Tall. Handsome. Muscular. 30-something. Mesmerizing green eyes. Celebrity smile. *sigh* A definite catch. Alas, he’s not interested in me at this moment. No. His mind is on her instead. Blonde. Gorgeous. Big blue eyes. Incredible smile. Infectious laugh. A personality so magnetic, you can’t help but like her.
I watch him chase her. She’s definitely toying with him. She wants to be caught, but pretends to be surprised that he won’t leave her alone. She’s so lucky. I want nothing more than to be in her shoes right now. However, I can’t help but laugh and enjoy the cat and mouse game that ensues before my eyes. It’s endearing, really.
Eventually, he’ll tire out and give up. She’ll keep flirting, asking for trouble, before she comes to the conclusion that her pursuer has lost interest. Then what? Will I have my chance to gaze into his soulful eyes and find that my place in his heart hasn’t faltered?
I comfortably share the object of my affection with her (the blonde). Even though she has it all over me, I don’t mind a bit. I watch her turn her head and laugh as she watches him close in on her. He’s almost got her. Her eyes are smiling as big as her toothy grin. Her curly, baby fine hair bounces around her dimples as she swings her head back to keep him in her sight. Her bubbly giggles echo in the soft, still, summer air at dusk. The sun sets on the two of them running through the yard, ending the day on a happy note. It is true bliss. A precious blessing. A motion picture for the memory to cherish, always.
As my husband scoops up and showers my daughter with kisses, I begin thanking God for leading me to this wonderful man that I was meant to share the rest of my life with. Panoramic views such as this are what make my heart beat faster for him. Watching him care for, hold, and love our children only makes him more special to me. It is only right that I treasure every fiber of his being. He is my best friend, my heart and soul, my endless love, my everything.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Fun At Wal-Mart
Wal-Mart: the quintessential department store for your everyday needs. From the biggest must-have items down to the infinitesimal, last-season flops – Wal-Mart’s got you covered. Clothes, food, paper products, pet supplies, goldfish, silverware, dishware, paint, electronics, sporting goods, toys, gardening supplies, tools, movies, tunes, shoes, personal care items - it’s all there. (Unless you’re shopping at our local Wal-Mart store, then it’s never there.)
How does one get to such a fantastic place such as this? Well, my friends, you needn’t worry. Look north, south, east, west; northeast, northwest, southeast, southwest - there is a Wal-Mart no more than 20 minutes away in any direction you may choose. You could combine any two or three of those directions and you will still find a Wal-Mart within that 20-minute range. I have seen towns with a population of 900 built around a Wal-Mart. Bizarre – everyone works at Wal-Mart, then turns around and spends a majority of their paycheck there. Talk about being in dire need of an economic stimulus.
I don’t know about your Wal-Mart, but ours is a tad bit…unique, if you will. One might call it exceptional, but not mean that it’s exceptionally great; rather a little on the…uh… special side…if you know what I mean. Honestly, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anything quite like it. I have to give credit where credit is due – the employees are the ones who really “make the store.” For example:
My husband, Charlie, and I went to Wal-Mart one fine, cheery afternoon. We were in the market to buy some dog food and perhaps a few gadgets for around the house. I don’t remember exactly what was on the list that day except for the dog food. It sticks out in my mind, and you’ll soon understand why. When we finished our little shopping excursion, we proceeded to the checkout lanes. We were a bit tickled because, that day, almost all of the registers were open, so there were no outrageous lines that wrapped around the women’s department and over toward the toy section. We quickly located a particularly short line and skipped merrily, hand-in-hand (because that’s what you do at Wal-Mart) over to it. Charlie and I unloaded our items in the cart onto the little conveyor belt, all except for the dog food. See, dog food packages come with these handy little UPC labels or stickers on the top corner of the bag so that all the cashier has to do is reach over with a handy-dandy little scanner gun and *beep* - you’re good to go! Our cashier was apparently a little new at the whole scanner gun code of behavior because she pulled it out of its little holster and checked to make sure it was working. She did this by pointing the laser beam at her eyes (which were dancing in two different directions behind a pair of very large, very thick, very out-of-date tortoise shell glasses) and…
squeezed…the trigger. A bright red beam escaped from the scanner gun and began to melt the frames on her glasses as it cut through the lenses. The cashier stared with unblinking eyes directly into the big red light, seemingly unresponsive. Finally, after what seemed like we’d let the whole tragedy unfold in front of us for way too long and should probably stop her, she let go of the trigger. She then turned and looked beyond us with crossed eyes, snorted, and said, “Well, it seems to be working.”
Thank goodness, because I really didn’t want to lift that 50-pound bag up out of the cart and put it on the conveyor belt.
One thing I do have to say is that Wal-Mart always has the coolest toys, gadgets, and latest trends come Christmas time, doesn’t it? And the prices – to die for! Literally. No, I’m not kidding. You don’t want to be at a Wal-Mart on Black Friday, one of the two biggest shopping days of the year. As far as I’m concerned, that is the most appropriate name for that day. You can’t get more specific than that. Black Friday. The only other acceptable name for that day would be Hell On Earth. You could not coax me out of bed and into my Forester with a case of chocolate waiting for me in the passenger seat, a toasty hot cappuccino in my cup holder, the heater on, my favorite tunes playing, a chauffer, all the money I could possibly spend in a day, and my own personal shopper to go down to Wal-Mart (or anywhere else for that matter) to go shopping for Christmas presents on Black friggin’ Friday! The people that do it are nuts! I call them The Crazies.
And those people are crazy! Mostly women, and every single one of them a few eggs short of a dozen. Once in awhile, they’ll talk a man into going with them. “Oh, honey, it’ll be fun! Mary and Donna and I have it all planned out. We’ll take this route through the store - Mary is going to get the Nintendos and the Wii games; I’m going to grab the Elmos and the Bratz dolls; Donna will tackle the Pokemons, Digimons, and whatever other ‘mons she can find. All you have to do is get the iPods and the iTunes and then come find us with the cart so we don’t have to carry all that stuff around the store and fend off the shoppers who didn’t get there early enough.”
Whew! That’s a lot of planning just to grab a few hip items for the kids this year, isn’t it? Fellas, you may be asking yourself, “Why? What is behind this strategy? The shelves are always chock full of these things any other time. If we get there early enough, it’s not like they’ll run out or anything.” No! This is not a strategy - this is a science, ok? This is a marketing frenzy that only happens once a year, full of subliminal messages that entice those with the shopping gene to think to themselves, “I have to have that…for the children. How can I pass up that price? That’s incredible! I’m going to get that thing for twenty five dollars off the regular retail price and save!”
Herein is where the catch lies. You want the latest, hippest digital camera – regularly $199.99 throughout the year. The digi-cam people are going to let Wal-Mart sell it to you for $89.99! Wow – that’s a steal, isn’t it? But, oh – you forgot! Cameras need batteries (rechargeables are best), and what do you know? The battery people have raised their prices a tad bit for the holiday. But you don’t see that, because you are blinded by the great deal you just got on that little digital wonder, am I right? And what about the accessories? The memory card, the battery charger, the compatible printer…now that you’ve been hoodwinked into buying the digital camera, you have to buy all the stuff that makes it work, but is “conveniently” not included with the purchase of the camera itself. Otherwise, that’s a stupid Christmas present that you just bought your teenage daughter. If you just buy her the camera, that’s kind of like putting your underwear on over your pants – it just doesn’t make much sense, and boy, do you look like an idiot.
One year, my father-in-law got talked into going on one of these scavenger hunts. Poor guy didn’t know what hit him. One minute he was warming up the car for The Crazies (sorry, gals!) – just being a genuinely nice guy; next minute, he found himself waiting in line amidst a crowd of full-blown maniacs outside of Wal-Mart. He said hell never forget that day. People were glued to their watches, which were synchronized with the store clocks. There was a group of women, whispering amongst each other, staring down some of the other shoppers, and wielding brass knuckles and spiked balls on chains. Another group was shaking uncontrollably and their teeth were chattering; not because they were freezing in the cold, early morning November air, but because they were hopped up on enough caffeine and nicotine necessary to sustain acute lack of sleep. Some people were hurriedly marking the store’s newspaper ad and doing some last minute scheming for their run through the toy section. (Slackers!) And there stood Dad, a rose in a sea of thorns, oblivious to the horror that was about to unfold in front of his eyes in three…two…one…
The doors flew open and the cashiers fled to their registers. The Wal-Mart greeter was suspended from the ceiling joists, so as not to get trampled by the 4 a.m. shoppers. He was armed with a bullhorn so that everyone could hear his cheerful (fearful?) greeting as they stampeded in. The store manager stood on top of the courtesy desk, shoveling carts out of the turnstile with a hook-tipped stick for people to grab as they raced through the entryway. It was sheer mayhem as shoppers threw elbows and upper cuts, clobbered each other with handbags and cell phones, and crippled one another with shopping cart-to-ankle collisions. “I swear, you’ve never been witness to such heated competition,” recanted my father-in-law.
As the waves of people continually crashed into the small opening at the front doors, Dad found himself being carried, not forward, but backward by the tumultuous tide. He could see Betty (my mother-in-law) and her daughter, only identifiable by the tops of their heads, far enough in front of him that there was no want or will to catch up with them at that point. He slowly made his way through the front doors and toward the empty turnstile next to the courtesy desk where the store manager (now beaten, bruised, and passed out) had once stood. Dad saw his opportunity. He dropped to his knees through a slight opening in the mad dash of feet, grasped the floor with his hands (if you can imagine grasping a flat surface), and crawled out to freedom through the cart return. It was his only hope, and the reason why he is still alive and with us today to tell such a remarkable, heart-warming survival story.
“An experience unlike any other,” Dad set his jaw, his lips frowning ever so slightly. “I don’t recommend it; not at all.”
We couldn’t agree with him more!
How does one get to such a fantastic place such as this? Well, my friends, you needn’t worry. Look north, south, east, west; northeast, northwest, southeast, southwest - there is a Wal-Mart no more than 20 minutes away in any direction you may choose. You could combine any two or three of those directions and you will still find a Wal-Mart within that 20-minute range. I have seen towns with a population of 900 built around a Wal-Mart. Bizarre – everyone works at Wal-Mart, then turns around and spends a majority of their paycheck there. Talk about being in dire need of an economic stimulus.
I don’t know about your Wal-Mart, but ours is a tad bit…unique, if you will. One might call it exceptional, but not mean that it’s exceptionally great; rather a little on the…uh… special side…if you know what I mean. Honestly, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anything quite like it. I have to give credit where credit is due – the employees are the ones who really “make the store.” For example:
My husband, Charlie, and I went to Wal-Mart one fine, cheery afternoon. We were in the market to buy some dog food and perhaps a few gadgets for around the house. I don’t remember exactly what was on the list that day except for the dog food. It sticks out in my mind, and you’ll soon understand why. When we finished our little shopping excursion, we proceeded to the checkout lanes. We were a bit tickled because, that day, almost all of the registers were open, so there were no outrageous lines that wrapped around the women’s department and over toward the toy section. We quickly located a particularly short line and skipped merrily, hand-in-hand (because that’s what you do at Wal-Mart) over to it. Charlie and I unloaded our items in the cart onto the little conveyor belt, all except for the dog food. See, dog food packages come with these handy little UPC labels or stickers on the top corner of the bag so that all the cashier has to do is reach over with a handy-dandy little scanner gun and *beep* - you’re good to go! Our cashier was apparently a little new at the whole scanner gun code of behavior because she pulled it out of its little holster and checked to make sure it was working. She did this by pointing the laser beam at her eyes (which were dancing in two different directions behind a pair of very large, very thick, very out-of-date tortoise shell glasses) and…
squeezed…the trigger. A bright red beam escaped from the scanner gun and began to melt the frames on her glasses as it cut through the lenses. The cashier stared with unblinking eyes directly into the big red light, seemingly unresponsive. Finally, after what seemed like we’d let the whole tragedy unfold in front of us for way too long and should probably stop her, she let go of the trigger. She then turned and looked beyond us with crossed eyes, snorted, and said, “Well, it seems to be working.”
Thank goodness, because I really didn’t want to lift that 50-pound bag up out of the cart and put it on the conveyor belt.
One thing I do have to say is that Wal-Mart always has the coolest toys, gadgets, and latest trends come Christmas time, doesn’t it? And the prices – to die for! Literally. No, I’m not kidding. You don’t want to be at a Wal-Mart on Black Friday, one of the two biggest shopping days of the year. As far as I’m concerned, that is the most appropriate name for that day. You can’t get more specific than that. Black Friday. The only other acceptable name for that day would be Hell On Earth. You could not coax me out of bed and into my Forester with a case of chocolate waiting for me in the passenger seat, a toasty hot cappuccino in my cup holder, the heater on, my favorite tunes playing, a chauffer, all the money I could possibly spend in a day, and my own personal shopper to go down to Wal-Mart (or anywhere else for that matter) to go shopping for Christmas presents on Black friggin’ Friday! The people that do it are nuts! I call them The Crazies.
And those people are crazy! Mostly women, and every single one of them a few eggs short of a dozen. Once in awhile, they’ll talk a man into going with them. “Oh, honey, it’ll be fun! Mary and Donna and I have it all planned out. We’ll take this route through the store - Mary is going to get the Nintendos and the Wii games; I’m going to grab the Elmos and the Bratz dolls; Donna will tackle the Pokemons, Digimons, and whatever other ‘mons she can find. All you have to do is get the iPods and the iTunes and then come find us with the cart so we don’t have to carry all that stuff around the store and fend off the shoppers who didn’t get there early enough.”
