Need a happy fix?

I can't venture into a liquor store with the kids, so this will have to do.

Look, bunnies!

Too pissed off and exhausted to think of a clever title.

This fucking sucks! I'm so fed up and so exhausted.

The big kids aren't sleeping well. They wake up for random reasons at insane hours (2 am on Sunday-Monday night, 4 am for the past 2 nights) and they're up for good by 6 at the latest. Once they're up the first time, I have a very difficult time falling back to sleep. Even when they do, I can't. I'm fucking exhausted.

Today was fucking nuts. I had way too much shit to do and bunches of stuff went wrong. The boy just went down for a nap 20 minutes ago. I need to get him up right about now 'cause we have got to go out. When left on his own lately, he's been napping for 4-5 hours I know he needs more sleep and he's not getting it. I have to keep cutting his naps short. Shit! We ALL fucking need more sleep and we're not getting it. I'm just so fucking tired of this shit.

I wanted to ask dh to call in yesterday, but I didn't 'cause I knew he wouldn't and honestly, I couldn't stand it if I specifically asked and he didn't even consider it. So I said something along the lines of, "I wish you could stay home." HE FUCKING IGNORED ME.

Yeah and the same shit continues. Nothing I say/do makes any difference. Lots more I want to say here, but I think he might still occasionally read this and I just don't want to get into some stuff.

I'm feeling horribly unattractive, unappreciated, over-extended, burnt out and just fucking exhausted.

I tried to figure out what it is that I need to feel better today. What I want is some damn attention. I want SOMEONE to acknowledge at least a portion of what I do. And no, I'm not fishing for compliments from you people. I want someone, but I also NEED dh to acknowledge me. I would damn near kill for flowers, a card, a sweet word or a stupid trinket--anything of the sort, but it doesn't happen. The only thing he has given me is Starbucks and that was once. While I appreciate it, that's not exactly what I'm looking for right now.

I feel like I'm getting depressed. I know part of it is that I haven't had enough sleep, but damn it, some of this shit has been going on for a long time. And I don't really fucking care about the reason right now. All I care about is that I'm sitting here crying and miserable.

AHHHHHHH. There's so much I want to write, but I'm already late picking up the girls. I haven't even woken The Boy up yet. I just want to go to bed. I'm seriously considering just getting a damn hotel room, taking an Ambien, and getting some glorious uninterrupted sleep. Problem is, when dh is off, I want to be with him. When he has to work, there's no fucking way he'll take any time off so I could do that. I've considered just taking off in the night and not coming back until later the next day. I kinda wonder, though, if he'd even notice or if he would just assume I was in one of the kids' rooms and head to work leaving the kids alone. I can't take that risk. And besides, honestly, I don't think I can do that to him. Sucks since I can't say the same of him towards me.

And now I'm off to run out the door to be late for yet another fucking thing today.

SON OF A BITCH!

All I want is support. All I get is bickering.

About a year ago, a secular homeschooling list started in my local area. This was great news. I've been run off from lists that were supposedly inclusive, but wound up being Christian in disguise. On one particular group, I was horrified by some of the things posted. At one point, a lesbian mom received harassing messages both on and off list insisting she was going to hell for the "evil" way in which she "chose" to live her life and how she was essentially abusing her children.

So I left that group (which later dropped all pretense and announced it was now Christian only and then insisted people sign a "statement of faith" in order to join) and then bounced around looking for another. I'm on a few that really are Christian in disguise, but they're not chat lists, so there's nothing awful like the way that mom was treated. Granted, yeah, I do get annoyed with the posts about how folks need to report to the capitol to protest and protect marriage (Protect it from what, people who love each other and have lived in a committed relationship for far longer than most of their heterosexual counterparts? I think we've proven time and time again that marriage should be protected from us. And honestly, after some of the shit you see with young couples in the military, we probably should be protected from marriage), the completely inaccurate posts attributing all sorts of medical and moral ailments to abortion, and the random quotations about how Jesus loves you, but not YOU because you're different. Would someone please tell me what any of that has to do with homeschooling? I've never been able to figure it out.

When an acquaintance started a secular homeschooling group last year, I was thrilled. Even many of my Christian friends joined because they too were sick of the "holier than thou" attitudes seen on the Christian lists. All this time, I've been pretty happy with the group. I've asked for their opinions/suggestions on several issues and was thrilled with the responses I got.

I just left the group. A moderator raised a decent point, but, being one who loves the drama, she decided to make it all very dramatic. No one else suffers like her. No one understands what she's going through. No one appreciates her. Wah wah wah! For the past few days, the posts have consisted of people asking questions and her bitching about how much everyone sucks and how she's just going to take her toys and go home. Damn it. I joined the list for support, not drama. I unsubscribed.

DAMN IT! It was a great resource, but now it's been destroyed. Why do we have to play the one-up game? Why must we try to convince everyone else that our suffering is worse than everyone else's? Why can't we agree that we all have our own struggles and then band together to help work through them?

Hate the administration. Love the t-shirts.

I found political t-shirts that I just adore. If you need a gift idea for me, here ya go.

Wtf

Should Brave Men Die...

My child vs. my president

Osama still doesn't live in Iraq

I love the state shirts.

And dh and I both want this on a bumper sticker.

Homeschoolers are funny.

I love these kids!

Oh how I love homeschooling. Without it, I would not be scanning YouTube for "homeschool" and chanced to come across this gem. More importantly, without homeschooling, these kids might not have time to do this:

This is your mom. This is your mom on cliches. Any questions?

My mother misunderstands lots of things. High on her list are any sort of cliche or phrase. She mutilates them to the point where they are barely recognizable, but very funny.

You may "Kill two birds with one stone," but my mom does it "in one stone."

You may believe "Misery loves company," but my mom thinks, "Misery deserves company."

No amount of my reasoning or arguing will help admit that her versions MAKE NO FREAKING SENSE.

And so, she just keeps on keeping on with her ridiculous phrases.

When I saw the phrases mentioned here, I immediately thought of my mom.

She does use, "Kitten caboodle," "Taken for granite," and I swear the only reason she doesn't say, "Devil-make-hair," is because it has yet to dance across her mind. Give her a few years, though.

Out to lunch

If, by "Lunch," you mean, "Getting hopelessly wrapped up in the land of Harry Potter."

I finished on Tuesday, but then that meant I needed yesterday to recuperate and get all the work done that was ignored while I read the book.

I'm done and I'm not going to spoil anything for anyone, so fear not.

I need to run out in a little while, so no long posts from me, but fear not. I'll be back later and I have funny catalog pictures to scan, share, and mock. So stay tuned.

Add this to my list of super powers.

We've already established that I am the proud possessor of powers of the super variety.

Here's another one to add to the list of super powers.

I have the amazing ability to say completely inappropriate things about penises (penisi?) when random people appear. Then again, maybe they have the super power of appearing right at the most inappropriate moments. You be the judge.

While at a party this weekend, we got on the topic of inappropriate kid penis-related things. I started to tell a story and a friend even said, "Maybe we should close the door." So I did and continued on with my story. I explained how I thought it was funny/embarassing that every time the boy reaches for the boy parts, the girls insist on asking The Boy in sing songy voices, "Do you like your penis?"

Apparently, during my story, someone walked into the room behind me and I didn't notice until I heard the door close right as I uttered the word, "Penis," in the same sing-songy voice that the kids use.

Then we ventured off into foreskin stories. I shared one as yet another worker walked in. I forget what the story was exactly, but it was yet another in the list of mortifying stories that you don't share with anyone outside your circle of friends.

