organ music and maniacal laughter here)
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Perhaps I'm a masochist. Or just stupid.
I scheduled my routine feminine grooming maintenance for Tuesday of this week. Due to the poor coordination of my "cycle" and my paychecks, I was "a bit" past due for said maintenance.
And by a bit? I mean it was waaaaay too 1969 down there. I'm not that natural. So not. After 30 minutes with my esthetician, all was cleaned up and ready to go. And a bit chafey. Fun.
For Wednesday, I scheduled my graduation present to myself. A lovely phoenix on my right shoulder blade. Note that the bra strap you see? Is a racer-back. Without that context, the placement of the tattoo would be weird. And I would have a very fat shoulder.
As you might notice, my skin is pretty red. 2 1/2 hours of tattoo leaves one rather sore. So now I'm chafey and sore. I'm thinking perhaps I should schedule a nipple piercing or something for this afternoon just to round out the pain trifecta for the week.
In what universe was I thinking that a Brazilian and a tattoo on successive days would be a good idea? Are there restraints & ball gags in my future? Or am I just a dumbass??
Wait. Don't answer that...
sigh
P.S. I am planning a follow-up to my previous post (A Requiem for My Dream). Possibly tomorrow. Not today. The feedback I've gotten has stirred my brain, but my thoughts are not yet congealed. I would prefer to wait until they are rather then dump a senseless gooey mess out there
And by a bit? I mean it was waaaaay too 1969 down there. I'm not that natural. So not. After 30 minutes with my esthetician, all was cleaned up and ready to go. And a bit chafey. Fun.
For Wednesday, I scheduled my graduation present to myself. A lovely phoenix on my right shoulder blade. Note that the bra strap you see? Is a racer-back. Without that context, the placement of the tattoo would be weird. And I would have a very fat shoulder.
As you might notice, my skin is pretty red. 2 1/2 hours of tattoo leaves one rather sore. So now I'm chafey and sore. I'm thinking perhaps I should schedule a nipple piercing or something for this afternoon just to round out the pain trifecta for the week.
In what universe was I thinking that a Brazilian and a tattoo on successive days would be a good idea? Are there restraints & ball gags in my future? Or am I just a dumbass??
Wait. Don't answer that...
sigh
P.S. I am planning a follow-up to my previous post (A Requiem for My Dream). Possibly tomorrow. Not today. The feedback I've gotten has stirred my brain, but my thoughts are not yet congealed. I would prefer to wait until they are rather then dump a senseless gooey mess out there
Monday, October 11, 2010
A Requiem for My Dream
I have been giving my blog a lot of thought lately. I have been all guilt-ridden for not posting as frequently as I think I should. As frequently as I really ought to if I want people to keep reading it.
I have still been reading a few others' blogs because they bring me joy to read. I look forward to reading posts from these people. Not out of any sense of obligation, just because I like to read what they have to say.
In doing this, however, I have come to a realization about my writing. It is a realization that I've already had in other aspects of my life, but not about my writing.
This realization? Makes me rather sad.
In other areas of my life, I never had any real passion for the subject, so the realization wasn't so bad. About my writing? I am sad. For this is one thing I have always loved and have believed that it was something at which I was at least moderately adept. I have believed that with practice and hard work? I could take moderately adept to some kind of wonderful.
But practice doesn't replace ability. Practice only refines what is already there.
My realization? Is that I'm just not meant to create. I am unable to craft something from nothing.
I know this ability when I see it. I'm the daughter of a creator. I'm the wife of a creator. I'm actually the ex-wife of a creator, too. And I? Am not a creator.
What I can do? Is see what makes something a worthy creation. I know talented versus well-trained but passionless musicians when I hear them. I know good photography when I see it. I know an artist with genuine talent when I meet them. I know good when I see it. I see the qualities of their gift and their passion that allows them to create something wonderful from the depths within themselves. But I do not have these qualities within myself. When I look inside myself? I do not see those raw materials that, with inspiration, create beauty. My depths are full of feelings and mush that all turns to imitation goo when I try to do anything with them.
I had hoped that maybe I just didn't have creative musical ability or creative artistic ability or creative photographic ability or the ability to create pretty solutions to problems. I had hoped that my lack of creative gift was because I hadn't found the right "thing" yet. I don't think that's it. I think it is more a general lacking of the ability to create.
What I can do? Is tinker with something existing. I can tweak stuff to make it a little better or a little different, but I have to have something to start with. Someone else has to do the creating before I can do the tweaking.
I guess I'm a tweaker. Isn't that lovely.
So where does that leave my illustrious blog? I don't know. I'm a bit of the competitive sort, and I'm not real big on propagating mediocrity. While I never had any dreams of quitting my job & writing for a living, I still prefer to be among (or at least in the same ball park as) the best if I choose to do something.
I said I started this blog for myself, and that was mostly true. But honestly? There was a part of me that wanted my writing to blossom into something beautiful. Sadly though, while I gave it my best, it has kind of withered, like so many of the plants I've tried to nurture over the years.
Ironically, I'm going to try gardening next spring. Let's not discuss my head and its sandy location.
Please understand that I'm not fishing for anything. For the most part? I keep my self-pity fishing pole stored under my bed for occasional use on Hub when I need a little verbal stroking & he's not getting the hint. Comment as you like, but I'm not trying to incite anything. I feel as if I need to explain why I have not posted lately, as well as mourn a dream. My realization was a surprise to me & hit harder than I would've expected.
Will I continue to post? Possibly. Even probably. Writing is a compulsion for me, regardless of it's quality of content. But it has become like that friend you have. And you really want to take it to that level beyond friendship. But that friend? Has other ideas. Other loves. The friendship means to much to me to abandon completely. But I am sad that we cannot have the love affair that I had hoped for.
I have still been reading a few others' blogs because they bring me joy to read. I look forward to reading posts from these people. Not out of any sense of obligation, just because I like to read what they have to say.
In doing this, however, I have come to a realization about my writing. It is a realization that I've already had in other aspects of my life, but not about my writing.
This realization? Makes me rather sad.
In other areas of my life, I never had any real passion for the subject, so the realization wasn't so bad. About my writing? I am sad. For this is one thing I have always loved and have believed that it was something at which I was at least moderately adept. I have believed that with practice and hard work? I could take moderately adept to some kind of wonderful.
But practice doesn't replace ability. Practice only refines what is already there.
My realization? Is that I'm just not meant to create. I am unable to craft something from nothing.
I know this ability when I see it. I'm the daughter of a creator. I'm the wife of a creator. I'm actually the ex-wife of a creator, too. And I? Am not a creator.
What I can do? Is see what makes something a worthy creation. I know talented versus well-trained but passionless musicians when I hear them. I know good photography when I see it. I know an artist with genuine talent when I meet them. I know good when I see it. I see the qualities of their gift and their passion that allows them to create something wonderful from the depths within themselves. But I do not have these qualities within myself. When I look inside myself? I do not see those raw materials that, with inspiration, create beauty. My depths are full of feelings and mush that all turns to imitation goo when I try to do anything with them.
I had hoped that maybe I just didn't have creative musical ability or creative artistic ability or creative photographic ability or the ability to create pretty solutions to problems. I had hoped that my lack of creative gift was because I hadn't found the right "thing" yet. I don't think that's it. I think it is more a general lacking of the ability to create.
What I can do? Is tinker with something existing. I can tweak stuff to make it a little better or a little different, but I have to have something to start with. Someone else has to do the creating before I can do the tweaking.
I guess I'm a tweaker. Isn't that lovely.
So where does that leave my illustrious blog? I don't know. I'm a bit of the competitive sort, and I'm not real big on propagating mediocrity. While I never had any dreams of quitting my job & writing for a living, I still prefer to be among (or at least in the same ball park as) the best if I choose to do something.
I said I started this blog for myself, and that was mostly true. But honestly? There was a part of me that wanted my writing to blossom into something beautiful. Sadly though, while I gave it my best, it has kind of withered, like so many of the plants I've tried to nurture over the years.
Ironically, I'm going to try gardening next spring. Let's not discuss my head and its sandy location.
Please understand that I'm not fishing for anything. For the most part? I keep my self-pity fishing pole stored under my bed for occasional use on Hub when I need a little verbal stroking & he's not getting the hint. Comment as you like, but I'm not trying to incite anything. I feel as if I need to explain why I have not posted lately, as well as mourn a dream. My realization was a surprise to me & hit harder than I would've expected.
Will I continue to post? Possibly. Even probably. Writing is a compulsion for me, regardless of it's quality of content. But it has become like that friend you have. And you really want to take it to that level beyond friendship. But that friend? Has other ideas. Other loves. The friendship means to much to me to abandon completely. But I am sad that we cannot have the love affair that I had hoped for.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Just you wait...
When I was younger, say mid teens through early 20s, I had all these opinions. And they were strong opinions. Because of course with all that life experience from which I could draw, I sure knew what I was talking about.
I had political opinions. I had opinions about kids, abortion, sex, relationships, etc. Since then, I've aged.
Matured, even.
A little bit.
Kinda.
Through my experience, I've learned that a.) things are usually not that black & white and b.) I don't know shit.
I try to keep this in mind when dealing with others. I try not to be too judgy of people who do not have the benefit of my experience. Or any experience really.
And while I try to keep this in mind, it doesn't stop me from rolling my eyes & thinking some judgy stuff when I'm presented with certain situations.
My stepbrother & his wife are a good example. They are 21 & are going to have a baby in a couple of months.
Now, at 32 I know what I think of 21-year-olds. Insert eye roll here. I can only imagine how those of you with a decade on me feel about me. A 51-year-old woman called me a fetus last week, so that gives me an idea.
I like my stepbrother. He's cool. A little short-sighted & thus a little lacking in the responsibility department, but he has a good heart. His wife? Not so much. Her gravitational pull is a little more than I can tolerate.
I like to imagine peas underneath her mattress whenever I find her a little too ridiculous. She doesn't work because she just doesn't want to (even before she was pregnant) and she constantly complains about not having any money. Whenever they do get money? They show up with new $400 cell phones, new jewelry, or some other unnecessary extravagance. Then she begs money off of other people to buy plane tickets to go home to visit for the holidays because they just can't get the money together on their own...
Does anyone else find it hard to restrain the "oh puh-lease...."?
But...I know what's coming.
A baby is coming. And they have no clue what that means. No clue at all.
Because no one does. That's part of the joy of becoming a parent for the first time. That "Ohhhh shit...." realization.