Whew! That’s a lot of planning just to grab a few hip items for the kids this year, isn’t it? Fellas, you may be asking yourself, “Why? What is behind this strategy? The shelves are always chock full of these things any other time. If we get there early enough, it’s not like they’ll run out or anything.” No! This is not a strategy - this is a science, ok? This is a marketing frenzy that only happens once a year, full of subliminal messages that entice those with the shopping gene to think to themselves, “I have to have that…for the children. How can I pass up that price? That’s incredible! I’m going to get that thing for twenty five dollars off the regular retail price and save!”
Herein is where the catch lies. You want the latest, hippest digital camera – regularly $199.99 throughout the year. The digi-cam people are going to let Wal-Mart sell it to you for $89.99! Wow – that’s a steal, isn’t it? But, oh – you forgot! Cameras need batteries (rechargeables are best), and what do you know? The battery people have raised their prices a tad bit for the holiday. But you don’t see that, because you are blinded by the great deal you just got on that little digital wonder, am I right? And what about the accessories? The memory card, the battery charger, the compatible printer…now that you’ve been hoodwinked into buying the digital camera, you have to buy all the stuff that makes it work, but is “conveniently” not included with the purchase of the camera itself. Otherwise, that’s a stupid Christmas present that you just bought your teenage daughter. If you just buy her the camera, that’s kind of like putting your underwear on over your pants – it just doesn’t make much sense, and boy, do you look like an idiot.
One year, my father-in-law got talked into going on one of these scavenger hunts. Poor guy didn’t know what hit him. One minute he was warming up the car for The Crazies (sorry, gals!) – just being a genuinely nice guy; next minute, he found himself waiting in line amidst a crowd of full-blown maniacs outside of Wal-Mart. He said hell never forget that day. People were glued to their watches, which were synchronized with the store clocks. There was a group of women, whispering amongst each other, staring down some of the other shoppers, and wielding brass knuckles and spiked balls on chains. Another group was shaking uncontrollably and their teeth were chattering; not because they were freezing in the cold, early morning November air, but because they were hopped up on enough caffeine and nicotine necessary to sustain acute lack of sleep. Some people were hurriedly marking the store’s newspaper ad and doing some last minute scheming for their run through the toy section. (Slackers!) And there stood Dad, a rose in a sea of thorns, oblivious to the horror that was about to unfold in front of his eyes in three…two…one…
The doors flew open and the cashiers fled to their registers. The Wal-Mart greeter was suspended from the ceiling joists, so as not to get trampled by the 4 a.m. shoppers. He was armed with a bullhorn so that everyone could hear his cheerful (fearful?) greeting as they stampeded in. The store manager stood on top of the courtesy desk, shoveling carts out of the turnstile with a hook-tipped stick for people to grab as they raced through the entryway. It was sheer mayhem as shoppers threw elbows and upper cuts, clobbered each other with handbags and cell phones, and crippled one another with shopping cart-to-ankle collisions. “I swear, you’ve never been witness to such heated competition,” recanted my father-in-law.
As the waves of people continually crashed into the small opening at the front doors, Dad found himself being carried, not forward, but backward by the tumultuous tide. He could see Betty (my mother-in-law) and her daughter, only identifiable by the tops of their heads, far enough in front of him that there was no want or will to catch up with them at that point. He slowly made his way through the front doors and toward the empty turnstile next to the courtesy desk where the store manager (now beaten, bruised, and passed out) had once stood. Dad saw his opportunity. He dropped to his knees through a slight opening in the mad dash of feet, grasped the floor with his hands (if you can imagine grasping a flat surface), and crawled out to freedom through the cart return. It was his only hope, and the reason why he is still alive and with us today to tell such a remarkable, heart-warming survival story.
“An experience unlike any other,” Dad set his jaw, his lips frowning ever so slightly. “I don’t recommend it; not at all.”
We couldn’t agree with him more!
Thursday, June 12, 2008
I HATE SPIDERS!!!!
It was a beautiful spring afternoon when my sister called, regarding a question about her new puppy’s pedigree. She is the proud new puppy parent of a (then) 10-week old Doberman (Don Vito, or as I like to call him, “The Don”), and was interested in finding out if there were champion bloodlines in his family.
I know that both of my dogs have champions in their lineage, and I was pretty certain their pedigrees would display that. I searched through all the names of my German Shepherd’s family, from his parents to his great-great-grandparents. There were a few numbers and abbreviations here and there, but nothing that said “Ch.”, which would indicate a champion dog.
I was pretty sure my Gordon Setter’s pedigree would offer more insight. “It’s in the gun room, so I’ll have to be quiet,” I whispered over the phone to my sister. Our gun room is across the hall from my daughter’s room, and Gabriella was taking a much needed nap at that particular time. I turned the safety knob on the gun room door and walked in. Immediately, something caught my eye…
“Ewww!!” I gasped. “There’s a big nasty black spider on the ceiling!” (No matter what, everytime I enter a room, I always look up...just in case!)
“Gross,” whined LeAnne. She and I share the same cosmic fear of the nasty little eight-legged beasts. “Just don’t look at it.”
“I can’t help it,” I hissed. Brodie’s pedigree was sitting on top of an old entertainment center that Charlie converted into a bookcase and game-call display. I quickly reached for the certificate and scanned it over, all the while keeping my eye on the little unwelcome visitor. “LeAnne,” I said gravely through clenched teeth. “I think it’s following me.” Indeed, the little monster was making a beeline from the center of the ceiling toward me. It was like it was asking for trouble. Did this thing really want to mess with me? Most likely, it knew I was terrified of it and would at least get a laugh or two out of seeing me run out of the room, flailing my arms about like a sissy.
“Oh, yeah – they will chase you! People say they don’t, but they do!” I could hear LeAnne’s heart racing for me. I stood in a frozen panic, my eyes darting around the room for a weapon. For a brief second I thought, I could always shoot it off the ceiling…
“What do I do?” I whimpered.
“Spray it with something!” Now LeAnne was the brave one. I followed her orders and thankfully found a can of furniture polish sitting on a footstool nearby. I bent down and scooped it up, ignoring the fleeting thought of the spray nozzle not working correctly. Holding the can at a shaky forty-five degree angle, I sprayed the polish toward the unsuspecting little menace. The mist fell short of the ceiling by about a foot.
“Oh no! It doesn’t work,” I cried as the spider changed directions once again, speeding towards me.
“Keep trying! Throw something at it! Smack it with your shoe!” LeAnne gave a plethora of advice on how to take the maniacal little thing down, but in the end, my only weapon of choice was the furniture polish.
“What am I going to do?” I felt close to tears at that point. “I can’t reach it, and I can’t just leave it in here! It’ll find someplace to hide and I won't know where it is!”
“Give it another try,” LeAnne cheered me on. So I did. And this time, I jumped while I pressed the nozzle down. That gave the spray enough oomph to reach the spider, and it immediately lost its grip on the ceiling. Of course, I screamed.
“EWWWWWHHHHOOHOOHOO!!!! OH MY GOD!!!!”
“SSSSHHHHH!” LeAnne tried to silence me. “The kids are sleeping!” I was in no mood to care initially, but then the thought of Gabriella and Aiden being woken up by my screams after only being asleep for a half an hour began to sink in. That would not be a good thing.
Fortunately, the spider clung on to its silky butt-strand that was so dexterously attached to the ceiling, and carefully began to lower its nasty ass to the floor. Meanwhile, it threw in a couple of pysch-outs as it swung from its….uh….rope, like Tarzan, and made feeble attempts at trying to bite me. Brodie now joined me and watched the little acrobat lower its way down towards the floor.
“Get it, Brodie,” I commanded. “Kill it! GET IT!” Brodie wasn’t having it. Instead he sniffed at it and then sighed, which gave off just enough wind to propel the spider to the floor. I quickly annihilated the beast; with what, I don’t remember. Something big and heavy, I’m presuming. And I think something in the form of a few swear words poured out of my mouth, rather unexpectedly. I’m not sure. It’s all so cloudy to me now…
LeAnne gave me an ostentatious “hoo-rah” as I announced my victory. I was proud of myself for claiming my stake and taking the bad guy out. It’s not everyday a girl over-comes her fears and shows people what she’s made of. And I hope that spider saw my unwavering fortitude with all ten….or twenty…of his beady little eyes!
I know that both of my dogs have champions in their lineage, and I was pretty certain their pedigrees would display that. I searched through all the names of my German Shepherd’s family, from his parents to his great-great-grandparents. There were a few numbers and abbreviations here and there, but nothing that said “Ch.”, which would indicate a champion dog.
I was pretty sure my Gordon Setter’s pedigree would offer more insight. “It’s in the gun room, so I’ll have to be quiet,” I whispered over the phone to my sister. Our gun room is across the hall from my daughter’s room, and Gabriella was taking a much needed nap at that particular time. I turned the safety knob on the gun room door and walked in. Immediately, something caught my eye…
“Ewww!!” I gasped. “There’s a big nasty black spider on the ceiling!” (No matter what, everytime I enter a room, I always look up...just in case!)
“Gross,” whined LeAnne. She and I share the same cosmic fear of the nasty little eight-legged beasts. “Just don’t look at it.”
“I can’t help it,” I hissed. Brodie’s pedigree was sitting on top of an old entertainment center that Charlie converted into a bookcase and game-call display. I quickly reached for the certificate and scanned it over, all the while keeping my eye on the little unwelcome visitor. “LeAnne,” I said gravely through clenched teeth. “I think it’s following me.” Indeed, the little monster was making a beeline from the center of the ceiling toward me. It was like it was asking for trouble. Did this thing really want to mess with me? Most likely, it knew I was terrified of it and would at least get a laugh or two out of seeing me run out of the room, flailing my arms about like a sissy.
“Oh, yeah – they will chase you! People say they don’t, but they do!” I could hear LeAnne’s heart racing for me. I stood in a frozen panic, my eyes darting around the room for a weapon. For a brief second I thought, I could always shoot it off the ceiling…
“What do I do?” I whimpered.
“Spray it with something!” Now LeAnne was the brave one. I followed her orders and thankfully found a can of furniture polish sitting on a footstool nearby. I bent down and scooped it up, ignoring the fleeting thought of the spray nozzle not working correctly. Holding the can at a shaky forty-five degree angle, I sprayed the polish toward the unsuspecting little menace. The mist fell short of the ceiling by about a foot.
“Oh no! It doesn’t work,” I cried as the spider changed directions once again, speeding towards me.
“Keep trying! Throw something at it! Smack it with your shoe!” LeAnne gave a plethora of advice on how to take the maniacal little thing down, but in the end, my only weapon of choice was the furniture polish.
“What am I going to do?” I felt close to tears at that point. “I can’t reach it, and I can’t just leave it in here! It’ll find someplace to hide and I won't know where it is!”
“Give it another try,” LeAnne cheered me on. So I did. And this time, I jumped while I pressed the nozzle down. That gave the spray enough oomph to reach the spider, and it immediately lost its grip on the ceiling. Of course, I screamed.
“EWWWWWHHHHOOHOOHOO!!!! OH MY GOD!!!!”
“SSSSHHHHH!” LeAnne tried to silence me. “The kids are sleeping!” I was in no mood to care initially, but then the thought of Gabriella and Aiden being woken up by my screams after only being asleep for a half an hour began to sink in. That would not be a good thing.
Fortunately, the spider clung on to its silky butt-strand that was so dexterously attached to the ceiling, and carefully began to lower its nasty ass to the floor. Meanwhile, it threw in a couple of pysch-outs as it swung from its….uh….rope, like Tarzan, and made feeble attempts at trying to bite me. Brodie now joined me and watched the little acrobat lower its way down towards the floor.
“Get it, Brodie,” I commanded. “Kill it! GET IT!” Brodie wasn’t having it. Instead he sniffed at it and then sighed, which gave off just enough wind to propel the spider to the floor. I quickly annihilated the beast; with what, I don’t remember. Something big and heavy, I’m presuming. And I think something in the form of a few swear words poured out of my mouth, rather unexpectedly. I’m not sure. It’s all so cloudy to me now…
LeAnne gave me an ostentatious “hoo-rah” as I announced my victory. I was proud of myself for claiming my stake and taking the bad guy out. It’s not everyday a girl over-comes her fears and shows people what she’s made of. And I hope that spider saw my unwavering fortitude with all ten….or twenty…of his beady little eyes!
Couldn't Say It Any Better
Charlie and I receive a daily devotional booklet in the mail from RBC Ministries every month called 'The Daily Bread.' Every night before dinner, we take turns reading that day's scripture. It is our alternative way of praying before we eat. Tuesday, June 10th, was a very heartfelt passage, and I'd like to share it with all of you.
"Loving Our Grown-Up Children"
"Now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love." -1 Corinthians 13:13
When children reach adulthood, most parents have an opinion about how their offspring have "turned out." Some are proud of everything their kids have done, while other parents express misgivings or disappointment about the choices their children have made. How can we continue a positive parenting role after the birds have left our nest?
In 1 Corinthians 13, often called "the love chapter" of the Bible, Paul writes that the greatest gifts of speaking, understanding, and sacrificial service are worthless without love (vv.1-3). Love itself is a foundation of winsome behavior, and its influence never ends. "Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; loves does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seeks its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all thing. Love never fails" (vv.4-8).
When our children no longer seek our advice, they still value our love. In every stage of parenting, it's not only what we say but what we do that counts.