How the hell did I manage to tell the stories right as people walked in EVERY SINGLE TIME? Each time, I attracted these people THROUGH A CLOSED DOOR.

I don't know about you, but my super powers amaze me!

Let's see Cicely Mary Barker paint a picture of THAT fairy.

I just checked one of my spam folders and saw the following title:
"Get a visit from the big dick fairy."

Now you'll forgive me while I roll on the floor laughing hysterically.

I hate spam with a passion, but that cracked me the hell up.

Random link Friday

That is one of the cutest things I've ever seen. Watch all the way to the end. When you think it can't get any cuter, it does.

I also came across the remix version:

What would Jesus do?

Dear obnoxious people,

The entire world is not Christian. Even those who are don't particularly enjoy those obnoxious "G-d will hate you if you don't forward this to 10,000 people" Christian e-mail forwards. People who are on topic-specific message boards don't enjoy getting said forwards when the message boards have NOTHING AT ALL TO DO with religion.

Please cut that shit out. WWJD? I'm pretty sure he'd beat you senseless.

Image courtesy of Chucklenut Shirts.

Decapitated monkeys and Nine Inch Nails

When Girl1 lost her first tooth, the Tooth Fairy left her not only a $1 coin, but also a small stuffed monkey. One hour after the kids woke up the next morning, Girl1 had already decapitated him. I've heard of those mothers who scream, "We can't have anything nice in this house and it's all because of you." Yeah, I understand that now. Give my kids a few hours and they can destroy anything. Often, it doesn't even take that long.

I found the decapitated monkey fascinating. Not only would it be a kickin' name for a band, but the visual is pretty neat too. See what I mean?


Doesn't he look sad about the fact that his head was violent torn from his body?


And now for more randomness. I've heard this song on the radio, but haven't paid much attention. It came on while I was in the car with dh yesterday and he recited the first two lines and told me he liked the song. I heard it again today and looked up the rest of the lyrics. Here they are:

Nine Inch Nails - Capital/Capitol G

I pushed a button and elected him to office and a
He pushed a button and it dropped a bomb
You pushed a button and could watch it on the television
Those motherfuckers didn't last too long ha ha
I'm sick of hearing 'bout the haves and the have nots
Have some personal accountability
The biggest problem with the way that we've been doing things is
The more we let you have the less that I'll be keeping for me

Well I used to stand for something
Now I'm on my hands and knees
Traded in my God for this one
He signs his name with a Capital G

Don't give a shit about the temperature in Guatemala
Don't really see what all the fuss is about
Ain't gonna worry bout no future generations and a
I'm sure somebody's gonna figure it out
Don't try to tell how some power can corrupt a person
You haven't had enough to know what it's like
You're only angry 'cause you wish you were in my position
Now nod your head because you know that I'm right—all right!

Well I used to stand for something
But forgot what that could be
There's a lot of me inside you
Maybe you're afraid to see

Well I used to stand for something
Now I'm on my hands and knees
Traded in my God for this one
He signs his name with a Capital G

Thank you, Krissy.

Got a comment last night that made me feel better. The compliment part was nice, but it's the last part that I loved. Yes! Someone gets it! Thanks.

You are a beautiful and amazing woman, no amount of words I can say can truly capture how much so. And no amount of words can take the place of hearing them from your dh. I'm sorry :-(

"I want to be cool, tall, vulnerable and luscious.I would have it all if I only had this much."

Short version of the long story:

See the title.

The last compliment I got from my husband was in September of '04.

I feel unattractive and unappreciated.

No amount of trying to rationally discuss it, working out, crying over it, or trying to avoid it all together seems to make a difference.

I've got nothing else in my bag of tricks. I have no idea what else to do. I'm really upset and that doesn't seem to matter.

I've got nothing more for ya. I've been avoiding blogging about it at all. I really don't know what to say other than, this sucks and I sure as hell hope something changes soon. While I'm hoping, I'm not betting on it.

Doll houses and recycling

In my parents' basement is a 3 foot tall doll house with working lights and tons of expensive furniture.

Although, I think I would have liked this better: The Perfect Dollhouse

I love that not only is it made entirely of recycled goods, but, if made the right size, it can slide right under a bed.

Look through the whole article. They have some great ideas for furniture and accessories.

I can see we're going to be busy around here. We have a home to build, decorate and furnish.

An open letter to the medical community

Dear doctors/nurses/other medical professionals who really should know what you're talking about (because it's your job and because you have an ethical obligation to do so),

Please do your research. I realize you probably only had an hour or so on breastfeeding during your education. I know more and more studies are constantly being released that show the negative effects of not breastfeeding. I realize you have busy practices and busy private lives, but please, I beg of you; our children beg of you; my sister begs of you, please be informed. YOU HAVE A RESPONSIBILITY TO BE INFORMED.

I am sick and tired of trying to help moms fix what misinformed doctors have screwed up. I've gathered information for a mom whose baby suffered through nipple confusion because the pediatrician refused to follow the AAP's standard treatment for newborn jaundice. I've counseled moms in tears because their sleepy babies weren't gaining weight. When I shared the information with them from recent studies about the effects of epidurals on newborns, several moms told me, "But the L&D nurses/OB told me it wouldn't effect the baby." I've had to bite my tongue so as to not rant and rave over a doctor who recommended unnecessary supplementation of an infant whose weight was nowhere near the threshold for recommending such action. The mom hoped to supplement for only a day. A month later, she was forced to continue giving formula as her supply was drying up as a result. The baby's already "not quite right" latch got much worse thanks to nipple preference from the supplemental bottles of formula. And yes, I admit that I too suffered through almost unbearable physical pain as a result of how our breastfeeding experience was mismanaged in the hospital when my girls were born. After that, I had a pediatrician whose first line of defense was to supplement. When I refused, she reluctantly agreed that I could try nursing more often. I did and at a weight check a week later, they gained substantially more than was expected.

My daughters' first year had far too many of those moments. Each time, I provided the doctors with stacks of research. Every single time, they handed them back immediately. The most they ever did was glance at the paperwork. Being ignorant is one thing. Willful ignorance, however, is disgusting and can be devastating.

I have a soft spot in my heart for those moms who get awful medical advice in part because I was one such mom. I also have a particular disdain for medical professionals who are not informed. That is their job. They have a responsibility to the mom and baby.

This rant is brought to you courtesy of my sister. She called me today from the doctor where she was being treated for an eye infection. The doctor informed her that she wouldn't be able to breastfeed while taking the Fluoroquinolone antibiotic eye drop he was prescribing for her. She called me while in the office to have me look it up in Hale's book to see what the alternatives were. I was floored when I saw it is an L2 which is "Moderately Safe." Ratings start at L1 and go up. To give you an idea of the ratings, Percoset, which is commonly prescribed for many nursing moms after birth is an L3. The eye drop he wanted to prescribe is listed by the American Academy of Pediatrics as "Maternal Medication Usually Compatible with Breastfeeding." Under "Pediatric Concerns," Hale notes, "None reported..."

Now, keep in mind, my sister has a family history of allergies to dairy and soy. Her daughter had severe allergies to both. So should my sister have decided to follow this doctor's advice and stop breastfeeding her infant son while on the medication, what on earth would she have fed the child? Why would she expose him to these potentially dangerous proteins when the drug is safe?

And this doctor she saw had never heard of Dr. Hale. Pardon me while I lift my jaw up off the floor. I have never known a doctor who wasn't familiar with the foremost authority on breastfeeding and medication. He, quite literally, wrote the book on it and he continues to do so. To not be familiar with Hale and continue to give erroneous information when such a wealth of the accurate variety is readily available is a violation of the hippocratic oath.

