Time out time!

I am sitting at my computer, looking around my house and thinking that I'd rather be at the bar right now.  Ha!  Yeah, right.  Like I have time for the bar.  My list of things to do today is rather long and intimidating, although I have already done a 20 minute presentation in class as well as meet with my advisor.  Not to mention the fact that I took my dad to pick up coffee and grabbed some protein shakes at GNC.  I do still have to clean my house and run some errands today, plus the T-Ball game this evening.  Oh yeah, and I have to get creative with some penises.  (I'm having a passion party tomorrow night  yea!)

Have you ever had to argue with someone about something that you know is right, but they refuse to even entertain the option?  I did that this morning.  No, it wasn't my children, although Ethan and I have that same argument about green vegetables every evening.  You all know that I am in college, and that I graduate in December.  I was all prepared for my final semester to be a relaxing 12 hour, easy semester.  But lo and behold, Texas Tech will not accept my Speech transfer credit as the communication hours that I need.  That's what the meeting with the advisor was about.  I sat in the office, tears threatening to spill over onto her desk, and yet she unwaverinly tells me that it's just not going to happen.  C'mon!!!  I have a 4.0 GPA and waaaaaaay too many credit hours to number.  Let me have this one!  I'm so frustrated that I have to spend another $800 for a class that, in my opinion, will no better prepare me for my career. 

And so I lose.  Which sucks for me.  But I suppose I will take the stupid class, get my A, graduate, and wave goodbye to Lubbock and Texas Tech as I drive into the sunset toward California.  Ugh.  I mean, it sounds great, really, just not the whole take that extra class part. 

I'm gonna go put on some music and dance with my mop now.  Lady Gaga therapy, here I come!!

Spring break equals spring cleaning!!

Wow.  Spring break is over.  I can't believe how fast time goes by anymore.  It seems that my elders were correct when they told me that the older I got, the faster it would fly.  I try to tell my kids that, but they react with the same nonchalance that I had when I was a kid.  Plus, I'm Mom.  What do I know? 

We had a great spring break this year.  I spent time with both kids, together and one on one.  We also made some new friends who happen to live extremely close.  Married, with three kids, so we've got lots of commonalities.  Love it!  We've been visiting a lot over spring break.  Oh, and my daughter is totally in love with her son.  It's hilarious.  She told me yesterday that he is her boyfriend.  HA!  I threatened to tell him what she said and she turned red as she begged me to keep my mouth shut.  Hilarious!

Because it was spring break I though that I would get my house cleaned.  You know, all nice and tidy and such.  I even had the great idea of having a yard sale.  I pulled everything out of the shed and the house that I could, bought some doughnuts and lemonade for the kids to sell to customers, and woke up early on the morning of the sale.  As I was getting everything ready I realized that there were ominous looking clouds looming above my head.  I decided not to worry about it, as I had already gotten everything out of the house.  I mean, it hasn't really rained all season, so why would this day be any different?  I continued arranging all of our old crap that we were trying to push off onto unsuspecting customers, I realized that I had not had one customer. 

Usually by around 9 there are plenty of earlybirds at a yard sale.  This Saturday though, nothing.  What was going on????  Where was everyone?  I felt a drop of rain on my cheek.  Oh hell no.  But yes, it sure was. 

The rain started coming down for about 1-2 minutes.  It left fat water droplets on everything, including the electronics.  I looked at my yard sale in dismay and made a decision.  Fuck this.  I started grabbing TV's and stomped into the house.  Shit!~  I was cussing out the world as I carried everything back inside.  This is what I get for trying to clean my house.  Now my house looks like an episode of Hoarders rather than the sparkling clean image from a Betty Crocker magazine.  The Salvation Army is coming to pick up most of it tomorrrow.

I did manage to sell a bunch of the old crap on craigslist later on that day, which made me feel a tad bit better about spending my spring break on a useless task.  I still plan to get this house cleaned, but as I look around at my life and all of the stuff that's in it, I realize that even if I get rid of everything, my husband will surely come home with a truckload of stuff to replace it.  And so it goes.

Information station...no thanks!