- David McCasland
"Loving Our Grown-Up Children"
"Now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love." -1 Corinthians 13:13
When children reach adulthood, most parents have an opinion about how their offspring have "turned out." Some are proud of everything their kids have done, while other parents express misgivings or disappointment about the choices their children have made. How can we continue a positive parenting role after the birds have left our nest?
In 1 Corinthians 13, often called "the love chapter" of the Bible, Paul writes that the greatest gifts of speaking, understanding, and sacrificial service are worthless without love (vv.1-3). Love itself is a foundation of winsome behavior, and its influence never ends. "Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; loves does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seeks its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all thing. Love never fails" (vv.4-8).
When our children no longer seek our advice, they still value our love. In every stage of parenting, it's not only what we say but what we do that counts.
- David McCasland
Friday, May 16, 2008
Temper, temper!
Some time ago (I believe it was around the 13 month-old mark), Charlie and I got a glimpse into the days of the Terrible Twos. Gabriella became a bit rebellious and very adept at demonstrating her frustrations through screaming, crying, whining, and throwing herself on the floor. It seems that once she was able to walk on her own, her sense of independence flourished. If things didn’t always go her way, and you caught her on a bad day, look out!! Temper tantrums were inevitable.
Last month, one of those days fell blindly upon us. Everything was going just fine; Gabriella and Aiden and I had spent the morning running errands, singing songs in the car, and even spending a few moments outside in the fresh, spring air. It was getting close to Aiden’s lunchtime, and I announced that it was time to go inside. That’s when all H-E-double hockey sticks broke loose.
First, Gabriella started screaming and running away from me. Not an easy task, running after and trying to catch a toddler while holding a 5 month old, 17 pound baby in your arms. I did manage to fetch her by the arm before she ran into the landmine field (skillfully laid out by our dogs, Brodie and Tank). We somehow made it into the house, amidst kicking, feet dragging, pretending to fall, and desperately clinging to the front porch banister.
Next came the Nonsense Game, as I like to call it. (That’s when Gabriella points to an object, while saying the name of it through whiney pleads [“Glasses! Glasses! WAAHH – glasses!”]. I have her say please and then I give her the object. She reaches out for it, then draws her hands back and cries out, “No! No! No! No!” I put the object down, and she asks for it again, this time a bit more fervently and with more pomp and circumstance. The scenario is repeated many times.)
The game continued on, with a different object every so often, until I had enough and began to ignore her. That made her really crabby. Pretty soon the Nonsense Game turned into the Oh No You Didn’t Game (her screaming at the top of her lungs and me saying, “Oh, no you didn’t!”). That’s when I picked her up, marched her into her room, and placed her in her crib. I told her I’d had enough and didn’t want to listen to her anymore. By that time, 45 minutes worth of temper tantrum had gone on, and it was only escalating.
I called Charlie in desperation. He offered to come home and I seriously considered it. However, since it wasn’t an emergency, I elected to call the doctor’s office instead and see if this spat was a cause for concern. It just didn’t seem quite normal to me – I often give up on my temper tantrums after a good half hour at the very most.
The automated secretary told me to press option two in order to speak with the nurse at the pediatric office. I was delighted to hear a friendly voice after the torture I had been through. I told her my name and explained my situation as calmly as I could; that I had a 19-month old daughter who had been throwing a horror-film type screaming fit for over an hour, that she wouldn’t calm down, and I just wasn’t sure what more I could do for her. “I can bring the phone in her room if you’d like to hear her,” I offered with all the generosity in my heart.
“No, no…that won’t be necessary. I only have a five month old at home, so I’m not quite sure what you’re going through-“
“Oh, just you wait!” I promised her.
She forced a chuckle, and I could hear her swallow hard. “Ok, I’m going to put you on hold and ask the other nurse what you should do. Just a minute.”
As I waited, I checked in on Aiden (who had gone down for his nap shortly before I brought Gabriella to her room), and then headed outside to breathe in some fresh air. I observed the looks on people’s faces as they drove by our house and hit the sonic boom that was emanating from Gabriella’s window. What a set of lungs that kid has! Finally, I heard the phone click, followed by the confident, matter-of-fact voice of the nurse.
“Ok, Mrs. Williams? This is what you need to do. First of all, make sure your daughter is in a safe place where she can’t hurt herself or others during her tantrum.”
“Ok,” I responded a little uncertainly. “She’s in her crib.”
“Great, that’s a good start,” the nurse said. “Now, take her to a chair. Tell her that is the time-out chair, and that she has to sit in it and calm down. Tell her that once she has calmed down, then you will talk to her. Then you need to explain to her why her actions are unacceptable.
It struck me then how blatantly naïve this woman was. “What?! Ma’am, my daughter is 19 months old. She is not going to understand that at all.”
“Well,” she went on in her sing-song voice, “the other nurse has a two and a half year old son, and she said that’s what works for him. Just give it a try, and if you need help, don’t hesitate to call us back.”
Yeah, because you’re a tremendous source of wisdom and assistance thus far.
“Alright…I’ll try,” I promised. And with that, I hung up the phone, walked down the hall to my daughter’s room, took a deep breath, and opened her bedroom door. There she was, her tear-streaked face as red as a bing cherry, screaming her lungs out. She stood up with her arms out and I picked her up, set her on the floor, and walked her over to her rocking chair.
“Gabriella, this is the time-out chair,” I pointed idiotically to the rocker that once belonged to me. I wonder how many time-outs I had to sit in this chair? Did I even understand what a time-out was? “I want you to sit here and think about what you did. When you...uh...calm down, then I’ll talk to you.”
I was met with a torrent of blood curdling screams that only a temper tantrum can fashion. I quickly exited her room and turned to shut the door, only to see Gabriella running at me with the most pitiful look on her face. It was a look of anger, frustration, confusion, and distress. How could I let that little girl continue on like that? Honestly, I couldn’t stand the shrieking and bawling, but it broke my heart to let her carry on so. Then all of a sudden, it got quiet. What the…?
I cracked open the door and peeked in at Gabriella. She stood there with her binky in her mouth, cradling her blanket, and rubbing her eyes. My heart finished breaking into a million pieces as I sauntered in and scooped up my little peanut. She rested her head on my shoulder and wrapped her arm around my neck. She stroked my hair and let out a shaky sigh. I held her tight and desperately fought the lump in my throat.
“Time-out chair,” I muttered to myself. No, I think the blanket and binky and the hugs work just fine.
Last month, one of those days fell blindly upon us. Everything was going just fine; Gabriella and Aiden and I had spent the morning running errands, singing songs in the car, and even spending a few moments outside in the fresh, spring air. It was getting close to Aiden’s lunchtime, and I announced that it was time to go inside. That’s when all H-E-double hockey sticks broke loose.
First, Gabriella started screaming and running away from me. Not an easy task, running after and trying to catch a toddler while holding a 5 month old, 17 pound baby in your arms. I did manage to fetch her by the arm before she ran into the landmine field (skillfully laid out by our dogs, Brodie and Tank). We somehow made it into the house, amidst kicking, feet dragging, pretending to fall, and desperately clinging to the front porch banister.
Next came the Nonsense Game, as I like to call it. (That’s when Gabriella points to an object, while saying the name of it through whiney pleads [“Glasses! Glasses! WAAHH – glasses!”]. I have her say please and then I give her the object. She reaches out for it, then draws her hands back and cries out, “No! No! No! No!” I put the object down, and she asks for it again, this time a bit more fervently and with more pomp and circumstance. The scenario is repeated many times.)
The game continued on, with a different object every so often, until I had enough and began to ignore her. That made her really crabby. Pretty soon the Nonsense Game turned into the Oh No You Didn’t Game (her screaming at the top of her lungs and me saying, “Oh, no you didn’t!”). That’s when I picked her up, marched her into her room, and placed her in her crib. I told her I’d had enough and didn’t want to listen to her anymore. By that time, 45 minutes worth of temper tantrum had gone on, and it was only escalating.
I called Charlie in desperation. He offered to come home and I seriously considered it. However, since it wasn’t an emergency, I elected to call the doctor’s office instead and see if this spat was a cause for concern. It just didn’t seem quite normal to me – I often give up on my temper tantrums after a good half hour at the very most.
The automated secretary told me to press option two in order to speak with the nurse at the pediatric office. I was delighted to hear a friendly voice after the torture I had been through. I told her my name and explained my situation as calmly as I could; that I had a 19-month old daughter who had been throwing a horror-film type screaming fit for over an hour, that she wouldn’t calm down, and I just wasn’t sure what more I could do for her. “I can bring the phone in her room if you’d like to hear her,” I offered with all the generosity in my heart.
“No, no…that won’t be necessary. I only have a five month old at home, so I’m not quite sure what you’re going through-“
“Oh, just you wait!” I promised her.
She forced a chuckle, and I could hear her swallow hard. “Ok, I’m going to put you on hold and ask the other nurse what you should do. Just a minute.”
As I waited, I checked in on Aiden (who had gone down for his nap shortly before I brought Gabriella to her room), and then headed outside to breathe in some fresh air. I observed the looks on people’s faces as they drove by our house and hit the sonic boom that was emanating from Gabriella’s window. What a set of lungs that kid has! Finally, I heard the phone click, followed by the confident, matter-of-fact voice of the nurse.
“Ok, Mrs. Williams? This is what you need to do. First of all, make sure your daughter is in a safe place where she can’t hurt herself or others during her tantrum.”
“Ok,” I responded a little uncertainly. “She’s in her crib.”
“Great, that’s a good start,” the nurse said. “Now, take her to a chair. Tell her that is the time-out chair, and that she has to sit in it and calm down. Tell her that once she has calmed down, then you will talk to her. Then you need to explain to her why her actions are unacceptable.
It struck me then how blatantly naïve this woman was. “What?! Ma’am, my daughter is 19 months old. She is not going to understand that at all.”
“Well,” she went on in her sing-song voice, “the other nurse has a two and a half year old son, and she said that’s what works for him. Just give it a try, and if you need help, don’t hesitate to call us back.”
Yeah, because you’re a tremendous source of wisdom and assistance thus far.
“Alright…I’ll try,” I promised. And with that, I hung up the phone, walked down the hall to my daughter’s room, took a deep breath, and opened her bedroom door. There she was, her tear-streaked face as red as a bing cherry, screaming her lungs out. She stood up with her arms out and I picked her up, set her on the floor, and walked her over to her rocking chair.
“Gabriella, this is the time-out chair,” I pointed idiotically to the rocker that once belonged to me. I wonder how many time-outs I had to sit in this chair? Did I even understand what a time-out was? “I want you to sit here and think about what you did. When you...uh...calm down, then I’ll talk to you.”
I was met with a torrent of blood curdling screams that only a temper tantrum can fashion. I quickly exited her room and turned to shut the door, only to see Gabriella running at me with the most pitiful look on her face. It was a look of anger, frustration, confusion, and distress. How could I let that little girl continue on like that? Honestly, I couldn’t stand the shrieking and bawling, but it broke my heart to let her carry on so. Then all of a sudden, it got quiet. What the…?
I cracked open the door and peeked in at Gabriella. She stood there with her binky in her mouth, cradling her blanket, and rubbing her eyes. My heart finished breaking into a million pieces as I sauntered in and scooped up my little peanut. She rested her head on my shoulder and wrapped her arm around my neck. She stroked my hair and let out a shaky sigh. I held her tight and desperately fought the lump in my throat.
“Time-out chair,” I muttered to myself. No, I think the blanket and binky and the hugs work just fine.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Cute comments
I got a kick and a boost of confidence out of the following comments that my sister, LeAnne, and Mom left on my last blog post (Cease, fire, cease!!):
cookie725 said...
The best part about this story, is as it was happening, she calls me... When I got on the phone, Jen is in one of those giggle fits that are SO cute and contagous -- but manages to get out "So, I think the fire department is on the way to my house!" *more giggles* Life IS always interesting, and I have great little stories like this to not only make me laugh, but make my day as well. Jen, I love the hell outta you!!
April 24, 2008 12:22 PM
mar5128 said...
I can just see you running through the house, over Aiden, looking out the windows, checking everything out, yet basically tiptoe-ing because the Gabbers is dozing. Then, after reading LeAnne's comment, I can just hear the giggles!!!!! You always did have the best laugh. So.....when are you going to take my suggestion & WRITE A BOOK????!!!!???? I love you, Jen
April 25, 2008 5:20 AM
cookie725 said...
Ah Jen, you really do have the best laugh -- it's like therapy!!! :)
April 25, 2008 5:42 AM
Thank you, ladies! That was really very sweet and made me feel really good.
Write a book? Hmmm....
My mom has been after me since I can remember to write a book. Problem is, I've started a few, gotten partially through the first quarter of it, then lost interest and tossed it aside. What would I even write about? What do I know well enough to put pen to paper and be confident enough that people would buy my book and read it? I like to write about things I know, because it is much easier to, in fact, write and get my point across clearly.
So when am I going to take the advice/suggestion? Already have. Baby steps, though...
cookie725 said...
The best part about this story, is as it was happening, she calls me... When I got on the phone, Jen is in one of those giggle fits that are SO cute and contagous -- but manages to get out "So, I think the fire department is on the way to my house!" *more giggles* Life IS always interesting, and I have great little stories like this to not only make me laugh, but make my day as well. Jen, I love the hell outta you!!
April 24, 2008 12:22 PM
mar5128 said...
I can just see you running through the house, over Aiden, looking out the windows, checking everything out, yet basically tiptoe-ing because the Gabbers is dozing. Then, after reading LeAnne's comment, I can just hear the giggles!!!!! You always did have the best laugh. So.....when are you going to take my suggestion & WRITE A BOOK????!!!!???? I love you, Jen
April 25, 2008 5:20 AM
cookie725 said...