So, medical professionals, I beg of you to DO YOUR JOB. Be informed. Help your patients make accurate and informed decisions. I'm not asking you to develop any psychic abilities. I'm not asking you to take on the weight of the world. I'm simply asking that you make use of the tools that already exist for the taking. I'm asking you to do your job. Treat your patients. Don't spout misinformation and simply send them on their way. DO YOUR JOB!

"What the heck is G-d going to do with a dead dog?"

Dh and I both cracked up (I cracked up. He smiled. That's "cracking up" for him) over this comment from AndreAnna left at Motherhood Uncensored (see links):

How friggen adorable. My parents told my nephew that his dog Paige was dying and when she passed away, she'd go and be with God. Then, with a straight face, he looks at me and says "But what the heck is God doing (sic) to do with a dead dog?"

Like her nephew, my kid's never cease to amaze me with the wisdom, confusion, randomness and general hilarity that spouts from their mouths.

We already have the incredibly insightful comment Girl1 came up with after Sunday school (scroll down a little bit), some comments from them on Jewish identity, their ambitious plans for the future, and I still find the first announcement absolutely hysterical.

We can't forget everyone's favorite mispronunciation.

Well, this evening, my children informed me that I'm going to have a president for a son-in-law.

My kids don't like Bush. Wonder where they got that from. Tonight, at bedtime, Girl2 told me that she was going to send Bush "Over there, away from his wife forever and he can never come back." She explained, "He's mean to the soldiers, so I'm going to be bad to him." After a brief reminder that we can always try to behave well even when others are mean to us. Without a pause, Girl2 then explained her new plans. "I'm going to love Bush and marry him." When I expressed confusion about the sudden change of heart, she explained, "That way, I can love him and be nice to him and maybe then he'll learn to be nice to other people."

Gotta admire the simplicity, the optimism and of course the logic of childhood.

8th verse, same as the first...

A little bit louder? 3 kids later, hell yeah it's louder. A little bit worse? Nope. Not at all.

Where were you at this time 8 years ago?

I, for one, had just finished making a few life-long promises.

Back then, I got a pretty ring to mark the occasion. Today, I got more jewlery. Yay.

Dh suprised me today with this:
Here's the discription: Bereshit (pronounced like Bear eh sheet) Toggle Bracelet

"Bereshit" means" in the beginning." It's the first word that appears in Torah. It's also the name of the first book which in English is Genesis. (Torah uses the first word of each book as the title). The word is sometimes used to mark new beginnings. I want that tatooed over my c-section scar (If I don't do laser removal. I either want to get rid of that thing or reclaim it).

Dh knew I wanted the bracelet, but I wasn't expecting it. So he gets bonus points. Not only did he get me an anniversary gift, but he got one I liked and one I wasn't expecting.

I'm glad I grabbed that man up 8 years ago when I had the chance. :-)

On super powers

Shhhh. I possess super powers. It's a secret. Don't tell my husband.

I can make stuff disappear.

By "stuff," I mean yummy chocolaty cookies with creamy filling and by "disappear," I mean "eat them."

Willpower is NOT, however, one of my super powers. So I don't like having junk food in the house. Dh, however, enjoys the goodness found in Oreos. On occasion, he'll buy a pack. He thinks he's clever. He puts them up on the top shelf. I'm short, so I can't reach that shelf.

NEWS FLASH: I possess the amazing ability to climb.

Our photo today has been brought to you by the letters n-u-t-s and by Kamrin.

I busted out my photoshop skills after catching up with Kamrin's latest family drama. I, too, come from a family brimming with insanity. While they have been fairly well behaved recently (and I've been trying to keep my distance from those who insist on fucking up royally every single damn chance they get), I know the frustration all too well.

And so, I decided to create that in an attempt to make Kamrin giggle.

FTR, I found the original photo here. I purposely used that shot because it appears to be staged.

I still exist & I still hate Wal-Mart.

Sorry for the absence. Things just got busy. No huge disaster or anything like that.

Although, in the midst of my busy-ness (as opposed to business), I did have "fun" while food shopping (or at least attempting to) last week. I promised you another Wal-Mart story and here it is.

Fathers' Day was that Sunday and dh HATES food shopping. We usually go on Sunday, so I decided I would take the kids on Friday while he was at work to give him a break on Fathers' Day. I walk in at Friday around 3:30. I was in the process of putting The Boy in the little seat in the cart when the power went out. Now we've been there once before when the power went out. After a few seconds, the generator kicked in. I expected that would be the case and so I went shopping.

Now there are a few things we've been meaning to buy for weeks, but we keep forgetting. This time, though, I remembered almost all of them. I even remembered a few I had forgotten that I forgot. I was so proud of myself. About 10 minutes into my shopping, though, I heard someone say the store was closing. I wasn't too concerned and kept shopping. Then a minute or two later, I heard someone else say the same thing.

So we abandoned our shopping and went on a hunt for an associate. Low and behold, I found one and asked. Sure enough, she said they couldn't get the power back on and so they were closing the store. AHHHHHHHHHH.

I was annoyed (of course that freaking happened when I was there), but not too upset. I only spent about 15 minutes in the store. I did, however, feel awful for the folks who were in line with full carts. Then a frazzled mom walked by with a cart full of formula and a crying baby. That poor hungry baby! I wondered if they'd let the mom leave cash for one container or something like that. I never did see what happened, though. She hurried past.

When we stepped outside, we realized the whole block was down. Luckily, I noticed that soon enough so that I was able to take the easiest route home (otherwise, I would have been trying to make several lefts at intersections with no power and therefore no lights). Although, I had motivated myself with the promise of the nearby Starbucks. That Starbucks was also affected by the power outage. So no coffee for me. I'm proud to say that while there was some growling involved, I did not pout.

Sometimes, the dread is more painful than answering the question.

Yesterday, I was just not in a good mood, but I was determined to make today different.

At the gym, I was too exhausted to do my usual routine. I spent a good deal of my morning moaning to my friends, "I'm just not up for this." At home, I was in a bitchy mood. It wasn't by any means an awful day, but I just wasn't feeling it.

This morning, I woke up filled with dread. I have so much to do and I'm falling behind. Then, I asked myself, "Why haven't I done these things?" In the past, there were specific reasons. Now, though, it was really just petty excuses keeping me from crossing them off my list.

So before I even got out of bed, I decided today is going to be the day I get things done. Most of those, "I really need to"s are getting done. I'm finding it takes far less effort to actually get them done than it did to dread them.

Here's a list of my accomplishments thus far:

• Got out of bed and dressed x4 (come on, when you get this done for not only yourself, but 3 little people too, that really is a big deal).
• Called in my prescrption refill (although I gave them the wrong time for pick-up, but I can deal).
• Put a table on Freecycle. This is an end table that's in great shape, but was rescued from the garbage (courtesy of my dad) years ago. It has traveled all over the country with us as the military moved us, but now it's an extra piece of unnecessary furniture. When we first decided to follow Kamrin's lead and simplify, I knew this table had to go. I knew I wanted to offer it on Freecycle, but just never did. Now it has been offered and a woman is coming to pick it up later today. Woo hoo.
• Dealt with work stuff. This has been the biggest stressor. There's paperwork I needed to fill out months ago, but never did. Today, it's done and the checks really are in the mail.
• Swept up the dining room.
• Put on the last load of laundry (I have 3 kids, a husband and animals. There really never is a "last" load, but this is the bleach load I needed to get done). That includes throwing in the sponges that have been on the front porch ever since we washed the car last week.
• Put paperwork in the lock box.
  
