Bad:
I guess I'd better think again before I decide to go "Mary-Lou-freakin'-Retton" on the uneven bars. I woke up this morning with the pleasure of having a body that felt like rigor mortis had set in. Feeling a little bit "stiff" is definitely the understatement of the year. I thought I was in shape (You know, with two marathons under my belt and kicking it daily with Tony Horton and P90X) but apparently that makes nary a difference when you're over 30, over your "ideal" weight, and just plain not cracked up to be a gymnast. My arms are sore, my legs are sore, and the back of my legs (behind my knees) are bruised....for the LOVE OF NED! Now I get to walk around like some sort of freak with bruises in bizarre places while people wonder if my husband beats me and chooses to inflict his pain in random, unexpected places. It's a lot to handle.....I tell ya. (By the way.....just to clear things up: My husband most certainly does not beat me.) You better believe I will think twice before performing random tricks on the uneven bars.
Mary-Lou Retton I am NOT.
And I think I can live with that.
Good:
I have a little bit of a "following through with things" problem......I'll be the first to admit it. I start projects with the best of intentions and then my momentum putters out and said projects never get finished. That being said, almost a year ago to the day, I convinced Lewis to take out a second mortgage on the house (Okay, that may be a teeny bit of an exaggeration, but still) so that we could get our kid's pictures taken by a really good photographer. The pictures were expensive, but soooooo worth it. Simply beautiful.
And totally overwhelming. So many pictures.....now what to do with them all? So, I had this bright idea to make a photo collage on my wall. I had the perfect wall, now all I needed were the perfect frames and someone with an eye for design to help me. So I waited. And waited. And waited. And months and months passed. And my Lewis got more and more frustrated. (After all, what good are beautiful pictures when you don't display them?)
Well.....I am proud to say that.....drum roll please.....almost ONE YEAR to the date I have PURCHASED FRAMES FOR MY PHOTO COLLAGE.
See {Lewis}......miracles can happen if you believe.
And you'd better believe it!
Monday, August 31, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
Day 12
Bad:
Ugh. I have discovered that too much of a good thing can be just that.....too much of a good thing.
Too.Many.Smart.Cookies.
(And I never thought I'd live to see the day.)
Instead of birthday cake for Lew's big day....we celebrated with two dozen smart cookies. And who do you think got herself a smart cookie to eat when she picked up the two dozen? And who do you think ate another one that night with everyone else in the fam damily? And who do you think gets to keep all the leftovers and eat them for breakfast the next day?
I am resisting the urge to google the calorie content for these bad boys. I just don't want to know and the damage has already been done. AND it's starting to show on the scale.
Double ugh.
Good:
There is nothing better than staying up until 1 a.m playing games with some of the people that I love the most and laughing until I want to puke.....or wet my pants. (And I bet you can't guess which one of those I did.) With my sister and her husband in town from Ohio....and my older brother in town from Colorado....we had a regular old shindig out our place that included: Lots of eating, game playing, a whole heck of a lot of laughing, some possible wetting of the pants and other various activities. The highlight of the night may be when my brother shared some of his grossest medical stories (strictly professional, mind you. No names were named) and there also may have been some visual aids drawn. It was pretty eye opening to say the least.....and totally worth the lack of sleep that I received. And hey, now I've got some good "party" stories to share.....
Ugly:
Tonight, after Sunday dinner at my parents house, the whole family thought it would be nice to take a walk through the old neighborhood that we grew up in. Well......that was quite an eye opener to say the least. As we strolled though the 'hood (it's changed A LOT since we grew up there) we told old stories about our childhoods and relived some great memories. Somehow we ended up on the playground of the elementary school that we all attended and while the kids ran around and played the adults started challenging each other to tricks. It started out innocently enough. Let's see who can do the most pull-ups (or in the case of everyone who is NOT my brother, John) let's see who can do any pull-ups at all. Then, before you knew it, I was channeling my inner gymnast as I was hanging from the bars, flipping upside down, doing cherry drops and all kinds of other shiz. (I used to be quite the gymnast back in the day....all self taught, mind you. I always wanted to take gymnastics, but I got piano lessons instead. Oh well.) And what do you know.....it was all coming back to me. Of course, I was 20 years older and probably 75 pounds heavier, but hey, I was kicking butt out there. I'm not gonna lie when I say that everyone was impressed. Even my sweet sister-in-law, Theresa, was like "Florrie, you should totally take gymnastic lessons.....you could totally get back into it."
It was then that I realized that an {almost} 32 year old grown woman, who is at least 30 pounds overweight, should NOT do tricks on the uneven bars like a 12 year old does. NOT A PRETTY SIGHT. Oh well.....at least I kicked my families butt.
Take that.
Oh, and one other thing: When you are on the uneven bars showing off all your fanciful tricks to wow and impress your family and your brother says: "Wow Florrie.... You're going freakin' Mary Lou Retton on us" hold on tight 'cause most likely you're gonna laugh so hard you fall off the bars......oh and also, pee yourself.
Good times indeed.
08.16.09
Ugh. I have discovered that too much of a good thing can be just that.....too much of a good thing.
Too.Many.Smart.Cookies.
(And I never thought I'd live to see the day.)
Instead of birthday cake for Lew's big day....we celebrated with two dozen smart cookies. And who do you think got herself a smart cookie to eat when she picked up the two dozen? And who do you think ate another one that night with everyone else in the fam damily? And who do you think gets to keep all the leftovers and eat them for breakfast the next day?
I am resisting the urge to google the calorie content for these bad boys. I just don't want to know and the damage has already been done. AND it's starting to show on the scale.
Double ugh.
Good:
There is nothing better than staying up until 1 a.m playing games with some of the people that I love the most and laughing until I want to puke.....or wet my pants. (And I bet you can't guess which one of those I did.) With my sister and her husband in town from Ohio....and my older brother in town from Colorado....we had a regular old shindig out our place that included: Lots of eating, game playing, a whole heck of a lot of laughing, some possible wetting of the pants and other various activities. The highlight of the night may be when my brother shared some of his grossest medical stories (strictly professional, mind you. No names were named) and there also may have been some visual aids drawn. It was pretty eye opening to say the least.....and totally worth the lack of sleep that I received. And hey, now I've got some good "party" stories to share.....
Ugly:
Tonight, after Sunday dinner at my parents house, the whole family thought it would be nice to take a walk through the old neighborhood that we grew up in. Well......that was quite an eye opener to say the least. As we strolled though the 'hood (it's changed A LOT since we grew up there) we told old stories about our childhoods and relived some great memories. Somehow we ended up on the playground of the elementary school that we all attended and while the kids ran around and played the adults started challenging each other to tricks. It started out innocently enough. Let's see who can do the most pull-ups (or in the case of everyone who is NOT my brother, John) let's see who can do any pull-ups at all. Then, before you knew it, I was channeling my inner gymnast as I was hanging from the bars, flipping upside down, doing cherry drops and all kinds of other shiz. (I used to be quite the gymnast back in the day....all self taught, mind you. I always wanted to take gymnastics, but I got piano lessons instead. Oh well.) And what do you know.....it was all coming back to me. Of course, I was 20 years older and probably 75 pounds heavier, but hey, I was kicking butt out there. I'm not gonna lie when I say that everyone was impressed. Even my sweet sister-in-law, Theresa, was like "Florrie, you should totally take gymnastic lessons.....you could totally get back into it."
It was then that I realized that an {almost} 32 year old grown woman, who is at least 30 pounds overweight, should NOT do tricks on the uneven bars like a 12 year old does. NOT A PRETTY SIGHT. Oh well.....at least I kicked my families butt.
Take that.
Oh, and one other thing: When you are on the uneven bars showing off all your fanciful tricks to wow and impress your family and your brother says: "Wow Florrie.... You're going freakin' Mary Lou Retton on us" hold on tight 'cause most likely you're gonna laugh so hard you fall off the bars......oh and also, pee yourself.
Good times indeed.