When you realize that you don't know what the hell you're doing, but a life depends on you doing it right. A life to which you're probably pretty attached.
I chuckle when she complains about having to get out of bed at noon. Or when she will post about how she's loafing around on the couch all day.
Someone's in for a rude awakening.
I hope that this child will give them the grow up kick in the ass I believe they need. To start thinking beyond what they want for themselves at this very moment. To realize that sometimes someone else's needs come before your own.
I know it's not my kid, it's not my relationship, & therefore, it's not my business. I disagree with many of their attitudes and choices, but I don't share my opinion with anyone because this is their journey to figure out. I just have a pretty educated guess about what's coming (based on my experience with the amazingly easy Boo) and I worry. I know what kids can do to relationships. And I know what ridiculously selfish parents can do to kids. And I worry.
Because that's what I do. And for his sake, (as well as my stepmother's, who I love dearly), I don't want to see my stepbrother fail at something as serious as marriage and parenthood. Sometimes it's really hard to stand by and watch something you're pretty sure is going to be a fiery train wreck and do nothing but pray you're wrong.
I had political opinions. I had opinions about kids, abortion, sex, relationships, etc. Since then, I've aged.
Matured, even.
A little bit.
Kinda.
Through my experience, I've learned that a.) things are usually not that black & white and b.) I don't know shit.
I try to keep this in mind when dealing with others. I try not to be too judgy of people who do not have the benefit of my experience. Or any experience really.
And while I try to keep this in mind, it doesn't stop me from rolling my eyes & thinking some judgy stuff when I'm presented with certain situations.
My stepbrother & his wife are a good example. They are 21 & are going to have a baby in a couple of months.
Now, at 32 I know what I think of 21-year-olds. Insert eye roll here. I can only imagine how those of you with a decade on me feel about me. A 51-year-old woman called me a fetus last week, so that gives me an idea.
I like my stepbrother. He's cool. A little short-sighted & thus a little lacking in the responsibility department, but he has a good heart. His wife? Not so much. Her gravitational pull is a little more than I can tolerate.
I like to imagine peas underneath her mattress whenever I find her a little too ridiculous. She doesn't work because she just doesn't want to (even before she was pregnant) and she constantly complains about not having any money. Whenever they do get money? They show up with new $400 cell phones, new jewelry, or some other unnecessary extravagance. Then she begs money off of other people to buy plane tickets to go home to visit for the holidays because they just can't get the money together on their own...
Does anyone else find it hard to restrain the "oh puh-lease...."?
But...I know what's coming.
A baby is coming. And they have no clue what that means. No clue at all.
Because no one does. That's part of the joy of becoming a parent for the first time. That "Ohhhh shit...." realization.
When you realize that you don't know what the hell you're doing, but a life depends on you doing it right. A life to which you're probably pretty attached.
I chuckle when she complains about having to get out of bed at noon. Or when she will post about how she's loafing around on the couch all day.
Someone's in for a rude awakening.
I hope that this child will give them the grow up kick in the ass I believe they need. To start thinking beyond what they want for themselves at this very moment. To realize that sometimes someone else's needs come before your own.
I know it's not my kid, it's not my relationship, & therefore, it's not my business. I disagree with many of their attitudes and choices, but I don't share my opinion with anyone because this is their journey to figure out. I just have a pretty educated guess about what's coming (based on my experience with the amazingly easy Boo) and I worry. I know what kids can do to relationships. And I know what ridiculously selfish parents can do to kids. And I worry.
Because that's what I do. And for his sake, (as well as my stepmother's, who I love dearly), I don't want to see my stepbrother fail at something as serious as marriage and parenthood. Sometimes it's really hard to stand by and watch something you're pretty sure is going to be a fiery train wreck and do nothing but pray you're wrong.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Top 10 Things I love about my job
It's been a few weeks since I've participated in Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop, so I thought I'd jump in again this week, since I'm being all posty this week.
This week I chose Prompt #5.
10 Reasons why you love your job.
1. The Paycheck that comes fairly regularly. Every week when I get my "Payday" reminder in outlook? I'm all happy that I will have the illusion that I have money again. For a few minutes.
2. My boss is not an asshat. This is important. I think he is the first non-asshat boss I've had. It really makes a difference, actually. He's actually pretty amusing, which is an extra bonus.
3. It is not the Post Office. I did 7 years hard time as a postal worker. The stereotype of "going postal"? Is there for a reason. I determined that no matter how much I hated my job, my idiot supervisors, and many of my idiot coworkers? None of them were worth jail, than you very much.
4. The internet is there. What else needs to be said? I <3 the internet. So much.
5. I have 2 monitors. Now I'm just bragging. The 2 monitor thing? Is so freaking awesome. Altho it does make my laptop at home seem woefully inadequate, what with it's single screen and all.
6. I have not slept with anyone I work with. Sleeping with coworkers has only worked out well for me once. I married that one. Previously? I ended up dealing with really immature men creating drama. And one stalker.
7. We frequently get cake. Everyone in this place is pregnant. I'm afraid to drink the water here. But all these pregnant people? Get baby showers. And baby showers mean cake. I <3 cake.
8. I have a whole file drawer full of snacks. Munchies? Are crucial to maintaining my sanity through the day. Seriously. If I don't eat regularly? I turn into psycho bitch. And no one likes that.
9. There is a Chipotle within lunching distance. No explanation is necessary for this one.
10. I love the feeling of being just Me for 8 hours a day. No one expects me to clean up their poop, cook for them, or do their laundry.
This week I chose Prompt #5.
10 Reasons why you love your job.
1. The Paycheck that comes fairly regularly. Every week when I get my "Payday" reminder in outlook? I'm all happy that I will have the illusion that I have money again. For a few minutes.
2. My boss is not an asshat. This is important. I think he is the first non-asshat boss I've had. It really makes a difference, actually. He's actually pretty amusing, which is an extra bonus.
3. It is not the Post Office. I did 7 years hard time as a postal worker. The stereotype of "going postal"? Is there for a reason. I determined that no matter how much I hated my job, my idiot supervisors, and many of my idiot coworkers? None of them were worth jail, than you very much.
4. The internet is there. What else needs to be said? I <3 the internet. So much.
5. I have 2 monitors. Now I'm just bragging. The 2 monitor thing? Is so freaking awesome. Altho it does make my laptop at home seem woefully inadequate, what with it's single screen and all.
6. I have not slept with anyone I work with. Sleeping with coworkers has only worked out well for me once. I married that one. Previously? I ended up dealing with really immature men creating drama. And one stalker.
7. We frequently get cake. Everyone in this place is pregnant. I'm afraid to drink the water here. But all these pregnant people? Get baby showers. And baby showers mean cake. I <3 cake.
8. I have a whole file drawer full of snacks. Munchies? Are crucial to maintaining my sanity through the day. Seriously. If I don't eat regularly? I turn into psycho bitch. And no one likes that.
9. There is a Chipotle within lunching distance. No explanation is necessary for this one.
10. I love the feeling of being just Me for 8 hours a day. No one expects me to clean up their poop, cook for them, or do their laundry.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Tales of an Asshat
So, I got some inspiration from Kristin over at Taming Insanity about being an asshat. Go read her post because it's funny. I'll wait.
...
Back?
...Helllllooo?...Hey! You were supposed to come back! Hmph.
Well fine then. I'm still going to tell the tale of my asshattery. Even if I'm talking to myself. Well, typing to myself. Oh, never mind.
So. A while back, my stepdaughter Princess had a bit of a "poo incident" as we like to call them. I discovered this when Hub emerged from the bathroom carrying her shorts and underwear with 2 fingers at a significant distance from his person.
"She didn't make it to the bathroom on time." Oh, goody. "What should I do with these?"
Burn them? Throw them in a bucket of turpentine? Take this opportunity to teach Princess how to wash her own clothes?
Sigh.
"Put them in the utility sink thingy downstairs by the washer. I'll get it later."
So, he dutifully takes the offending soiled garments downstairs & tosses them in the sink, just as I have asked him to do. Good Hub. Thank you. You have listened well.
Later on, I threw in a load of laundry. I don't remember what I washed, but it was something with which poo crusted underwear was not compatible, so I did not throw those in with the wash. I left them in the utility sink where hub had tossed them for me.
Fast forward an hour or so. I go into the laundry room to put the load in the dryer. I notice, as I step in it's cold, squishy goodness, that the rug in front of the washer is wet.
First thought? Is "damn cat peed on the rug!" I glance around the laundry room & notice that a lot of the floor is wet. Gandalf (cat) has done some impressive things in his day, but this amount of wet? Is out of even his league.
See, the floor is not just a little wet. There are puddles.
I start to panic, thinking the water heater has sprung a leak. I start running through scenarios of how I'm going to break this joyous news to Hub. And the freezing shower I'll have to take that night.
Then it occurs to me, I had just given Boo a bath & the water was plenty warm. Probably wouldn't be the case if the water heater was in the process of its explosive death throes.
Then I notice the sink. And the underwear that are now stuffed in the drain. Our washer drains into this sink. So it is kinda important that the drain remain unobstructed. Didn't occur to me when I told Hub to toss the underwear in there. Or when I started the laundry.
It's amazing how much of a mess a poo incident in a tiny pair of underwear can make when the situation is managed by an asshat like myself!
Ooops. And guess who got to mop up the laundry room? It even flooded the cat box. Yay me.
Sigh.
...
Back?
...Helllllooo?...Hey! You were supposed to come back! Hmph.
Well fine then. I'm still going to tell the tale of my asshattery. Even if I'm talking to myself. Well, typing to myself. Oh, never mind.
So. A while back, my stepdaughter Princess had a bit of a "poo incident" as we like to call them. I discovered this when Hub emerged from the bathroom carrying her shorts and underwear with 2 fingers at a significant distance from his person.
"She didn't make it to the bathroom on time." Oh, goody. "What should I do with these?"
Burn them? Throw them in a bucket of turpentine? Take this opportunity to teach Princess how to wash her own clothes?
Sigh.
"Put them in the utility sink thingy downstairs by the washer. I'll get it later."
So, he dutifully takes the offending soiled garments downstairs & tosses them in the sink, just as I have asked him to do. Good Hub. Thank you. You have listened well.
Later on, I threw in a load of laundry. I don't remember what I washed, but it was something with which poo crusted underwear was not compatible, so I did not throw those in with the wash. I left them in the utility sink where hub had tossed them for me.