Ah Jen, you really do have the best laugh -- it's like therapy!!! :)
April 25, 2008 5:42 AM
Thank you, ladies! That was really very sweet and made me feel really good.
Write a book? Hmmm....
My mom has been after me since I can remember to write a book. Problem is, I've started a few, gotten partially through the first quarter of it, then lost interest and tossed it aside. What would I even write about? What do I know well enough to put pen to paper and be confident enough that people would buy my book and read it? I like to write about things I know, because it is much easier to, in fact, write and get my point across clearly.
So when am I going to take the advice/suggestion? Already have. Baby steps, though...
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Cease, fire, cease!!
It's that time of year again. Everyone is burning trash and having bonfires in their yards...and their neighbors, upon seeing the plume of smoke, are calling the fire department or 911 in a panic, thinking someone's house is on fire. I think I've heard Bear Lake's siren go off at least four times this week (we only live about a mile and a half away from the hall). Not sure how many of the calls were false alarms - I'd say at least half.
Tonight, our friend Jim and his sons, Jimmy & Mike, are coming over. I decided that since they can't make it for dinner, I'd whip up some cookies for them instead. I turn on the oven to 350 and let it preheat. Now granted, we have a Caloric oven; however, it was here when we moved in 3-1/2 years ago and I couldn't tell you how long it was here before that. It is a bear to clean, and it always seems to cook off leftover drippings everytime we turn it on. Such was the case today.
Here I am, mixing away my oatmeal chocolate chip cookie batter when all of a sudden, our smoke alarm goes off. I grab a dish towel, leap in a panic over Aiden (who's sitting in his chair), and run into the hallway, fanning away before the noise wakes Gabriella up from her nap. (Naps are precious these days, as we are journeying through the terrible twos, and lack of sleep only makes the situation worse.) After repeating this scenario for the third time, I decide to open some windows and turn the ceiling fan on "suck." No sooner do I hang the dish towel back on the oven handle and return to spooning my cookie batter onto baking sheets, then I hear another alarm...only this time, it's Bear Lake's fire siren!!!!!!!!
"My GOD!" I cry out! I run out the front door, down the porch steps and out onto the lawn to survey the house. Nope...no smoke there. I run back into the house and go to the kitchen window. I slide the screen over with all my might and hang my upper body outside, craning my neck to get a look at the basement door. Ok, good...it's not the dryer. (Our dryer has been making these horrible noises - the bearings are pretty much shot, and I thought maybe it had caught on fire.) I run through the house, sniffing the air, checking electrical outlets, whatever I can think of. Nothing. I turn on the emergency scanner. False alarm - someone's burning trash again. *sigh*
Life...you gotta love it. It's always interesting.
Tonight, our friend Jim and his sons, Jimmy & Mike, are coming over. I decided that since they can't make it for dinner, I'd whip up some cookies for them instead. I turn on the oven to 350 and let it preheat. Now granted, we have a Caloric oven; however, it was here when we moved in 3-1/2 years ago and I couldn't tell you how long it was here before that. It is a bear to clean, and it always seems to cook off leftover drippings everytime we turn it on. Such was the case today.
Here I am, mixing away my oatmeal chocolate chip cookie batter when all of a sudden, our smoke alarm goes off. I grab a dish towel, leap in a panic over Aiden (who's sitting in his chair), and run into the hallway, fanning away before the noise wakes Gabriella up from her nap. (Naps are precious these days, as we are journeying through the terrible twos, and lack of sleep only makes the situation worse.) After repeating this scenario for the third time, I decide to open some windows and turn the ceiling fan on "suck." No sooner do I hang the dish towel back on the oven handle and return to spooning my cookie batter onto baking sheets, then I hear another alarm...only this time, it's Bear Lake's fire siren!!!!!!!!
"My GOD!" I cry out! I run out the front door, down the porch steps and out onto the lawn to survey the house. Nope...no smoke there. I run back into the house and go to the kitchen window. I slide the screen over with all my might and hang my upper body outside, craning my neck to get a look at the basement door. Ok, good...it's not the dryer. (Our dryer has been making these horrible noises - the bearings are pretty much shot, and I thought maybe it had caught on fire.) I run through the house, sniffing the air, checking electrical outlets, whatever I can think of. Nothing. I turn on the emergency scanner. False alarm - someone's burning trash again. *sigh*
Life...you gotta love it. It's always interesting.
Monday, April 14, 2008
New venture for Charlie!
Ask and you shall receive?
Charlie has been on the hunt for a new job since Aiden was born. At first, not a lot of people were hiring. Then came a few prospects, but nothing real promising. About a month ago, Charlie heard through the grapevine that one of his friends, a boss at National Steel, would hire him in a heartbeat if he was interested in leaving Corry Contract. So Charlie took his resume over and welded a couple of components for the owner to look at. His work was so seamless and clean, the owner wanted him in there the very next day! Of course, Charlie is obligated to put in his 2 weeks notice, so he can't start until the 21st, but he was flattered nonetheless. We prayed every night for the right job to come along, and I really think this one is it. Not only does it offer a cleaner environment for him to work in, better pay and benefits, but it offers hope for the future - something Corry Contract could not even fathom.
Other than that, not much is new. Short post today, as I have a ton of emails to answer and a few chores to do while it is still naptime! Take care all!
Charlie has been on the hunt for a new job since Aiden was born. At first, not a lot of people were hiring. Then came a few prospects, but nothing real promising. About a month ago, Charlie heard through the grapevine that one of his friends, a boss at National Steel, would hire him in a heartbeat if he was interested in leaving Corry Contract. So Charlie took his resume over and welded a couple of components for the owner to look at. His work was so seamless and clean, the owner wanted him in there the very next day! Of course, Charlie is obligated to put in his 2 weeks notice, so he can't start until the 21st, but he was flattered nonetheless. We prayed every night for the right job to come along, and I really think this one is it. Not only does it offer a cleaner environment for him to work in, better pay and benefits, but it offers hope for the future - something Corry Contract could not even fathom.
Other than that, not much is new. Short post today, as I have a ton of emails to answer and a few chores to do while it is still naptime! Take care all!
Thursday, April 3, 2008
LIFE (short word, short altogether)
Today is actually warm enough for me to take the kids outside for a walk. I can't believe it - I am actually going to set foot outside other than getting in and out of the car!! Woo hoo!! Hey, simple pleasures, folks - simple pleasures. Life is full of them.
Yesterday, Charlie came home crabby. On Tuesday, he was approached by the bosses and asked what it would take, money-wise, to make him happy where he's at. To put it in plain English, they were offering a raise and asking him what he wanted. He came up with some figures that night, and when he went in yesterday, they did a 180 on him and basically told him to forget it - there'd be enough overtime coming to satisfy his needs. So he came home, depressed and feeling worthless, and it immediately affected me. I don't like to see him like that, nor does he deserve to be treated that way! Mostly, there's nothing I can do except offer advice; sometimes I know it's easier for me to tell him something than to actually endure the situation in his shoes. I told him that he's not stuck there unless he lets himself. I told him to take a few days off and look around - get his name out there, see who is hiring and what they have to offer. He half-heartedly mumbled "Thanks," and I felt brushed off. Then we were both pouty - him about work and me about feeling unappreciated. During dinner, neither of us spoke a word. Gabby did most of the babbling until finally, Charlie spoke up and said, "It really stinks that both of us are in a bad mood at the same time. We can't even rely on each other to cheer us up."
That stuck in my head like glue. It repeats over and over. He's right. What good is a relationship, any relationship at all, if you can't rely on each other for support, love, understanding, and acceptance? Sometimes we get so caught up in our own thoughts and emotions, that we can't be bothered with things, good or bad, that are happening to those around us. Instead of taking a step back and looking at how we can help each other, we put ourselves first and to hell with what the other person is feeling. When we could be helping each other out and talking through our problems, we're pushing each other to the side for a time and place that is more convenient for us. And you know, that's not right.
Life is too short for pettiness, grudges, and selfishness. I had really no right to be in a bad mood yesterday. Charlie didn't mean to make me feel unappreciated; he was just working through his own dilemma. How could I expect him to be as chipper as a blue bird and automatically put on a happy face? And how could I justify my blue mood? As his wife and friend, I should have brushed those bad feelings aside and focused on Charlie. Maybe I could have done more to make him feel better about himself. Maybe I could have coaxed more communication out of him and given him ideas on what he could do to remedy the situation. But I didn't, and for that, I feel awful. I apologized profusely last night and today, and while Charlie has forgiven and forgotten, I can't say the same of myself. I do not want to be like that again.
So the next time you're in a foul mood and someone approaches you, stop and think: "Am I taking my emotions out on this person, or am I asking for them to just listen to me?" How you vent your feelings is just as important as venting! And it may sound cliche, but whenever I catch myself working up to a crabby, I find myself asking this lately: WWJD?
Yesterday, Charlie came home crabby. On Tuesday, he was approached by the bosses and asked what it would take, money-wise, to make him happy where he's at. To put it in plain English, they were offering a raise and asking him what he wanted. He came up with some figures that night, and when he went in yesterday, they did a 180 on him and basically told him to forget it - there'd be enough overtime coming to satisfy his needs. So he came home, depressed and feeling worthless, and it immediately affected me. I don't like to see him like that, nor does he deserve to be treated that way! Mostly, there's nothing I can do except offer advice; sometimes I know it's easier for me to tell him something than to actually endure the situation in his shoes. I told him that he's not stuck there unless he lets himself. I told him to take a few days off and look around - get his name out there, see who is hiring and what they have to offer. He half-heartedly mumbled "Thanks," and I felt brushed off. Then we were both pouty - him about work and me about feeling unappreciated. During dinner, neither of us spoke a word. Gabby did most of the babbling until finally, Charlie spoke up and said, "It really stinks that both of us are in a bad mood at the same time. We can't even rely on each other to cheer us up."
That stuck in my head like glue. It repeats over and over. He's right. What good is a relationship, any relationship at all, if you can't rely on each other for support, love, understanding, and acceptance? Sometimes we get so caught up in our own thoughts and emotions, that we can't be bothered with things, good or bad, that are happening to those around us. Instead of taking a step back and looking at how we can help each other, we put ourselves first and to hell with what the other person is feeling. When we could be helping each other out and talking through our problems, we're pushing each other to the side for a time and place that is more convenient for us. And you know, that's not right.
Life is too short for pettiness, grudges, and selfishness. I had really no right to be in a bad mood yesterday. Charlie didn't mean to make me feel unappreciated; he was just working through his own dilemma. How could I expect him to be as chipper as a blue bird and automatically put on a happy face? And how could I justify my blue mood? As his wife and friend, I should have brushed those bad feelings aside and focused on Charlie. Maybe I could have done more to make him feel better about himself. Maybe I could have coaxed more communication out of him and given him ideas on what he could do to remedy the situation. But I didn't, and for that, I feel awful. I apologized profusely last night and today, and while Charlie has forgiven and forgotten, I can't say the same of myself. I do not want to be like that again.
So the next time you're in a foul mood and someone approaches you, stop and think: "Am I taking my emotions out on this person, or am I asking for them to just listen to me?" How you vent your feelings is just as important as venting! And it may sound cliche, but whenever I catch myself working up to a crabby, I find myself asking this lately: WWJD?
Friday, March 28, 2008
Welcome to CA (Chocoholics Anonymous)
My name is Jenifer, and I'm a chocoholic.
Good granny! Today is terrible for me - I am so ravenously hungry for chocolate, it is almost scary! My Cadbury egg is gone, and I don't dare open that box with the chocolate cross in it because I'll probably eat the whole thing (it's big, too). I made trail mix last night with peanuts, roasted almonds, cheerios and semi-sweet chocolate chips, so that's sitting on the counter taunting me every time I walk by. I had to put chocolate syrup in my coffee at lunch, then I went back for chocolate milk with a dollop of chocolate ice cream - a mock milkshake. Whew! I wish this desk was made out of chocolate - I'd tear it up like a pride of lions on an antelope! Oooo...I've gotta think of something else! (Must be that time again...)
Gabriella gave me a heck of a time this afternoon. I try to avoid cleaning out her nose at all costs...because it is literally hell. But I'd let the boogie situation go on long enough. After her lunch, I took her to her room to change her diaper. As I was finishing up, I noticed that her nose had some company. It was bad. They were poking out of her nose, waving at me, chatting with each other, hanging window treatments, bungee jumping - it was a three ring circus and I couldn't take it anymore. I tried wiping them away with a clean wipee, but to no avail. So I dug out the boogie bulb and some Q-tips - this sent Gabby into a full out frenzied conniption. She knew what was coming. The screaming started. I had to hold her down and try to dig the little monsters out, which is not an easy thing to do with a 24-lb. toddler kicking, pushing, flipping, screaming, and crying at you. You would have thought I was in there beating her with a wooden spoon. It was horrible! I ran over and closed her door so that she wouldn't wake Aiden from his nap, and then tried to finish the job. Somehow, I managed to get both her arms in my left hand while I held her torso and legs down with my right elbow, steadied her head with my left elbow, and ambushed the remaining boogie with my right hand. (At this point, I'm still not sure where the first one went.) Meanwhile, she's turning beat red from screaming and is on the verge of hyperventilating. Thankfully, I got the job done. I sat her up and tried to calm her down. Instead, she stood up and stomped her feet, which bent the particle board on the changing table (the piece that she lays on), and sent that crashing down after I whisked her off of it. Holy crazy toddler, Batman!!!