08.16.09
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Day 11
Good:
Today is my sweetheart's 33rd B-day. (It also marks the 12th birthday that we have spent together.) I remember the first birthday we celebrated together.....we were just barely a couple and I was unsure of what to get him. So, using my mad creative skills, I created a gift basket that included things that we could do together on dates and such. (Wow. I really was impressive back then, wasn't I?) Anyway, to honor Lewis' birthday I have created a list of 33 reasons why I love him. Here goes:
1.He's hot. 2. He's an awesome Dad. 3. He's patient....as in, much more patient than his darling wife. 4. He's a hard worker. The hardest working person I've ever known. 5. He's a righteous priesthood holder. 6. He's athletic. 7. He takes me fun places. 8. He serves others. 9. He is organized out the wazoo....and very anal. And I'm pretty sure that being married to me drives him nuts in this capacity. I am the exact opposite. 10. He helps me around the house....a lot. 11. He dresses nicely. 12. He makes a kick-A Cherry Limeade. 13. He is kind. 14. He supports me in everything I do. 15. He smells good. 16. He laughs at my jokes.....and my blog posts. And is always telling me how funny I am. 17. He also tells me how creative I am. 18. He plays with the kids....as in: doesn't just watch them play, but gets out there and plays with them. 19. He doesn't complain one little bit when B follows in his shadow every time Lewis is doing yard work. 20. He keeps an immaculate yard so that I don't have to. 21. He spoils me. 22. He hardly ever, ever yells. 23. He doesn't judge. 24. He loves to travel with me. 25. He brings home the bacon so that I can be a SAHM. I will always be grateful for this. 26. He compliments my cooking.....frequently. And if he doesn't like a meal, he very tactfully tells me that he would prefer if I didn't make it again. 27. He keeps in shape. 28. He disciplines calmly and patiently. 29. He's honest in every part of his life. 30. He's good with his money. He has taught me to be better. 31. He's dependable in his church calling. 32. He loves his parents. He is a mama's boy and I don't mind one little bit. (Quite frankly, it gives me hope that my son's will be mama's boys too.)
And drum roll please:
33. In the infamous words of Kelly Clarkson: "You've got a piece of me, and honestly,my life would suck without you."
I love you.
Bad:
I was right in the middle of a dream about my high school boyfriend telling me just how in the world Britney Spears lost all of that weight (thanks a bunch facebook and US Weekly magazine for influencing that dream) when Braden woke me up out of a dead sleep. I look at the clock and is says 3:54 am. Balls. So I go and lay with him so that he will calm down and this is my life for the next couple of hours:
I am squished in Beepers twin bed with the most terrible mattress in this whole entire house, listening to him as he sniffs and sniffs and sniffs. He is a chronic sniffer. I mean, he probably sniffs like every 10 seconds. He sounds like what I imagine a coke addict would sound like. And finally he drifts off to sleep and I drift off to sleep and I wake up two hours later hugging the edge of his bed with my arm totally asleep. Lovely. And worst of all....I didn't get to finish my dream. And I'm bummed because I was really curious as to how Britney lost all that weight!
08.15.09
Today is my sweetheart's 33rd B-day. (It also marks the 12th birthday that we have spent together.) I remember the first birthday we celebrated together.....we were just barely a couple and I was unsure of what to get him. So, using my mad creative skills, I created a gift basket that included things that we could do together on dates and such. (Wow. I really was impressive back then, wasn't I?) Anyway, to honor Lewis' birthday I have created a list of 33 reasons why I love him. Here goes:
1.He's hot. 2. He's an awesome Dad. 3. He's patient....as in, much more patient than his darling wife. 4. He's a hard worker. The hardest working person I've ever known. 5. He's a righteous priesthood holder. 6. He's athletic. 7. He takes me fun places. 8. He serves others. 9. He is organized out the wazoo....and very anal. And I'm pretty sure that being married to me drives him nuts in this capacity. I am the exact opposite. 10. He helps me around the house....a lot. 11. He dresses nicely. 12. He makes a kick-A Cherry Limeade. 13. He is kind. 14. He supports me in everything I do. 15. He smells good. 16. He laughs at my jokes.....and my blog posts. And is always telling me how funny I am. 17. He also tells me how creative I am. 18. He plays with the kids....as in: doesn't just watch them play, but gets out there and plays with them. 19. He doesn't complain one little bit when B follows in his shadow every time Lewis is doing yard work. 20. He keeps an immaculate yard so that I don't have to. 21. He spoils me. 22. He hardly ever, ever yells. 23. He doesn't judge. 24. He loves to travel with me. 25. He brings home the bacon so that I can be a SAHM. I will always be grateful for this. 26. He compliments my cooking.....frequently. And if he doesn't like a meal, he very tactfully tells me that he would prefer if I didn't make it again. 27. He keeps in shape. 28. He disciplines calmly and patiently. 29. He's honest in every part of his life. 30. He's good with his money. He has taught me to be better. 31. He's dependable in his church calling. 32. He loves his parents. He is a mama's boy and I don't mind one little bit. (Quite frankly, it gives me hope that my son's will be mama's boys too.)
And drum roll please:
33. In the infamous words of Kelly Clarkson: "You've got a piece of me, and honestly,my life would suck without you."
I love you.
Bad:
I was right in the middle of a dream about my high school boyfriend telling me just how in the world Britney Spears lost all of that weight (thanks a bunch facebook and US Weekly magazine for influencing that dream) when Braden woke me up out of a dead sleep. I look at the clock and is says 3:54 am. Balls. So I go and lay with him so that he will calm down and this is my life for the next couple of hours:
I am squished in Beepers twin bed with the most terrible mattress in this whole entire house, listening to him as he sniffs and sniffs and sniffs. He is a chronic sniffer. I mean, he probably sniffs like every 10 seconds. He sounds like what I imagine a coke addict would sound like. And finally he drifts off to sleep and I drift off to sleep and I wake up two hours later hugging the edge of his bed with my arm totally asleep. Lovely. And worst of all....I didn't get to finish my dream. And I'm bummed because I was really curious as to how Britney lost all that weight!
08.15.09
Monday, August 24, 2009
Day 10
Good, Bad and Very, Very Ugly:
Well, I did it. I have officially scarred my son for life. I knew this day would come, and low and behold, it did. After 6 days of playing peek-a-boo with his poo.....it all came down to this:
Well, I did it. I have officially scarred my son for life. I knew this day would come, and low and behold, it did. After 6 days of playing peek-a-boo with his poo.....it all came down to this:
The dreaded Suppository.
And trust me...... I just shuddered when I typed that. And threw up a little in my mouth. And wanted to burst into tears. It is not a pleasant memory. After a long, long, tedious, (borderline hellish ) day of running errands with all four kids I was at my breaking point. And I'm sure Braden was too. The poor little guy was six days past comfortable and I was dragging him here there and everywhere. No wonder he was constipated. I don't know many people that would just LOVE to unload their bowels at Costco....let alone a little boy whose only been poop on the potty one other time in his life. So.....by the time we got home, it was not pretty. He was in misery and I knew what had to be done.....had to be done.
So.....I made my sister come up and do it for me. (But in my defense.....she is a nurse. And I've never given a suppository in my life. And I am VERY squeamish when it comes to those sorts of things. I mean, I won't even help my kids pull their loose teeth out. Ewwww. And plus, did I not threaten my son that I was going to stick a pokey up his bum? Um yeah. Kind of not a good idea if I actually followed through with that threat. So I made my sis do the dirty work for me. And she was such a lamb to agree to it.)
Okay. So it was all said and done and he was not a happy camper. (But again, I don't know anyone on God's green earth that would be after that scenario.) And we wait. And wait. And then, because we planned on going to a movie, we can't wait anymore. I just put a pull-up on him and we head out the door. Immediately in the car he is doubled over in pain and crying that he needs to go. So we make a quick stop at my Mom's house because that is the closest bathroom and although I can tell that he totally needs to go HE JUST WON'T DO IT. He is terrified and at this point screaming in pain so I put him back in the car and hope that he can hold it until he gets to the movie theatre. No such luck. Not even two minutes later.....he is writhing in his seat and crying and saying " I just want to go in my pull up mom. I just want to poop in my underwears." So I make an impulsive decision. I unbuckle his seat belt, tell him to get out and go for it.
The next 10 minutes in the car on our way to the mall.....he is leaning over his car seat, bracing himself, and pooping like he's never pooped before. I mean, the boy was going to town. I say to the other kids in the backseat, "Does it smell back there you guys?" because I have yet to catch a whiff of the treasure that he is leaving in his diaper.....and I turn around and all three other kids are holding their shirts up over their noses and looking like they want to pass out.
"Does it smell???" Zachary responds with just a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "What do you think?" Um yeah. I think he just answered my obvious question.
So we get to the mall and all the kids unload out of the car as fast as their little legs will carry them and take deep breaths of the sweet, fresh air outside.....as Braden keeps on keepin' on.
Lewis and the kids go inside to buy the movie tickets and it's just me and B in the car.....chillin'. Poopin'. Stinkin'. Finally.....after a bloomin' eternity.....he is ready for me to change his pull-up.
And. Oh. My. Heck.
That's all I'm gonna say.