Fast forward an hour or so. I go into the laundry room to put the load in the dryer. I notice, as I step in it's cold, squishy goodness, that the rug in front of the washer is wet.
First thought? Is "damn cat peed on the rug!" I glance around the laundry room & notice that a lot of the floor is wet. Gandalf (cat) has done some impressive things in his day, but this amount of wet? Is out of even his league.
See, the floor is not just a little wet. There are puddles.
I start to panic, thinking the water heater has sprung a leak. I start running through scenarios of how I'm going to break this joyous news to Hub. And the freezing shower I'll have to take that night.
Then it occurs to me, I had just given Boo a bath & the water was plenty warm. Probably wouldn't be the case if the water heater was in the process of its explosive death throes.
Then I notice the sink. And the underwear that are now stuffed in the drain. Our washer drains into this sink. So it is kinda important that the drain remain unobstructed. Didn't occur to me when I told Hub to toss the underwear in there. Or when I started the laundry.
It's amazing how much of a mess a poo incident in a tiny pair of underwear can make when the situation is managed by an asshat like myself!
Ooops. And guess who got to mop up the laundry room? It even flooded the cat box. Yay me.
Sigh.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Cawfee Tawk
Today, I pose a question for you guys.
And I'll answer my own question, too. Just because I'm verbose like that. Plus? I don't want to post a 2 line blog. I think I'd feel like I was cheating.
Can a bad person be a good parent?
Discuss.
My answer? I don't really think so. I know you guys have all had some really diverse upbringings, so I'm terribly curious to get some opinions on this.
This came up in one of my classes recently (did I mention I'm precisely 2 weeks away from being done with my bachelors?) and the thought intrigued me.
I suppose one would need to define "bad person" before one could adequately answer the question. And even that? Is relative. What I think the criteria for "bad person" are? May be far different than what you think qualifies.
I think that a huge part of being a parent is setting an example for your kids. I am so not a "Do as I say not as I do" kind of parent. I always hated that as a kid.
I kind of have issues with hypocrisy. But that's another post.
I think if someone is a bad person, they would be setting a fundamentally bad example for their kids. I think they would be prone to making poorer parenting choices.
I think a bad person could really love their kids. I think a bad person could want the best for their kids. But if that person is fundamentally flawed in their thoughts and/or behavior? I'm not sure how that could translate into good parent.
I suppose it could be argued that said bad parent could be setting the example of what not to do. I know I learned a lot about what I didn't want my marriage to be based on my parents' relationship. So I could, perhaps, see that point. Perhaps.
I really am curious. If you disagree, I'm totally cool with that...as long as you explain yourself! Tell me...what do you think?
And I'll answer my own question, too. Just because I'm verbose like that. Plus? I don't want to post a 2 line blog. I think I'd feel like I was cheating.
Can a bad person be a good parent?
Discuss.
My answer? I don't really think so. I know you guys have all had some really diverse upbringings, so I'm terribly curious to get some opinions on this.
This came up in one of my classes recently (did I mention I'm precisely 2 weeks away from being done with my bachelors?) and the thought intrigued me.
I suppose one would need to define "bad person" before one could adequately answer the question. And even that? Is relative. What I think the criteria for "bad person" are? May be far different than what you think qualifies.
I think that a huge part of being a parent is setting an example for your kids. I am so not a "Do as I say not as I do" kind of parent. I always hated that as a kid.
I kind of have issues with hypocrisy. But that's another post.
I think if someone is a bad person, they would be setting a fundamentally bad example for their kids. I think they would be prone to making poorer parenting choices.
I think a bad person could really love their kids. I think a bad person could want the best for their kids. But if that person is fundamentally flawed in their thoughts and/or behavior? I'm not sure how that could translate into good parent.
I suppose it could be argued that said bad parent could be setting the example of what not to do. I know I learned a lot about what I didn't want my marriage to be based on my parents' relationship. So I could, perhaps, see that point. Perhaps.
I really am curious. If you disagree, I'm totally cool with that...as long as you explain yourself! Tell me...what do you think?
Monday, September 20, 2010
This morning sucked.
Ok, so this morning sucked. You may have already gotten this impression from my clever title. Perhaps.
I mean really sucked. In the "my eyes are still puffy and irritated, and I had to do disaster management on my makeup" kind of way.
I hope the universe isn't trying to give me the finger again. I like it better when the universe likes me.
*sigh*
When dealing with kids, one has to learn about behavior management. We want to encourage the behavior we like and discourage the behavior we don't like. Right?
Right.
I'm discovering that marriage is much the same way. Not in the sense that I'm "training" Hub to be a good little Stepford Husband. In the sense that if I want an actual honest relationship? I can't freak out & go all psycho bitch on him for being honest.
Assuming he wasn't an asshat in the delivery process.
Today? I feel like the asshat. One big rectal-cranial juncture.
Today? I want to scream.
And cry (some more).
And throw something.
Wait, I'd like to punch that thing before I throw it.
Today? I've realized that there are some battles? I just don't have the energy to fight. The battle will still be there. It will always be there. I realize that now. And it's a battle I can't win. Knowing I can't win a battle that will always be there? Makes me feel stupid for even trying to fight. Maybe that makes me weak. I dunno.
Also? I really hate those arguments where I know he's right and by knowing he's right? I also know that I have done something stupid/mean/unfair. I hate being stupid or unfair. Feeling stupid? Sends me from zero to psycho bitch in 3.7 seconds.
And I just plain don't like injustice.
Being mean? Eh. I can deal with that from time to time. Being a mommy has desensitized me to mean.
Pffft. Mean.
So this morning? He was right.
And the whole asshat thing? Makes it really hard to get my makeup on right. We will not even discuss blow-drying. ::Ow::
I so hate it when he's right.
This post is part of the Word Up, Yo! Weekly meme hosted by the Nerd Mafia Dons Liz at a belle, a bean, and a chicago dog; Kristin from Taming Insanity; and Natalie from Mommy of a Monster
I mean really sucked. In the "my eyes are still puffy and irritated, and I had to do disaster management on my makeup" kind of way.
I hope the universe isn't trying to give me the finger again. I like it better when the universe likes me.
*sigh*
When dealing with kids, one has to learn about behavior management. We want to encourage the behavior we like and discourage the behavior we don't like. Right?
Right.
I'm discovering that marriage is much the same way. Not in the sense that I'm "training" Hub to be a good little Stepford Husband. In the sense that if I want an actual honest relationship? I can't freak out & go all psycho bitch on him for being honest.
Assuming he wasn't an asshat in the delivery process.
Today? I feel like the asshat. One big rectal-cranial juncture.
Today? I want to scream.
And cry (some more).
And throw something.
Wait, I'd like to punch that thing before I throw it.
Today? I've realized that there are some battles? I just don't have the energy to fight. The battle will still be there. It will always be there. I realize that now. And it's a battle I can't win. Knowing I can't win a battle that will always be there? Makes me feel stupid for even trying to fight. Maybe that makes me weak. I dunno.
Also? I really hate those arguments where I know he's right and by knowing he's right? I also know that I have done something stupid/mean/unfair. I hate being stupid or unfair. Feeling stupid? Sends me from zero to psycho bitch in 3.7 seconds.
And I just plain don't like injustice.
Being mean? Eh. I can deal with that from time to time. Being a mommy has desensitized me to mean.
Pffft. Mean.
So this morning? He was right.
And the whole asshat thing? Makes it really hard to get my makeup on right. We will not even discuss blow-drying. ::Ow::
I so hate it when he's right.
This post is part of the Word Up, Yo! Weekly meme hosted by the Nerd Mafia Dons Liz at a belle, a bean, and a chicago dog; Kristin from Taming Insanity; and Natalie from Mommy of a Monster
Friday, September 17, 2010
Friday Flipoffs
Ok, trying to get back in the groove here. I've been slacking lately with only a post or 2 a week...and (sniff) I think (sniiiiffff) that people (sniff sniff) HAVE FORGOTTEN ABOUT ME (insert tearful wail here).
::composes self::
Er, I mean, my comments have really dropped off and since I'm such a comment whore I really enjoy the dialogue with my readers, I need to get back into better writing habits.
Plus part of the reason I have this blog is so I can write. So I really should do that occasionally.
Anyway, moving on to the interesting part...
First, I'd like to flip off the circumstances keeping me from my cousin's bachelorette party in New York this weekend. She is a very cool cousin (in law) & she's spending the weekend in NYC for her bachelorette party. Hosted by her drag queen uncle. I should so be at this party. But? I'm broke. And? I'm smack dab in the middle of my last class (insert hallelujah chorus here) before I get my degree. Not conducive for dropping everything & going to NYC, particularly since I have to do 99% of my homework on the weekends. Kids? I think Hub would watch kids for me to go, so I don't flip them off. They're cool. But the rest? Flip Off. I've never been to NYC. :(
Next, I'd like to flip off my stepdaughter's school. As you may have read in my Princess Chaos post, the school keeps losing my stepdaughter. Ok, the last time was kinda her fault (she's a little nefarious), but really. Please stop losing her. It's getting annoying for all involved.
Oh, & a second flip off for the school. Today? PrincessBulldozer came home with a ziplock full of paint. So she could learn to trace letters with her finger. Ok. Cool idea for the classroom, not so much for the home. That child? Is a disaster ninja. And if I get a ziplock full of dark purple paint on my new couch? Someone is getting a ninja star up their...
...anyway...Flip Off!
And, for an honorable mention...Knee pain. Again, I flip you off. I am glad you're almost gone now. Three weeks later. But you have been keeping me from reestablishing my gym routine. This does not please me. I'm not old enough to be all pathetic and infirmed. Please stop with the debilitating pain. Seriously. Flip Off.
That is all. I feel better now. And all on time & stuff. Yay me.
A special thanks to Momma Kiss for hosting the Flip Offs this week! :)
::composes self::
Er, I mean, my comments have really dropped off and since
Plus part of the reason I have this blog is so I can write. So I really should do that occasionally.
Anyway, moving on to the interesting part...
First, I'd like to flip off the circumstances keeping me from my cousin's bachelorette party in New York this weekend. She is a very cool cousin (in law) & she's spending the weekend in NYC for her bachelorette party. Hosted by her drag queen uncle. I should so be at this party. But? I'm broke. And? I'm smack dab in the middle of my last class (insert hallelujah chorus here) before I get my degree. Not conducive for dropping everything & going to NYC, particularly since I have to do 99% of my homework on the weekends. Kids? I think Hub would watch kids for me to go, so I don't flip them off. They're cool. But the rest? Flip Off. I've never been to NYC. :(
Next, I'd like to flip off my stepdaughter's school. As you may have read in my Princess Chaos post, the school keeps losing my stepdaughter. Ok, the last time was kinda her fault (she's a little nefarious), but really. Please stop losing her. It's getting annoying for all involved.