Needless to say, nobody got hurt and Gabby passed out as soon as I laid her down for her nap. All I could think of to say to her was, "Was that really necessary?" Now I feel like a child abuser, and I'm sure she pretty much hates me right now. I guess we'll see when she wakes up from her nap. And through all of that, Aiden was still sound asleep...*sigh*...
Motherhood...a free pass to the insane asylum.
Good granny! Today is terrible for me - I am so ravenously hungry for chocolate, it is almost scary! My Cadbury egg is gone, and I don't dare open that box with the chocolate cross in it because I'll probably eat the whole thing (it's big, too). I made trail mix last night with peanuts, roasted almonds, cheerios and semi-sweet chocolate chips, so that's sitting on the counter taunting me every time I walk by. I had to put chocolate syrup in my coffee at lunch, then I went back for chocolate milk with a dollop of chocolate ice cream - a mock milkshake. Whew! I wish this desk was made out of chocolate - I'd tear it up like a pride of lions on an antelope! Oooo...I've gotta think of something else! (Must be that time again...)
Gabriella gave me a heck of a time this afternoon. I try to avoid cleaning out her nose at all costs...because it is literally hell. But I'd let the boogie situation go on long enough. After her lunch, I took her to her room to change her diaper. As I was finishing up, I noticed that her nose had some company. It was bad. They were poking out of her nose, waving at me, chatting with each other, hanging window treatments, bungee jumping - it was a three ring circus and I couldn't take it anymore. I tried wiping them away with a clean wipee, but to no avail. So I dug out the boogie bulb and some Q-tips - this sent Gabby into a full out frenzied conniption. She knew what was coming. The screaming started. I had to hold her down and try to dig the little monsters out, which is not an easy thing to do with a 24-lb. toddler kicking, pushing, flipping, screaming, and crying at you. You would have thought I was in there beating her with a wooden spoon. It was horrible! I ran over and closed her door so that she wouldn't wake Aiden from his nap, and then tried to finish the job. Somehow, I managed to get both her arms in my left hand while I held her torso and legs down with my right elbow, steadied her head with my left elbow, and ambushed the remaining boogie with my right hand. (At this point, I'm still not sure where the first one went.) Meanwhile, she's turning beat red from screaming and is on the verge of hyperventilating. Thankfully, I got the job done. I sat her up and tried to calm her down. Instead, she stood up and stomped her feet, which bent the particle board on the changing table (the piece that she lays on), and sent that crashing down after I whisked her off of it. Holy crazy toddler, Batman!!!
Needless to say, nobody got hurt and Gabby passed out as soon as I laid her down for her nap. All I could think of to say to her was, "Was that really necessary?" Now I feel like a child abuser, and I'm sure she pretty much hates me right now. I guess we'll see when she wakes up from her nap. And through all of that, Aiden was still sound asleep...*sigh*...
Motherhood...a free pass to the insane asylum.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
It hath sprung...
Can it possibly be...spring??? Oh, ladies and gentlemen, I think it has finally arrived! Yay! Today, I have seen hoards of geese - flying in by the dozens. Sometimes by the 2 dozens! So they are definitely back, and in greater numbers than they were last year. I can remember being outside when I was little and hearing their melodious honks echoing in the crisp, fall air. It would be a treat to see that unmistakable 'V' in the sky, heading south to warmer weather. Now...they are everywhere! They are beautiful and fun to watch, don't get me wrong, but they can be a nuisance if their population is not controlled. We get more and more every year on our pond. As I type, they are out there on the beaver dam, beaver hut, pond banks, red brush, you name it, fighting each other for exclusive nesting rights. They are quite a sight - they stretch out their necks so that they are parallel to the ground. Then they lift their wings up (like they're going to take off) and run at each other, hissing and squawking. Sometimes it does turn into a full-out brawl; there's beating and biting and name-calling, I would imagine. But most of it is for show and intimidation. It's good stuff!
I also saw 3 great blues (herons) setting up shop in the nests from last year. Well, actually, the nests have been there in the trees since we moved in, and who knows how long before that. Herons usually come back to the same breeding spot every year and reuse their nests. Last year, some of them got pretty well destroyed from a bad wind storm that we had. Some nests got repaired and others weren't worth the effort, so a few new ones popped up here and there. You know good weather is on the way when you see the GBHs. They don't care much for cold and ice.
We always get an oddball species of bird on the pond every year, too. The first spring/summer we were here, we had a bald eagle. He/She found a mate and had eaglets, and even now they come and go. The second year, we had a tundra swan (no joke), and last year, we had an egret. The swan stayed about a month; the egret was here all summer. It was so cool and interesting. Who would have ever thought that pond would welcome so many different birds and animals? We really do see the neatest things. We've been watching a mink who has made an old woodchuck den into its home. Everynight she (we think, anyway) makes trip after trip to the neighbors' pond for frogs and mudpuppies (salamanders) and runs them back to her den. She's a good little hunter. She better not kill off too many of them - we love the sound of the frogs at night in the summer. It can be almost deafening on those still nights.
We are actually going to cut back a lot of the red brush this spring so that we have better access to the pond for fishing, bird watching, and hunting. We'd even talked about putting in a small dock. That would be a great spot for a couple of Adirondack chairs, a little table with a radio, and a cooler of beverages. Mmmmm....I cannot wait!!! Summer, here I come!!!
Gabriella certainly loves watching the wildlife in our backyard. She is always looking for the geese ("Geese on pond!") and is learning bird distinction. She knows the difference between blue jays, cardinals, and doves now. I can't wait until the ducks start coming back. We get at least 5 different species, so that will be fun to teach her. Her little mind absorbs everything like a sponge. She amazes me. Every day is something new, whether she learns a new game, says a new word, "performs" a new song and dance, or "says" a new animal sound. She is at least calling Aiden "Dee-den" or "brother" now, instead of "baby," so we are making progress there. Still lapsing on the potty training. She does so good some days, and then there are days like today where she wants absolutely nothing to do with it. That's ok. She 19 months old - she is doing phenomenal for her age! I got her some "big girl panties" and they are sitting on top of her dresser next to her changing table (which she is almost too long for). She sees them all the time and I've told her what they are. She doesn't want to wear them yet, but one of these days, I know she will. Hopefully by summer she'll be in them.
Aiden is growing fast! 5 months old and still smiling and laughing - I swear he is the happiest baby I've ever known! He is down to 4 feedings per day now, which is easier for me. We don't buy formula as much, and he doesn't act like he is ravenously hungry every 2-1/2 or 3 hours. He eats 9oz in the a.m., followed by 5oz and cereal at lunch, 5oz and a veggie or fruit at dinner, and then 9oz at bedtime (usually between 7:30-8:30pm). He sleeps until 5:30-7:00am. Making good progress there! He is skipping his morning catnap, and opting to stay up until after lunch. Then he takes a 2-3 hour nap; same as Gabby. He is doing good at sitting up on his own - still a little wobbly, but he does good. He reaches out and grabs everything - loves toys! He found his feet last month, so he is still doing the "I'm gonna grab my feet and hang on for dear life while Mom tries to put my pants on." He loves his jumper (we call it the bouncy swing) and happily goes in it while I get dinner ready. Usually, Gabby comes over and spins him in it ("Wheeee!"); but he loves it and she's so gentle with him, so I just quietly supervise. We think he said "Hi!" a couple of times, but I think most babies spit that word out now and then while they are babbling. His hair has turned from reddish to strawberry blonde - it is hard to say what color he'll end up with. I hope red! I think redheads are adorable!!
Charlie is doing great. Just got done building a prototype for GE Transportation. It is a new cab for a train engine that is going to Egypt. No word yet on how many more GE will order, but they will be very busy soon. That hasn't stopped Charlie from looking elsewhere for another job. The company he works for has basically told him that he has come to a dead end as far as promotions and raises go. Doesn't surprise me after they dropped our Blue Cross insurance and gave us a crappy alternative, cut out holiday bonuses, and jipped Charlie out of 2 weeks vacation for '07. And it's not just him that the company is doing this to. There are a lot of hardworking guys there with families who deserve much better then what that place is offering. Yup, it's time to start looking elsewhere. Other than that, he is doing great and makes me so proud to be his wife. He truly is my best friend, my heart and soul (next to the kids, of course!).
I'm doing better after my last post. I've had a lot of time to think about it, and I realized that the butthead insurance guy's comments are not the only thing that set me off. The past couple of years have been a personal struggle for me. I've had a lot of emotional battles to overcome, and it's not easy to do it practically on your own. I have a great support system, but I'm missing something spiritually. That's where I'm on my own. Thanks to a new friend and inspiration, Les (our pastor), I think I might be getting the guidance that I've been seeking all along. We'll see. As far as the physical aspect goes, I did continue to lose another 4 inches overall (legs, arms, waist, bust, ribcage, hips combined) after my last spout-off, so that is good. I haven't done much this week because I've been told to take it easy. I went to the chiropractor last week to get my lower back and hips adjusted. They were pretty well out of whack. I went right back to doing my routines over the course of the week - nothing healed up. I went back again this past Monday and he did another adjustment. I feel better today, but I'm going to wait it out and start over again with my exercises next week. He did say I could walk, so maybe I'll head out tonight since it is too damp yet for the kids to be out there.
Whew...this is a long post!!! I guess I had a lot more to say than I thought I did. Take care, all you fellow readers.
I also saw 3 great blues (herons) setting up shop in the nests from last year. Well, actually, the nests have been there in the trees since we moved in, and who knows how long before that. Herons usually come back to the same breeding spot every year and reuse their nests. Last year, some of them got pretty well destroyed from a bad wind storm that we had. Some nests got repaired and others weren't worth the effort, so a few new ones popped up here and there. You know good weather is on the way when you see the GBHs. They don't care much for cold and ice.
We always get an oddball species of bird on the pond every year, too. The first spring/summer we were here, we had a bald eagle. He/She found a mate and had eaglets, and even now they come and go. The second year, we had a tundra swan (no joke), and last year, we had an egret. The swan stayed about a month; the egret was here all summer. It was so cool and interesting. Who would have ever thought that pond would welcome so many different birds and animals? We really do see the neatest things. We've been watching a mink who has made an old woodchuck den into its home. Everynight she (we think, anyway) makes trip after trip to the neighbors' pond for frogs and mudpuppies (salamanders) and runs them back to her den. She's a good little hunter. She better not kill off too many of them - we love the sound of the frogs at night in the summer. It can be almost deafening on those still nights.
We are actually going to cut back a lot of the red brush this spring so that we have better access to the pond for fishing, bird watching, and hunting. We'd even talked about putting in a small dock. That would be a great spot for a couple of Adirondack chairs, a little table with a radio, and a cooler of beverages. Mmmmm....I cannot wait!!! Summer, here I come!!!
Gabriella certainly loves watching the wildlife in our backyard. She is always looking for the geese ("Geese on pond!") and is learning bird distinction. She knows the difference between blue jays, cardinals, and doves now. I can't wait until the ducks start coming back. We get at least 5 different species, so that will be fun to teach her. Her little mind absorbs everything like a sponge. She amazes me. Every day is something new, whether she learns a new game, says a new word, "performs" a new song and dance, or "says" a new animal sound. She is at least calling Aiden "Dee-den" or "brother" now, instead of "baby," so we are making progress there. Still lapsing on the potty training. She does so good some days, and then there are days like today where she wants absolutely nothing to do with it. That's ok. She 19 months old - she is doing phenomenal for her age! I got her some "big girl panties" and they are sitting on top of her dresser next to her changing table (which she is almost too long for). She sees them all the time and I've told her what they are. She doesn't want to wear them yet, but one of these days, I know she will. Hopefully by summer she'll be in them.
Aiden is growing fast! 5 months old and still smiling and laughing - I swear he is the happiest baby I've ever known! He is down to 4 feedings per day now, which is easier for me. We don't buy formula as much, and he doesn't act like he is ravenously hungry every 2-1/2 or 3 hours. He eats 9oz in the a.m., followed by 5oz and cereal at lunch, 5oz and a veggie or fruit at dinner, and then 9oz at bedtime (usually between 7:30-8:30pm). He sleeps until 5:30-7:00am. Making good progress there! He is skipping his morning catnap, and opting to stay up until after lunch. Then he takes a 2-3 hour nap; same as Gabby. He is doing good at sitting up on his own - still a little wobbly, but he does good. He reaches out and grabs everything - loves toys! He found his feet last month, so he is still doing the "I'm gonna grab my feet and hang on for dear life while Mom tries to put my pants on." He loves his jumper (we call it the bouncy swing) and happily goes in it while I get dinner ready. Usually, Gabby comes over and spins him in it ("Wheeee!"); but he loves it and she's so gentle with him, so I just quietly supervise. We think he said "Hi!" a couple of times, but I think most babies spit that word out now and then while they are babbling. His hair has turned from reddish to strawberry blonde - it is hard to say what color he'll end up with. I hope red! I think redheads are adorable!!
Charlie is doing great. Just got done building a prototype for GE Transportation. It is a new cab for a train engine that is going to Egypt. No word yet on how many more GE will order, but they will be very busy soon. That hasn't stopped Charlie from looking elsewhere for another job. The company he works for has basically told him that he has come to a dead end as far as promotions and raises go. Doesn't surprise me after they dropped our Blue Cross insurance and gave us a crappy alternative, cut out holiday bonuses, and jipped Charlie out of 2 weeks vacation for '07. And it's not just him that the company is doing this to. There are a lot of hardworking guys there with families who deserve much better then what that place is offering. Yup, it's time to start looking elsewhere. Other than that, he is doing great and makes me so proud to be his wife. He truly is my best friend, my heart and soul (next to the kids, of course!).