I have realized that most of my readers do not like the informational articles that I post.  What's the matter?  Already bombarded by the torrent of terrible news each day?  I suppose I'll keep ya'll happy and stick with the stuff you like...humor about myself and my kiddos.  :)

So yesterday was crazy.  That's right, crazy.  It was a mommy day that equals bitter-sweet.  We had a packed day, so we got started early.  We woke up at around 9 (hey, that's early for the first day of spring break), and got ready to go to the gym.  I did some paperwork when I realized that my class wasn't until 11:30 and the kids finished up with tooth brushing and hair getting did.  We jumped in the car at about 10:30 when I realized that we hadn't gotten a present for the birthday party we were attending later. 

ZOOM!  I start to back the car out of the driveway when Ethan says," MOMMY!!!  You haf to buckle me up!!" 

Oops!  I stop the car and reach into the backseat to get him safely tucked into his booster.  I continue to back down the driveway and make it to the mall in record time.  We run (literally) through the mall in a mad search for Claire's.  My daughter picks out some overpriced little girl goodies and we run (literally again) back out to the car, after a quick stop into Victoria's Secret of course.   

We get back into the car and hit it down the road toward the gym.  I get the kids into their little classroom, which is awesome by the way.  I even want to play in there!  Anyway, I go into the workout room and start up an hour and a half FIESTA! workout.  It was pretty amazing, just so that you know.  If you have a chance to do it, do it.  Once the workout is over I smell and look terrible, so I go into the ladies room to refresh myself a bit, which doesn't really work.  I go and grab the kids and we rush home.

At home, I jump into the shower after throwing a crappy lunch together for the kids.  I wash the stank off of myself and thrown some clothes on. 

"EMILY!!  Are you dressed for T-Ball????"

Of course not.  So we rush to find a red shirt, because of course their uniforms STILL aren't in.  She's been borrowing Ethan's shirts, because we seem to have a shortage in her closet. Yup, my 5 year old can wear my 2 year old's clothing.  He is huge.  I grab some snacks for Ethan during the game, throw Emily's hair into some messy pigtails and off we go.

We get to the game and my husband is already there.  He's been at work all morning, but made time to come watch Em play.  :)  He and I take turns chasing our 2 year old around and trying to coach our little catcher, who played pretty damn well, I'll have you know.  We watch the Rangers play their little hearts out, struggling to catch up with the other team, which seems to have a neverending lineup of star hitters.  The game is over and we didn't win, but the team is upbeat, nevertheless.  We walk away from the tournament and drive home to get ready for the birthday party. 

Emily whines about wanting to wear her T-Ball uniform to show her friend, and then we argue about why it's not really very good birthday party attire.  Plus she was staying the night with her friend and I needed to throw the red shirt and pants into the washer.  I finally get her to put on a cute striped green shirt with some blue jeans, fix her hair yet again, and once again we make our way toward another destination. 

We get to the birthday party, filled with kids, most around 7 and under, who are eager to bowl, eat, and play the assortment of games that lights an entire section of the building we are in.  The kids get their bowling shoes on and play a couple of rounds of awful bowling.  Remember, these are little kids, so they can barely make the ball all the way down the aisle.  My son even got one stuck at one point.  Oh, and did I mention that he ran down the aisle a couple of times, busting his head at least once?  That kid is a walking concussion.  Once we got a ramp for them the games finally got moving.  They had a blast, and all of the adults, who outnumbered the kids by about 3:1, had fun watching them. 

Well, mostly.  Ethan was entertained for about 10 minutes.  After that, he decided that my workout at the gym that morning had not been enough.  He proceeds to run away at every available chance, and I have to chase him down and bring him back.  This continues throughout the party...birthday cake, presents, everything.  I even had to enlist the help of the staff at one point in order to locate my little delinquint.  By the end of the party, Ethan is so tired that he probably won't go to sleep later, if you know what I mean.  We gave Emily her kisses goodbye (this is her first real sleepover), and I walk away wondering if she will miss us tonight. 

Did I tell you that Ethan is PISSED?  He is so mad that he doesn't get to go with his sister.  In his mind, this is complete bullshit.  He ALWAYS goes with sissy!!  "Why can't I go??????? I want to go with my sissy!!"