Oh, & a second flip off for the school. Today? Princess
...anyway...Flip Off!
And, for an honorable mention...Knee pain. Again, I flip you off. I am glad you're almost gone now. Three weeks later. But you have been keeping me from reestablishing my gym routine. This does not please me. I'm not old enough to be all pathetic and infirmed. Please stop with the debilitating pain. Seriously. Flip Off.
That is all. I feel better now. And all on time & stuff. Yay me.
A special thanks to Momma Kiss for hosting the Flip Offs this week! :)
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Princess Chaos
So, we have custody of my stepdaughter while her mother "gets her life back on track." Which, as I've said before, implies that it ever was on track. In fact? I don't think her mother even knows there is a track & that she should be on it, much less where said track is & how to get back on it.
But I digress.
Princess comes with chaos.
I like plans. I like sticking to said plans. Plans give me a feeling of control. I like control. I don't like deviating from the plan.
Chaos? Was not in the plan.
This particular strain of chaos began her 1st week of school. A mere 4 weeks ago.
When kindergartners start school in our district, they are on a "staggered start." Which means 1/3 of the class goes on Monday, the next 1/3 goes Tuesday, the final 1/3 on Friday. Princess? Was to start Tuesday. This means we had to come up with alternative care arrangements for Monday & Wednesday.
Might I mention that I think this staggered start thing is DUMB? I understand, more individualized attention, blah blah blah. Personally? I think it's giving kids false expectations of what to expect from school. But I am not an educator. I'm curmudgeony & reflective of my 1st day of kindergarten, where I just got dumped at the door & was expected to suck it up.
After walking uphill both ways. In the 200 degree desert. With no shoes. And broken glass lining the sidewalk.
I digress.
So, we scrambled to find alternative care. It was expensive, but we found some.
Thursday? The school lost her. They sent her to after-care when Hub was supposed to pick her up. He discovered this after waiting for an hour to get her. Then got to go wait at after-care until the bus arrived...another 1/2 hour later.
Did I mention he was supposed to be working?
The following Monday (beginning of week 2), Princess managed to face plant onto something concrete. Hub got the call that she might need stitches. He immediately left to retrieve Princess. Only to discover that I had the insurance card & HSA credit card.
Did I mention that we both work 30 miles in opposite directions from our house?
*sigh*
So then I left to take him the cards.
She somehow managed to miss the outside of her face altogether. When her face hit whatever? She hit it gums first. Big, ugly gash over her incisors.
Urgent care? Could do nothing. She had to rinse her mouth & we had to watch for gray tooth death. Dentist said the same thing. Oh, & she can only eat soft foods.
Cutting up her sandwiches into teeny tiny bite-sized pieces? Not the joy of my life.
Did I mention Wednesday was school picture day?
We tried to get her to smile with her mouth closed. She didn't really get it.
Wednesday at after-care, she wasn't paying attention & didn't notice the boy in front of her stop. She kept going. And hit the back of his head. Face first. Reopening the mouth wound.
Thursday? I told her not to hit her face on anything. She didn't. Yay!
Friday? She hit her mouth on a clothes pin at school.
?!?
She left for her mother's that evening & returned with a nasty cough.
So Hub took her to the Dr. on Thursday (Week 3) & got a new drug regimen (allergy drugs & an inhaler) to get rid of the cough.
Yesterday (beginning of week 4)? They lost her again. Somehow, between when she was released from her class to the class where she was supposed to wait? She decided she didn't want to wait in that class. And thus, missed her bus.
*Sigh*
Did I mention that I don't like chaos?
I pray that not everything with her will be this ridiculous. None of this? Even covers the chaos at home.
*Sigh*
But I digress.
Princess comes with chaos.
I like plans. I like sticking to said plans. Plans give me a feeling of control. I like control. I don't like deviating from the plan.
Chaos? Was not in the plan.
This particular strain of chaos began her 1st week of school. A mere 4 weeks ago.
When kindergartners start school in our district, they are on a "staggered start." Which means 1/3 of the class goes on Monday, the next 1/3 goes Tuesday, the final 1/3 on Friday. Princess? Was to start Tuesday. This means we had to come up with alternative care arrangements for Monday & Wednesday.
Might I mention that I think this staggered start thing is DUMB? I understand, more individualized attention, blah blah blah. Personally? I think it's giving kids false expectations of what to expect from school. But I am not an educator. I'm curmudgeony & reflective of my 1st day of kindergarten, where I just got dumped at the door & was expected to suck it up.
After walking uphill both ways. In the 200 degree desert. With no shoes. And broken glass lining the sidewalk.
I digress.
So, we scrambled to find alternative care. It was expensive, but we found some.
Thursday? The school lost her. They sent her to after-care when Hub was supposed to pick her up. He discovered this after waiting for an hour to get her. Then got to go wait at after-care until the bus arrived...another 1/2 hour later.
Did I mention he was supposed to be working?
The following Monday (beginning of week 2), Princess managed to face plant onto something concrete. Hub got the call that she might need stitches. He immediately left to retrieve Princess. Only to discover that I had the insurance card & HSA credit card.
Did I mention that we both work 30 miles in opposite directions from our house?
*sigh*
So then I left to take him the cards.
She somehow managed to miss the outside of her face altogether. When her face hit whatever? She hit it gums first. Big, ugly gash over her incisors.
Urgent care? Could do nothing. She had to rinse her mouth & we had to watch for gray tooth death. Dentist said the same thing. Oh, & she can only eat soft foods.
Cutting up her sandwiches into teeny tiny bite-sized pieces? Not the joy of my life.
Did I mention Wednesday was school picture day?
We tried to get her to smile with her mouth closed. She didn't really get it.
Wednesday at after-care, she wasn't paying attention & didn't notice the boy in front of her stop. She kept going. And hit the back of his head. Face first. Reopening the mouth wound.
Thursday? I told her not to hit her face on anything. She didn't. Yay!
Friday? She hit her mouth on a clothes pin at school.
?!?
She left for her mother's that evening & returned with a nasty cough.
So Hub took her to the Dr. on Thursday (Week 3) & got a new drug regimen (allergy drugs & an inhaler) to get rid of the cough.
Yesterday (beginning of week 4)? They lost her again. Somehow, between when she was released from her class to the class where she was supposed to wait? She decided she didn't want to wait in that class. And thus, missed her bus.
*Sigh*
Did I mention that I don't like chaos?
I pray that not everything with her will be this ridiculous. None of this? Even covers the chaos at home.
*Sigh*
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
A Nefarious (or stupid) Cat
I am writing this post as a result of the inspiration provided by Lori's The Evil Done by Cats post.
Because I'm a "grown up" (Ok, stop laughing. Seriously. Whatever beverage you just spit all over your screen? Is not going to clean itself up. And it's going to get sticky if it dries there.) and have kids and responsibilities etc, I am going to alter a few inconsequential components.
So, back in the day, when I was maybe 23 or so, I lived by myself with 2 cats. Each had their own unique proclivities. One was very personable and gorgeous, but was prone to urinary blockages. He was expensive.
The other was kind of a cantankerous old man, pretty much since kittenhood. He would get angry & whip his tail around vigorously. Often, he would vigorously whap people in the head from the back of the couch. Really, why did you feel the need to sit on the couch and invade his dance space? He also had an affection for plastic. Many a night I would have to yell at him for licking a plastic grocery bag and waking me up at 2am.
Both cats liked to puke at 2am. Loud enough to wake me & spur the thought "I need to remember not to step in that in the morning...." which would inevitably lead to me waking up & stepping in it in the morning.
Also during this time? I was very into, um, herbs. I was particularly fond of special fresh oregano. This special fresh oregano? Tended to be fairly expensive. On this one particular occasion, I purchased a smallnug bit of the fresh oregano. The proprietor of said oregano was out of his usual baggies shipping materials, so he instead utilized some Saran wrap as a means of keeping my oregano fresh during transport.
One evening when I was ready tobake cook, I went in search of my special fresh oregano and could not find it. I did, however, discover in my travels some cat puke. I remembered waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of the plastic-loving cat licking away at the plastic. Stupid cat must have eaten some of the plastic.
Now, I know what you're thinking. But the cat had always been very put off by any kind of oregano. If he even saw me get out any of the cooking supplies? He left the room. Oregano? Always offended him.
I chocked up the whole situation to me not putting my oregano back where it belonged when I was done cooking. It would show up again eventually.
So, the next morning, as I am getting dressed in the bathroom, my cat comes up meowing and proceeds to drag his butt across the floor. Um, gross. He's never done that before. As he gets up from his butt dragging, I notice something odd.
About 3 inches of Saran wrap hanging out of his butt.
Dammit.
Apparently, oregano does not do much to cats. Other than make them puke at 2am. Which they do anyway. Or it could have been the large wad of plastic wrap in his gullet.
So I think to myself...self, you can't really leave the cat with Saran wrap hanging out of his ass.
If I can't leave him like that....then I have to remove the Saran wrap.
Sigh.
So, I find myself sitting on the floor, trying to restrain my angry, tail-whipping, oregano-eating cat while I pull Saran wrap out of his butt.
Pulling 8 inches of plastic wrap out of a feline rectum? Not on my list of things to do that morning. Also? Not that easy.
I might add that the oregano did not survive it's journey through the cat. The Saran wrap was devoid of its original contents by the time it was fully removed from the cat.
Because I'm a "grown up" (Ok, stop laughing. Seriously. Whatever beverage you just spit all over your screen? Is not going to clean itself up. And it's going to get sticky if it dries there.) and have kids and responsibilities etc, I am going to alter a few inconsequential components.
So, back in the day, when I was maybe 23 or so, I lived by myself with 2 cats. Each had their own unique proclivities. One was very personable and gorgeous, but was prone to urinary blockages. He was expensive.
The other was kind of a cantankerous old man, pretty much since kittenhood. He would get angry & whip his tail around vigorously. Often, he would vigorously whap people in the head from the back of the couch. Really, why did you feel the need to sit on the couch and invade his dance space? He also had an affection for plastic. Many a night I would have to yell at him for licking a plastic grocery bag and waking me up at 2am.