The boy looked like he had eaten a midget. No wait. Strike that. He looked like he had eaten the whole freakin' lollipop guild.
I had ten wipes left to my name.....and that was not enough. I had poo all over my hands, all over the wipes case, and all over the two Ziploc bags that I managed to round up because there was no way in you know where I was going to be seen carrying THAT pull-up through the parking lot of the mall. It was not a pretty sight, but you know what? We may have taken a step back with the whole pooping on the potty thing by letting him go in his diaper, but boy oh boy, was it worth it. For the rest of the evening? A happy camper all the way.
After all, who wouldn't be after dropping 6 days worth of crap in their pants?
08.14.09
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Day 9
Bad:
I'm in a little bit of a pickle.....to put it mildly. ('Cause what I really want to say is that I'm royally screwed.....but I shall save those words for another time.)
Today, Kylie came to me and, American Girl Doll catalog in hand, proceeded to show me just what she wanted for Christmas. (Now before you get your pants all in a wad, keep in mind these things about children in general, but especially about Kylie. The minute that Christmas is over....she is planning for the next Christmas. She is constantly thinking about what she is going to ask Santa for and so for her to be thinking of her Christmas presents in August is totally NOT out of the ordinary. I'm sure that come December 26th of this year, she will pretty much already know what she is asking for next year. It's just how it goes.) But I digress. So there she was, catalog in hand, showing me the cute little boy/girl twins that she was asking Santa for and she asks me if she can get on the website to show me the rest of the stuff. Sure.....why not.....I might as well start preparing 6 months in advance.....no big whoop.
"Now I want this dress for the girl, Mom and this outfit for the boy." She says. And she proceeds to show me several outfits that coordinate boy/girl and I am thinking how sweet of American Girl to make my life just a little bit easier, and then out comes this double whammy.
"Now see this dress right here mom?"
"Uh huh. Yes. It's very lovely, " I respond.
"Well.....I want it for the girl twin. But they don't have a matching outfit for the boy. So....I was thinking that I could just tell Santa's elves to make a little teeny, tiny baby tuxedo that's black....with long sleeves and long pants....and a little teeny, tiny bow tie. Wouldn't that be cute mom? Wouldn't that look so good? Do you think the elves would do that, Mom? Do you?"
I was speechless. ( And in my mind damning American Girl doll for their carelessness in such a matter. I mean, hello? How hard is it to make a coordinating tux to go with your baby dolls? )
I quickly saved face by telling her what a grand idea that was and mumbled something about how I'm sure that Santa elves would be able to whip up a teeny, tiny tuxedo (with matching bow tie, mind you) in no time at all. So.....here's where the pickle comes in. Let's pretend that I did know how to sew, let alone make doll clothes in minuscule proportions. When, I ask you, do I find the time to do this? Can I commission a tux to be made? Should I google and google until my fingers are bloody nubs looking for said suit? Should I tell sweet Kylie that Santa's elves are on strike this year and NO CHILD will get anything that Santa can't order from Amazon.com?
No. I think I will try the "don't ask, don't tell" tactic. If I don't ask her what she wants for Christmas and I don't tell her that she may be getting a teeny, tiny tux when hell freezes over....then maybe, just maybe, she'll forget all about it.
Good:
Currently, I am on week 5 of my workouts from hell.....aka..P90X. Actually though, I am really liking it. Surprise. Surprise. Today, as an added bonus, I was able to talk my sister into coming up and working out with me. I think most people would agree that having someone to work out with makes it much more enjoyable. We were able to sweat, grunt, and swear at Tony Horton in unison and it was fantastic. Nothing motivates me more than seeing that my little sister can totally kick my Kenpo Karate bootay. You rock Jenny.
Also, on the plus side....a few days ago in my post P90X stupor....my brain wasn't working quite right. I accidentally mailed my exercise DVD to Netflix instead of the one I was supposed to be returning. Oopsie. So, after a call to Netflix, they were able to flag my account and send it right back to me. I say, God bless you Netflix. Not only do you bring enjoyable DVDs to my doorstop whenever I want them, but you also correct the problem when I am being a total-airhead. Thanks a bunch.
08.13.09
I'm in a little bit of a pickle.....to put it mildly. ('Cause what I really want to say is that I'm royally screwed.....but I shall save those words for another time.)
Today, Kylie came to me and, American Girl Doll catalog in hand, proceeded to show me just what she wanted for Christmas. (Now before you get your pants all in a wad, keep in mind these things about children in general, but especially about Kylie. The minute that Christmas is over....she is planning for the next Christmas. She is constantly thinking about what she is going to ask Santa for and so for her to be thinking of her Christmas presents in August is totally NOT out of the ordinary. I'm sure that come December 26th of this year, she will pretty much already know what she is asking for next year. It's just how it goes.) But I digress. So there she was, catalog in hand, showing me the cute little boy/girl twins that she was asking Santa for and she asks me if she can get on the website to show me the rest of the stuff. Sure.....why not.....I might as well start preparing 6 months in advance.....no big whoop.
"Now I want this dress for the girl, Mom and this outfit for the boy." She says. And she proceeds to show me several outfits that coordinate boy/girl and I am thinking how sweet of American Girl to make my life just a little bit easier, and then out comes this double whammy.
"Now see this dress right here mom?"
"Uh huh. Yes. It's very lovely, " I respond.
"Well.....I want it for the girl twin. But they don't have a matching outfit for the boy. So....I was thinking that I could just tell Santa's elves to make a little teeny, tiny baby tuxedo that's black....with long sleeves and long pants....and a little teeny, tiny bow tie. Wouldn't that be cute mom? Wouldn't that look so good? Do you think the elves would do that, Mom? Do you?"
I was speechless. ( And in my mind damning American Girl doll for their carelessness in such a matter. I mean, hello? How hard is it to make a coordinating tux to go with your baby dolls? )
I quickly saved face by telling her what a grand idea that was and mumbled something about how I'm sure that Santa elves would be able to whip up a teeny, tiny tuxedo (with matching bow tie, mind you) in no time at all. So.....here's where the pickle comes in. Let's pretend that I did know how to sew, let alone make doll clothes in minuscule proportions. When, I ask you, do I find the time to do this? Can I commission a tux to be made? Should I google and google until my fingers are bloody nubs looking for said suit? Should I tell sweet Kylie that Santa's elves are on strike this year and NO CHILD will get anything that Santa can't order from Amazon.com?
No. I think I will try the "don't ask, don't tell" tactic. If I don't ask her what she wants for Christmas and I don't tell her that she may be getting a teeny, tiny tux when hell freezes over....then maybe, just maybe, she'll forget all about it.
Good:
Currently, I am on week 5 of my workouts from hell.....aka..P90X. Actually though, I am really liking it. Surprise. Surprise. Today, as an added bonus, I was able to talk my sister into coming up and working out with me. I think most people would agree that having someone to work out with makes it much more enjoyable. We were able to sweat, grunt, and swear at Tony Horton in unison and it was fantastic. Nothing motivates me more than seeing that my little sister can totally kick my Kenpo Karate bootay. You rock Jenny.
Also, on the plus side....a few days ago in my post P90X stupor....my brain wasn't working quite right. I accidentally mailed my exercise DVD to Netflix instead of the one I was supposed to be returning. Oopsie. So, after a call to Netflix, they were able to flag my account and send it right back to me. I say, God bless you Netflix. Not only do you bring enjoyable DVDs to my doorstop whenever I want them, but you also correct the problem when I am being a total-airhead. Thanks a bunch.
08.13.09
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Day 8
Bad:
In my Hasty haste to eat the broccoli that I had prepared for lunch, I ate a scorching hot piece and burned my tongue.......badly. Now before you make fun of me for being in such a hurry to gobble down my lunchtime broccoli, rest assured that I LOVE broccoli. I love it like candy.....seriously. And I was hungry. And it was delicious, at least I'm pretty sure that it was, because I burned my taste buds right off and quite frankly couldn't taste it very well at all. So here is the badness of it all. Not only could I NOT taste my scrumptious broccoli, but I pretty much slaved over the stove the WHOLE dang afternoon, busily preparing a new Manicotti recipe that was definitely LABOR INTENSIVE and by the time dinner rolled around......I really couldn't taste it. (But I was told it was good. And it smelled good. And it definitely looked good....so I'm sure it was good. And now I'm going to have to make the dang thing all over again because I want to have a good taste of it and plus my kids had like three servings each which means they really liked it....and phew. That was a lot to get off my chest.)
It's a dang good thing I already ate my smart cookie for breakfast........