We calm him down by way of rock music and the gentle sway of the car as we drive toward our house.  We decided that since Emily was gone, what a great night to have a date night!  My dad agrees that if Ethan is asleep, he'll have no problem keeping an eye on him for a couple of hours.  So we try to get Ethan to fall asleep.  Alas, no.  It is not to be.  The child who has not slept in a full day is STILL pissed off that Emily is not home and he is.  So he cries.  And he whines.  And he fights.  And finally...wait, is he.....fast asleep. 

By this point, I don't know if I want to go on a date; I am so ready to fall on my pillow.  My husband convinces me that it will be fun, so I get dressed and we head out.  We go to our favorite restaurant and eat some delicious Iron Chef looking food (I'm telling you, this place is phenomenal).  I am stuffed and tell him that I want to go home and put myself into a food coma.  He says, "No!  We're going OUT!"  Sweet man.  He takes me to an indoor mini putt putt golf course and we have a blast playing.  We haven't been out on a real date like this in SOOOO long.  We even took those goofy pictures together.  You know, the 4 pictures on strip with goofy faces?  Yeah, it was fun.  We play a game of table hockey and I smash my finger hard enough for it to go numb, and so we end the night. 

As my head hit the pillow I realized just how worn out I am.  And yet, I feel happily fulfilled.  What a day, what a day.

Whew!

Have you ever been to a workout class at the gym?  If you haven't, I'm certain that you have at least seen those late night infomercials touting their new kick-ass workout series.  You know, the ones with the cute tiny hot chicks and the muscled up guys who make it look oh so easy.  Bastards.  I swear...it's like they know exactly what will sell us!  All of us poor chubby mommys who just want to lose a bit of that baby fat that never went away.  Maybe that's just me. 

Anyway, I decided to start going to classes at the gym.  My kids are getting really big...the whole "It's just baby weight," thing is getting old, even to my ears.  Plus, when my daughter says things like," Your legs wouldn't look like that if you would work out all the time Mommy"  first I feel like slapping her, but then I realize she's right.

So on Monday, I took my saggy butt in all it's cellulite glory to the Power Hour class at my gym.  I wasn't sure what to expect, but I knew I needed it, so I put on a sports bra and some yoga pants with an old tank top, grabbed my water bottle and made it there right before the class started.  I get into the class and I can see that I am surrounded by seasoned class takers.  SHIT!  Why couldn't these people all be newbies like me?  They've got like 40 pounds on each side of their weight bars and I grab the 5 pounders, because I just have this feeling that I definitely won't make it with anything more. 

As we get started, I realize just how out of shape I am.  The teacher keeps telling us to "come on!  You can do it!!"  And I do it, but at about 20 minutes into the workout (this last for an hour by the way) my legs are literally trembling as I attempt to keep up with the ridiculous amounts of squats, lunges, and lifts.  I look in the mirrors that seem to be everywhere around me and I see this crazy red mess of  a fat girl looking back at me as sweat drips down her forehead.  Wait, is that me???  Holy crap.

45 minutes in I realize that I have made it through most of this workout.  I only had to stop a few times!  I think that the idea of not being able to keep up with everyone else was embarassing, so I stayed in it.  I pushed myself all the way through.  GO ME!!!!  I was so proud of myself as we were cooling down with some stretches. 

I made it through the rest of Monday, and the utter pain that I was in from that last workout.  I even got my fat ass out of bed this morning and went to a new class...ULTIMATE WORKOUT!!!  I'm really glad I went, because I feel much more loose than I did before class, but to be sure, every part of me was jiggling in the mirror with the same red face as last time. 

But I felt good!  I mean, really good.  I love to work out; it's such a mood enhancer, plus it gives me an excuse to eat a cookie or twelve.  Well, maybe not twelve, but still.  Stay on the lookout for some pics.  I am so serious about this weight loss thing.  I'm ready to be hot and sexy for the summer.  Anybody want to join me?  Think of this as a weight loss challenge...

The tooth fairy

My daughter lost her first tooth yesterday.  It was a dramatic event, to be sure.  Now, she already has one missing from the top from an unnatural loss a year ago, but this one came out on it's own.  She was terrified.  I'm not kidding.  I'm sure every kid goes through their moments of terror, but this is my diva, so you know she was overwhelmed with emotion. 

Friday, her teacher wanted to pull it.  Emily said no, no, no.  So we get home and she is playing with it with her tongue all night.  I keep trying to get her to let me pull it, but apparently, it's gonna hurt.  This continues into Saturday, with Mommy continuously trying to get her to let me pull it out in a variety of different ways. 