I'm doing better after my last post. I've had a lot of time to think about it, and I realized that the butthead insurance guy's comments are not the only thing that set me off. The past couple of years have been a personal struggle for me. I've had a lot of emotional battles to overcome, and it's not easy to do it practically on your own. I have a great support system, but I'm missing something spiritually. That's where I'm on my own. Thanks to a new friend and inspiration, Les (our pastor), I think I might be getting the guidance that I've been seeking all along. We'll see. As far as the physical aspect goes, I did continue to lose another 4 inches overall (legs, arms, waist, bust, ribcage, hips combined) after my last spout-off, so that is good. I haven't done much this week because I've been told to take it easy. I went to the chiropractor last week to get my lower back and hips adjusted. They were pretty well out of whack. I went right back to doing my routines over the course of the week - nothing healed up. I went back again this past Monday and he did another adjustment. I feel better today, but I'm going to wait it out and start over again with my exercises next week. He did say I could walk, so maybe I'll head out tonight since it is too damp yet for the kids to be out there.
Whew...this is a long post!!! I guess I had a lot more to say than I thought I did. Take care, all you fellow readers.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Name change?
I've been contemplating a name change for my blog. A few ideas:
"So this is my hell..."
"So this is my struggle..."
"So why bother?"
How easily discouraged I get. It doesn't take much - it never has. I don't like to be consumed by a problem. Honestly, it does nothing but drag me down, make me feel like crap, and have a poor affect on those around me. But it is hard to stay positive, especially when we're talking about something that could mean life or death for me...and that is the sickening, harsh reality of it all.
About a month ago, we received in the mail some information about a health care plan. Seeing as we can't stand the new insurance that Charlie's company has forced upon them, and the fact that Charlie is looking elsewhere for work, we thought it would be in our best interest to explore other options. The rep for the insurance company came to our house last night to discuss the plans and benefits. We get about 3/4 of the way through the presentation, and it gets laid out on the table. He asked if we have any specific health problems that would inhibit our chances of getting this insurance (ie. diabetes, cancer, epilepsy, etc.). We said no, but mentioned that I have hypothyroidism and high blood pressure. Then he says, "Now, how can I put this gently?" (At this point, I already know what's coming.) "Jenifer, you're obviously still carrying around baby weight. Think back to a few years ago, before you started having kids. That will be the weight we'll write you down for, because I don't want to see you get rejected for health care over how much you weigh."
Thanks. Thanks a lot. Ok, I understand that I'm heavy and that that's how the ball bounces in the health care court. Those are the facts, I'm well aware. But what no one has ever understood is that when people "call my weight to my attention," all I see is a look of disgust on their faces and hear the haughtiness in their voices. It's like, "Good God, look at you! What's wrong with you? Why can't you be normal and thin and in shape like other women? You're disgusting." That's what I hear, ok? That's what my brain processes. I won't get past this for DAYS. And when it came time to confess my poundage, I found myself panicking. I could feel my whole body flushing with embarassment and shame. I was looking for ways to stall the oncoming question, a way out, something. All the guilt and shame and disgust that I've so proudly pushed aside in my endeavor to better myself came rushing back in one single moment. My childhood came flooding back in a torrent. The kids at school were back, calling me names and laughing and pointing fingers and mooing. People who I know and love and look up to were there again, asking me, "When are you going to lose weight like your mother? Don't you want to look like her and your sister?" In one foul swoop, my dignity and perserverance were taken away. It was heartwrenching, to say the least.
Charlie did and said all he could to boost my confidence last night. It didn't work. I even got up early, fed Aiden, and did my exercises. Still not feeling it. The whole time I did the routine, I kept thinking, "What am I doing? Why bother? Do I think people will like me better if I lose weight? Will my family love me more if I become 5 sizes smaller?" It's times like this when I seriously consider bulemia, starvation, or other drastic measures. Maybe that's what will work for me. What else is there? Everyday, I'm afraid to eat. The thing is, I don't eat that much, and I have made so many changes to make sure I'm eating healthier. I've mastered portion control and cut out high fat, high sugar, high carb, high sodium foods. Charlie refuses to consent to me having gastric bypass. I don't know that I necessarily need that. Plus (no pun intended), I don't know if I can go through another surgery or hospital stay knowing how it affects Gabriella.
People who have never experienced these feelings, or haven't experienced them to the capacity that I have, can very easily say, "Chin up! Don't give up now. Just brush it off and keep doing what you're doing. You can do this!" They will wholeheartedly believe that their pep talks and positive outlook will help me change my perspective. It won't. Know why? Because it has to come from me. And if I don't believe in myself, it is never going to happen for me. This is why I have failed so miserably, so many times before. I'm afraid of myself - I know me too well. I knew better than to bank on this life change. I told Charlie that I was afraid I was going to let me down. At least I'm living up to that expectation, huh?
I don't really know what more to say except that it's not easy. I didn't ask to be this way. I didn't want to get to this point. Crying out for help has never gotten me anywhere, maybe because I refused to do so. Living like this on a day to day basis really just sucks, ok? It SUCKS!!! I hate it. I hate being me somedays. I don't hate being a mom to two beautiful, wonderful children. I don't hate being a wife to an incredible, amazing husband. I don't hate being a sister, daughter, granddaughter, niece, cousin, aunt, in-law, or friend to anyone. I just hate being stuck in this cocoon that I've woven over the years. I keep hoping that, one day, that pretty little butterfly will pop out of that crysallis and take everyone by storm. I'm doing all I can to get to that point, but it's hard knowing that your best isn't good enough. I don't know that it will ever be.
"So this is my hell..."
"So this is my struggle..."
"So why bother?"
How easily discouraged I get. It doesn't take much - it never has. I don't like to be consumed by a problem. Honestly, it does nothing but drag me down, make me feel like crap, and have a poor affect on those around me. But it is hard to stay positive, especially when we're talking about something that could mean life or death for me...and that is the sickening, harsh reality of it all.
About a month ago, we received in the mail some information about a health care plan. Seeing as we can't stand the new insurance that Charlie's company has forced upon them, and the fact that Charlie is looking elsewhere for work, we thought it would be in our best interest to explore other options. The rep for the insurance company came to our house last night to discuss the plans and benefits. We get about 3/4 of the way through the presentation, and it gets laid out on the table. He asked if we have any specific health problems that would inhibit our chances of getting this insurance (ie. diabetes, cancer, epilepsy, etc.). We said no, but mentioned that I have hypothyroidism and high blood pressure. Then he says, "Now, how can I put this gently?" (At this point, I already know what's coming.) "Jenifer, you're obviously still carrying around baby weight. Think back to a few years ago, before you started having kids. That will be the weight we'll write you down for, because I don't want to see you get rejected for health care over how much you weigh."
Thanks. Thanks a lot. Ok, I understand that I'm heavy and that that's how the ball bounces in the health care court. Those are the facts, I'm well aware. But what no one has ever understood is that when people "call my weight to my attention," all I see is a look of disgust on their faces and hear the haughtiness in their voices. It's like, "Good God, look at you! What's wrong with you? Why can't you be normal and thin and in shape like other women? You're disgusting." That's what I hear, ok? That's what my brain processes. I won't get past this for DAYS. And when it came time to confess my poundage, I found myself panicking. I could feel my whole body flushing with embarassment and shame. I was looking for ways to stall the oncoming question, a way out, something. All the guilt and shame and disgust that I've so proudly pushed aside in my endeavor to better myself came rushing back in one single moment. My childhood came flooding back in a torrent. The kids at school were back, calling me names and laughing and pointing fingers and mooing. People who I know and love and look up to were there again, asking me, "When are you going to lose weight like your mother? Don't you want to look like her and your sister?" In one foul swoop, my dignity and perserverance were taken away. It was heartwrenching, to say the least.
Charlie did and said all he could to boost my confidence last night. It didn't work. I even got up early, fed Aiden, and did my exercises. Still not feeling it. The whole time I did the routine, I kept thinking, "What am I doing? Why bother? Do I think people will like me better if I lose weight? Will my family love me more if I become 5 sizes smaller?" It's times like this when I seriously consider bulemia, starvation, or other drastic measures. Maybe that's what will work for me. What else is there? Everyday, I'm afraid to eat. The thing is, I don't eat that much, and I have made so many changes to make sure I'm eating healthier. I've mastered portion control and cut out high fat, high sugar, high carb, high sodium foods. Charlie refuses to consent to me having gastric bypass. I don't know that I necessarily need that. Plus (no pun intended), I don't know if I can go through another surgery or hospital stay knowing how it affects Gabriella.
People who have never experienced these feelings, or haven't experienced them to the capacity that I have, can very easily say, "Chin up! Don't give up now. Just brush it off and keep doing what you're doing. You can do this!" They will wholeheartedly believe that their pep talks and positive outlook will help me change my perspective. It won't. Know why? Because it has to come from me. And if I don't believe in myself, it is never going to happen for me. This is why I have failed so miserably, so many times before. I'm afraid of myself - I know me too well. I knew better than to bank on this life change. I told Charlie that I was afraid I was going to let me down. At least I'm living up to that expectation, huh?
I don't really know what more to say except that it's not easy. I didn't ask to be this way. I didn't want to get to this point. Crying out for help has never gotten me anywhere, maybe because I refused to do so. Living like this on a day to day basis really just sucks, ok? It SUCKS!!! I hate it. I hate being me somedays. I don't hate being a mom to two beautiful, wonderful children. I don't hate being a wife to an incredible, amazing husband. I don't hate being a sister, daughter, granddaughter, niece, cousin, aunt, in-law, or friend to anyone. I just hate being stuck in this cocoon that I've woven over the years. I keep hoping that, one day, that pretty little butterfly will pop out of that crysallis and take everyone by storm. I'm doing all I can to get to that point, but it's hard knowing that your best isn't good enough. I don't know that it will ever be.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Slow week...or is it?
Ok, so this post is a polar opposite to my last post as far as the whole weight issue goes. For those of you who don't know, I've had it up to my neck (which is in shape) with being a porker. Last week, I was so frustrated. I've been making sure I exercise at least 3 times a week (usually, I do 5 days per week), for at least a half an hour. Then, I take measurements at the end of the week. From February 21-27, I lost 12.5 inches overall!! I was psyched. Then, on the 6th of March I measured again - I lost 2 inches overall. Hence, the main subject matter of the post titled "Fargin' bored..." I just took my measurements about 5 minutes ago - totally pysched again!! 6 inches lost overall, with the most significant being in my ribcage (3 inches lost). I also went back to the doctor on Monday - I lost a pound since my last weight check which was only four days prior (Thursday). Not bad - if I could keep up that pace at the very least, I'd be happy.
I wish the loss was more obvious to people. No one has commented, except for Charlie, who says he feels a difference when he hugs me. I know he's not just saying that to boost my confidence. Thankfully, Charlie is completely honest about everything and doesn't say things to save face, or because it's what he thinks someone does or doesn't want to hear. Going back to my last post, I think if I got some different clothes, maybe that would help. Maybe not - I don't know. NOW - that doesn't mean if I see any of you in the next week or so that I want you to say, "Oh my GOSH, you've lost weight!!" You're not allowed to say anything along those lines until you truly see a significant difference!!
It is hard. Somedays I look in the mirror and go, "Ugh...I don't look any different then I did when I started this whole thing. Why bother?" Then, other days I catch a glimpse of myself and say, "Hey...I don't look so bad..." I go up and down, and I'm trying hard as heck to keep a positive outlook on the whole thing. I just keep trucking, hoping that my efforts will yield some desireable results. I want to be around for a while, especially for my kids. I've been making a lot of changes and keeping my health in check, which just recently included a clotting panel and cholesterol check (both bloodwork - results pending). In the meantime, my blood pressure has made a dramatic turn since having Aiden. 132/70 and 122/80 last couple of times I had it checked - and that was without any bp meds for almost a week. The latter was a tad high (bottom #), but not outrageous. I'm back on the meds just to be on the safe side. Pretty favorable experiment, though.
Tuesday I skipped my workout and opted to install some carpet on the landing at the top of our basement stairs. I was up and down those stairs at least 2 dozen times looking for tools, edging, nails, duct tape (don't ask), the tape measure, you name it!! I was sweating by the time I was done and my calves were begging for mercy, so I'd say that counts as a workout. And the landing looks pretty nice, if I do say so myself. Not perfect, but it serves its purpose.
The vacuum cleaner parts arrived in the mail yesterday. Charlie fixed the vacuum for me last night. So far, so good. But I have to say, I'm going to miss the shop vac. (Don't worry, Chris - I used the hose & attachments for the sake of my back!) It's on standby, just in case.
Ok, all my fellow bloggers - I have a young lady who has just dumped a bucket of crayons on the floor. I should help her clean them up before she gets the idea that the hardwood needs a wax job of sorts. Love to you all!
By the way, has this group of politicians running for president not been the biggest bunch of goobers you've ever seen? I don't know if I, as an American, can honestly feel confident in my vote this election year. If you ask me, our future looks bleak and hopeless. It's hard to envision any improvements heading our way no matter who takes on the big title. It's people like these presidential candidates and Eliot Spitzer who make my stomach turn.