Good:
Lewis and I have a summertime tradition that I ADORE. In fact, I have adored it aprox. 76 times this summer, and I will be sad when it has to come to an end. (And NO, you sickos. It's not what you're thinking of. Jeesh. Get your minds out of the gutter.....and also? 76 times?! I am not a MACHINE.) Anyway.....this is a little tradition called Cherry Limeades. Last summer when Lewis was laid up in bed with foot surgery, I got a little sick of running here, there, and everywhere to get him his hearts desire....which most of the time was a beverage from Sonic. So.....in a moment of brilliance.....we decided to start keeping stuff on hand AT ALL TIMES to make our own Cherry Limeades. And last summer we drank them A LOT. But then, the minute that the summer ended, Lewis told me to stop buying the stuff. He said that it was strictly a "summer treat" and that we would only drink them in the summertime. (At first, I felt like he was the freakin' Cherry Limeade nazi....."No drinks for you!") But soon, after my withdrawals and such, I didn't miss them so much. And you better believe that come the first day of summer this year were back in business! There is nothing better than laying in my glorious bed, with the man I love, sipping on a lovely beverage and relaxing. Oh cherry limeades.....my days with you are numbered. I will continue to cherish you while I still can.
Oh.....and as a side note. NOTHING felt better on my worked over tongue than the cool refreshingness (shut up spell checker. I know this isn't a real word.) of a cherry limeade.
08.12.09
In my Hasty haste to eat the broccoli that I had prepared for lunch, I ate a scorching hot piece and burned my tongue.......badly. Now before you make fun of me for being in such a hurry to gobble down my lunchtime broccoli, rest assured that I LOVE broccoli. I love it like candy.....seriously. And I was hungry. And it was delicious, at least I'm pretty sure that it was, because I burned my taste buds right off and quite frankly couldn't taste it very well at all. So here is the badness of it all. Not only could I NOT taste my scrumptious broccoli, but I pretty much slaved over the stove the WHOLE dang afternoon, busily preparing a new Manicotti recipe that was definitely LABOR INTENSIVE and by the time dinner rolled around......I really couldn't taste it. (But I was told it was good. And it smelled good. And it definitely looked good....so I'm sure it was good. And now I'm going to have to make the dang thing all over again because I want to have a good taste of it and plus my kids had like three servings each which means they really liked it....and phew. That was a lot to get off my chest.)
It's a dang good thing I already ate my smart cookie for breakfast........
Good:
Lewis and I have a summertime tradition that I ADORE. In fact, I have adored it aprox. 76 times this summer, and I will be sad when it has to come to an end. (And NO, you sickos. It's not what you're thinking of. Jeesh. Get your minds out of the gutter.....and also? 76 times?! I am not a MACHINE.) Anyway.....this is a little tradition called Cherry Limeades. Last summer when Lewis was laid up in bed with foot surgery, I got a little sick of running here, there, and everywhere to get him his hearts desire....which most of the time was a beverage from Sonic. So.....in a moment of brilliance.....we decided to start keeping stuff on hand AT ALL TIMES to make our own Cherry Limeades. And last summer we drank them A LOT. But then, the minute that the summer ended, Lewis told me to stop buying the stuff. He said that it was strictly a "summer treat" and that we would only drink them in the summertime. (At first, I felt like he was the freakin' Cherry Limeade nazi....."No drinks for you!") But soon, after my withdrawals and such, I didn't miss them so much. And you better believe that come the first day of summer this year were back in business! There is nothing better than laying in my glorious bed, with the man I love, sipping on a lovely beverage and relaxing. Oh cherry limeades.....my days with you are numbered. I will continue to cherish you while I still can.
Oh.....and as a side note. NOTHING felt better on my worked over tongue than the cool refreshingness (shut up spell checker. I know this isn't a real word.) of a cherry limeade.
08.12.09
Day 7
Good:
Well....I'm not gonna lie. I've got Smart Cookies on the brain. And because my sister is in town and I wanted her to taste the heaven that is "smart cookies" I had my dearest sis-in-law (Thanks a bunch, Aubs) pick up ONE DOZEN of these little gems on her way home from the SLC. Now you may wonder, what does one do with one dozen smart cookies? Well, shame on you if you said hoard them and shove them all into your pie-hole. (Albeit, the thought did cross my mind once or twice.) But alas, today was about SHARING and so even the littlest kids got to join in the pleasure.
(Let me back track for just a minute.....remember when a long, long time ago I got my very first taste of smart cookies and I was so kind and loving of a wife to share with my dear hubby. Well apparently I was not so kind and loving as a Mom because in order to keep my children far, far away from the cookies I may have told a teeny little white lie. And this little white lie may have involved telling them that there were ground up grasshoppers inside the cookies and that they were DISGUSTING!)
Okay, so we've already established that today I was in that sharin' kind of mood. Really? Who could eat a dozen cookies by themselves anyway? (me.me.me.me.me.) So I give the kids their cookie for a bedtime snack and they snarfed them up. The LOVED them. And later, after I was tucking Savy into bed she says to me, "Mom, those cookies sure were good." "Yes they were, " I responded back. "Well," she says, "you could hardly even taste the grasshoppers at all!."
Oh my dearest Savy.....this is why I love you so. For a little girl who thought there were ground up grasshoppers in the cookies, you sure did pound them. You definitely know something good when you see it........ Grasshoppers or not.
Bad:
So, I hate to beat a dead horse, (and lest you think all I ever talk about are things like smart cookies and constipation....but history shows that indeed, this IS all I talk about) our B is STILL constipated. Oh crap. Literally. When was this trial ever end? At the suggestion of a couple of people I headed off to Walgreens today to purchase a little MiraLax. Zach wanted to go with me so I let him come along for the ride. We got to the Walgreens and after some searching found the section that we were looking for. I don't know how we could miss it. It had a big sign (and it freakin' might as well been a flashing neon sign) that said LAXATIVES. And wouldn't you know it: hoards of people were sitting around waiting at the pharmacy for their prescriptions. That place was a-hoppin'! So here I was browsing in the lovely laxative section and trying to slyly drop hints that this purchase was NOT indeed for me. "So Zach," I say, "Do you think that this is okay for Braden? Do you think that this is okay for THREE year olds?" I was trying not to yell, but still trying to get my point across.
I wanted to yell out:
"This is not for me people! This is for my son. He is constipated. Not me. I don't have a problem in this area at all. No sirree. Not me."
Instead I grabbed the goods and headed straight to the cashier to pay for said laxative....only having to repeat the process all over again, lest she also thought I was constipated as well. Oh, the things we mother's do for our kids!
08.11.09
Well....I'm not gonna lie. I've got Smart Cookies on the brain. And because my sister is in town and I wanted her to taste the heaven that is "smart cookies" I had my dearest sis-in-law (Thanks a bunch, Aubs) pick up ONE DOZEN of these little gems on her way home from the SLC. Now you may wonder, what does one do with one dozen smart cookies? Well, shame on you if you said hoard them and shove them all into your pie-hole. (Albeit, the thought did cross my mind once or twice.) But alas, today was about SHARING and so even the littlest kids got to join in the pleasure.
(Let me back track for just a minute.....remember when a long, long time ago I got my very first taste of smart cookies and I was so kind and loving of a wife to share with my dear hubby. Well apparently I was not so kind and loving as a Mom because in order to keep my children far, far away from the cookies I may have told a teeny little white lie. And this little white lie may have involved telling them that there were ground up grasshoppers inside the cookies and that they were DISGUSTING!)
Okay, so we've already established that today I was in that sharin' kind of mood. Really? Who could eat a dozen cookies by themselves anyway? (me.me.me.me.me.) So I give the kids their cookie for a bedtime snack and they snarfed them up. The LOVED them. And later, after I was tucking Savy into bed she says to me, "Mom, those cookies sure were good." "Yes they were, " I responded back. "Well," she says, "you could hardly even taste the grasshoppers at all!."
Oh my dearest Savy.....this is why I love you so. For a little girl who thought there were ground up grasshoppers in the cookies, you sure did pound them. You definitely know something good when you see it........ Grasshoppers or not.
Bad:
So, I hate to beat a dead horse, (and lest you think all I ever talk about are things like smart cookies and constipation....but history shows that indeed, this IS all I talk about) our B is STILL constipated. Oh crap. Literally. When was this trial ever end? At the suggestion of a couple of people I headed off to Walgreens today to purchase a little MiraLax. Zach wanted to go with me so I let him come along for the ride. We got to the Walgreens and after some searching found the section that we were looking for. I don't know how we could miss it. It had a big sign (and it freakin' might as well been a flashing neon sign) that said LAXATIVES. And wouldn't you know it: hoards of people were sitting around waiting at the pharmacy for their prescriptions. That place was a-hoppin'! So here I was browsing in the lovely laxative section and trying to slyly drop hints that this purchase was NOT indeed for me. "So Zach," I say, "Do you think that this is okay for Braden? Do you think that this is okay for THREE year olds?" I was trying not to yell, but still trying to get my point across.