• Cleaned out the bags in the dining room including the old diaper bag that needed to be tossed.
  
• Pile less official paperwork on the file box. Although, that looks bad, so I'm going to take a minute right now and put it IN the box. There. Done.
• The kids did their school work (and lots of it--their choice) all on their own.
• Hugged the kids and told 'em I love them.
• Vacuumed up everything that was left on the dining room floor.
• Sorted papers that had taken up residence on the dining room table. That is my biggest hot spot. Everything piles up there.
• Put aside the papers that need to be filled out (and in the process, found the paperwork for the work bank account that I thought I lost).
• Filled the napkin holder.
• Added a new blog entry.

When I see it all listed there, it really makes me feel good. Look at all that I've gotten done.

There is, however, more to do, so let me go deal with all that. I'll be back later, though. I have yet another Wal-Mart story to share. You know my Wal-Mart stories are always good.

At what point do I start building an arc?

That is not a pond. That is not a lake. That's my garden. Well, at least it was before the rain came.

Forget 40 days and nights, it's been raining damn near forever. We get just enough of a break for people to head out and mow their insanely high lawns. Which works wonders for my allergies. sniffle. sniffle. Then the rains start again.

Yesterday, my girls asked me, "But G-d promised He wouldn't send a flood again. Has He seen our backyard?"

I reminded them that the rainbow was a sign that He would never flood the WORLD again. He made no promises about our property.

My husband, the hero

I love my husband. I love my husband. My husband rocks! I really can't say it enough. Yay for dh.

I had a stressful latter-half of the day. The boy was cranky and screaming. The girls wouldn't listen. In an attempt to shut them all the hell up and keep them distracted, we went outside where it was hot as hell. And The Boy STILL insisted on crying and whining no matter what we offered him to play with. It continued on like that into the evening. Plus my allergies have settled into my sinuses, head and throat. I was miserable.

Than dh came home from work bearing Starbucks. It was completely unexpected and exactly what I needed.

G-d bless that man!

I think Benjamin Franklin missed the mark. My husband is proof that G-d loves me and wants me to be happy.

The truth is out there.

and it's in here too.


1. I once nursed a baby on the dance floor at a wedding while dancing (and no one knew).

TRUE. The girls were 9 months old when my youngest brother got married. At one point, I was nursing one of them when they called all the couples up for that, "If you've been married 1 year, sit down down. If you've been married 5 years, sit down now..." dance where you're left with the couple who has been together the longest. Dh and I got up and danced. One of my nieces suggested I let her sister hold the baby while we danced. I said, "She's nursing," to which my niece replied, "Oh, then forget it. My sister can't do that for you."

2. On our first date, my ex (who was on probation at the time after spending time in jail for dealing) took me into NYC with a friend of his to buy a dime bag.

TRUE. When I met my ex, he was on probation after serving a 3-year sentence for dealing drugs. He was clean at the time. During our first date, his friend called and asked us to go with him into the City. We did and while there, the friend bought a dime bag. Not long after that, my ex started using again and then we were done. I recently found out that my ex-boyfriend has had at least 4 more felony charges since then including one earlier this year for (big shock) cocaine possession.


3. While I speak only 3 or 4 words of German, a paper of mine on breastfeeding was published (in German) in a national (Germany being the nation) magazine.

TRUE. My German is limited to "Good morning" and "dog farts," but a paper of mine was translated and published in German about 5 years ago. The magazine editors found it online and contacted me about publishing it in German. I still have a copy of the magazine around here somewhere. I can't read a word of it, though and I wrote it.

4. My father was 11 when my oldest brother was born.

TRUE. I can't believe no one guessed this one. I usually throw people with this bit of information. My oldest brother is from my mother's first marriage. My mother is more than a tad bit older than my dad. So yes, my father was 11 when my oldest brother was born. My father, however, was NOT my oldest brother's father.

5. One year, for Halloween, I went as dead Britney Spears (No, I'm not THAT young. I was in college at the time).

TRUE. And there's a picture of me in that costume in the yearbook from that year. This was right when Britney was still fairly new on the music scene and "Hit Me Baby One More Time" was a big hit (and drove me insane). I wore an old school uniform with the skirt rolled all the way up, put my hair in pigtails, used stage make-up to draw a bloody slash on my neck, rigged a fake knife on a headband (ala Steve Martin's arrow through the head), made my lips purple and painted my face to look pale. It was a huge hit.

6. I took piano lessons for 11 years (and 3 months) and then broke my mother's heart when I decided I'd rather be the next free-spirited (sometimes dirty-mouthed) Tori Amos than a dignified classical musician confined to an orchestra.

FALSE. I took 2 years of "keyboard" lessons when I was in band as a kid, but that's it. Although, I would love to be Tori Amos. I actually stole this idea from my former sister-in-law (she and my BIL are now divorced). I once heard her (very overbearing and horribly obnoxious) mother ranting about how her daughter trained for years to be a classical musician and in the end, decided she only wanted to play "rock music."

7. When I was 13, I could not only name every single (daytime) soap opera that had ever been on the air, but I could put them in chronological order.

TRUE. I was absolutely addicted to soap operas when I was much younger. I have an addictive personality and a love of information, so I ate up every little bit of information. I could list every soap opera in the order of which it premiered. Of course, that was long before Passions and that General Hospital spin off that didn't last very long.

8. When I was 4, I wanted to be a priest (no, not a rabbi, a priest--a CATHOLIC priest. Yes, I knew you had to be male to be a priest, but I figured it was a stupid rule so it certainly didn't apply to me. Which, I might add, should be the case with all stupid rules).

TRUE. I still vividly remember that conversation with my mother. I was in the bathtub and we were discussing what I wanted to be when I grew up. I have no clue why I wanted to be a priest, but I remember being very offended when my mother told me women couldn't be priests. FTR, The Reform Jewish movement first admitted women to the rabbinical seminary in the 60s. The Conservative movement did around 1980.

So, okay, how did you do? Did any of these really shock anyone?

One of these things is not like the other....

I'm stealing this idea from Kamrin. One of these things is not true. Which one?

1. I once nursed a baby on the dance floor at a wedding while dancing (and no one knew).

2. On our first date, my ex (who was on probation at the time after spending time in jail for dealing) took me into NYC with a friend of his to buy a dime bag.

3. While I speak only 3 or 4 words of German, a paper of mine on breastfeeding was published (in German) in a national (Germany being the nation) magazine.

4. My father was 11 when my oldest brother was born.

5. One year, for Halloween, I went as dead Britney Spears (No, I'm not THAT young. I was in college at the time).

6. I took piano lessons for 11 years (and 3 months) and then broke my mother's heart when I decided I'd rather be the next free-spirited (sometimes dirty-mouthed) Tori Amos than a dignified classical musician confined to an orchestra.

7. When I was 13, I could not only name every single (daytime) soap opera that had ever been on the air, but I could put them in chronological order.

8. When I was 4, I wanted to be a priest (no, not a rabbi, a priest--a CATHOLIC priest. Yes, I knew you had to be male to be a priest, but I figured it was a stupid rule so it certainly didn't apply to me. Which, I might add, should be the case with all stupid rules).

Straight, not narrow.

I wanted to blog about a surprising conversation I had at the gym on Friday. Before I did that, though, I wandered over to Kamrin's and saw that apparently Friday was "Blogging for LGBT Families."

Whoops, I missed that, but my post is related, so I'll just be a little late to the party. Like Kamrin, ours is not a LGBT family, but as Hillel said, "If I'm not for myself, who will be for me? If I'm only for myself, what am I? And if not now, when?" I'm a firm believer that Family=Love. I don't care to put limits on that. I feel the same way about marriage, but that's another rant for another day (Since when does the phrase "family values" mean denying someone else the right to be a family?).