Both cats liked to puke at 2am. Loud enough to wake me & spur the thought "I need to remember not to step in that in the morning...." which would inevitably lead to me waking up & stepping in it in the morning.
Also during this time? I was very into, um, herbs. I was particularly fond of special fresh oregano. This special fresh oregano? Tended to be fairly expensive. On this one particular occasion, I purchased a small
One evening when I was ready to
Now, I know what you're thinking. But the cat had always been very put off by any kind of oregano. If he even saw me get out any of the cooking supplies? He left the room. Oregano? Always offended him.
I chocked up the whole situation to me not putting my oregano back where it belonged when I was done cooking. It would show up again eventually.
So, the next morning, as I am getting dressed in the bathroom, my cat comes up meowing and proceeds to drag his butt across the floor. Um, gross. He's never done that before. As he gets up from his butt dragging, I notice something odd.
About 3 inches of Saran wrap hanging out of his butt.
Dammit.
Apparently, oregano does not do much to cats. Other than make them puke at 2am. Which they do anyway. Or it could have been the large wad of plastic wrap in his gullet.
So I think to myself...self, you can't really leave the cat with Saran wrap hanging out of his ass.
If I can't leave him like that....then I have to remove the Saran wrap.
Sigh.
So, I find myself sitting on the floor, trying to restrain my angry, tail-whipping, oregano-eating cat while I pull Saran wrap out of his butt.
Pulling 8 inches of plastic wrap out of a feline rectum? Not on my list of things to do that morning. Also? Not that easy.
I might add that the oregano did not survive it's journey through the cat. The Saran wrap was devoid of its original contents by the time it was fully removed from the cat.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Staff Meeting Sideshow
This week has been a doozy already & it's only Wednesday. Let's just start with Monday morning, shall we?
On Monday, I had a staff meeting. Not only is there all the joy that is associated with a general staff meeting, but it also means I have to be up early & at work earlier than usual. To be fair, "usual" is like 9 or 9:30, so early? Is not really saying much.
I think I may have mentioned previously that I'm not a morning person.
This particular staff meeting had a little sideshow entertainment however. The meeting took place in our conference room which has many large windows that overlook a somewhat wooded area. Just as the company president started her "Welcome!" speech, a couple of guys came walking by outside the window.
With a chainsaw.
From the gallery I hear "Is that a chainsaw?" And I start snickering. Uncontrollably.
As we start going through our 3rd quarter performance, the guy starts firing up the chainsaw. Apparently, they need to cut down a tree directly outside the window.
So, I'm trying to focus on our profit margins, but find the guys sawing down the tree infinitely more interesting than our revenue to date.
Then the guy sawing the trunk jerks his hand back from the chainsaw & looks at it as if it has offended him. He returns to sawing. Then he jerks his hand back again & this time stands up & looks around.
I do not see any blood spurting or missing digits, so I am baffled.
Then he starts swatting and running around all panicked. Chainsaw is still running & buried in the tree trunk.
Apparently? They have found a collection of stinging insects in the area.
Now, I'm not completely insensitive. I do feel bad for the guy. But still. Corporate goals versus chainsaw guy running around in a panic swatting at invisible attackers?
There really is no contest here. Particularly for my pitiful little attention span.
And this little sideshow? Is only the beginning. Perhaps I should've heeded the foreshadowing of my week to come.
Really, though? If the week is going to continue like it has been? I sincerely hope it maintains that little bit of "funny" to take the edge off. Makes ridiculousness & stress a little easier to stomach. And? It makes better blog fodder if it's not all grouchy and crap-like.
On Monday, I had a staff meeting. Not only is there all the joy that is associated with a general staff meeting, but it also means I have to be up early & at work earlier than usual. To be fair, "usual" is like 9 or 9:30, so early? Is not really saying much.
I think I may have mentioned previously that I'm not a morning person.
This particular staff meeting had a little sideshow entertainment however. The meeting took place in our conference room which has many large windows that overlook a somewhat wooded area. Just as the company president started her "Welcome!" speech, a couple of guys came walking by outside the window.
With a chainsaw.
From the gallery I hear "Is that a chainsaw?" And I start snickering. Uncontrollably.
As we start going through our 3rd quarter performance, the guy starts firing up the chainsaw. Apparently, they need to cut down a tree directly outside the window.
So, I'm trying to focus on our profit margins, but find the guys sawing down the tree infinitely more interesting than our revenue to date.
Then the guy sawing the trunk jerks his hand back from the chainsaw & looks at it as if it has offended him. He returns to sawing. Then he jerks his hand back again & this time stands up & looks around.
I do not see any blood spurting or missing digits, so I am baffled.
Then he starts swatting and running around all panicked. Chainsaw is still running & buried in the tree trunk.
Apparently? They have found a collection of stinging insects in the area.
Now, I'm not completely insensitive. I do feel bad for the guy. But still. Corporate goals versus chainsaw guy running around in a panic swatting at invisible attackers?
There really is no contest here. Particularly for my pitiful little attention span.
And this little sideshow? Is only the beginning. Perhaps I should've heeded the foreshadowing of my week to come.
Really, though? If the week is going to continue like it has been? I sincerely hope it maintains that little bit of "funny" to take the edge off. Makes ridiculousness & stress a little easier to stomach. And? It makes better blog fodder if it's not all grouchy and crap-like.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Where have all my posts gone?
I have not been posting as much lately. This has partially been because I've been obscenely busy. But that's not the only reason.
Part of it? Is because I don't think I've found my voice. I think I've become somewhat intimidated by the writing of others. There are several people that I just *love* to read what they've written & I get all happy and excited whenever they post. I get all envious (in an appreciative way - not in a weird mean way) and wish that I could write like they do.
But I can't. Because it's not me. And those aren't my words.
I need to figure my voice out. I know that I am a good writer. I'm not amazing, but I know I'm good. It's just not readily apparent at the moment. And that is not working for me.
I don't want to be sad about it. I don't want to give up. But I don't want to be fluffy drivel, either. I see no purpose in that. I will never get better if I don't do it more.
Besides, it makes me feel too good when I do get it right to give it up.
Part of it? Is because I don't think I've found my voice. I think I've become somewhat intimidated by the writing of others. There are several people that I just *love* to read what they've written & I get all happy and excited whenever they post. I get all envious (in an appreciative way - not in a weird mean way) and wish that I could write like they do.
But I can't. Because it's not me. And those aren't my words.
I need to figure my voice out. I know that I am a good writer. I'm not amazing, but I know I'm good. It's just not readily apparent at the moment. And that is not working for me.
I don't want to be sad about it. I don't want to give up. But I don't want to be fluffy drivel, either. I see no purpose in that. I will never get better if I don't do it more.
Besides, it makes me feel too good when I do get it right to give it up.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Friday Flipoffs
Thanks to Kludgy Mom, even with all of her balls in the air, for creating/hosting this meme!
It's time for the Friday Flipoffs! As usual, in my paranoia that I do not tempt the universe with brazen flipoffs, I have a corresponding "Yay!" moment, too. Which is always nice. I like the weeks where I actually have those corresponding "Yay" moments.
To start....
My current gym. I wanted a little hole in the wall kind of place where I could just go in, work out, & leave without being harassed to buy anything, wait in a crowd to use machines, or be forced to buy years of memberships. When I joined? The guy said that sometimes he was the only one there & occasionally he'd have to close for a little while so he could eat lunch. I was fine with that. But. I tried to go from anywhere between 11:30 in the morning & 2:00 in the afternoon & the gym was closed far more often than it was open. I have finally had enough. I'm not going back. A big fat flip off! No pun intended.
My Yay! moment? Is that my aesthetician recommended a similar gym where she goes for personal training. It's a little further away, but $10 cheaper a month & has a 24-hour member-access system. So I'm going to visit next week & unless the guy is a total creeper, I'll join that gym & get back into the swing of things. So this week? Double bonus bikini wax! Thank you universe!
Flipoff #2 goes to the ridiculous toilet seats in my new office bathroom. They are ridiculously narrow & curve upward at the outside edges so they dig into your legs painfully when you try to sit. I just want to pee without injury or falling into the community bowl. Flip Off.
Flipoff #3 goes to the stupid push faucets in the same bathroom. The point of a faucet in a bathroom is to clean & sanitize your hands after fishing around in your crotch region for post elimination cleaning. If I push the button to turn on the water, I've just contaminated it with my fishing germs. Then? The water runs out before I've washed off all the soap. Thus forcing me to push the button again, recontaminating my hands. Not cool. And Flip Off...with a germy, crotch-fishing finger.
Flipoff #4 goes (lovingly) to my stepdaughter. I know you're capable of speaking without whining. Please attempt to exercise this ability. You do not come with a mute button and most people frown on the use of duct tape on children. Please, you are driving your father & me insane. We don't have much sanity to spare. Throw us a bone here & just *speak* to us. Trust me, we'll be amazed into rapt attention if you speak to us without whining. Flip Off.
That is all. I started this post this morning & due to work crises, have just now had time to finish. *sigh*
Perhaps I should've added "work crises" to my flipoffs...but I don't really want work to go away...Ok, technically, it's just the paycheck that I don't want to go away, but thus far I've not been able to figure out how to get the paycheck without the work...short of being a useless loaf & sucking off the state. But then I can't talk crap about my stepdaughter's mother without being a hypocrite. Ah, well. The sacrifices we make...
Happy Weekend! :)
Thursday, August 26, 2010
I am Not Mozart
When I think of mediocrity? I immediately think of the movie Amadeus. If you have not seen it, it is essentially composer Antonio Salieri's lament of being a mediocrity compared to Mozart.
Salieri dreamed of nothing more than to be a great composer. He pledged his chastity to God in hopes that he would be blessed with an amazing musical talent. Yet it was Mozart, an irresponsible, overgrown child, who was blessed with the amazing gift of music.
I feel for Salieri. I do. I have dreamed many times of being amazing at something I love - writing, music, art, even psychology - but, like Salieri, I am apparently meant only to recognize and appreciate amazing talent when I see it. I'm not meant to possess the talent.
I don't think I'm as resentful as Salieri, but I didn't go & pledge my chastity for anything, either. If I had been chaste my whole life, I'd probably be a tad more grouchy about the whole situation.
Like Salieri, I'm not bad at most things I do. I'm usually pretty good. Pretty good. Not amazing. He was a court composer...but he was not a Mozart.