I wish the loss was more obvious to people. No one has commented, except for Charlie, who says he feels a difference when he hugs me. I know he's not just saying that to boost my confidence. Thankfully, Charlie is completely honest about everything and doesn't say things to save face, or because it's what he thinks someone does or doesn't want to hear. Going back to my last post, I think if I got some different clothes, maybe that would help. Maybe not - I don't know. NOW - that doesn't mean if I see any of you in the next week or so that I want you to say, "Oh my GOSH, you've lost weight!!" You're not allowed to say anything along those lines until you truly see a significant difference!!
It is hard. Somedays I look in the mirror and go, "Ugh...I don't look any different then I did when I started this whole thing. Why bother?" Then, other days I catch a glimpse of myself and say, "Hey...I don't look so bad..." I go up and down, and I'm trying hard as heck to keep a positive outlook on the whole thing. I just keep trucking, hoping that my efforts will yield some desireable results. I want to be around for a while, especially for my kids. I've been making a lot of changes and keeping my health in check, which just recently included a clotting panel and cholesterol check (both bloodwork - results pending). In the meantime, my blood pressure has made a dramatic turn since having Aiden. 132/70 and 122/80 last couple of times I had it checked - and that was without any bp meds for almost a week. The latter was a tad high (bottom #), but not outrageous. I'm back on the meds just to be on the safe side. Pretty favorable experiment, though.
Tuesday I skipped my workout and opted to install some carpet on the landing at the top of our basement stairs. I was up and down those stairs at least 2 dozen times looking for tools, edging, nails, duct tape (don't ask), the tape measure, you name it!! I was sweating by the time I was done and my calves were begging for mercy, so I'd say that counts as a workout. And the landing looks pretty nice, if I do say so myself. Not perfect, but it serves its purpose.
The vacuum cleaner parts arrived in the mail yesterday. Charlie fixed the vacuum for me last night. So far, so good. But I have to say, I'm going to miss the shop vac. (Don't worry, Chris - I used the hose & attachments for the sake of my back!) It's on standby, just in case.
Ok, all my fellow bloggers - I have a young lady who has just dumped a bucket of crayons on the floor. I should help her clean them up before she gets the idea that the hardwood needs a wax job of sorts. Love to you all!
By the way, has this group of politicians running for president not been the biggest bunch of goobers you've ever seen? I don't know if I, as an American, can honestly feel confident in my vote this election year. If you ask me, our future looks bleak and hopeless. It's hard to envision any improvements heading our way no matter who takes on the big title. It's people like these presidential candidates and Eliot Spitzer who make my stomach turn.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Fargin' bored...
Ugh...just a blah day. I haven't been out of the house since Thursday for a gyno appt...like you all really needed to know that. I don't care. That's life. We all have to do it, us womens. Anyway, the short trip to Sugar Grove and back just didn't cut it for me. I was going to go grocery shopping last night, but the round of freezing rain put a halt to that. Then, I was going to try today...again, thanks, freezing rain...
Now I can't do anything with my blog (review comments, change layout) except post, apparently, so that's what I'm doing. I'm way bored.
I need some new clothes. I've been wearing the same s@#t for two years! So where do I go? My options are Wal-Mart or Fashion Bug. Yay. I couldn't be more thrilled. Wal-Mart has a pretty sad selection. I always see the normal size ladies department has pretty sundresses and flowery tank tops, cute cut offs, strappy sandals...things like that. What do us bigger women get? "Oooo, Doris - check out that moo moo! That's a nice daisy pattern, isn't it? Ooo, and look at that one with the geometric shapes! This one has horizontal stripes - I hear they're in this season! Oh, and look! They even have color coordinated orthopedic sneakers! Look over there - they're running a special on knee-highs!"
And what's up with Fashion Bug, anyway? There are two doors - one up front for the juniors/sizes 0-14. Sizes 16+: there's big letters on the right side of the building that say: "Fashion Bug PLUS" with an arrow pointing around the corner to the back of the building for that door, which I'm assuming is the service entrance. Thanks for keeping it discreet, FB. Like I can fake it anyway. Why do they have to segregate us? It's like a racist thing or something. I guess they don't want the smaller chics mingling in with us and going, "Ewww! What is she doing here??"
And bras - forget it. That's so embarrassing when you find your size and realize it might be confused with a large purse. And they ususally come in two colors - white or ivory. Then the clothes racks are so close together. You have to turn sideways and sashay through everything. Meanwhile, you're knocking clothes off the racks and bumping into things when you bend over to clean up your mess. Then the little 90-lb. cashier comes running over and goes, "Do you, like, need help or something?" So I stand up and end up bumping her back a few feet; she lands on her ass and I have to pick her up, poor thing. Now I have to apologize, "I'm so sorry, I didn't even see you. No, really, here - I'm stronger - I'll pick the rack up. Yes, and I'll hang all the clothes back up on it, too. Oh, you have a customer at your register. And will you tell that girl that thing is not a hangbag? What's the cup size on it? If it's a triple G, hang on to it for me!"
*sigh* I hate being fat. Everyone's always like, "No, you are NOT fat! Don't say that." Ok, I'm not. I just have big boobs, big arms, big legs, and a belly. But my neck is in shape, you know...so that's a good thing...
Now I can't do anything with my blog (review comments, change layout) except post, apparently, so that's what I'm doing. I'm way bored.
I need some new clothes. I've been wearing the same s@#t for two years! So where do I go? My options are Wal-Mart or Fashion Bug. Yay. I couldn't be more thrilled. Wal-Mart has a pretty sad selection. I always see the normal size ladies department has pretty sundresses and flowery tank tops, cute cut offs, strappy sandals...things like that. What do us bigger women get? "Oooo, Doris - check out that moo moo! That's a nice daisy pattern, isn't it? Ooo, and look at that one with the geometric shapes! This one has horizontal stripes - I hear they're in this season! Oh, and look! They even have color coordinated orthopedic sneakers! Look over there - they're running a special on knee-highs!"
And what's up with Fashion Bug, anyway? There are two doors - one up front for the juniors/sizes 0-14. Sizes 16+: there's big letters on the right side of the building that say: "Fashion Bug PLUS" with an arrow pointing around the corner to the back of the building for that door, which I'm assuming is the service entrance. Thanks for keeping it discreet, FB. Like I can fake it anyway. Why do they have to segregate us? It's like a racist thing or something. I guess they don't want the smaller chics mingling in with us and going, "Ewww! What is she doing here??"
And bras - forget it. That's so embarrassing when you find your size and realize it might be confused with a large purse. And they ususally come in two colors - white or ivory. Then the clothes racks are so close together. You have to turn sideways and sashay through everything. Meanwhile, you're knocking clothes off the racks and bumping into things when you bend over to clean up your mess. Then the little 90-lb. cashier comes running over and goes, "Do you, like, need help or something?" So I stand up and end up bumping her back a few feet; she lands on her ass and I have to pick her up, poor thing. Now I have to apologize, "I'm so sorry, I didn't even see you. No, really, here - I'm stronger - I'll pick the rack up. Yes, and I'll hang all the clothes back up on it, too. Oh, you have a customer at your register. And will you tell that girl that thing is not a hangbag? What's the cup size on it? If it's a triple G, hang on to it for me!"
*sigh* I hate being fat. Everyone's always like, "No, you are NOT fat! Don't say that." Ok, I'm not. I just have big boobs, big arms, big legs, and a belly. But my neck is in shape, you know...so that's a good thing...
Friday, March 7, 2008
Mommy Itinerary
Here is a glimpse into a typical day at my house. Enjoy!
4:30am: Wake-up to alarm; roll over and hit snooze button.
4:39am: Wake-up to alarm again – hit snooze; roll over and gently shake hubby, Charlie.
4:48am: Alarm goes off for last time – shove Charlie out of bed; pull covers over shoulder and go back to sleep.
5:01am: Wake up to sound of baby (Aiden) babbling – drag self out of bed; go to kitchen and warm bottle.
5:03am: Sneak into bathroom while Charlie is showering – pee pee on the potty (excuse the potty training language). Forget the shower is on and flush (oops!). Go to Aiden’s room; change diaper.
5:10am: Feed Aiden while snuggled under handmade fleece blanket (courtesy of Aunt Kathy); try not to doze off.
5:40am: Kiss Charlie good-bye as he leaves for work. Swaddle Aiden and stick him back in his crib.
6:00am: Morning workout with dance instructor, Jennifer Galardi (courtesy of 10 Minute Solutions DVD). Do all five sessions.
7:00am: Guzzle water and head to bathroom for long, hot, infusing shower.
7:01am: Both kids are up. Towel off instead, get dressed, and opt for shower at naptime. Changer diapers, give belly zerberts, and get kids dressed.
7:30am: Breakfast for 18 month old (Gabriella) and self – oatmeal, half an apple, and milk (coffee for me). Gabriella and Aiden are happily observing the “Higglytown Heros.” Chow down and vacuum while kids are occupied. Give Aiden some tummy time when finished. He looks like he’s ready to take off and crawl!)
8:03am: Call pharmacy and refill prescription. Call and schedule doctor appointment for self. Review emails and blog comments.
8:15am: Clean up gooey oatmeal mess from Gabriella’s face, hands, and tray. Everyone settles into playtime with blocks and stuffed animals.
9:00am: Mealtime for Aiden with attempt at rice cereal (a success), followed by poopie diaper change. Pop in CD with variety of energizing tunes; let Gabriella dance next to me in kitchen while I give Aiden a bath in his infant tub.
10:00am: Aiden fussing – where’s binky? Find and take it out of Gabriella’s mouth – put in dishwasher. Aiden dozes in his rocking chair. Take Gabriella to potty – nothing. Mop up water on kitchen floor from bath time. Take advantage of Gabriella playing and Aiden napping – mop ALL of kitchen floor.
10:15am: Gabriella announces she’s gone potty (“I pee pee ‘gain.”) – change poopie diaper. Snack time: slice of homemade bread with peanut butter.
10:40am: Toys everywhere. Read same three Winnie the Pooh books over and over and over again. Decide enough is enough and break out the bubbles; a little “outdoor” fun always welcome when cooped up inside during long winter months.
11:45am: Time for Gabriella’s lunch – PBJ, cheese cubes, and handful of grapes. Answer text messages from earlier that morning; run to bathroom to pee pee on potty. Come back to kitchen – feed dogs.
12:05pm: “I pee pee ‘gain.” Try to grab Gabriella’s hand to take her to potty – runs away screaming, “No-no-no!” Take her to potty anyway – too late.
12:12pm: Fresh diaper and naptime for Gabriella. Aiden starts fussing for his lunch.
12:40pm: Fresh diaper and naptime for Aiden. Let dogs out; clean up books and toys. Mommy starts fussing for her lunch.
1:00pm: Call to check on remodel plans for bathroom. Clean fish bowl; start dishwasher. Fix another cup of coffee. Start folding laundry.
1:40pm: Knock at door (electrical inspector) – wakes Gabriella; starts screaming. Go and try to console her – she’s not having it. “Mommy, please! Mommy, please!” Bring her back to living room with me, equipped with blankie, teddy bear, binky, and kleenex. (So much for that hot shower…)
2:30pm: Aiden wakes up – fresh diaper and mealtime. Gabriella is jealous that he is getting my attention. Tantrum inevitable.
3:15pm: Toys everywhere…again. Aiden settled into jumper in doorway between kitchen and living room. Unload dishwasher and decide to get a head start on dinner. (Only 45 minutes until Daddy gets home!)
4:00pm: Daddy’s home! Dogs run to back door, barking; Gabriella follows suit. Aiden’s happy coos turn to irritated fussies because of the noise. Try to look in-control as I lift Gabriella out of tangle of dogs and rock Aiden (who’s back in his chair) with my foot, all the while attempting an attractive smile and kiss hello to Charlie.
4:20pm: Listen to Charlie talk about his day while fixing dinner and formula. Unlace Gabriella’s fingers from my leg. She opens cupboard and starts looking for her animal “ca-cas” (crackers). I happily oblige.
5:30pm: Dinner for everyone (including dogs and goldfish).
6:15pm: Clean up from dinner while Daddy goes on diaper patrol. Time for Gabriella’s bath.
7:04pm: Dry Gabriella’s hair; dress in pajamas. Finish cleaning up in bathroom. Storytime.
7:50pm: Gabriella helps Mommy and Daddy put toys and books away. Aiden is fighting sleep – where’s binky? Find it hidden in amongst toys – toss it in the dishwasher and get him a new one.
8:00pm: Gabriella brushes her teeth, picks out a stuffed toy to sleep with, says prayers; lights out.
8:21pm: Gabriella still up – wants Daddy to get her another stuffed toy. Back to bed.
8:23pm: Aiden still fighting sleep – warm him up a bottle. Meanwhile, Charlie’s in a flirtatious mood. (“Early to bed tonight?” *wink*wink*)
9:10pm: Daddy changes Aiden’s diaper and puts him to bed while I take long awaited shower.
9:36pm: Charlie’s turn to shower.
9:50pm: Snuggle on couch and watch “American Choppers” – indulge in a dish of sugar free Moose Tracks ice cream.
10:42pm: Bedtime for Mommy and Daddy. Brush teeth; check on kids. Gabriella laying on top of covers. Wakes up when I try to pull them out from under her. Hug and console; back to bed. Double check alarm clock and baby monitor.
10:44pm: Charlie says he's chilly - checks pellet stove. Tosses another blanket on top of us.
10:57pm: Snuggle head on Charlie’s chest. He’s already snoring. Wake him up for good night kiss (so much for early to bed tonight!).
11:00pm: Drift off to sleep until 4:30 next morning…if not sooner…
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Happy Birthday, Moms!!!