Most of my friends at the gym are Conservative. Many are Christian Conservatives. Don't ask because even I don't know how I do it. Some days, I can't.

Friday, though, one friend really surprised me. Ellen is usually on t.v. there while we work out. One of my friends turned to me and said something like, "I love her. She's awesome. I hated that her other show was cancelled. People were pissed off because she's gay. It was funny. Who cares?"

No, that's not a mind-blowing conversation. We didn't uncover the mystery of life or anything of the sort. But I'm used to homeschool groups that send out a call to arms insisting people gather at the capitol in an effort to "save" marriage (because as our divorce rates show, we heterosexuals have done such a FABULOUS job). I'm used to reading the posts to those lists about how evil the school systems are for teaching tolerance. I'm used to reading calls for a boycott of Wal-Mart because they made one measely donation to a group that supports all families (a number of Christian groups initiated an influx of mail that made Wal-Mart vow never to do that again). True, the women at the gym aren't part of that scene, still, I was surprised to hear such a comment.

Sometimes, people can see through the rhetoric. Sometimes, people can tune out the fear-mongers. Sometimes, we really can all get along. And sometimes, I have to smile quietly to myself.

Random link Monday

Ooooohhhh, pretty pictures!

Majeak Ann

Arguing Semantics: Can/Can't

I read an article yesterday about how the idea we're taught from infancy that, "We can do anything" is a sham and sets us up for failure. The author pointed out that we need to recognize our limits. When we believe we can do anything and then we aren't able to do something, we feel as though we failed. In truth, our bodies simply may not have been capable of that task. So we need to re-examine that, "Can we fix it? Yes we can," idea.

There's nothing my kids can't do. I don't let them use the word "Can't." I've told the girls from the time they were about 2 that there's nothing they can't do with help. If they're having a difficult time with something, they are not allowed to say, "I can't do it." They are to ask for help.

I agree about being realistic in our expectations (although, sometimes, I think our expectations fall short of our capabilities). So after reading that article, there was a moment where I worried about my insistence that the kids not use the word, "Can't." I'm sticking with it, though because I've never told them they have no limits (although I try to encourage healthy well-rounded limits.). I just encourage them to ask for help rather than throwing up their hands and refusing to try.

Now THIS is my kind of medic-alert tag

If you don't let the world know you're a chocoholic, who will?

My theme song (aka: The most unlikely duo ever)

My favorite refrain is, "I need a nap." Well, now I need not be limited to a plain old catch-phrase. My mantra has been set to music. It's sung by Weird Al and Kate Winslet. Yes, that Kate Winslet.

This CD actually doesn't do much for me (although there are a few songs I like--Alison Krauss' "Evermore," Doshie Luther's "Wave Bye Bye," and the lyrics [not the actual song so much] to "Penguin Lament"), but "I Need A Nap," truly is my theme song.

No, I'm not a toddler, but damn it, I need a nap too!

People on this blog are much happier than they appear.

I know I tend to come across as quite the misanthrop on here. I swear that's not the case. To prove it, here's a list of things that make me happy.

1. Starbucks. More precisely, mocha frappacinos.

2. Kid giggles

3. Taking a break from my busy day to lie in bed and nurse the baby

4. animals. We came much too close to adopting another cat last weekend.

5. my pillow

6. music from the early 90s (think Liz Phair, Belly, the Breeders)

7. watching my kids work together

8. Chinese food

9. books, books and more books. To quote my sister, " If it has words and holds still long enough, I'll read it."

10. The designs here and here. No particular reason. I just like 'em.

11. the Internet

12. Old friends

13. cartwheels

14. Being in one of my moods. If said mood was induced by alcohol, this will most likely be combined with #13.

15. Blackberry Merlot

16. Someone who can finish your sentences and hear what you meant, not necessarily what you said.

17. When kids say/do things that may embarrass you at the time, but you crack up over later.

18. Photographs

19. Laughing. I don't care why I'm doing it, as long as I am.

20. Good company. Combine this one with #19 and I'm in heaven.

There ya go. That's my random feel-good post of the day/week/month.

Your daily dose of rhetorical questions.

Please note, this is pretty negative, but I'm actually in a fairly good mood. Please don't think this is indicative of anything larger than the fact that I'm an emotional sponge and I need a nap.

What has happened to our optimism? How did the idealism get beaten out of us? I keep thinking back to high school and college. We were so determined, so ethical, so set on saving the world. We believed we could do it. We really believed we could make a difference.

I want that back.

I'm still hopeful, but I feel defeated. Many of us do. When I read that Cindy Sheehan has dropped out of the anti-war movement, I completely understood.

Her words are biting, but I believe they are true. Sure there are those who want to make a difference (on both sides of this debate), but in my experience, there are far more who are simply not concerned.

Here's an example from my world: I went back to lifting weights after I broke down at the gym last week. When one of my best friends there noticed I was upset and asked why, I pointed to the t.v. where anchors were analyzing Bush's speech. She shrugged her shoulders, pointed to her IPod around her neck and said, "Oh, I didn't bother with any of that. I just listened to my music." Mind you, this woman can tell you who was picked on the Bachelor. She can recount, in great detail, the past few episodes of Grey's Anatomy. She could not, however, be bothered to pay attention to the news. What's even more baffling? Her father is retired military. I just don't get it.

From the time I was a toddler, I was concerned with correcting injustice in the world. I have vivid memories from pre-school, grade school, high school and very definitely college where I felt compelled to step in and take a stand. I always believed one person could make a difference.

Even in my darkest days, when I suffered through depression and my friends declared, "You're so morbid," I still had an ember of optimism. I was pretty down on myself, but I usually had great hope for the rest of the world.

Where did that go? I miss those college days of rallies, poetry, articles, and all around optimism.

Thanks for the mamaries

My son did the sweetest thing today. At bedtime, I sat down to nurse him. He latched on, sucked for about 3 seconds, came off, looked at me, signed "Thank you," said "Tank," and went back to nursing.

sigh


It's times like these that I love everything about motherhood.

Happy?

There is no such thing as a "Happy" Memorial Day. Why on earth do people wish each other a "Happy Memorial Day?" There's nothing remotely happy about it. It's a day to remember and honor our dead. The idea of a barbecue or a sale at the mall just makes my stomach turn.

Obviously, my thoughts turn to the military. I've been absolutely addicted to the military programming on t.v. this weekend.

This show was particularly powerful.

CNN also has this section: Coming Home: Families and War.

If you're lucky enough to have your family there with you this holiday weekend, please enjoy it. Just, please, don't forget that Memorial Day is a day to remember those we have lost. It is NOT merely the beginning of the summer season or an excuse for a sale.

I was having a good day, then Bush opened his mouth.

It never ends. I mean that in reference to being a military wife and in reference to the conflict.

My day started off well. I slept pretty well. We headed out on time. I ran longer than I ever have at the gym. I was in a great mood.

While at the gym, a breaking news update flashed on the screen. My heart skipped a beat. I held my breath. For a moment, the whole world seemed to stop. My husband is no longer active duty, but I'm still a military wife. I've become so conditioned to reacting in terror every time that happens. It's a part of who I am. Part of me is furious over that fact. Another part of me is comforted.

Then Bush appeared and started speaking. Normally, I cannot watch him on the news. I tried desperately to watch his State of the Union address back in '03 when dh was deployed, but I found that I got too riled up. His speech was full of "mistruths", misstatements, and outright lies. Today, though, I watched, because I so desperately hoped they had some good news about the 2 soldiers who are still missing. No such luck.