Musically? I can carry a tune, I can tell if I'm out of tune, I can occasionally harmonize. When I was a flautist (flute player. This one time at band camp....), I was always near 1st chair. Often 2nd or 3rd (out of like 30). But I was never 1st.
As a writer? I don't suck. Usually what I write makes sense, is spelled correctly, uses the right to/too/two or there/their/they're (altho, I did accidentally use the wrong "their" in a comment the other day & it is still bugging me because I can't go back & fix it....), and occasionally I'm even funny. But I'm mediocre, even at that. I don't make people laugh until they cry like Kris, or craft fabulously amusing posts with a rich vocabulary like Lori, or eloquently get to the heart of things with a sense of humor like Adrienne. I just don't have that gift. I'm readable, but not amazing.
For the most part, I can accept being adequate at a lot of things. I'm glad that when I do things? I almost never completely suck at it.
Not sucking is not the same as being good. No one is amazed at the brain surgeon who doesn't suck. Lots of people don't suck. There's really no "wow" to that.
Mostly I accept my mediocrity and I live with it. Usually it doesn't bug me. I am happy to just not suck.
But like any other unrequited passion? Sometimes the want gets to me.
This post is part of the Word Up, Yo! Weekly meme hosted by the Nerd Mafia Dons Liz at a belle, a bean, and a chicago dog; Kristin from Taming Insanity; and Natalie from Mommy of a Monster
Salieri dreamed of nothing more than to be a great composer. He pledged his chastity to God in hopes that he would be blessed with an amazing musical talent. Yet it was Mozart, an irresponsible, overgrown child, who was blessed with the amazing gift of music.
I feel for Salieri. I do. I have dreamed many times of being amazing at something I love - writing, music, art, even psychology - but, like Salieri, I am apparently meant only to recognize and appreciate amazing talent when I see it. I'm not meant to possess the talent.
I don't think I'm as resentful as Salieri, but I didn't go & pledge my chastity for anything, either. If I had been chaste my whole life, I'd probably be a tad more grouchy about the whole situation.
Like Salieri, I'm not bad at most things I do. I'm usually pretty good. Pretty good. Not amazing. He was a court composer...but he was not a Mozart.
Musically? I can carry a tune, I can tell if I'm out of tune, I can occasionally harmonize. When I was a flautist (flute player. This one time at band camp....), I was always near 1st chair. Often 2nd or 3rd (out of like 30). But I was never 1st.
As a writer? I don't suck. Usually what I write makes sense, is spelled correctly, uses the right to/too/two or there/their/they're (altho, I did accidentally use the wrong "their" in a comment the other day & it is still bugging me because I can't go back & fix it....), and occasionally I'm even funny. But I'm mediocre, even at that. I don't make people laugh until they cry like Kris, or craft fabulously amusing posts with a rich vocabulary like Lori, or eloquently get to the heart of things with a sense of humor like Adrienne. I just don't have that gift. I'm readable, but not amazing.
For the most part, I can accept being adequate at a lot of things. I'm glad that when I do things? I almost never completely suck at it.
Not sucking is not the same as being good. No one is amazed at the brain surgeon who doesn't suck. Lots of people don't suck. There's really no "wow" to that.
Mostly I accept my mediocrity and I live with it. Usually it doesn't bug me. I am happy to just not suck.
But like any other unrequited passion? Sometimes the want gets to me.
This post is part of the Word Up, Yo! Weekly meme hosted by the Nerd Mafia Dons Liz at a belle, a bean, and a chicago dog; Kristin from Taming Insanity; and Natalie from Mommy of a Monster
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
My Birth Story
So, you want to know about my birth story, huh? Well, several people have already mentioned the possibility of a difficult pregnancy resulting in an easy birth.
Well, I had an easy pregnancy. No morning sickness. No real horrible mood swings. Nothing more than an achy back, an unbelievable craving for beer, and that last 6 weeks of beached whaledom.
There are things that I don't tell 1st time expectant mothers. One of those things? Is that the last month of pregnancy? Sucks ass. Everything is uncomfortable.
But I digress.
I was due on January 31st. I was wishing painful boils and other such unpleasantness on all people saying I would be 2 weeks overdue, sending me links to stories of 18 pound babies born in cars stuck on the freeway, and 90lb coworkers who felt the need to crank the heat all the way up in the office because they're cold. Wahhh. You can put on a sweater. I can't take off the pregnant.
Again, with the digression.
I left work on Wednesday the 25th, large, uncomfortable, and with a number of tasks that still needed to be completed on Thursday. At about 3:45 in the morning, I woke up and had to pee. Shock, I know. With my pregnancy, I often had contractions after I peed. Mostly because I held it too long, I think. I don't like peeing. And at 9 months pregnant? There are certain clean-up aspects of this task that get decidedly more difficult to accomplish.
I have issues staying on-topic apparently.
So, I head back to bed, all contracty. I have work in the morning & want to get back to sleep. After about an hour, I'm still all contracty. Hmm. Perhaps I should walk around & see if they go away. All the books say that if you walk & they go away it's not really labor. So, I begin pacing around my apartment at 4:45 in the morning. Contractions aren't really mellowing. Hmm. Perhaps I should pack my hospital bag while I'm pacing. At this point? I had about 2 comfortable outfits & I wasn't going to have 1 clean, comfy outfit wasting away in a hospital bag for weeks. Besides, labor lasts a long time, right? Plenty of time to pack the bag.
At about 5:30, I had to pee again. Or so I thought. Conveniently enough? My water broke while I was on the toilet. Yes! No mess for me to worry about.
At this point, I decided I'd better call my boyfriend. He lived across town about 25 minutes away. After about 3 calls, I finally managed to wake him up. I figured I had time to finish up my bag, get dressed, & grab a snack before he got there. I had nearly half an hour, right?
He made it there in 10 minutes.
The hospital was about 30 minutes away. And lordy, I had never noticed how bumpy the roads were between home & hospital until going over them while in labor. Ugh.
I had decided to try to go the natural birth route, altho I was not against drugs, should I change my mind. I've always had really bad cramps, so how much worse could labor be?
A whole hell of a lot worse, that's how much. When I got to the transitional phase? I did not even finish one contraction before the next would start. It was excruciating. They kept telling me to breathe & I couldn't. They asked me if I wanted an epidural.
HELL YES I WANT AN EPIDURAL!
And to this day? I still have a small shrine honoring the epidural dude.
I had to stay laying on my right side, because if I turned over, the baby's heart rate showed distress. So, by the time it was time to push? My right leg was a worthless slab of meat. No feeling, no control, nada.
Boo was face up, so I had to push for about an hour. He came out very coney. Thankfully his head returned to a normal shape by the next day.
From start to finish? My labor was about 10 hours. So I can't complain about duration. But the pain? Was God awful.
And if we ever have another baby? I'm packing the bag by 6 months and we're picking a hospital close by. If baby #1 came out in 10 hours (delayed an hour because of how Boo was facing), I can totally see myself being one of those "birth on the highway" stories....
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
The little stuff
As I go through life, I have realized that it is the little things that really make the moments in my life shine. Today is my homage to the little things that have perked me up lately.
The county fair yielded several of those little moments. This is the 2nd time we've taken them & it was a huge improvement over the 1st fair experience.
Kids Ooooohed and Ahhhhed over all the tractors & farm animals we made them look at. Apparently roosters? Are way more deserving of Oooohs and Ahhhhhs than bunnies. Who knew?
They cheered and clapped at the pig & duck races.
They happily sat for 20 minutes watching horses jump obstacles & picked out which horses they liked best.
Boo did not throw the "No! I'm Scared I Don't Want To!" flag milliseconds before landing in the saddle of the pony as he did a couple months ago & successfully navigated his very 1st pony ride.
We got $90 worth of rides out of the $40 wristbands purchase. Hub meticulously calculated how many ride tickets we would've used, had we instead chosen to use tickets, to ensure we got sufficient value from our wristband purchase.
And in those rides? Was Boo's first real deal ride. The Tornado! This was no baby ride!
We only had 2 real meltdowns in a whole day spent (in 2 parts) at the fair. I think parents will agree that for a whole-day outing with 2 kids, having only 2 meltdowns is quite the accomplishment.
We had 1 from Boo when we had to leave mid-afternoon to lunch & nap. The website had lied to us & said the rides would open at noon. They didn't open until 1 & that was too late to let napless kids start riding. Boo felt we had lied to him about the rides & was rather upset with us for making him take a food/nap break. Stupid food & sleep anyway. Hmph.
Our other meltdown came from Princess after she was chastised by a fair employee for bulldozing in front of like 5 kids in line for a slide. This initiated pouting, followed by full on meltdown...exacerbated by Boo repeatedly asking Hub & I why Princess got yelled at - even after we repeated explained to him what had happened. Apparently Boo's insensitive male gene is already fully functional. Sigh.
Then on Sunday morning? The coup de gras. Hub got up with the kids & let me sleep! How freakin awesome is that? The suckish thing is that my bladder was resembling an overfilled water balloon & that sorta distracted from my attempts to continue sleeping...but I could lay there with the non morning dog & vege for a while. When I got up? Kids had breakfast & milk & were quietly watching TV with Hub...who thought I definitely should've stayed in bed longer.
Boo has also been pooping (more often than once every 11 days) regularly in the BIG potty! This is a huge deal in our house. Boo has been very anal retentive...perhaps the literal retentiveness will lead to obsessive detail orientation later in life. Hopefully not in a Monk-like way though.
Oh! Oh! And the other thing? My learning team had all of their assignments posted early! And they didn't suck! Their work? Appeared to have been written by people who can actually read and comprehend the content of the syllabus and text book! I know! Amazing!
Another thing? I've been on-time to work for 3 days in a row. I'm starting to freak out my coworkers...which is almost worth the 5:30 am start & 1.5 hour commute! I'm not a morning person & I have a flexible schedule. So this is a big deal. If you're one of those naturally half an hour early people? Don't poo on my joy. It's not that easy for everyone. Perhaps I do lack discipline at times. But saying so? Counts as pooing on my joy. Just so you know.
So, despite the fact that the universe pooed all over me last week, perhaps it was just a good way to help me appreciate all that little stuff. Because sometimes? It's the little stuff that really matters.
The county fair yielded several of those little moments. This is the 2nd time we've taken them & it was a huge improvement over the 1st fair experience.
Kids Ooooohed and Ahhhhed over all the tractors & farm animals we made them look at. Apparently roosters? Are way more deserving of Oooohs and Ahhhhhs than bunnies. Who knew?