I wanted to yell out:
"This is not for me people! This is for my son. He is constipated. Not me. I don't have a problem in this area at all. No sirree. Not me."
Instead I grabbed the goods and headed straight to the cashier to pay for said laxative....only having to repeat the process all over again, lest she also thought I was constipated as well. Oh, the things we mother's do for our kids!
08.11.09
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Day 6
Bad:
Why oh why do we Mother's love our children so much? Sometimes, (if not all) times, when my kids are sick or in pain there is nothing I want more than to take that pain away from them....even if that means me bearing the pain myself. Today was definitely not one of beepers better days. He woke up this morning with an ear draining all sorts of yucky gunk (which in a child with ear tubes indicates an infection.) He also is riding on the constipation train AGAIN and between that AND an ear infection AND waking me up bright and early at the unheard of hour of 5:30 am, he was struggling by this evening.....to put it mildly. NOT a happy camper. But seriously? His cries were so sad, so pathetic, and so heart wrenching....it was all I could do to not burst into tears myself. It is so HARD to see your child so miserable.
Good:
Today was my dearest Mother's 58th birthday. (Sorry to call you out on the age, Mommy, but you don't look a day over 35 anyway. {wink wink}) We had a grand old celebration of all sorts of wild and craziness at my Mom's favorite restaurant: Mi Ranchito. It probably was a good thing that they stuck us in the back room all by ourselves since the decibel level probably rivaled a Lear jet.....but what they hay! We had fun. After some good ol' Mexican food we head back to our house for some MORE food because hey, what's a b-day without some cake and ice cream? (In our case we happened to have THREE cakes, but that's just a minor little detail.)
Here are some facts about my dearest Mother. She is the best mom in the world! When most ladies my age are worried about turning into their Mother's.....I am hoping that someday I WILL turn into my Mother. She is the kindest, gentle, most patient person that I know. When I was a little girl I NEVER remember her yelling. Whether she did or not is beside the question.....because she never did it enough to make an impression. She is a beautiful person, both inside and out and a great grandma to her 15 grandchildren. And here is one of my favorite stories about her:
When she was a young mother raising her young children, she would always try to have jobs that would allow her to be home when her kids got home from school. The job that she had for many, many years was delivering papers for the Daily Herald. She would take the papers around to the boxes that sold them and the gas stations every day. This job was perfect because when we were younger we would just go with her and when we were in school she would always be home by the time we walked through the door. My sister and I LOVED going with her on the paper route. I mean.....we loved it like it was no body's business. I have many fond memories of riding around in my car with my mom and the many crazy things we did. This is the story of one of those crazy times.
My sissy and I were really little. I am thinking maybe I was 6 or 7, which made my sister 4 or 5. We thought it would be absolutely FANTASTIC if we snuck our cat in the car under the blanket so that she could go with us. Keep in mind these small details: It was the middle of the summer. We did not have AC in the car. Cats don't even freakin' like cars. They are not like dogs.
We would be in the car for about 6 hours. We would be too far from home to take her back.
It was such a baaaaaaaddddd idea. Like a colossal bad idea. Once my mom was far enough away from home that she couldn't turn back around we whipped that little cat out and paraded her around like the queen that we thought she was. "Look what we brought, Mom" we squealed like the little girls' that we were. "Oh girls. What have you done?" She said. (See....I told you she didn't yell.) Well......the next six hours were a living cat hell. The cat got freaked. The cat got hot. She proceeded to throw up and shat all over the car. NO LIE. It was not pretty. How my mother lived through it AND still did her job, I do not know. I do know this: If my little darlings ever pulled a stunt like that (which they never could because really? Cats? EWWWWW. We will never have a cat.) I would not be pleasant. I would not be mild. I might even throw in a couple of handy expletives....you never know. But that's what makes my mom so great and sums her up best. She IS pleasant. She IS mild. And as for those handy expletives......never! I love you MAMA.
Ugly:
To the lady who drove through the neighborhood like you do EVERY DAY and there were children in the road: It does no good to slam on your breaks just to prove a point. There will always be children in the road......that is why us Mother's sit outside and watch them. Do NOT throw your arms up in the air and wave your fists at me. I WILL go mama bear on your arse. And also, it is probably not a good idea to tear away at the speed of light once said children have moved out of your way......I'm just sayin'. You may have you slam on your breaks again before you know it. Keep that in mind.
08.10.09
Why oh why do we Mother's love our children so much? Sometimes, (if not all) times, when my kids are sick or in pain there is nothing I want more than to take that pain away from them....even if that means me bearing the pain myself. Today was definitely not one of beepers better days. He woke up this morning with an ear draining all sorts of yucky gunk (which in a child with ear tubes indicates an infection.) He also is riding on the constipation train AGAIN and between that AND an ear infection AND waking me up bright and early at the unheard of hour of 5:30 am, he was struggling by this evening.....to put it mildly. NOT a happy camper. But seriously? His cries were so sad, so pathetic, and so heart wrenching....it was all I could do to not burst into tears myself. It is so HARD to see your child so miserable.
Good:
Today was my dearest Mother's 58th birthday. (Sorry to call you out on the age, Mommy, but you don't look a day over 35 anyway. {wink wink}) We had a grand old celebration of all sorts of wild and craziness at my Mom's favorite restaurant: Mi Ranchito. It probably was a good thing that they stuck us in the back room all by ourselves since the decibel level probably rivaled a Lear jet.....but what they hay! We had fun. After some good ol' Mexican food we head back to our house for some MORE food because hey, what's a b-day without some cake and ice cream? (In our case we happened to have THREE cakes, but that's just a minor little detail.)
Here are some facts about my dearest Mother. She is the best mom in the world! When most ladies my age are worried about turning into their Mother's.....I am hoping that someday I WILL turn into my Mother. She is the kindest, gentle, most patient person that I know. When I was a little girl I NEVER remember her yelling. Whether she did or not is beside the question.....because she never did it enough to make an impression. She is a beautiful person, both inside and out and a great grandma to her 15 grandchildren. And here is one of my favorite stories about her:
When she was a young mother raising her young children, she would always try to have jobs that would allow her to be home when her kids got home from school. The job that she had for many, many years was delivering papers for the Daily Herald. She would take the papers around to the boxes that sold them and the gas stations every day. This job was perfect because when we were younger we would just go with her and when we were in school she would always be home by the time we walked through the door. My sister and I LOVED going with her on the paper route. I mean.....we loved it like it was no body's business. I have many fond memories of riding around in my car with my mom and the many crazy things we did. This is the story of one of those crazy times.
My sissy and I were really little. I am thinking maybe I was 6 or 7, which made my sister 4 or 5. We thought it would be absolutely FANTASTIC if we snuck our cat in the car under the blanket so that she could go with us. Keep in mind these small details: It was the middle of the summer. We did not have AC in the car. Cats don't even freakin' like cars. They are not like dogs.
We would be in the car for about 6 hours. We would be too far from home to take her back.
It was such a baaaaaaaddddd idea. Like a colossal bad idea. Once my mom was far enough away from home that she couldn't turn back around we whipped that little cat out and paraded her around like the queen that we thought she was. "Look what we brought, Mom" we squealed like the little girls' that we were. "Oh girls. What have you done?" She said. (See....I told you she didn't yell.) Well......the next six hours were a living cat hell. The cat got freaked. The cat got hot. She proceeded to throw up and shat all over the car. NO LIE. It was not pretty. How my mother lived through it AND still did her job, I do not know. I do know this: If my little darlings ever pulled a stunt like that (which they never could because really? Cats? EWWWWW. We will never have a cat.) I would not be pleasant. I would not be mild. I might even throw in a couple of handy expletives....you never know. But that's what makes my mom so great and sums her up best. She IS pleasant. She IS mild. And as for those handy expletives......never! I love you MAMA.
Ugly:
To the lady who drove through the neighborhood like you do EVERY DAY and there were children in the road: It does no good to slam on your breaks just to prove a point. There will always be children in the road......that is why us Mother's sit outside and watch them. Do NOT throw your arms up in the air and wave your fists at me. I WILL go mama bear on your arse. And also, it is probably not a good idea to tear away at the speed of light once said children have moved out of your way......I'm just sayin'. You may have you slam on your breaks again before you know it. Keep that in mind.