Bush talked about removing the deadlines. He used his obnoxious "Support the troops" mantra. He insisted that if we don't continue fighting, Al Qaeda will attack us again.

I was livid. When I punched the machine I was on at the time, I knew I needed to get away. I stepped outside in the rain and bawled. Called a friend, went back in, stood and stared as Bush continued speaking, heard some friends there talk about the situation like it was entertainment, sat down in the lobby and cried again.

It hit me so hard. I think part of the reason is that I don't have my guard up. When dh was gone, I had to keep myself in check. When you're in the middle of it, you have to stay calm (or at least something that remotely resembles calm) if you plan on being able to get through your day. I guess I've already started to take that wall down, so I had no buffer. It hit me HARD.

In the end, I went in to the nursery and hugged the kids. It reminded me so much of that day back in 2003, when missiles were first fired over Baghdad. My girls were babies. I watched them play all while I watched the news reports. Here were my little girls who fought for life, giggling and sharing cereal in front of a t.v. screen where reporters spoke of casualties. I hugged the girls back then and wondered what the future held for them amid all this violence. I still don't know, but years later, it still looks pretty bleak. Hell, it looks much worse now than it did 5 years ago.

AHHH. There is so much I want to say. There's so much I want to scream. I just can't right now. I'll write another entry later on political rhetoric vs. our life.

Although, I do want to say, I'm so glad for my husband. When I hear/think of those we have lost, I get the overwhelming urge to touch him. I just want to be in his presence. I want to be reassured with physical proof that he does still exist. I want to celebrate that. But at the same time, I want to mourn those who are lost and in my husband's arms is the safest place to do that.

When dh is deployed and I hear about casualties, but I can't touch him or even contact him, it makes me want to claw my skin off. If you've ever been in labor, it's like transition. You're overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensation and you feel as though you simply cannot do this. You can't relax. You can't stand any sensations. The tension is excruciating.

When he's home, I just want to run to him. It happened on Veterans' Day and today it happened again. I suddenly got the urge to touch him, to hold him. I even tried calling him at work to see if I could stop by. Couldn't get through, though.

A few hours later, I was able to speak to him. I told him how I was surprised by my reaction and I ranted a bit about Bush. Dh assured me that he understood because even though he's not active, we still have friends who are plus there's always a chance he could be called up again. He agreed with my rant completely. I got the same response from a friend, my sister and even my mom, but it was particularly comforting coming from my husband.

Like I said, I'll post more on the topic later, but for now, I want to leave you with this:

"Help us and save us all, and let us cling tightly to the virtue of peace."(Attributed to Rabbi Nachman ben Feiga of Breslov, 1773-1810)

There are no words.

The only appropriate word I could think of after reading this was, "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Body found in Iraq is Calif. soldier

Sharing Time: Victory in the mommy wars

There's been so much talk over the past few years about the "Mommy wars"--mothers judging one another. I propose we mount a counter-attack. Forget making that tongue-snapping noise of annoyance at other moms. Let's compliment them.

Don't look for the bad to complain about. Look for the good to praise.

I challenge you all to speak up and tell parents when you notice their kids doing something nice. Leave me a comment and tell me about the situation. Feel free to post the challenge on your blog with a link here. I want to hear lots of happy stories.

My sister and I have made a point of trying to do this for a year or two now. First off, when I read the first article about "Mommy wars," I wrote to a mom I've always admired and told her so. Then, when my sister and I went to the zoo and a little boy (maybe 6 or so) held the door for us, my sister ran over to tell his parents what he had done and to thank them. The boy was beaming and so were his parents. Another time, I noticed a girl of about 8 helping my kids in the playground. I went over to her family and asked, "Is that your daughter?" They admitted she was and I could just see they were bracing themselves for bad news. I explained how I saw her help my kids and how much we appreciated it. Once again, the family was very obviously thrilled. I heard them call her over and start to relay the conversation to her as we left.

So now, go forth and declare victory in the mommy wars. Screw this petty bickering. Keep your eyes open for kids doing something positive and make a point of letting the parents know that you appreciate it. Then come back here and tell me about it.

Photographs and jewlery combined? Bestill my heart!

Why have I never seen these before? I don’t want one. I want them ALL.

Smoy Photocuffs

I particularly like these:

• Kid Smoy (sure, I want these for the girls, but I want a few for me too)
• No one would see this belt 'cause I keep my 3-baby-birthin' belly covered, but I love that it holds a bunch of photos.
• You can't tell from the photo, but these are glittery. Ooohhhh
• I want one of these in just about every color.
• I've strayed from the look since I had kids, but these are very punk rock. Although, I'd probably alter them a bit.
  

Unveiling

Anyone have a bottle of champaign? We could smack it against the side of the computer to christen the blog. Then again, that could damage the computer, it would be a waste of champaign and um...we're Jewish. So maybe we'll have to rethink that. :-)

Welcome to the new digs. So, what do you think?

I opted to take the old blog with me rather than start over. It has, however, been renamed. I ran a few title ideas by my husband and my sister and they both agreed on this one.

Today marks our first full day as civilians. I'm still in shock. Lots of people around me are congratulating me, but that doesn't feel right. I'm relieved, but I'm not celebrating.

I don't know how to feel and I don't know where we fit anymore.

Forgive me for quoting this yet again, but obviously, this really strikes a chord with me (I mean, come on, I named the blog after a quotation of hers).

"Sometimes, you dream in Martian. Your time on Mars has gifted you with a new way of speaking, a new way of looking at the world. And it has robbed you of the easy comfort you once felt in your mother tongue.” Kristin Henderson's While They're At War; pg 131

Notes from a former military wife

The military part, that is, not the wife part.

This will be my last entry before redoing this blog.

This morning, after an insanely long wait and then even more time because no one knew what they were doing (aka an ordinary day in the military), my husband separated from the military. He is no longer active duty. He'll be inactive reserve for the next 2 years. After that, he will have no military ties (although he is a veteran). Even while he is inactive, he's basically a civilian.

He's thrilled. While he was career military, he had been miserable these past few years and it only promised to get worse. He has a new civilian job that he adores. He went so far as to take his uniform hat to work at his civilian job. He keeps it on his desk. That way, he insists, it will always remind him how much better this job is than the military ever was.

I'm sad and a bit shaken. We were a military family. He was supposed to be career military. It has identified us for a long time. My husband is a veteran. We survived deployments. We gave up so much. Hell, we gave up his retirement. We've even given up stupid little things (access to the military instillation).

I drove past his old office today. We passed the gates from the civilian side. I didn't pass through. I realized I may never again. I suppose it's a bit of a metaphor for our life. True, he has a new inactive ID card which gives him limited access, but as his wife, I no longer have a valid ID card. I can no longer pass through those gates on my own.

In a way, we've always been on the outside. Dh was older when he went into the military. He didn't enlist right after high school or go in right out of college even like so many do. So while he was fabulous at his job (he has all sorts of awards, metals and ribbons), he was never molded into a unit like those who have their personalities shaped by the military. He worked hard and wanted to make a difference, but it always seemed more like his own individual decision rather than group mentality.

As Natalie Merchant sang with the Maniacs, "They're so good at making soldiers, but they're not as good at making men." I explained it this way to a friend today: When it came to torture at Abu Ghraib, people fell in line and did as they were told. My husband is the type who sees beyond the orders. I believe he would have refused. While that makes him the man I love and a wonderful human being, it doesn't always make for the best soldier.