They cheered and clapped at the pig & duck races.
They happily sat for 20 minutes watching horses jump obstacles & picked out which horses they liked best.
Boo did not throw the "No! I'm Scared I Don't Want To!" flag milliseconds before landing in the saddle of the pony as he did a couple months ago & successfully navigated his very 1st pony ride.
We got $90 worth of rides out of the $40 wristbands purchase. Hub meticulously calculated how many ride tickets we would've used, had we instead chosen to use tickets, to ensure we got sufficient value from our wristband purchase.
And in those rides? Was Boo's first real deal ride. The Tornado! This was no baby ride!
We only had 2 real meltdowns in a whole day spent (in 2 parts) at the fair. I think parents will agree that for a whole-day outing with 2 kids, having only 2 meltdowns is quite the accomplishment.
We had 1 from Boo when we had to leave mid-afternoon to lunch & nap. The website had lied to us & said the rides would open at noon. They didn't open until 1 & that was too late to let napless kids start riding. Boo felt we had lied to him about the rides & was rather upset with us for making him take a food/nap break. Stupid food & sleep anyway. Hmph.
Our other meltdown came from Princess after she was chastised by a fair employee for bulldozing in front of like 5 kids in line for a slide. This initiated pouting, followed by full on meltdown...exacerbated by Boo repeatedly asking Hub & I why Princess got yelled at - even after we repeated explained to him what had happened. Apparently Boo's insensitive male gene is already fully functional. Sigh.
Then on Sunday morning? The coup de gras. Hub got up with the kids & let me sleep! How freakin awesome is that? The suckish thing is that my bladder was resembling an overfilled water balloon & that sorta distracted from my attempts to continue sleeping...but I could lay there with the non morning dog & vege for a while. When I got up? Kids had breakfast & milk & were quietly watching TV with Hub...who thought I definitely should've stayed in bed longer.
Boo has also been pooping (more often than once every 11 days) regularly in the BIG potty! This is a huge deal in our house. Boo has been very anal retentive...perhaps the literal retentiveness will lead to obsessive detail orientation later in life. Hopefully not in a Monk-like way though.
Oh! Oh! And the other thing? My learning team had all of their assignments posted early! And they didn't suck! Their work? Appeared to have been written by people who can actually read and comprehend the content of the syllabus and text book! I know! Amazing!
Another thing? I've been on-time to work for 3 days in a row. I'm starting to freak out my coworkers...which is almost worth the 5:30 am start & 1.5 hour commute! I'm not a morning person & I have a flexible schedule. So this is a big deal. If you're one of those naturally half an hour early people? Don't poo on my joy. It's not that easy for everyone. Perhaps I do lack discipline at times. But saying so? Counts as pooing on my joy. Just so you know.
So, despite the fact that the universe pooed all over me last week, perhaps it was just a good way to help me appreciate all that little stuff. Because sometimes? It's the little stuff that really matters.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Friday Flipoffs, Vol. II
This week? I have a lot I'd like to flip off. I'm just not quite sure how to go about it.
This week? Was one of those weeks that the universe just had it out for me. But I can't very well go flipping off the universe, now can I. That would just be dangerous. I'm not one to tempt the universe by flipping it off or making statements like "well, things certainly can't get any worse..."
First? I will flip off myself. I arrived to work on Monday morning to discover, first thing, that I had screwed up something significant. Which needed to be rectified. Immediately. The rectification? Meant no break for me. No going to the gym. No grocery shopping. Nada. I have no good excuse for what I screwed up. I just missed something I should've seen. And it was a biggie. Sigh. So? Flip Off, me.
Next, I will flip off the traffic on the highway on Wednesday. My commute from home to work takes about 35-40 minutes in the morning. There is 1 major highway that takes me where I need to go. And only one. On Wednesday? I sat on that highway for over an hour. I got to work at like 10:30. So, yeah. No break. No gym. No grocery shopping. Nada. Traffic? Flip Off! (On a side note? I am grateful that I was not the accident that closed the freeway...while I flip off the traffic? I'm still grateful....)
Finally, I flip off my lack of sleep. Monday? I had homework that kept me up late. Tuesday? Hub actually cut himself off of work after only like 14 hours & wanted to spend some time with me. Not going to turn that down. Wednesday? I had more homework. & to top off the staying up late for Wednesday homework? We had a gigantic, freakish storm hit at like 5:30 in the morning on Thursday. Sigh. I am exhausted. Sadly? I need 7-8 hours of sleep, fairly regularly, to function like a semi-human. If I get 4? I can kinda function the next day (with a large coffee infusion). If I do that 2 days in a row? I start to get mushy. And perhaps a little grouchy. Perhaps. After 2? I'm pretty much useless. And a wee bit grouchy. Unholy bitch might be an apt way to describe me. Perhaps. Exhaustion? Flip Off!! You hang around way too much. I don't even really like you that much. At all. Really. Take the hint.
A hearty thank you to Kludgy Mom for providing this delightful meme. Go visit & see what others are flipping off this week!
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
I am woman...Raaarrrrr!
So, it's been a week since my metabolism condemnation post.
Just so you know? I have not forgiven my metabolism. In fact? I'm going after it.
Hey, I gave it fair warning when I flipped it off on friday.
Seriously? I'm going to kick its ass. It has straight pissed me off.
My strategy? Is to wear it down. I've gotten some advice from some friends who are more well-versed in the whole "healthy" thing, including Kristin from Peace, love, & muesli. Might I add that she has been a fantabulous encouragement.
So, utilizing advice both from Kristin as well as my in-training life coach (who is actually my ex-husband's new wife...my life is weird like that...), I have made a few adjustments.
1. I've been going to the gym. And surprisingly? I don't hate it like I used to. Perhaps I appreciate the "me" time now that I'm a mommy. I'm pleased to say that I did not keel over & die. I was a little worried tho. As an added bonus, I feel all accomplished and, well, Raaarrr! when I'm done.
2. I'm trying to drink more water. It's safe to say I do not drink enough. I've been told that the water in tea & coffee don't really count. Also the lemon I bought to make water more drinkable? Is apparently very good for detoxifying, according to my life coach...who heard it from a body-builder guy she works with. It does make the water more tasty and it makes my sink smell nice when I grind the peel in the garbage disposal. So yeah.
3. I'm working to add higher protein snacks to keep me from being hungry during the day. I bough some raw almonds & I also have some nifty Kashi crackers that are awaiting a hummus purchase. Kristin also gave me a link to some recipes that I'm working up to trying.
4. I bought some extra-dark chocolate squares to help curb my sweet cravings without being too obscene with the sugar. I have to say, tho, that the 86% cacao? is kinda gross on its own. I had to eat something else to kill the bitter aftertaste. 72% is perfect. And now? 60% is downright sweet to me. Usually 1 chocolate square gets me my fix & I can go about my day (serving size is 4, btw).
Honestly? I hope the metabolism gets the message. I really don't want to have to go all Rambo on it. No, really, I don't. There's only so much life-change I can do at one time. While I am working hard? I'm inherently a little lazy & I don't want to have to raise the bar too high, because frankly? I don't know if I can sustain too much change.
My goal here, is not only to lose 40-50 lbs of baby weight, but also to feel better.
I admit, I do feel better. I have a lot of pride in myself that I have made these changes, stuck to them, and kept plowing along even tho I've been discouraged. I'm trying to make this goal realistic tho. I'm not willing to nibble lettuce leaves for the rest of my life so I can be skinny. I might be skinny, but I'd be a huge bitch.
Trust me on this.
I believe food is to be enjoyed. I just need to moderate some things & find some healthier alternatives that also bring me joy. I will eat pizza in my life. I will eat the occasional baked good.
The occasional french fry? I'm a good girl in that regard...I'll get the fruit side for me.
...BUT....
I feel that if I purchase the food? & not only did I purchase the food, but I was a good girl & got the "healthy" side? I'm entitled to any "bag fries" that might jump out of my husband's fry container during transit. Those 3 or 4 fries? Are the best. fries. ever.
And no, I don't "accidentally" dump out half of his fries into the bag. Really. Seriously, I don't....
And my reward?
Last Wednesday I was hovering at 203-204.
As of this morning? I'm hovering at 200.
And that makes me happy.
Plus? Once I get to 190? I get to treat myself to a new handbag. :)
Just so you know? I have not forgiven my metabolism. In fact? I'm going after it.
Hey, I gave it fair warning when I flipped it off on friday.
Seriously? I'm going to kick its ass. It has straight pissed me off.
My strategy? Is to wear it down. I've gotten some advice from some friends who are more well-versed in the whole "healthy" thing, including Kristin from Peace, love, & muesli. Might I add that she has been a fantabulous encouragement.
So, utilizing advice both from Kristin as well as my in-training life coach (who is actually my ex-husband's new wife...my life is weird like that...), I have made a few adjustments.
1. I've been going to the gym. And surprisingly? I don't hate it like I used to. Perhaps I appreciate the "me" time now that I'm a mommy. I'm pleased to say that I did not keel over & die. I was a little worried tho. As an added bonus, I feel all accomplished and, well, Raaarrr! when I'm done.
2. I'm trying to drink more water. It's safe to say I do not drink enough. I've been told that the water in tea & coffee don't really count. Also the lemon I bought to make water more drinkable? Is apparently very good for detoxifying, according to my life coach...who heard it from a body-builder guy she works with. It does make the water more tasty and it makes my sink smell nice when I grind the peel in the garbage disposal. So yeah.
3. I'm working to add higher protein snacks to keep me from being hungry during the day. I bough some raw almonds & I also have some nifty Kashi crackers that are awaiting a hummus purchase. Kristin also gave me a link to some recipes that I'm working up to trying.
4. I bought some extra-dark chocolate squares to help curb my sweet cravings without being too obscene with the sugar. I have to say, tho, that the 86% cacao? is kinda gross on its own. I had to eat something else to kill the bitter aftertaste. 72% is perfect. And now? 60% is downright sweet to me. Usually 1 chocolate square gets me my fix & I can go about my day (serving size is 4, btw).
Honestly? I hope the metabolism gets the message. I really don't want to have to go all Rambo on it. No, really, I don't. There's only so much life-change I can do at one time. While I am working hard? I'm inherently a little lazy & I don't want to have to raise the bar too high, because frankly? I don't know if I can sustain too much change.