08.10.09
Monday, August 10, 2009
Day 5
Bad:
Today was frumpy dress day. I woke up this morning and was just not feeling it. You know how when Sunday rolls around and you pretty much have to have pre-planned a dress in mind for Church or you will be stuck trying on 6 different outfits.....each of them getting progressively worse. Well.....today I had pre-planned on wearing my long, flowing, kinda makes me look preggers (but I don't give a darn) dress. I didn't want to shave my legs. I didn't want something that would ride up when the kids used me as a jungle gym during the 3 hour block. I just wanted something comfy, lose fitting, casual, and moderately cute and by dang if this dress wasn't all of those things. Then......the un-imaginable happened..... I was climbing over our LuvSac on the way into the storage room (don't ask) and riiiiiiippppppp. Oh crap. A HUGE hole in my dress. Are you kidding me? Now what was I supposed to wear? So, it was back to the drawing board. Only this time, second frumpy dress was no where near as cute, or long, and it just made me look fat instead of pregnant and it rode up every time a child crawled over, under and around me for three hours. I did not look like a gem and it was a sad day when I looked in my hot mirror....and not even that could help me! Oh well. C'est la vie.
Good:
{Singing} My sister's in town. My sister's in town. La la la la la.....my sister's in town.
I am so excited that she is finally here. She is my BFF and can you believe that it was been one FULL year since I have seen her lovely face? She is here for two weeks and we are going to live it up......just you wait and see!
Here is one of my favorite memories about my sissy. We have a looooonnnnnggggg history of funny stories and crazy times, but this is one I love the most. When we were wee little chillins' we used to share ourselves a bed....it was a grand old time. Jenny would always have to snuggle up close to me AND in order to fall asleep, she would also have to be touching a part of my body. Well.....as the years went on and I got to be more and more of a "give me my space" kind of sleeper (which I totally still am....no spooning for me....just ask Lew) it would drive me absolutely BANANAS that she had to hold on to me. So pretty soon I banished her to the corner of the bed and would ONLY let her hold on to my nightgown to fall asleep. (Gracious, what kind of horrible sister was I, anyway?) And so most nights, she would hold on to a tiny piece of my nightgown (because that was as close as I would allow her) and drift off into la la land. We have always been close. She may not still need to hold on to me to fall asleep (DUH. Hello captain obvious) but I still like to think that she needs me in her life to comfort her like only a big sister can....just as I need her to comfort me.( And I still may never forgive my bro-in-law for whisking her away to the far away land of Ohio.) I love you Jen! So glad you're here.
08.09.09
Today was frumpy dress day. I woke up this morning and was just not feeling it. You know how when Sunday rolls around and you pretty much have to have pre-planned a dress in mind for Church or you will be stuck trying on 6 different outfits.....each of them getting progressively worse. Well.....today I had pre-planned on wearing my long, flowing, kinda makes me look preggers (but I don't give a darn) dress. I didn't want to shave my legs. I didn't want something that would ride up when the kids used me as a jungle gym during the 3 hour block. I just wanted something comfy, lose fitting, casual, and moderately cute and by dang if this dress wasn't all of those things. Then......the un-imaginable happened..... I was climbing over our LuvSac on the way into the storage room (don't ask) and riiiiiiippppppp. Oh crap. A HUGE hole in my dress. Are you kidding me? Now what was I supposed to wear? So, it was back to the drawing board. Only this time, second frumpy dress was no where near as cute, or long, and it just made me look fat instead of pregnant and it rode up every time a child crawled over, under and around me for three hours. I did not look like a gem and it was a sad day when I looked in my hot mirror....and not even that could help me! Oh well. C'est la vie.
Good:
{Singing} My sister's in town. My sister's in town. La la la la la.....my sister's in town.
I am so excited that she is finally here. She is my BFF and can you believe that it was been one FULL year since I have seen her lovely face? She is here for two weeks and we are going to live it up......just you wait and see!
Here is one of my favorite memories about my sissy. We have a looooonnnnnggggg history of funny stories and crazy times, but this is one I love the most. When we were wee little chillins' we used to share ourselves a bed....it was a grand old time. Jenny would always have to snuggle up close to me AND in order to fall asleep, she would also have to be touching a part of my body. Well.....as the years went on and I got to be more and more of a "give me my space" kind of sleeper (which I totally still am....no spooning for me....just ask Lew) it would drive me absolutely BANANAS that she had to hold on to me. So pretty soon I banished her to the corner of the bed and would ONLY let her hold on to my nightgown to fall asleep. (Gracious, what kind of horrible sister was I, anyway?) And so most nights, she would hold on to a tiny piece of my nightgown (because that was as close as I would allow her) and drift off into la la land. We have always been close. She may not still need to hold on to me to fall asleep (DUH. Hello captain obvious) but I still like to think that she needs me in her life to comfort her like only a big sister can....just as I need her to comfort me.( And I still may never forgive my bro-in-law for whisking her away to the far away land of Ohio.) I love you Jen! So glad you're here.
08.09.09
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Day 4
Bad:
Bloated.
Retaining Water.
Headaches.
Fatigue.
Cramps.
Back Aches.
I freakin' sound like a walking Midol commercial. Not the greatest of days. Lewis was gone all morning and I was at my wits end with the kids and pretty much told them to go outside and not step one foot into the house until their father got home. Blech. I am so not a pleasant person today.
On a side note: When I was training for the marathon a few months back I had to run a thirteen- miler on a day I was experiencing these exact same symptoms. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but if I had balls......they'd be made of steel. Consequently, today is one of those days I'm left wishing that I did have a set......oh to be a man!
Good:
Two words: Smart Cookies.
At a little family shindig this afternoon, I was pleasantly surprised to find that one of the coolest, smartest people I know (Kelli) decided to contribute these little beauties for our dessert. I was introduced to Smart Cookies when my sis-in-law (also one of the coolest and smartest people I know) brought me 4, count them, 4 of the most delectably, delicious and by all counts the MOST AWESOMELY FAN-FREAKIN'-TASTIC cookies that I have ever eaten. It would be a lie to say that I didn't want to (after immediately tasting the first one) shove them all into my pie hole right away. BUT, like the super-nice person, and just darn right most awesome wife that I am, I saved a couple for my hubby. Then I jealously watched as he shoved them into his pie-hole and secretly plotted when and how I could procure some more of those cookies. Well.....not even four days later, I sat in a beautiful cabin in the beautiful Utah mountains and shoved more Smart Cookies into my pie-hole. BLISS.
However, I am left wondering about the name of these cookies. Perhaps they would be more suited to be called :"You- better -be- smart- when -you- eat- these- cookies -and -not -eat- 3- at -once -or -you- will -have- an -extra- 10 pounds -of -junk- in- your -trunk" Cookies. What do you think?
Ugly:
On a day like today (You know, Midol commercial day) it is probably not a good idea to eat a bunch of semi-mediocre Chinese food from a restaurant you never laid your peepers on before, and then hop in the car for a 45 minute car ride home. Let's talk about this for a minute....at times, I was having to squeeze my eyes shut, grit my teeth and breath through the pain. It was MISERABLE. Talk about your stomach hurting......I was experiencing all sorts of new sympathy for my littlest wee one and how his tummy was hurting. In fact, I'm pretty sure that if someone had said to me: "Maybe we just need to stick a pokey up your bum and your stomach will feel better" then I would have karate kicked them in the head! Again, Braden, Mommy's sorry. I feel your pain.
08.08.09
Bloated.
Retaining Water.
Headaches.
Fatigue.
Cramps.
Back Aches.
I freakin' sound like a walking Midol commercial. Not the greatest of days. Lewis was gone all morning and I was at my wits end with the kids and pretty much told them to go outside and not step one foot into the house until their father got home. Blech. I am so not a pleasant person today.
On a side note: When I was training for the marathon a few months back I had to run a thirteen- miler on a day I was experiencing these exact same symptoms. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but if I had balls......they'd be made of steel. Consequently, today is one of those days I'm left wishing that I did have a set......oh to be a man!
Good:
Two words: Smart Cookies.