We're also card-carrying liberal Democrats. That makes us a bit of an oddity in the military. Actually, there are far more of us now than there were before the Iraqi conflict, but we're still the minority.

Add to all that, we're Jews. The estimates that I've read say that we make up less than 1% of the American military. There were times we felt VERY out of place as a result.

Now, though, we're completely on the outside. Even when you disagree politically or religiously, you're still one big military family. The similarities often outweigh your differences. Granted, this is true of many people, but for us, the similarities involve not just what hobbies you enjoy, where you shop, what you do/don't feed your kids, or even what you majored in in college. The common threads we share involve spouses in combat zones, being without them (often with no contact) for days/weeks/months/years, and watching the news endlessly (or avoiding it) in search of (or to avoid) any information about him/her. I've written about this before, though, so I'll just direct you there instead.

Kristin Henderson says it best:

“With the Hooah Wives (an informal group of military wives), she never had to explain or translate. A couple of words, and they understood the rest, because going to war, whether you’re the one on the frontline or the homefront is like going to Mars, and living there with the Martians, and hearing only Martianese being spoken. Still, you’re an Earthling, a very adaptable species, and before long you’re speaking the language and starting to feel at home in this place that at first had seemed so strange and otherworldly.

And then one day, you go back to Earth, maybe just for a visit, maybe for good, and as you step off the spaceship, all around you in the spaceport, you hear a Babel of voices, over the loudspeaker, passing you in the concourse, speaking in some strange foreign tongue, and all of a sudden, it hits you – that’s the language you grew up speaking. In conversations, you sometimes find yourself searching for a word, a word you should know. Sometimes, you dream in Martian. Your time on Mars has gifted you with a new way of speaking, a new way of looking at the world. And it has robbed you of the easy comfort you once felt in your mother tongue.” pg 131


Honestly, I'm glad it's over. I'm thrilled to be done with all the hoops we had to jump through, red tape, 3 am firings (guns not pink slips), combat boots, PTSD (which the military refused to treat effectively, but that's pretty standard for any illness, physical or mental), absolute terror and longing. I know the reality of it is that if he was still active duty, dh would have deployed again a month ago after just 5 months at home. I'm willing to trade the sisterhood of the military spouse for my husband's life. It was never sunshine and lollipops, but for a long time, it was our life. We have been "military." There are pieces of that I will always miss.

FTR: You'll notice that I created a "civilian" label for this post. I was avoiding it, but I suppose I can't any longer. So ladies and gentlemen, feel free to welcome me to the civilian world, because here I am.

Which one of us has the dirty mind?

My eldest daughter has made some things for me recently that have me wondering if I have the dirty mind or if she is the proud owner of such a thing.

You be the judge:

Snakes on a plane or penises on paper?


She insists these are snakes. I see a very different kind of snake--the trouser variety.

On the only day of Mothers' Day, my daughter made for me, this.


She used a candle stick cookie-cutter, but it came out rather questionable. Dh laughingly called me in to see it when he pulled the cookies out of the oven.

She should sell her handiwork. There's a huge market for her craftmanship at bachelorette parties, don't ya think?

Ch ch changes

I'm planning on changing a few things around here.

Dh will be a civilian soon and so much of this blog has revolved around being a military family. I want a bit of a fresh start. I'll be taking the old entries with me, but I just want a new name and a bit of a new location (still blogger, but I'll change the URL to reflect the new name).

I'm not trying to run from you, though, so if you want me to take you along for the brand new life in the adventures of being civilians, just leave me a comment and I'll pass along a new link.

For now, the plan is to make changes on Tuesday May 22. So just let me know by then and you'll get a golden ticket to the new digs.

A letter to mother-in-laws all across the land

Dear Mother-in-law,

Your daughter-in-law does not want to hear about the frequency and/or schedule at which you defecate.

She most definitely does NOT want you to announce that you are about to do so.

If you find yourself talking at length about such topics (at a restaurant, no less) and you notice said daughter-in-law is cringing and/or turning away, please do not, under any circumstances continue to torture her with such disgusting subjects.

Only in my dreams...

Am I the only one here singing Debbie Gibson thanks to the title?

And of course, a quick trip to YouTube doesn't help.



Dh is gonna think I'm on crack when he hears this from the other room.

He's really gonna question my sanity now that I just searched for old Tiffany videos. I worshipped Tiffany. Hers was the first concert I ever attended. LOVED her.

My Tiffany video-watching marathon will have to wait until after this post, though.

The real reason for this entry is that I've fallen in love with a bed. It's not an adult bed, mind you. It's bunk beds--EXPENSIVE bunk beds, but damn it, they're CUTE and they'd be absolutely perfect in the girls' room.

Kenridge Twin-Over-Full Bunk Bed

I want them in the Sea Grass green pictured in the photo.

Now pardon me while I drool over children's furniture.

When I'm stuck with a day that's grey and lonely. I just stick up my chin and grin and say, "The sun'll come out tomorrow."

I'm feeling a bit better today. I still think I'm far too big*, but at least I have a plan of action.

Went to the gym and vented to one friend who has lost 70+ pounds. She hugged me. Vented to another friend who's in a similar situation (unexplained weight gain despite working out really hard and she eats SO well), but she's skinny. Well, she's muscular and healthy, not anorexic or anything of the sort, but she's thin and she looks great.

She's a great influence on me. I was at the point where I was so depressed that I wanted to curl up and cry and just screw it all. She's at the point where she's pissed and she's not gonna take it anymore. We're motivating each other to do more. She's motivating me more directly, "Let's do another set with that ung-dly heavy weight," where as I'm motivating her just by giving her someone to hold her accountable. So far, it's working well. We just need to keep it up. I have every intention to do just that.

* I need to point out that the way I feel about MY body is not a reflection of the way I feel about anyone else's. I'm just saying that I'm not comfortable with the size I am currently.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

My husband rocks! He's smart. He's hard-working. He rocks!

He got his reviews from all the training he's been doing lately (that's why he has been out of state so often). He did phenomenally.

In addition to that, during his training, he actually requested the most difficult scenario and he aced it.

I know you people probably don't much care, but I'm damn proud.

He's smart. He's dedicated. He's hot (not just because he set himself on fire). And he's got a great ass. Yep, I lucked out. :-)

"Maybe one day I can have a reunion with myself. "--Sebastian Bach

Dh's flight was delayed last night. He didn't even leave until after he was supposed to arrive here.

The late arrival meant there was no uniting in our reunion.

Since we spent the day running around with family, that is still true.

And I'm still growling over that fact.

We came, we saw, we set things on fire.

My husband set his face on fire.

His mother suggested we grill today. While doing that, dh got burned in the face in a freak accident. He was smart and did a bunch of stuff that saved him from the worst of it.

It scared the hell out of me. I turned just in time to see the large flame jump out right at his face. When he turned and ran, I saw smoke still coming from his hair. His beard, hair, eyebrows, eye lashes, nose, cheek and arm hair (he put up his arm when the flame jumped) are all singed. His nose and cheek are pealing and the rest of his face looks like he's sunburnt (aside from his forehead which is where he held his arm).

We are damn lucky! We're also in good spirits. Dh keeps laughing about it and shaking his head in disbelief.

Today, we met his brother's serious girlfriend for the first time. Dh was introduced, "This is my brother. He set his face on fire."

Oh and get this, apparently, his dad did the same thing while grilling, but his story is much worse. He burned off his eyebrows completely on the day before his wedding.

Dh keeps insisting he's stupid. I don't think that at all. It was more of a freak accident than anything else. He's not stupid. He is, however, very lucky.

The in-laws are coming. The in-laws are coming.