My goal here, is not only to lose 40-50 lbs of baby weight, but also to feel better.
I admit, I do feel better. I have a lot of pride in myself that I have made these changes, stuck to them, and kept plowing along even tho I've been discouraged. I'm trying to make this goal realistic tho. I'm not willing to nibble lettuce leaves for the rest of my life so I can be skinny. I might be skinny, but I'd be a huge bitch.
Trust me on this.
I believe food is to be enjoyed. I just need to moderate some things & find some healthier alternatives that also bring me joy. I will eat pizza in my life. I will eat the occasional baked good.
The occasional french fry? I'm a good girl in that regard...I'll get the fruit side for me.
...BUT....
I feel that if I purchase the food? & not only did I purchase the food, but I was a good girl & got the "healthy" side? I'm entitled to any "bag fries" that might jump out of my husband's fry container during transit. Those 3 or 4 fries? Are the best. fries. ever.
And no, I don't "accidentally" dump out half of his fries into the bag. Really. Seriously, I don't....
And my reward?
Last Wednesday I was hovering at 203-204.
As of this morning? I'm hovering at 200.
And that makes me happy.
Plus? Once I get to 190? I get to treat myself to a new handbag. :)
Friday, August 6, 2010
Friday Flipoffs
Today, I'm coming out of the Flipoff Lurker shadows & finally participating in the Friday Flipoffs. A hearty Thank You to Kludgy Mom for starting this thoroughly therapeutic meme. :)
![”Friday]()
Today, my flipoffs start with my metabolism. I have had a bit of a mental setback this week. Eating healthy for several weeks should equal weightloss, at least in my mind. But no dice. Metabolism? I won't let you beat me. I'm going to make some adjustments & then I'm coming for you metabolism. A big fat Flip off. No pun intended...
Knee pain? You're up next. Note, I'm not flipping of my knees. I like them & would prefer they continue working. I would just prefer that they would work as they are supposed to...without pain. I'm 32 years old & am not old enough to be hobbling around like a grandma. Nor do I have any flashy "old football injury" stories to compensate. Knee pain? Flip Off.
Deadbeat Learning Team Members. You suck. Seriously. The rest of us who are working hard to earn a semi-decent grade in our online class? Hate you. You do not deserve to get the same grade as the rest of us who actually do the work. We are tired of you riding on our coattails to pass the classes & get your degree. I sincerely hope I never get the brain surgeon that was the deadbeat team member. Ok, well, I really don't want to need a brain surgeon, but if I did...it better not be the deadbeat. Flip Off.
And Mornings. Don't think I forgot about you. You and I? Have been going around & around on this for years. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that you come...it the "I'm glad the world didn't end while I was sleeping" sense. But it the effervescent "Yippee! It's a new day let's get up & greet it cheerily!" sense? Not so much. Any effervescence I might be feeling is likely leftover liquor from the night before. And that's really closer to indigestion than effervescence. Mornings? You have your bubbly bright-&-early people. I'm not one of those people. It's nothing personal, but seriously? Flip off.
This post has been a sneaky double-purpose post. I'm participating (but certainly not flipping off) in the Nerd Mafia's Word Up, Yo! weekly meme.
Today, my flipoffs start with my metabolism. I have had a bit of a mental setback this week. Eating healthy for several weeks should equal weightloss, at least in my mind. But no dice. Metabolism? I won't let you beat me. I'm going to make some adjustments & then I'm coming for you metabolism. A big fat Flip off. No pun intended...
Knee pain? You're up next. Note, I'm not flipping of my knees. I like them & would prefer they continue working. I would just prefer that they would work as they are supposed to...without pain. I'm 32 years old & am not old enough to be hobbling around like a grandma. Nor do I have any flashy "old football injury" stories to compensate. Knee pain? Flip Off.
Deadbeat Learning Team Members. You suck. Seriously. The rest of us who are working hard to earn a semi-decent grade in our online class? Hate you. You do not deserve to get the same grade as the rest of us who actually do the work. We are tired of you riding on our coattails to pass the classes & get your degree. I sincerely hope I never get the brain surgeon that was the deadbeat team member. Ok, well, I really don't want to need a brain surgeon, but if I did...it better not be the deadbeat. Flip Off.
And Mornings. Don't think I forgot about you. You and I? Have been going around & around on this for years. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that you come...it the "I'm glad the world didn't end while I was sleeping" sense. But it the effervescent "Yippee! It's a new day let's get up & greet it cheerily!" sense? Not so much. Any effervescence I might be feeling is likely leftover liquor from the night before. And that's really closer to indigestion than effervescence. Mornings? You have your bubbly bright-&-early people. I'm not one of those people. It's nothing personal, but seriously? Flip off.
This post has been a sneaky double-purpose post. I'm participating (but certainly not flipping off) in the Nerd Mafia's Word Up, Yo! weekly meme.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Metabolism? I hate you.
Ok, let me warn you...this is a bit of a rant. If you're looking for inspiration (especially on healthy eating or weight loss) step away from the blog now.
You have been warned.
So, as you may or may not be aware, I have been trying to "make more healthy choices" recently. For a number of reasons. I am realizing that to be the best mate/mother/person I can be, I need to love myself and truly take care of myself.
Right?
Right.
Ok, so given that, as I have also previously mentioned, I have 50 pounds of baby weight that needs to vacate.
Let me say, I have been quite disciplined these past 3 weeks with my eating habits. Granted, I had pizza once and I did eat 1 hamburger. In 3 weeks. That was my cheat. Otherwise? I have been a pretty good girl. By that, I mean oatmeal for breakfast, a tuna wrap (not tuna salad - tuna) and organic yogurt + fresh fruit for lunch, and assorted (much smaller than my average portions of) dinner.
I have slightly increased my activity. Not much yet, but more than before. I drink no soda. I have 1 unsweetened coffee in the morning with a little organic milk (I can't quite go black).
So, I have been a good girl, right?
**WARNING** THAR BE SWEARIN' AHEAD, MATEY... I mean a hell of a lot of swearing....
Not 1 fucking pound lost. Not a single Goddamn pound.
I nibble once or twice a day on tiny <100 calorie snacks between "meals" to try to keep the "I'm not eating much" migraines at bay (which is why I can't starve myself thin, even if I wanted to. I have to function/work/parent/etc & migraines preclude that). Most of those snacks? Are whole grain/organic/etc. I'm not fucking around here. Yet still? Not 1 pound. Let me tell you, I am angry as all holy hell. I can eat tasty filling food & drink soda & hang out at 203 pounds. Why the F am I spending all this money on whole grain organic stuff, fresh fruits etc if nothing is happening? In 3 weeks, something should be happening.
I'm hungry constantly, my tummy is in knots over all this fabulous fiber & whole grain stuff I'm eating, I have migraines hanging in the wings....and not 1 fucking pound.
Tomorrow, I step it up with a gym membership. But let me tell you, I'm really discouraged right now. I am terrified that I'm going to blow money on a gym membership, take "spare" time I don't have much of to faithfully work out....& still not lose any weight.
I say this because it has happened before. I spent a good 2 months eating healthy & faithfully walking (+ tiny bits of jogging...which is what killed my knee) 3 miles a day like 4 days a week. Again, no weight lost.
I'm freaked out because I don't want to be putting forth this much effort & be this far out of my comfort zone and have nothing but wasted time, money, and migraines to show for it.
Oh, & lest we blame it on an underactive thyroid? No luck. Tested that. I'm as normal as normal can be (at least as it pertains to thyroid function...)
So, I have to say...WTF?
Seriously, I need some positive reinforcement from my F*ing metabolism. Fat needs to come off.
I now return you to your regularly scheduled happy blogs.
Sorry. My scale pissed me off. I've been working hard & I was actually quite crushed.
You have been warned.
So, as you may or may not be aware, I have been trying to "make more healthy choices" recently. For a number of reasons. I am realizing that to be the best mate/mother/person I can be, I need to love myself and truly take care of myself.
Right?
Right.
Ok, so given that, as I have also previously mentioned, I have 50 pounds of baby weight that needs to vacate.
Let me say, I have been quite disciplined these past 3 weeks with my eating habits. Granted, I had pizza once and I did eat 1 hamburger. In 3 weeks. That was my cheat. Otherwise? I have been a pretty good girl. By that, I mean oatmeal for breakfast, a tuna wrap (not tuna salad - tuna) and organic yogurt + fresh fruit for lunch, and assorted (much smaller than my average portions of) dinner.
I have slightly increased my activity. Not much yet, but more than before. I drink no soda. I have 1 unsweetened coffee in the morning with a little organic milk (I can't quite go black).
So, I have been a good girl, right?
**WARNING** THAR BE SWEARIN' AHEAD, MATEY... I mean a hell of a lot of swearing....
Not 1 fucking pound lost. Not a single Goddamn pound.
I nibble once or twice a day on tiny <100 calorie snacks between "meals" to try to keep the "I'm not eating much" migraines at bay (which is why I can't starve myself thin, even if I wanted to. I have to function/work/parent/etc & migraines preclude that). Most of those snacks? Are whole grain/organic/etc. I'm not fucking around here. Yet still? Not 1 pound. Let me tell you, I am angry as all holy hell. I can eat tasty filling food & drink soda & hang out at 203 pounds. Why the F am I spending all this money on whole grain organic stuff, fresh fruits etc if nothing is happening? In 3 weeks, something should be happening.
I'm hungry constantly, my tummy is in knots over all this fabulous fiber & whole grain stuff I'm eating, I have migraines hanging in the wings....and not 1 fucking pound.
Tomorrow, I step it up with a gym membership. But let me tell you, I'm really discouraged right now. I am terrified that I'm going to blow money on a gym membership, take "spare" time I don't have much of to faithfully work out....& still not lose any weight.
I say this because it has happened before. I spent a good 2 months eating healthy & faithfully walking (+ tiny bits of jogging...which is what killed my knee) 3 miles a day like 4 days a week. Again, no weight lost.
I'm freaked out because I don't want to be putting forth this much effort & be this far out of my comfort zone and have nothing but wasted time, money, and migraines to show for it.
Oh, & lest we blame it on an underactive thyroid? No luck. Tested that. I'm as normal as normal can be (at least as it pertains to thyroid function...)
So, I have to say...WTF?
Seriously, I need some positive reinforcement from my F*ing metabolism. Fat needs to come off.
I now return you to your regularly scheduled happy blogs.
Sorry. My scale pissed me off. I've been working hard & I was actually quite crushed.
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