Happy birthday to my Moms! Hope you have a great day! We miss you lots and hope you are enjoying the sunshine and nice weather in Myrtle Beach. You don't look a day over 29! (I hope I inherited those genes!!!)
I am awaiting an "inevitable" power outage today. Supposedly, we are getting the same ice storm that left many without power in Ohio yesterday evening. The trees are donning a thick coating of ice, and more freezing rain is falling. Whatever bare ground from Monday's thaw was showing is now covered in a blanket of frigid slick. I'm so glad I don't have to be out on the road today. Poor Charlie - I hate that he has to drive in this. The power lines don't look too bad, so maybe this sleet won't accummulate too much or get heavy enough to do any damage. We have a kerosene heater that we borrowed from Charlie's sister last year if we do lose power, but that doesn't provide as much comfort as the pellet stove or even the furnace. Hopefully it won't get too bad out there.
Well, I'm off to shop vac my house again. Only one and a half weeks until our vacuum cleaner parts arrive. But I'm telling you, I may just stick with the shop vac. That 1.5 horse really does an outstanding job. I must say, I'm impressed!
I am awaiting an "inevitable" power outage today. Supposedly, we are getting the same ice storm that left many without power in Ohio yesterday evening. The trees are donning a thick coating of ice, and more freezing rain is falling. Whatever bare ground from Monday's thaw was showing is now covered in a blanket of frigid slick. I'm so glad I don't have to be out on the road today. Poor Charlie - I hate that he has to drive in this. The power lines don't look too bad, so maybe this sleet won't accummulate too much or get heavy enough to do any damage. We have a kerosene heater that we borrowed from Charlie's sister last year if we do lose power, but that doesn't provide as much comfort as the pellet stove or even the furnace. Hopefully it won't get too bad out there.
Well, I'm off to shop vac my house again. Only one and a half weeks until our vacuum cleaner parts arrive. But I'm telling you, I may just stick with the shop vac. That 1.5 horse really does an outstanding job. I must say, I'm impressed!
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Prima Ballerina
So I bought this workout video called '10 Minute Solutions - Dance It Off & Tone It Up' by Jennifer Galardi. "Perfect!" I thought. "Who doesn't have at least 10 minutes everyday to dedicate to working out? I at least have that. And I took dance lessons, so it will be easy." I have been doing 3 of the 10 minute sessions at least 2-3 times per week, coupled with my time on the X-Flex. But I find myself at a loss for words when I am trying to watch Jennifer's routine and mimic it at the same time... I HAVE LOST MY COORDINATION!!!! How can this possibly be?? I took dance class for 6 years! Ok, I know that's not nearly as long as my sister, LeAnne, took it (at least double my time), but I was pretty decent. I got moved up after my first year and never, ever had a problem keeping up and getting the routine down to perfection. I loved it so much, and (I hope) it showed. I quit after my 10th grade year so that I could work. Could I have done both? Probably, but that's besides the point.
I remember one of the girls that was in LeAnne's class. Sweet kid...kinda frumpy...and when she danced...oh my. Her hands and arms and head and legs went in completely different directions. Yes, sometimes they're supposed to when you dance, but not like this. I think she had water balloon legs and crepe paper arms that flapped wildly in the breeze. Everything just went... everywhere! This is what I look like when I do parts of this workout!!! (Have any of you seen that video by Robert Plant and Alison Krauss, "Gone, Gone, Gone"? It's like becoming one of those big balloon things in the background! Check it out on You Tube to see what I mean.) But this girl in LeAnne's class always seemed to step it up for the recital. Maybe I am trying too hard, or maybe I really have lost my coordination. I don't know. I keep trying, and one of these days, I'll get it down for the "recital."
In the meantime, we're all trucking along here. Charlie has been working overtime, including Saturday mornings. The weather has been insanely inconsistent. It was 60+ degrees yesterday, and the sun was so hot. I ended up having to shut the pellet stove off when I noticed Aiden was sweating after his nap and our thermostat said 74 degrees! Gabby didn't care - she adapts to all climates. And speaking of the little honor student, she has been saying a new word almost everyday. Yesterday she said a new, complete sentence: "Geese on the pond, Daddy." Oh yeah - no exaggeration. But it was more in the form of a question, I think, seeing as she had her hand out to the side like she does when she asks where someone or something went. This kid amazes me. And I didn't know that children aren't supposed to be able to bend over at the waist and pick something up until they're 2+ years. I read that in a book that we have called "The First Five Years." No - they're supposed to squat down to pick things up at this age. Huh? She's been bending over since shortly after she started walking! Why? Because she has balance and C-O-O-R-D-I-N-A-T-I-O-N!!! Maybe that's where mine went - it transferred over to her in the womb! LOL
Have a spectacular day, everyone!
I remember one of the girls that was in LeAnne's class. Sweet kid...kinda frumpy...and when she danced...oh my. Her hands and arms and head and legs went in completely different directions. Yes, sometimes they're supposed to when you dance, but not like this. I think she had water balloon legs and crepe paper arms that flapped wildly in the breeze. Everything just went... everywhere! This is what I look like when I do parts of this workout!!! (Have any of you seen that video by Robert Plant and Alison Krauss, "Gone, Gone, Gone"? It's like becoming one of those big balloon things in the background! Check it out on You Tube to see what I mean.) But this girl in LeAnne's class always seemed to step it up for the recital. Maybe I am trying too hard, or maybe I really have lost my coordination. I don't know. I keep trying, and one of these days, I'll get it down for the "recital."
In the meantime, we're all trucking along here. Charlie has been working overtime, including Saturday mornings. The weather has been insanely inconsistent. It was 60+ degrees yesterday, and the sun was so hot. I ended up having to shut the pellet stove off when I noticed Aiden was sweating after his nap and our thermostat said 74 degrees! Gabby didn't care - she adapts to all climates. And speaking of the little honor student, she has been saying a new word almost everyday. Yesterday she said a new, complete sentence: "Geese on the pond, Daddy." Oh yeah - no exaggeration. But it was more in the form of a question, I think, seeing as she had her hand out to the side like she does when she asks where someone or something went. This kid amazes me. And I didn't know that children aren't supposed to be able to bend over at the waist and pick something up until they're 2+ years. I read that in a book that we have called "The First Five Years." No - they're supposed to squat down to pick things up at this age. Huh? She's been bending over since shortly after she started walking! Why? Because she has balance and C-O-O-R-D-I-N-A-T-I-O-N!!! Maybe that's where mine went - it transferred over to her in the womb! LOL
Have a spectacular day, everyone!
Friday, February 29, 2008
Redneck
If you've ever vacuumed your entire house using a Sear's shop vac...you might be a redneck.
Hey, at least I can say that I've never tack-welded two trailers together and called it my double-wide. Nope - that would be our ex-neighbors back in Sparty, the black sheep of the neighborhood! I'll never forget one of the first times my parents came out to that house. We had laying chickens at the time and one of them wandered down the road and into their yard. Their oldest son, brought it back over...I swear, he looked like something out of the movie 'Deliverance!' We didn't know whether to oink or thank him for rescuing our chicken. You should have seen the look on my parents' faces! There was always something fun and exciting going on back at that place. (Oh, and yes, I did vacuum my entire house with a shop vac today!)
So, I get a call from an ex-coworker today about a project I'm helping a friend with. We hang up the phone and then I decide I'd better jot down his number for future reference. I scroll through the caller ID, find his #, and begin writing down his info on our phone list which is on the fridge. Gabriella was behind me the whole time, and while I'm writing, I hear her run into the living room and back. Didn't think much of it. I put the pen away, hang up the phone, and turn around, only to find black crayon all over my cupboards (photo was emailed to you, since I have been unable to upload images to my post today). I didn't know whether to laugh or cry...I still don't. I haven't told Charlie yet, but I figure, hey - it will be a nice surprise for him when he gets home!
Hey, at least I can say that I've never tack-welded two trailers together and called it my double-wide. Nope - that would be our ex-neighbors back in Sparty, the black sheep of the neighborhood! I'll never forget one of the first times my parents came out to that house. We had laying chickens at the time and one of them wandered down the road and into their yard. Their oldest son, brought it back over...I swear, he looked like something out of the movie 'Deliverance!' We didn't know whether to oink or thank him for rescuing our chicken. You should have seen the look on my parents' faces! There was always something fun and exciting going on back at that place. (Oh, and yes, I did vacuum my entire house with a shop vac today!)
So, I get a call from an ex-coworker today about a project I'm helping a friend with. We hang up the phone and then I decide I'd better jot down his number for future reference. I scroll through the caller ID, find his #, and begin writing down his info on our phone list which is on the fridge. Gabriella was behind me the whole time, and while I'm writing, I hear her run into the living room and back. Didn't think much of it. I put the pen away, hang up the phone, and turn around, only to find black crayon all over my cupboards (photo was emailed to you, since I have been unable to upload images to my post today). I didn't know whether to laugh or cry...I still don't. I haven't told Charlie yet, but I figure, hey - it will be a nice surprise for him when he gets home!
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Crazy day
Wow - I never get to sit down and do this, let alone get through all my emails in one day! LOL
What a beginning to this week. The vacuum cleaner busted yesterday. Here I am, sucking up cracker crumbs off the floor that my 18 month old, Gabriella, dumped on my 4 month old son's bedroom floor, when the vacuum made this horrendous noise. I look down to see smoke rolling out of it - good Lord! Meanwhile, Aiden is in his crib, fussing, because he wants to be held. Gabriella is screaming at the top of her lungs. Why? I don't know - maybe it was fun, or maybe the smell of burning rubber was freaking her out. I call Charlie at work - he picks up a new belt and replaces it for me last night. I didn't try it out, which I should have. I got the kids settled into their chairs for breakfast this morning and began my morning ritual of vacuuming and dusting while Gabby eats and Aiden plays with his toy bar. I didn't get two square feet of floor clean when - yup, you guessed it! - same horrendous noise, same smoke rolling out of the bottom of that cheap hunk of plastic! (Aren't Dirt Devils supposed to be halfway decent vacuums?) So I call the 800 number and talk to the Dirt Devil people. Guess what? Ha ha! My warranty has expired! Yay! I could have swore I bought that thing based on the fact that it had a 5 year warranty on it - not a 2 year warranty. *sigh* Anyway, the lady was really nice and said she would send out 2 new belts and a new roller, free of charge...they'll be here in 2-3 weeks....AAAAUUUUGGGHHH!!!!!!! We have another vacuum cleaner downstairs in the basement...which has the same problem as the Dirt Devil. I'm freaking out here today! I haven't vacuumed in two days, I have TWO dogs (one of which is a German Shepherd, and let me tell you - the spring shed has begun!), and the broom and dust pan aren't cutting it for me. I want to cry.
I've started hitting our X-Flex (Bow Flex knockoff) lately - it feels good to burn off some of the frustrations of the week...or day...or hour, whatever! I keep telling myself, and any other mommies that I know, that you have to set aside time for yourself or you'll go nuts. Those times are precious to me, and it seems like I get less and less of them lately. I wouldn't trade it for the world, though; I just need to be more constructive in how I lay out my day. Even though, somedays, I don't think it's doing me any good, it is paying off. I was excited to see a difference from last week when I put the ol' seamtress tape to work. Plus, it seems to keep my sanity in check. Now if the weather would clear up so we can get out of the house, too! Cabin fever, cabin fever!!
What a beginning to this week. The vacuum cleaner busted yesterday. Here I am, sucking up cracker crumbs off the floor that my 18 month old, Gabriella, dumped on my 4 month old son's bedroom floor, when the vacuum made this horrendous noise. I look down to see smoke rolling out of it - good Lord! Meanwhile, Aiden is in his crib, fussing, because he wants to be held. Gabriella is screaming at the top of her lungs. Why? I don't know - maybe it was fun, or maybe the smell of burning rubber was freaking her out. I call Charlie at work - he picks up a new belt and replaces it for me last night. I didn't try it out, which I should have. I got the kids settled into their chairs for breakfast this morning and began my morning ritual of vacuuming and dusting while Gabby eats and Aiden plays with his toy bar. I didn't get two square feet of floor clean when - yup, you guessed it! - same horrendous noise, same smoke rolling out of the bottom of that cheap hunk of plastic! (Aren't Dirt Devils supposed to be halfway decent vacuums?) So I call the 800 number and talk to the Dirt Devil people. Guess what? Ha ha! My warranty has expired! Yay! I could have swore I bought that thing based on the fact that it had a 5 year warranty on it - not a 2 year warranty. *sigh* Anyway, the lady was really nice and said she would send out 2 new belts and a new roller, free of charge...they'll be here in 2-3 weeks....AAAAUUUUGGGHHH!!!!!!! We have another vacuum cleaner downstairs in the basement...which has the same problem as the Dirt Devil. I'm freaking out here today! I haven't vacuumed in two days, I have TWO dogs (one of which is a German Shepherd, and let me tell you - the spring shed has begun!), and the broom and dust pan aren't cutting it for me. I want to cry.
I've started hitting our X-Flex (Bow Flex knockoff) lately - it feels good to burn off some of the frustrations of the week...or day...or hour, whatever! I keep telling myself, and any other mommies that I know, that you have to set aside time for yourself or you'll go nuts. Those times are precious to me, and it seems like I get less and less of them lately. I wouldn't trade it for the world, though; I just need to be more constructive in how I lay out my day. Even though, somedays, I don't think it's doing me any good, it is paying off. I was excited to see a difference from last week when I put the ol' seamtress tape to work. Plus, it seems to keep my sanity in check. Now if the weather would clear up so we can get out of the house, too! Cabin fever, cabin fever!!
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