Apparently, my Paul Revere failed.

I knew they were coming. I just had no idea they were already here. They called dh last night to let them know their plane landed and they were in the area. Problem is dh is IN A DIFFERENT STATE and had his phone off.

So after the gym, and feeding the big kids, and putting the baby down for a nap, but BEFORE my shower, I get a phone call from them. I figure they're just about to take off. I thought they were coming in tonight. No, they're 10 minutes away. Apparently, they got in last night. AHHHHHHHHHHH.

I don't care how much you adore your ILs, you still need time to prepare for their arrival.

So I took the fastest shower in my life, had the kids search the house for exposed unmentionables (they caught the pink panties on the floor, but missed the bra hanging on the bathroom door. I, of course, found that AFTER my brother-in-law had already been in the bathroom), and quickly tried to pick up what I could.

They spent the day here. We're all still standing. Woo hoo.

Dh gets here in a few hours. Thank you, G-d. I don't mean that in a "using G-d's name in vain" way (although in Judaism, we don't take that "commandment" to mean just saying His name. We take it to mean taking an oath in His name). I mean that in a prayerful way. "Thank you, G-d" is much shorter than the text of the Sheheyanu, but basically means the same thing (although the Hebrew blessing is much prettier when set to music).

I know I'm being selfish since my ILs haven't seen the kids in close to a year and a half, but still, I'd like to spend the weekend reuniting with my husband. And no, I didn't initially mean reuniting, but yeah, I wanna do that too--repeatedly--without interruptions.

I'm glad he'll be here to see his family (they haven't seen him since long before he deployed) and I'm also glad he'll be here because when there are two of us, we can activate our Wonder Twin powers to help deal with the stress.

Random link Tuesday

aka Random Link whenever the hell I feel like it.

Through Purple Goddess in Frog Pyjamas, I found this link: 254 uses for Vinegar. And counting.

Hu's on first...Bush & Rice

Hu's on first...Bush & Rice

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FAQs for morons

These are actual questions I've gotten lately. I've had the first question more than once, but one idiot even asked 1 & 2 combined.

1. Are they ALL yours?

What I said: Yes.

What I wanted to add: Three children do NOT constitute "All." Three is not a fucking excess of kids. When 2 of them come as a matched set (which is usually obvious because they like to match), then that's sure as hell not a lot of kids. Two pregnancies do not a huge family make (with some exceptions)

2. Have you figured out what causes that?

What I actually said: Yeah. For some of us, it's supplements and medications and medical procedures and doctor interventions.

What I wanted to add: Fucking moron!

The idiot at the mall who asked this combination of idiocy chuckled and walked away. So once again, I add: FUCKING MORON!

Now what?

The parents are gone and I don't know what to do with myself.

I'm ready to crawl out of my skin. All of a sudden, they're gone. It's quiet. The kids are in bed. I don't have any big plans for tomorrow. Now what?

I'm trying to get some work done, but the computer's running slow, so that's taking a while. I have music on, but it's not helping to break the silence.

This is the strangest thing. I feel like I need to get up and walk around. I feel tense all over.

Weird.

I know we'll get back into the swing of things relatively quickly, but I just hate it when visiting family leave. :-(

Now pardon me while I pout.

"So you are a super star. Get off the cross we need the wood."

I should have been furious, but I was just in complete disbelief. My mother is going to be the death of me. My 70-year-old mother threw a temper tantrum while I waited to take my daughter to urgent care.

Girl2 was sick. She threw up every 10 minutes. I couldn't get her to keep anything at all down. Even the electrolyte ice pops immediately came back up. She vomited bile. She was obviously getting dehydrated and she was lethargic. I was trying to take care of her while waiting for the doctor's office to open.

My parents were here at the time. My mother started ranting about her neighbor's granddaughter. Mom insisted the girl (who is about 3) should be in pre-school. I forget what I said exactly, but I made some comment about how the family obviously feels she's better with family (she stays with her grandmother during the day). Mom then complained about how the kid never listens to her grandmother. I managed to get mom far enough off the pre-school topic by discussing that family and reminiscing about them (they have lived near my parents for decades. I went to school with the little girl's mother).

Then mom has to throw all my efforts out the window by once again, out of nowhere, announcing, "Kids need to be in pre-school." I asked, "So when did your opinion change? My kids have never been in school. You've never had a problem with that." My mother blew up. She threw her hands up and announced, "I never knew I was such a fucking idiot." Mind you, my mother NEVER drops the F-bomb, so this was a big deal. She flipped out and stormed into the other room where she bitched about it loudly to my father.

I sat there, my sick daughter's head in my lap, in utter disbelief. WTF? My husband's away. I'm trying to take care of a vomiting dehydrated kid and you're not only insulting my parenting (which is strange because she also complains about how dh's cousin and his wife went back to work leaving their son in daycare), but then she hops on the drama llama and rides off leaving a cloud of hugely dramatic dust in her wake.

I ignored her, continued to run back and forth with Girl2 to the bathroom a few more times, then called the doctor. They sent me to urgent care. I took my daughter and left without saying anything to mom. I explained to my dad that I was leaving coffee, filters and cups out for them in case they wanted coffee. I hoped the gesture would help soothe the savage beast. I was not, however, going to give my mother another opportunity to throw a tantrum.

Granted, my mother has done this before with little to no provocation. I shouldn't be surprised, but this was a whole new low.

JSYK, Girl2 is feeling better. We spent 2 hours trying to get a urine specimen. No luck (the kid was dehydrated. Obviously we're not gonna get one). They wouldn't let us leave without one, though. So they gave her a huge glass of water which I had her sip slowly, but she still threw the whole thing up all over the place. The doctor threatened a catheter. I was not pleased. The nurse and I tried a few more tricks. Finally, after 10-12 bathroom trips, a trip to the water fountain, a humongous glass of water, turning the sink on while she sat on the toilet, putting her hand in warm water, and putting a warm washcloth on the girly parts; we got a sample. I'm so glad because we used up all our options. That catheter was the very next step. She has a UTI for which we got antibiotics, but we have no clue what caused the vomiting and swollen tonsils (those suckers are HUGE). We need to follow up with our doctor next week.

Hopefully, by then, her infection (and mom's drama llama) will be gone.

I'm still here

Lots going on around these parts, but I haven't left you to fend for yourselves.

My parents are visiting. We're super busy. And then my sister went and had a baby. :-)

I have a new baby nephew and I'm so excited. The kids are too. They got to meet him. Well, the big kids did. The wee one got left behind to bond with the grandparents.

Oh, this should tell you a bit about my parents and why having them here is both lovely and stressful:

Earlier in the week, I had a meeting. My parents are staying at a hotel 20 minutes from my house. They planned on coming over before the meeting. THEY GOT LOST. They needed to make the first right out of their parking lot on to one highway. Then they needed to follow that one to just one other high way. It's super simple. They have made this drive before. I have lived in this exact same house for years. They. got. lost. WTF?

Not only did they get lost, they got lost the DAY AFTER I SHOWED THEM EXACTLY WHICH WAY THEY NEEDED TO GO. They got REALLY lost. They went in the opposite direction for about 1/2 an hour before they realized something was wrong. Get this--right way = amusment parks, churches, civilization; wrong way = wide open spaces and Indian reservations. HOW THE HELL DID THEY MANAGE TO GET LOST?

I almost missed the meeting and I spent lots of time shaking my head in disbelief and bitching to my sister (who had not yet had the baby).

Hey, I know I shouldn't bitch too much. They're sweet. They mean well. They try to help. And when all that fails, they provide fodder for the blog. :-)