That evening, I decide to try YouTube.  You know, to show her some videos about kids getting their teeth pulled.  She laughed and said, okay, it doesn't hurt them.  She was still unconvinced that it wouldn't hurt her.  And logic does seem that a tooth coming out should be painful, or at least to me it does. 

Sunday was a good day.  We finished planting our lawn in the backyard, the kids bounced on the trampoline, and we played t-ball for about an hour.  We had a great day!  Everyone had a good time and forgot about the tooth.  Until Sunday evening, when Emily started to cry and tell me that it was now hurting her.  I told her to come closer so that I could look at it. 

"Yup!  That tooth is definitely ready to come out!" I said to her with my hand gently rocking it back and forth.

She smiled, extra big this time, and quick as a flash I grabbed ahold of that little sucker and popped it out of her mouth. 

If you would have heard her scream, you would have thought I stabbed her in the leg with a kitchen knife.  I really wish I had had the presence of mind to grab the video camera first.  Her face is bright red, almost purplish at this point.  But wait, what is that?  Giggles?  This can't be! 

Emily is now delighted that her tooth is out!!  The drama is over as she laughs in a voice that would put a hyena to shame.  She looks in awe at her tiny baby tooth and says, "Now I get MONEY!!!"

As she rushes to put the tooth under her pillow I can't help but smile.  My baby really is growing up...and I'm loving every minute of it!

One Happy Girl

I am a happy girl.  Yes, that's right, I am a happy happy girl.  I look around my life and I feel blessed beyond measure.  My children are crazy kids, but I love them and am loved in return.  My husband is often a pain in my ass, but more often his love for me is all reaching.  My dad, well...I just love my dad.  He can make me smile and make me mad, often at the same time.  :)  The rest of my family is out of reach, but never out of touch.  We have our lights on, a heater, an air conditioner, two vehicles, one of which is paid off.  We have a home, pets who also love us, friends who are like family, and laughter.  We work hard, play harder, and try to live our lives to the fullest.  My education has inspired me in ways that I never would have imagined 3 years ago.  We have had fights and made mistakes, and learned from both.  We have had great times and bad times, and both have given us room to grow, as people, and as a family. 

I love that I can list all of the positive things about my life.  It is often easier to regard the negative and find it in every aspect of our lives.  The negative always stands out more than the positive, doesn't it?  I mean, I guarantee that I can remember all the bad things that happened this week, but the positive things are harder to recollect.  And so I try to stay positive.  Yeah, some days I lose sight of who I am and who I want to be.  Some days I am an asshole to everyone.  Some days I want a beer to fuzzy me up a bit.  And that's ok.  It's alright to have a shitty day, week, or even a year.  Life has a tendency to slap us around a bit.  But I always come back to the question, "Where do I find my happy place?"  For me, it is at home with my family.  I love laying in bed with my husband, wrestling around with my kids, having a family t-ball game in the backyard.  But my safety zone is with my family.  For some it is in a church, surrounded by God.  For others it may be at the beach, with the serenity of the ocean cascading in the background.  Close your eyes and picture it.  Now, after Tinkerbell sprinkles her magic fairy dust on you, you'll be able to fly!!!! 

HAHAHA!!!  Have a great day!

Bad mommy!

Ok, so I'll admit, I'm a procrastinator.  I have a tendency to put things off until the last minute.  I was a bad mommy this week and kept promising Emily that I would make her lunch.  Then I would forget.  Bad mommy.  So today, when she asked me where her lunch was, I told her that I would bring it to her at lunchtime.  I woke up at 10:00 and thought about it at 10:30.  I haphazardly threw a peanut butter sandwich, a plum, some craisins and pecans, and a cupcake into her lunchbox, thinking that their class doesn't eat lunch until 11 anyway (the school is literally right down the street). 

I look like shit at this point, no shower, nothing to evidence that I've been anything but a lazy bitch all morning.  I'm pretty sure I hadn't even brushed my teeth.  Now I'm not just a lazy bitch, but a nasty bitch too!  I throw on some jeans and hope that the coffee breath covers up the stank breath.  Grabbing her lunchbox I run out the door and race toward the school. 