At a little family shindig this afternoon, I was pleasantly surprised to find that one of the coolest, smartest people I know (Kelli) decided to contribute these little beauties for our dessert. I was introduced to Smart Cookies when my sis-in-law (also one of the coolest and smartest people I know) brought me 4, count them, 4 of the most delectably, delicious and by all counts the MOST AWESOMELY FAN-FREAKIN'-TASTIC cookies that I have ever eaten. It would be a lie to say that I didn't want to (after immediately tasting the first one) shove them all into my pie hole right away. BUT, like the super-nice person, and just darn right most awesome wife that I am, I saved a couple for my hubby. Then I jealously watched as he shoved them into his pie-hole and secretly plotted when and how I could procure some more of those cookies. Well.....not even four days later, I sat in a beautiful cabin in the beautiful Utah mountains and shoved more Smart Cookies into my pie-hole. BLISS.
However, I am left wondering about the name of these cookies. Perhaps they would be more suited to be called :"You- better -be- smart- when -you- eat- these- cookies -and -not -eat- 3- at -once -or -you- will -have- an -extra- 10 pounds -of -junk- in- your -trunk" Cookies. What do you think?
Ugly:
On a day like today (You know, Midol commercial day) it is probably not a good idea to eat a bunch of semi-mediocre Chinese food from a restaurant you never laid your peepers on before, and then hop in the car for a 45 minute car ride home. Let's talk about this for a minute....at times, I was having to squeeze my eyes shut, grit my teeth and breath through the pain. It was MISERABLE. Talk about your stomach hurting......I was experiencing all sorts of new sympathy for my littlest wee one and how his tummy was hurting. In fact, I'm pretty sure that if someone had said to me: "Maybe we just need to stick a pokey up your bum and your stomach will feel better" then I would have karate kicked them in the head! Again, Braden, Mommy's sorry. I feel your pain.
08.08.09
Friday, August 7, 2009
Day 3
Good:
Victory is mine! A much needed, much worried about, and much discussed poo poo in the potty happened this morning......dare I say a poop worthy of a celebration! Screaming and cheering, two treats, and a spontaneous trip to the store to buy a toy later, I am left wondering if Braden and his constipation will be cured. Only time will tell. AND only time will tell if my son will have to receive counseling because of my mad potty training skillz that may or may not (but most likely DID indeed) include:
*Telling my son I was going to have to put a pokey up his bum. (Ouch. It is even worse typing it the second time around.) Aye aye aye. Heaven help me.
*Not letting him put his underwear or pants back on until he went #2.
* Telling him that we were going to sit in the bathroom all day until he went #2.
* Every time he had that 'poo' look about him I would grab him and take off running to the nearest bathroom in hopes that I could catch him in the act. (I thought this would scare the poo out of anyone, but strangely it has the opposite effect. Go figure.)
*Bribery, bribery, and more bribery.
*Begging, pleading, soft talking, loud talking, threats, prayers and just plain despair.
So.....life lesson learned. I am no longer the self-proclaimed "Queen" of potty-training. (In fact, I'm pretty sure if I had my way I would have sent every one of my children off to some sort of potty-training "boot camp" to have some other schmucks do my dirty work for me. )I have decided I am no good at this potty-training bidness. I am not perfect. I have not mastered this.....but a poop on the potty? I'd dare say that goes down in history as a milestone. Well played.....Beepers......well played.
Bad:
By 12:30 this afternoon I am looking at my kids as if they are all the spawn of Satan and I am starting to wonder when their heads will start to spin around and vomit will come spewing forth from their mouths.
"What is wrong with you all??" I shout.
Silence. Silence. Crickets Chirping. Just then I realize.....NOT ONE of them has had breakfast this morning and it's freakin' lunch time. Oopsie Daisy. I guess Mommy had other priorities on her mind..... such as getting brother to take the kids for a swim (hint hint....read above post) But still. That is just plain inexcusable. I mean, give me 45 minutes without food and I turn into a stark, raving, lunatic. Wait a minute........I haven't had breakfast either!
Real smooth, Mom.......real smooth.
08.07.09
Victory is mine! A much needed, much worried about, and much discussed poo poo in the potty happened this morning......dare I say a poop worthy of a celebration! Screaming and cheering, two treats, and a spontaneous trip to the store to buy a toy later, I am left wondering if Braden and his constipation will be cured. Only time will tell. AND only time will tell if my son will have to receive counseling because of my mad potty training skillz that may or may not (but most likely DID indeed) include:
*Telling my son I was going to have to put a pokey up his bum. (Ouch. It is even worse typing it the second time around.) Aye aye aye. Heaven help me.
*Not letting him put his underwear or pants back on until he went #2.
* Telling him that we were going to sit in the bathroom all day until he went #2.
* Every time he had that 'poo' look about him I would grab him and take off running to the nearest bathroom in hopes that I could catch him in the act. (I thought this would scare the poo out of anyone, but strangely it has the opposite effect. Go figure.)
*Bribery, bribery, and more bribery.
*Begging, pleading, soft talking, loud talking, threats, prayers and just plain despair.
So.....life lesson learned. I am no longer the self-proclaimed "Queen" of potty-training. (In fact, I'm pretty sure if I had my way I would have sent every one of my children off to some sort of potty-training "boot camp" to have some other schmucks do my dirty work for me. )I have decided I am no good at this potty-training bidness. I am not perfect. I have not mastered this.....but a poop on the potty? I'd dare say that goes down in history as a milestone. Well played.....Beepers......well played.
Bad:
By 12:30 this afternoon I am looking at my kids as if they are all the spawn of Satan and I am starting to wonder when their heads will start to spin around and vomit will come spewing forth from their mouths.
"What is wrong with you all??" I shout.
Silence. Silence. Crickets Chirping. Just then I realize.....NOT ONE of them has had breakfast this morning and it's freakin' lunch time. Oopsie Daisy. I guess Mommy had other priorities on her mind..... such as getting brother to take the kids for a swim (hint hint....read above post) But still. That is just plain inexcusable. I mean, give me 45 minutes without food and I turn into a stark, raving, lunatic. Wait a minute........I haven't had breakfast either!
Real smooth, Mom.......real smooth.
08.07.09
Day 2
Bad:
I think I am in dire need of some Mommy “alone” time. Today we had FIVE, count them, FIVE dentists appointments and although it was a trifle bit hectic (that very well may be the understatement of the year) I was glad to get them over with in one foul swoop. As I was sitting in the dentist chair getting the plaque scraped off my teeth…..a perfectly terrible torture….I found myself desperately wishing that the dentist would come in and tell me that I had a cavity or two (or dare I admit it….a root canal) so that I could schedule an appointment BY MYSELF and for MYSELF to get the work done. Hello???!!!! Since when did the trip to the dentist become like a trip to the spa? Since the invention of laughing gas I’m guessing. That perfectly lovely gas is SO my version of recreational drugs. I love the way it relaxes me. The way it makes me tingle from the tips of my toes right up to my head. That stuff is heavenly and I will continue to pray every night that it never gets taken off the market because a world without laughing gas is just not a world I want to live in. As for the cavity situation, wouldn’t you know it, NOT ONE DANG CAVITY! Who woulda thunk that would ever be a bad thing???? Well my peeps….today it was……today it was. Can you fault a lady for wanting a hit of laughing gas every now and again?
Good:
I had book club tonight with my bitty twos, my ladies, my peeps, my partners in crime. Seriously….the thoughts of book club got me through my day that included (but was not limited to): dentist appointments, a trip to Micky D’s (a fantastic bribe to persuade my baby to get his teeth checked......bleh.), breaking up about 24 fights, dealing with aprox. 16 neighbor kids, making dinner for myself AND my in-laws, and a myriad of various other chores and activities that I do sans my husband because hello??? he has a job and a church calling and just wasn't able to be here this evening. To the ladies of my book club: You truly lighten my spirit and give me something to look forward to all day. I literally count down the hours until I can be in your presence. So THANK YOU for all the many laughs and red-hot topics we discuss that pretty much have nothing to do with what we've read. Let's keep it up for many years to come. And I'm super mondo sorry that I had to leave early and I really really hope that all the juicy talk can be saved for next time. Okay. Thanks. Bye.
08.06.09
I think I am in dire need of some Mommy “alone” time. Today we had FIVE, count them, FIVE dentists appointments and although it was a trifle bit hectic (that very well may be the understatement of the year) I was glad to get them over with in one foul swoop. As I was sitting in the dentist chair getting the plaque scraped off my teeth…..a perfectly terrible torture….I found myself desperately wishing that the dentist would come in and tell me that I had a cavity or two (or dare I admit it….a root canal) so that I could schedule an appointment BY MYSELF and for MYSELF to get the work done. Hello???!!!! Since when did the trip to the dentist become like a trip to the spa? Since the invention of laughing gas I’m guessing. That perfectly lovely gas is SO my version of recreational drugs. I love the way it relaxes me. The way it makes me tingle from the tips of my toes right up to my head. That stuff is heavenly and I will continue to pray every night that it never gets taken off the market because a world without laughing gas is just not a world I want to live in. As for the cavity situation, wouldn’t you know it, NOT ONE DANG CAVITY! Who woulda thunk that would ever be a bad thing???? Well my peeps….today it was……today it was. Can you fault a lady for wanting a hit of laughing gas every now and again?