I get into the school and notice her class sitting in the cafeteria, eating lunch.  Her teacher sees me with the lunchbox and is waaaaay too excited, but with cause.  Apparently another kid in Emily's class has the same lunchbox as her, and Emily thought that I had already brought her lunch.  Can you say meltdown?  She cried to her teacher because she thought mommy wasn't coming.  Teacher let her pass out the milks, which calmed her down, but I swear, you should have seen her face when she saw me come up behind her with her lunchbox full of goodies.  I saw God today, through my child's happiness of fulfilled promises.  She pushed aside her lunch tray full of mystery meat and grabbed her handpacked lunch with a smile that I don't get to see often enough.  It was beautiful.  She hugged me before I left and whispered,"Thank you Mommy!" in my ear. 

Oh happy day, you bad mommy!  As I drove home with my smelly breath and dirty jeans, I knew that I had just made one of those moments you don't recognize often enough in life.  Sure, I could have let her eat her lunch at school and made up an excuse for why I didn't come, but how would that have affected my child in the long run?  We can't always be everything for everyone, but we should be what we can.  And I think I just was.

What the hell?

So, some lady left her 12 year old kid at home for a week by herself.  Now, I don't care who you are but 12 years old is not old enough to be left in a house ALONE for a week!  This poor girl was so scared that she wouldn't even take a shower because the front door wouldn't lock properly.  What in the hell was this mom thinking?  I realize that 12 is old enough to be left alone for short periods of time.  It's even technically old enough, in most states, to babysit other children.  And perhaps this little girl is extremely mature for her age.  For me, however, 12 years old is not old enough to care for oneself for an entire WEEK!  Where was mommy, by the way?  Was she taking a little vacation in Vegas?  Business trip perhaps?  No, that crazy bitch took off to Washington to go and get married.  Should have known that it was for a guy, because we all know that guys should take precedence over our children.  I mean, they need a father, right????   Not that it really matters.  Regardless of where she went, she was playing with her child's life, both physically and emotionally.  You would think that even a truly fucked up mom would make sure that the door would lock before they left.  The mother's response to all the accusations?

Haines told police she "could not provide a reasonable explanation" for leaving the girl alone and "admitted making a 'mistake' and that she had been 'selfish,'" according to the affidavit. 

I guess that makes it all better, mom.  Gosh, it's so refreshing to see a parent admitting their selfish mistakes.  I hope that admission helps you get together your $100,000 bail! 

Please post any and all opinions!

The value of friendship

Everyone has those friends.  You know, the ones that you can not see for extended periods of time, but when you see them you instantly fall back into the old routine of banter, laughter, and conversation.  Most people are not blessed with many of these friends, and I am lucky enough to have more than a few.  I love the way I can go for months, sometimes even years without speaking to my besties but it doesn't matter.  It's like we never skipped a beat once we do talk again. 

In life we create relationships with people.  That is, essentially, what God designed us to do.  To love is to be loved, and the more relationships we build with others the more love we allow ourselves to give and receive.  Some people think that more people in your life will just overcomplicate it.  I say, yes, it takes hard work to be a part of a relationship.  Any relationship.  One must make an effort to connect, even if at random times, with those we wish to have in our lives.  But for me, the end result of relationships is usually worth it.  The harder I work at any relationship, the more rewarding it typically is. 

Don't get me wrong, I am not saying that every relationship is worth continually working toward.  Relationships, in all their beauty, are two-way streets.  If one person is driving their way down the road and trying to reach the other person, but the other person fails to put gas into their car and doesn't at least attempt to meet them halfway, the relationship will, in the end, be futile.  Some relationships are so dysfunctional that they are learning experiences, but short-lived. 

My relationships with my friends are complicated.  Some friends are high maintenance.  Some are low maintenance.  Some blow in for a season, only to be gone for the next.  Many are somewhere in the background, usually silent, but their presence always felt.  I love all of my friends from high to low, fights to laughter, long time friends and newer friends alike.

If you are my friend and you are reading this, know that I'm only a phone call away.  I might not answer the first time, but I will always call you back.  I love you even when I'm busy with the distractions of life, and know that I will never take your friendship or love for granted. 

Sometimes we all just need to pick up a phone and call!  Life is short and precious, but it is even more precious with people we love and who love us in it.  :)