Good:
I had book club tonight with my bitty twos, my ladies, my peeps, my partners in crime. Seriously….the thoughts of book club got me through my day that included (but was not limited to): dentist appointments, a trip to Micky D’s (a fantastic bribe to persuade my baby to get his teeth checked......bleh.), breaking up about 24 fights, dealing with aprox. 16 neighbor kids, making dinner for myself AND my in-laws, and a myriad of various other chores and activities that I do sans my husband because hello??? he has a job and a church calling and just wasn't able to be here this evening. To the ladies of my book club: You truly lighten my spirit and give me something to look forward to all day. I literally count down the hours until I can be in your presence. So THANK YOU for all the many laughs and red-hot topics we discuss that pretty much have nothing to do with what we've read. Let's keep it up for many years to come. And I'm super mondo sorry that I had to leave early and I really really hope that all the juicy talk can be saved for next time. Okay. Thanks. Bye.
08.06.09
Day 1
GOOD:
Today a freak wind storm blew through our little community and knocked out the power for about four hours. Since this happened in the late afternoon and into the evening, we nary felt the effects of this inconvenience as the children just ran and played outside. As the sun started to set my anxiety regarding our no power situation began to increase. Suddenly my thoughts turned to how I was going to entertain myself for the rest of the evening. No power = No facebook, no blog stalking, no catching up on crappy reality T.V on my DVR, no reading my book in bed sipping on my cherry limeade with crushed ice…..this night was going to be a total bust! If I were a mind reader (and who wouldn’t want to be) I’m sure that these were the thoughts that were going through my husband’s mind.
“Sweet. Tonight I am totally going to score. With no computer, T.V or reading to get in my way, we are totally going to have some smokin’ hot ‘relations.’ What else is there to do when the power is out? Go to bed? Sure you can go to bed after we’ve hit it a couple of times…..if you catch my drift. {wink wink}"
No wonder the Pioneers had so many stinkin' children. What else did they have to do with their time? Darn socks? Do needlepoint? Um yeah. I’m pretty sure that those things got old pretty darn quick. So…..just as I was mentally trying to gear myself up for a two-fer or maybe even a three-fer (like I said, we had NOTHING better to do) the freakin’ lights came back on! And so, to end the evening, I plopped myself in my heavenly bed, sipped on a lovely beverage and watched one of the million episodes of bad T.V that I had simmering on my DVR. Perfection.
BAD:
I am going to Mommy Hell. I am sure of it. For the last five days I have been potty training my fourth and final victim. (I say victim, because really, who wants to deal with the likes of me when they are potty training?) Now keep in mind, I have successfully potty trained three other savages. I should probably have something to the equivalent of a potty training PHD for the LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY . Yet I still pull stunts like this:
Let me set up the scene. My dearest and youngest son has finally mastered the art of peeing on the potty, but for some reason has yet to drop a deuce in the toilet. Instead, he is getting more and more constipated as the days go on, and about every 10 minutes for FOUR DAYS IN A ROW I hear this:
"Mommy, my tummy hurts.”
So……we rush to the toilet as if his very rear end is on fire and needs extinguishing and NADA, NOTHING, ZIP, ZERO. The poo eludes us. It is on this very day as I am crouched down in the bathroom holding his little rear end over the toilet, dimming the lights to set the “mood” (Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it….I was at my wit’s end people!) and running the water to block out the sound of my other three wild ones standing outside the door whispering,
“Mom, did he do it yet? Did he go poo yet?”
(Jeesh kids. Leave your brother alone. Three year olds can get stage fright too.) And then I popped out this little jewel.
“Braden, if you don’t go poopy, Mommy is going to have to stick a pokey up your bum bum to help you go. Do you want that?”
Wait. Stop the presses. Did I really just say that to my son? Did I really just say that OUT LOUD?
Today a freak wind storm blew through our little community and knocked out the power for about four hours. Since this happened in the late afternoon and into the evening, we nary felt the effects of this inconvenience as the children just ran and played outside. As the sun started to set my anxiety regarding our no power situation began to increase. Suddenly my thoughts turned to how I was going to entertain myself for the rest of the evening. No power = No facebook, no blog stalking, no catching up on crappy reality T.V on my DVR, no reading my book in bed sipping on my cherry limeade with crushed ice…..this night was going to be a total bust! If I were a mind reader (and who wouldn’t want to be) I’m sure that these were the thoughts that were going through my husband’s mind.
“Sweet. Tonight I am totally going to score. With no computer, T.V or reading to get in my way, we are totally going to have some smokin’ hot ‘relations.’ What else is there to do when the power is out? Go to bed? Sure you can go to bed after we’ve hit it a couple of times…..if you catch my drift. {wink wink}"
No wonder the Pioneers had so many stinkin' children. What else did they have to do with their time? Darn socks? Do needlepoint? Um yeah. I’m pretty sure that those things got old pretty darn quick. So…..just as I was mentally trying to gear myself up for a two-fer or maybe even a three-fer (like I said, we had NOTHING better to do) the freakin’ lights came back on! And so, to end the evening, I plopped myself in my heavenly bed, sipped on a lovely beverage and watched one of the million episodes of bad T.V that I had simmering on my DVR. Perfection.
BAD:
I am going to Mommy Hell. I am sure of it. For the last five days I have been potty training my fourth and final victim. (I say victim, because really, who wants to deal with the likes of me when they are potty training?) Now keep in mind, I have successfully potty trained three other savages. I should probably have something to the equivalent of a potty training PHD for the LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY . Yet I still pull stunts like this:
Let me set up the scene. My dearest and youngest son has finally mastered the art of peeing on the potty, but for some reason has yet to drop a deuce in the toilet. Instead, he is getting more and more constipated as the days go on, and about every 10 minutes for FOUR DAYS IN A ROW I hear this:
"Mommy, my tummy hurts.”
So……we rush to the toilet as if his very rear end is on fire and needs extinguishing and NADA, NOTHING, ZIP, ZERO. The poo eludes us. It is on this very day as I am crouched down in the bathroom holding his little rear end over the toilet, dimming the lights to set the “mood” (Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it….I was at my wit’s end people!) and running the water to block out the sound of my other three wild ones standing outside the door whispering,
“Mom, did he do it yet? Did he go poo yet?”
(Jeesh kids. Leave your brother alone. Three year olds can get stage fright too.) And then I popped out this little jewel.
“Braden, if you don’t go poopy, Mommy is going to have to stick a pokey up your bum bum to help you go. Do you want that?”
Wait. Stop the presses. Did I really just say that to my son? Did I really just say that OUT LOUD?
Stick.A.Pokey.Up.Your.Bum. Holy Crap. Mother of the year I am not. Mommy Dearest? Yeah, that sounds more like it. Now, in an effort to try and explain myself, I will clarify what I meant by that. I have birthed four children. Somewhere along the way, each and every one of them has become constipated when they were an infant or baby. There is nothing worse than a constipated baby. I should know...... I’ve lived it...... Several times. Well, sorry if this is a little bit gross and just plain TMI, but also somewhere along the way I learned this little technique. Sometimes if you stick a well lubed Q-tip up their little hiney and quite gently turn it in circles it can stimulate the bowels and voila! They’re back in Business, baby! Well this is what I meant, but so un-eloquently expressed to my darling boy. (I am all about the scare tactics. For example: Do you want to get hit by a car and die? No? Then DON’T PLAY IN THE ROAD!” Or this little gem that I’ve used a time or two…..”Never, EVER talk to stranger or take candy from them because they will throw you in their car and you will never EVER see Mommy or Daddy again.”) So in essence, what I was attempting was a scare tactic that had the quite opposite effect as my son is probably forever scarred by the idea of his mom putting a pokey in his bum. Oh, and P.S. I bet you’re wondering if he ever ended up going on the potty? Well, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that scaring the literal poop out of your child is much harder than one would think. Oh well.
UGLY: Does it really get any uglier than saying to your three year old “I’m going to stick a pokey up your bum.” Um yeah. I didn’t think so either.
08.05.09
UGLY: Does it really get any uglier than saying to your three year old “I’m going to stick a pokey up your bum.” Um yeah. I didn’t think so either.
08.05.09
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